Mu-hwi and Dokgo Yul stood together at the peak of Geombong Mountain, gazing down at the rugged landscape below.
Dokgo Yul pointed to one of the jagged peaks that resembled swords thrust into the earth. “That spot looks promising, doesn’t it?”
The area he indicated was a broad, flat expanse of land. The surrounding peaks of Geombong Mountain rose like a natural fortress, forming a basin-like terrain.
“Thanks to the mountain’s energy, it’s ideal for cultivating inner strength. And those peaks, like natural walls, would make it easy to defend against intruders,” Dokgo Yul explained.
Mu-hwi immediately grasped his meaning. “Are you thinking of settling here?”
Dokgo Yul nodded. “I’ve traveled all over, searching for the right place, and this one feels right.”
He glanced at a small, distant hut and continued, “There are other places with similar conditions, but this one holds traces of my master.”
Mu-hwi didn’t respond, instead turning his gaze to the mountain. Though smaller than Hwasan, it was more than large enough to house a martial sect. The natural energy of Geombong Mountain was abundant, making it an excellent place for martial training.
“Not a bad choice,” Mu-hwi conceded.
“Heh, right?” Dokgo Yul chuckled. “When do you plan to settle here? Are you ready?”
“Not yet. And more importantly, I haven’t avenged my master,” Dokgo Yul’s eyes, which had been filled with satisfaction, turned somber. After a long pause, he spoke again. “Is this enemy beyond both of us?”
“For now, yes,” Mu-hwi replied.
“And later?”
Mu-hwi’s voice was firm. “I’ll reach them somehow. When the time comes, I’ll tear them apart.”
Dokgo Yul sighed deeply, his face flushed with frustration. “I’ve just reached a new level, but my master’s enemy is still so far beyond me. If I rush in and die, my master would never forgive me.”
“That’s true,” Mu-hwi agreed.
Dokgo Yul took a deep breath, recalling his master’s teachings. “My master always said to act within my means. I can’t face Heukcheon directly, but I’ll do everything I can against the demonic forces. So, I’m counting on you to handle Heukcheon.”
Mu-hwi nodded, understanding the resolve in Dokgo Yul’s eyes. Sometimes, stepping back requires more courage than charging forward. For Dokgo Yul, this was one of those times.
“Leave it to me. You focus on what you need to do,” Mu-hwi said, placing a reassuring hand on Dokgo Yul’s shoulder.
At the Bokrae Inn in Hwaeum, Mu-hwi entered to find a massive figure that couldn’t be hidden even while seated. It was Mu-cheol.
“Over here, senior brother!” Mu-hwa waved from across the table, where he sat with Myeong-yeong and Myeong-am. They had gathered at the inn, as promised, to share a meal before returning to Hwasan.
As Mu-hwi approached, Myeong-yeong and Myeong-am stood to greet him, as did Myeong-san. “Greetings, Mu-hwi sa-baek.”
“Greetings, Mu-cheol sa-suk, Mu-hwa sa-go,” they chorused.
Mu-cheol nodded silently, while Mu-hwa grinned at being called “sa-go.”
“Sit down, Myeong-san,” Mu-hwa said, gesturing to the seat beside him.
Mu-hwi took a cup of tea poured by Mu-cheol and asked, “Where’s Mu-jin?”
“I got a letter saying he’ll be a day late. We should head back first,” Mu-hwa replied.
“I see,” Mu-hwi said, taking a sip of tea. “What have you all been up to?”
Mu-hwa eagerly answered, “We took down a local gang!”
Mu-hwi sighed lightly. “You really went after a gang with the third-generation disciples?”
“Of course, I prioritized Myeong-yeong’s safety. It was a small group, less than twenty, and none of them knew martial arts,” Mu-hwa explained, ruffling Myeong-yeong’s hair.
“After dealing with them, we spent the rest of the time helping the locals. Myeong-yeong worked hard alongside me.”
“And how was it, Myeong-yeong?” Mu-hwi asked, catching Myeong-yeong off guard as he was about to eat.
“When I become a second-generation disciple, I want to fight evil and help people, just like Mu-hwa sa-go,” Myeong-yeong replied, his voice steady despite his nervousness.
Mu-hwi nodded, understanding the young disciple’s resolve. Having suffered at the hands of a gang himself, Myeong-yeong was likely empathetic to the plight of the common people.
“You’ll learn a lot from Mu-hwa. Keep at it,” Mu-hwi encouraged.
“Yes, Mu-hwi sa-baek,” Myeong-yeong replied earnestly.
Mu-hwa, looking at Myeong-yeong with affection, turned to Mu-cheol. “And you, senior brother?”
“We camped near Hwaeum and trained,” Mu-cheol said matter-of-factly.
Mu-hwa was taken aback. “Really? You had enough money from the treasury. Why camp?”
“In the martial world, you can’t always rely on inns. It’s good training,” Mu-cheol explained.
“That makes sense,” Mu-hwa conceded.
Myeong-am, who had been listening, spoke up. “I learned how to put more weight into my sword strikes from Mu-cheol sa-suk. It was a valuable experience.”
Mu-hwi chuckled, realizing Mu-cheol had given Myeong-am a taste of the Iron Plum Sword technique. “Does it suit you?”
“Yes, Mu-hwi sa-baek. When the time comes, I want to focus on mastering the Iron Plum Sword,” Myeong-am replied.
“With your build, it should suit you well. Keep at it,” Mu-hwi encouraged.
Mu-cheol’s expression remained stoic, but his eyes softened as he watched Myeong-am.
“And how about you, senior brother?” Mu-hwa asked.
Mu-hwi poured himself a drink and recounted the events at Geombong Mountain. Mu-hwa’s jaw dropped, and Mu-cheol’s face hardened. The third-generation disciples, though unaware of the full details, sensed the gravity of the situation and shifted uncomfortably.
“If that’s true, isn’t he the most dangerous enemy in the martial world right now?” Mu-hwa asked.
“Yes, he’s the man behind the chaos caused by the Black Night Palace and the Council,” Mu-hwi confirmed.
“The elders, including the sect leader, will be shocked,” Mu-hwa said.
“Not just Hwasan, but the entire martial alliance needs to know. He’s at least a third-seat level master, so they must be aware,” Mu-hwi added.
Mu-cheol crossed his arms, deep in thought. “He revealed himself knowing his identity would leak.”
“Either he doesn’t care, or he plans to reveal himself soon. It’s one of the two,” Mu-hwi speculated.
Mu-hwa, eyes wide with concern, asked, “What if he targets you, senior brother? We don’t know when he’ll strike. It could be any day now.”
Unlike the anxious Mu-hwa, Mu-hwi remained calm, sipping his drink. “There’s nothing special to do. Just keep training as usual. The same goes for all of you. Nothing changes.”
He looked at the Hwasan disciples and continued, “No matter what happens, fulfill your roles and keep honing your skills. That’s the way of a martial artist.”
In Hanzhong, Shaanxi, near the Sichuan border, stood the Gyeoksan Sword Sect, one of the most prominent branches of the Zhongnan Sect. It served as the first line of defense against the forces of the Overlord Castle extending from Sichuan into Shaanxi. Thanks to their efforts, the rear was relatively safe, with only occasional raids by small detachments.
But now, the signboard of the Gyeoksan Sword Sect was engulfed in flames, crashing to the ground.
With a resounding crash, a long whip lashed through the air, sweeping away the corner of a pavilion, causing it to collapse effortlessly.
“You scoundrel!” The sect leader of the Gyeoksan Sword Sect emerged from the debris, covered in dust, unleashing a powerful sword energy.
But the whip, wielded by the Ghost King, coiled like a serpent, dispersing the sword energy and wrapping around the middle-aged man’s neck.
“Gah!” The sect leader was dragged forward like a fish on a line, landing at the Ghost King’s feet.
The whip tightened, cutting off his air, and despite his desperate attempts to free himself, it was futile.
“Urgh!” The sect leader’s face, once flushed, began to turn blue.
The Ghost King adjusted his whip, shortening it until it resembled a leash, and dragged Moonju along the ground like a ragdoll.
“Master Moonju!”
“We must save him!”
The disciples of the Gyeoksan Sect, horrified by the sight, rushed forward. The Ghost King merely chuckled, flicking his wrist.
“Yes, come on! Save your master if you can!”
With a flick of his hand, the whip lashed out violently, sending Moonju hurtling through the air, still bound to its end.
“What the—!”
“Look out!”
The disciples gasped as their master flew towards them, but none dared to catch him, paralyzed by fear.
CRASH!
Each time the whip struck the ground, the stone beneath it shattered, spewing dust into the air.
While the disciples flinched and hesitated, the Ghost King’s whip lashed out in all directions, cutting down dozens in an instant. He then turned to the warriors of the Paewang Fortress who followed him.
“Burn it all. Leave no trace.”
“Yes, sir!”
As the warriors scurried around the Gyeoksan Sect, setting it ablaze, the Ghost King stood alone, watching the flames consume everything.
Amidst the flickering shadows cast by the fire, a dark figure emerged.
“We’ve dealt with the fleeing disciples and messenger birds of the Gyeoksan Sect.”
The Ghost King frowned at the assassin who appeared from the darkness.
“Why does the Dark Emperor not show himself? Does he intend to send only his lackeys?”
“The leader is making preparations. It’s certain that if we strike the Zhongnan Sect, the Huashan Sect will intervene.”
“Indeed. It would be better to draw in the Huashan Sect and wipe them all out at Zhongnan Mountain. Is the Dark Emperor so wary of the Huashan Sword Saint?”
“The leader wishes to crush Zhongnan first, then deal with Huashan.”
The Ghost King scoffed at the assassin’s words.
“Very well. What use is there in talking to a mere underling? Begone.”
“Understood.”
With a wave of the Ghost King’s hand, the assassin melted back into the shadows.
“So, the Dark Emperor lost his weapon to the Huashan Sword Saint and now he’s scared.”
The Ghost King caressed his beloved weapon. Made from dragon hide, celestial silk, and fine steel wire, his whip was nearly indestructible. And with his inner power infused into it, even more so.
“Let’s see if the Huashan Sword Saint can cut through this. Come, show me what you’ve got.”