Two figures, a man and a woman, both dressed in pristine white, strolled side by side down the path, each nibbling on a sweet treat.

Seonju gave Mu-hui a quick once-over and nodded approvingly.

“I never realized how well white suits you. It really brings out your features.”

“Does it now?” Mu-hui replied, glancing at Seonju. She, too, had traded her usual navy blue uniform of the Jongnam Sect for a white robe.

Mu-hui, known as the greatest martial artist under the heavens, and Seonju, who had earned the title of Sword Queen a year ago, were a pair that naturally drew attention. To avoid the spotlight, they had swapped their usual attire. Seonju wore a white robe embroidered with sky-blue threads, while Mu-hui donned a white long coat she had chosen for him, similarly adorned.

Together, they looked like a young couple, perfectly matched.

“It’s nice to be out like this,” Seonju said. “I was surprised when you suddenly suggested a trip.”

“Sometimes you need a change of pace,” Mu-hui replied nonchalantly, bringing a gentle smile to Seonju’s face.

She had expected a brief meeting in Xi’an, but Mu-hui had unexpectedly taken her hand and whisked her away on a journey. They had sent letters to their respective sects, and Mu-hui intended to enjoy this life peacefully, as advised by Hyeonjo.

“So many fascinating things here,” Seonju remarked, holding onto Mu-hui’s arm as they browsed the street stalls.

“Why did you want to come to Sichuan?” Mu-hui asked.

“I’ve traveled to many places in the martial world, but I’ve never set foot in Sichuan,” Seonju replied with a bittersweet smile, and Mu-hui immediately understood why.

Sichuan was home to the Overlord’s Fortress, which had long been at odds with the Jongnam Sect. Only after the Huashan Sword Conference did the conflicts subside. Moreover, the major factions, including the Martial Alliance, the Evil Path, and the Overlord’s Fortress, were maintaining a peaceful status quo.

“Has the Black Night Palace gone underground again?” Mu-hui wondered. When he and the martial experts of the Martial Alliance had gone to confront the Black Night Palace, they found it deserted, reduced to ashes and ruins. After the Huashan Sword Conference, it was confirmed that both Heukcheon and the palace lord had perished, and the palace had vanished without a trace.

Despite efforts to track it down, the trail had gone cold, and many believed it was now impossible to find. The martial world was always on edge, with various demonic sects ready to emerge at any moment.

As Mu-hui pondered the demonic path, his thoughts drifted to Cheonma, the founder of the demonic arts.

“Cheonma…” he mused.

Cheonma, revered as a deity by demonic practitioners regardless of their sect, had inspired many to cause trouble in hopes of being recognized as the next Cheonma. Yet, since the original, no one had earned the title again.

“I wish I could have seen what kind of person he was,” Mu-hui thought, curious if Cheonma was as extraordinary as Heukcheon. His musings were interrupted by Seonju tugging at his sleeve.

“Look over there!” she exclaimed.

Bang!

Following Seonju’s gaze, Mu-hui heard a loud popping sound. It came from a vendor tossing dough into a copper bowl, creating a noise like cannon fire.

“That’s Samdae-po,” Seonju said, eyeing the glutinous rice cakes on display. The name Samdae-po, or “Three Great Cannons,” came from the explosive sound the dough made when it hit the bowl. It was a popular snack in Sichuan.

Seeing Seonju’s eyes light up, Mu-hui opened his purse.

“Hehe,” Seonju giggled, stuffing a whole rice cake into her mouth, cheeks bulging as she chewed. Mu-hui, amused, took a bite himself. The chewy texture, combined with the sweetness of brown sugar and the nutty flavor of sesame and glutinous rice, was delightful.

After quickly devouring three rice cakes, Seonju grabbed Mu-hui’s arm and led him onward.

“Come on, I’ve found a famous inn here. We should try some authentic Sichuan cuisine.”

“Alright,” Mu-hui agreed.

“We’ve had enough sweets; it’s time to cleanse our palates, don’t you think?” Seonju teased, noticing Mu-hui’s reluctance.

“Are you afraid of spicy food? Do you turn red or cry when you eat something too hot?” she taunted, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Mu-hui’s smile turned icy. “Nonsense. Lead the way.”

“Gladly.”

The inn Seonju led them to was bustling with people on the first and second floors, a testament to its popularity.

“Waiter! To the top floor, please!” Seonju boldly requested the most expensive seating. The fifth floor, where they were led, was empty, offering a panoramic view of Sichuan’s landscape, well worth the price.

As the waiter took their order and left, Mu-hui and Seonju turned to admire the scenery.

“It’s so peaceful,” Seonju remarked.

“Indeed,” Mu-hui agreed, his gaze lingering on the vibrant colors in the distance. Soon, the waiter returned with an array of dishes and drinks.

As the food was laid out, Mu-hui momentarily held his breath, overwhelmed by the spicy aroma.

Seonju, stifling a laugh, served him a portion. “Try this first; it’s not too spicy.”

She offered him Kung Pao Chicken. Cautiously, Mu-hui tasted it, nodding in approval. Despite its red appearance, it wasn’t overwhelmingly spicy.

Seeing Mu-hui manage well, Seonju began sampling her favorites, starting with Cold Pot Fish, a dish attributed to Su Dongpo, featuring cold fish stew.

“Oh!” Seonju exclaimed, waving her hand as the spicy, numbing flavor spread through her mouth. Yet, she relished the Sichuan cuisine, savoring each dish. Watching her, Mu-hui frowned slightly.

“You really enjoy it,” he noted.

“Of course! I think I could live happily in Sichuan,” Seonju replied.

Mu-hui, avoiding the fiery dishes, opted for Zhangcha Duck, a smoked duck flavored with camphor and tea leaves. The rich aroma paired perfectly with the smooth, robust Jian Nan Chun wine.

“Let’s drink together,” Seonju suggested, refilling Mu-hui’s glass and raising her own. Mu-hui smiled and clinked his glass against hers, the clear sound resonating between them.

After their meal, Mu-hui led Seonju to a spot he had noticed from the inn.

“Wow!” Seonju gasped, eyes wide at the sight before her. A small stream was surrounded by lotus flowers, their deep pink petals in full bloom. The area was a sea of lotus blossoms, known locally as Huanhuaxi. The two walked along the stream, admiring the flowers.

“The lotuses here are beautiful, but I think the plum blossoms you conjure are the most beautiful,” Seonju said, smiling.

Mu-hui, with a slight smile, drew his sword and traced patterns in the air, causing plum blossoms to bloom and release their fragrance. The air was filled with the mingling scents of lotus and plum blossoms, creating a magical scene. Seonju, delighted, twirled her braided hair.

As she scattered her hands, a golden light burst forth, embracing the plum and lotus blossoms.

“Beautiful,” Mu-hui remarked.

“Indeed,” Seonju agreed.

Petals of plum and lotus flowers danced around them as they strolled.

When their walk ended, a beggar awaited Mu-hui ahead. As Mu-hui approached, the middle-aged beggar respectfully bowed.

“I am Ho Cheon-gae, head of the Sichuan branch of the Beggars’ Sect. It’s an honor to meet the Sword God.”

Mu-hui returned the gesture. “What brings you here, branch leader?”

Ho Cheon-gae produced a letter from his robe and handed it to Mu-hui.

“A message from the Martial Alliance.”

Mu-hui accepted the letter, recognizing the handwriting of the strategist, Jegal Jin. As he read, a spark of interest lit his eyes.

“The Greatest Beyond the Passes…” he murmured.

At the mention of the Greatest Beyond the Passes, Seonju’s eyes narrowed. Folding the letter, Mu-hui asked Ho Cheon-gae, “What’s the current situation?”

“The Greatest Beyond the Passes and his followers, the martial artists of the Jecheon Alliance, have entered Qinghai. The Kunlun Sect has urgently requested assistance.”

Seonju turned to Hocheonga and asked, “Is it war?”

“Officially, it’s a challenge to the Sword God for the title of the greatest under heaven. But bringing such a large force suggests otherwise…”

“So if I lose, they plan to wipe out the martial world?” Muhwi said with a wry smile, causing Seonju and Hocheonga’s expressions to harden.

“That’s why the military has requested your help, Sword God. Fortunately, Sichuan and Qinghai are nearby.”

Muhwi nodded in understanding. “I’ll move separately from the martial alliance’s reinforcements. I need to meet this so-called greatest under heaven.”

With that, Hocheonga nodded and quickly took off, eager to relay the news to the martial alliance.

“Just when I thought we might have a peaceful three years, something else pops up. That’s the martial world for you,” Muhwi remarked.

“Indeed. So, brother, are you heading straight to Qinghai?” Seonju inquired.

“Yes. It’s best to meet them before clashing with the Kunlun Sect. Running might take too long, so I’ll have to fly.”

At that moment, the Simyeong Sword unsheathed itself and hovered in mid-air. Seonju watched, a hint of disappointment on her face.

“Brother, you know I can’t fly with a sword, right?”

“I know.”

“How are two people supposed to fit on one sword? There’s barely any room.”

“Like this,” Muhwi replied, lifting Seonju into his arms, catching her off guard. All she could do was blush furiously.

“Hey! Brother, what are you doing?”

Muhwi looked down at her, cradled in his arms. “If you don’t like it, you can run and catch up.”

“Hmph. That’s not it,” she muttered.

With that, the Simyeong Sword, carrying both Muhwi and Seonju, soared into the sky.

“Let’s go,” Muhwi said, and Seonju clung tightly to his robe.

Whoosh!

The sword shot swiftly toward the northwest, where Qinghai awaited.