Namgung Myung relayed the story he heard from the Blood Rain Wanderer to his friends.
“Master a hundred martial arts?”
“Well, it’s not literally a hundred. It’s more about understanding the essence through a wide variety of techniques.”
“Still, isn’t that like saying even a hundred might not be enough?”
Hong Geolgae felt a twinge of inadequacy. He had listened to the Blood Rain Wanderer’s tale alongside Namgung Myung, but it seemed only Namgung Myung had grasped its deeper meaning.
However, Hong Geolgae’s self-doubt quickly melted away. Neither Hyun Gong nor Tang Mujin, who also heard the story, had any breakthroughs either.
The Blood Rain Wanderer’s advice was not something ordinary people could easily comprehend or accept.
Hyun Gong responded with a shrug.
“I’d rather spend my time honing my Taiji Sword than dabbling in countless techniques.”
“But what about reaching the pinnacle?”
“There’s no guarantee of that. Besides, if I fail with the Taiji Sword, at least my skills with it will improve. But if I fail with random techniques, I’ll be left with nothing. Who knows how long it would take?”
Tang Mujin and Hong Geolgae were more intrigued by what lay beyond the pinnacle.
Hong Geolgae asked Namgung Myung, “So, there’s a level beyond the pinnacle?”
“That’s what the Blood Rain Wanderer suggested.”
“I’ve always thought that Master Hwayeon might have reached that level. No other top masters dare to challenge her. She’s the only one who’s achieved eternal youth.”
But Namgung Myung shook his head.
“I don’t think so. Even Master Sam Anbul once mentioned he almost touched eternal youth but chose not to pursue it because it diminished the significance of external martial arts.”
“Is that so? Well, if anyone reaches the next level, it’ll surely be Master Hwayeon.”
Hong Geolgae spoke with conviction, but the others weren’t so sure.
Most top masters dedicated their time to martial arts training, but Master Hwayeon was different.
She spent much of her time managing the Hao Clan and indulging in her hobbies.
It was said that her residence was filled with romantic novels from all over the land, and she could recite many passages by heart.
Lately, she had been traveling frequently between Chungkyung and Chengdu, imparting curious romantic knowledge to Mok Wana.
Her lifestyle was far from that of a dedicated martial artist.
“Hey, Mujin. Here comes Miss Mok.”
Perhaps it was because they had been talking about Master Hwayeon.
Mok Wana appeared, carrying a tray of snacks, looking around. Tang Mujin quietly slipped away to avoid being seen.
Hyun Gong grumbled as he watched Tang Mujin retreat.
“Some of us would give anything just to hold Miss Mok’s hand. Why does she only follow Mujin around? What’s wrong with me?”
“Tang Mujin is the host, after all.”
“Is that it?”
Since the recent incident, Mok Wana had been openly showing her affection for Tang Mujin.
She even learned to cook, something she never thought she’d do, just to impress him.
But Tang Mujin found her attention uncomfortable.
He knew Mok Wana was a rare, bright soul. If he weren’t already married to Dan Seolyoung, he might have pursued a relationship with her.
The problem was, he was married, and growing closer to Mok Wana felt like a betrayal to Dan Seolyoung.
Even though Dan Seolyoung had half-accepted Mok Wana, it was a matter of Tang Mujin’s own heart, not Dan Seolyoung’s permission.
Mok Wana approached the group, scanning their faces. With Tang Mujin absent, she didn’t ask where he was.
Instead, she paused, closed her eyes, and sniffed the air, sensing Tang Mujin’s unique presence.
Moments later, she opened her eyes and followed the direction he had gone.
Hyun Gong watched her leave and muttered sadly, “Lucky guy.”
As the year drew to a close, Tang Mujin found refuge at the home of Sam Anbul and the Blood Rain Wanderer, avoiding Mok Wana.
But soon, an unexpected guest arrived in the courtyard.
A Taoist from the Cheongseong Sect, clad in a blue robe, appeared. He looked at least a decade older than Hwang Ryeongja and carried an air of authority.
Though Tang Mujin and the Blood Rain Wanderer had never met him, they knew who he was without needing an introduction.
He was Yeongheoja, the head of the Cheongseong Sect, and the only one of the Six Masters Tang Mujin had yet to meet.
The Blood Rain Wanderer was visibly tense, avoiding eye contact with Yeongheoja.
’…How far down the ranks have I fallen?’
He had hoped to spend his retirement as a respected figure in Chengdu, but now, with Sam Anbul, Master Hwayeon, and even the Six Masters involved, things were different.
The others felt similarly uneasy. Tang Mujin and Sam Anbul were just as wary of Yeongheoja, and Yeongheoja himself seemed uncomfortable with the situation.
Finally, Tang Mujin broke the silence. As the youngest, it was his role to ease the tension.
“Isn’t this the esteemed Yeongheoja of the Cheongseong Sect? Your presence is unmistakable, with the pure aura of your sect.”
Yeongheoja responded as if he had been waiting for this.
“You must be Tang So-hyup. Hwang Ryeongja often praises you when we meet. His judgment seems sound. You have a remarkable presence, and I’ve heard of your achievements in medicine, metallurgy, and swordsmanship.”
As the polite exchanges continued, Sam Anbul glanced sideways.
The Blood Rain Wanderer seemed determined to remain silent, avoiding Yeongheoja’s gaze as if believing that if he didn’t see Yeongheoja, Yeongheoja wouldn’t see him.
Eventually, Sam Anbul joined the conversation.
“It’s been a while, Yeongheoja. What brings you here?”
Unlike Tang Mujin and the Blood Rain Wanderer, Sam Anbul was acquainted with Yeongheoja.
Years before the last great conflict between the righteous and the demonic sects, a young Yeongheoja had journeyed to Mount Tian with other righteous warriors.
There was no lingering animosity between them.
Too much time had passed for grudges, and neither had inflicted significant harm on the other.
Sam Anbul’s unease with Yeongheoja stemmed from another reason. He suspected why Yeongheoja had come.
It wouldn’t be surprising if Yeongheoja disapproved of the Blood Rain Wanderer’s attempt to leave his past behind. The Cheongseong Sect’s warriors were known for their strict principles.
But Yeongheoja took the conversation in a different direction.
“You might think I’m here about the Blood Rain Wanderer, but I don’t particularly oppose his situation.”
The Blood Rain Wanderer, listening quietly from the corner, was startled when his alias was mentioned, coughing in surprise.
Yeongheoja ignored the sound with effort, and Sam Anbul pressed on.
“Then why are you here?”
“Given the situation in Sichuan, it wouldn’t make sense for me to ignore it. The Xiangbaek Sect of Mount Emei will likely attend for similar reasons, so be aware.”
From a cynical perspective, the Blood Rain Wanderer’s situation could be seen as a demonic warrior’s desperate attempt to integrate into the righteous martial world.
But viewed positively, it was a moment of redemption for a once-vicious warrior.
Yeongheoja leaned more towards the latter.
By attending as a representative of the righteous sects, he could appear to be aiding in the redemption of a villain.
This was the first time a demonic warrior had renounced his past, allowing Yeongheoja to boast about it to the monks of the Gongdong Sect for a lifetime.
The Gongdong Sect, which aimed to reform demonic warriors, had never succeeded with someone of such high caliber.
Sam Anbul added, “But it seems you have another reason for being here.”
“Indeed. Representatives from various righteous sects will attend, and I have a message for them. This is actually more important.”
“What is it?”
Yeongheoja began to explain, his voice filled with frustration.
“As you know, the situation with the Demonic Sect is precarious, but when I try to convene a meeting, no one wants to gather. Everyone’s trying to pass the responsibility onto someone else.”
This was the same story Tang Mujin had relayed to Hwang Ryeongja after escaping the Demonic Sect.
The current leader of the Demonic Sect had killed the previous leader to seize control, but the sect’s atmosphere was unsettling.
Hwang Ryeongja must have passed this information to Yeongheoja.
The current state of the righteous martial world was precarious. It wouldn’t be surprising if the Demonic Sect attacked at any moment.
The warriors of the Kunlun Sect, closest to the Demonic Sect, were particularly anxious.
If the Demonic Sect invaded, they would be the first to face them.
While not as vulnerable as the Kunlun Sect, the Cheongseong and Emei Sects in Sichuan couldn’t rest easy either.
Sichuan was a natural fortress surrounded by steep mountains, but it was relatively close to the Demonic Sect.
Sam Anbul chuckled as he listened.
“It seems the righteous warriors aren’t very united.”
“Admittedly, yes. When it comes to matters involving the Sapa, I tend to be quite proactive. But when it involves the Demonic Cult, I find myself hesitating, as if I’m dragging my feet… Anyway, Three-Eyed Buddha, since we’re here, there’s something I’d like to ask you.”
“What is it?”
“As someone who once held a significant position in the Demonic Cult, do you think the current leader will lead their warriors into the Central Plains? Or will they remain in Tianshan as they have in the past?”
After a brief moment of contemplation, Three-Eyed Buddha replied, “The current leader isn’t one to uphold doctrines; he’s someone who craves power. And when someone like that gains power, they inevitably look for a place to wield it.”
“But there’s no guarantee they’ll invade the east. Couldn’t they push westward instead? I’ve heard that the Demonic Cult’s martial arts have roots in the Western Regions.”
It was a perspective he hadn’t considered before, but upon reflection, it was quite convincing. The idea of the Demonic Cult’s leader, who had mastered martial arts from the distant West, invading the Western Regions to deepen his knowledge wasn’t far-fetched. After all, from the Cult’s standpoint, both the Central Plains and the Western Regions were equally distant.
Three-Eyed Buddha nodded. “That’s possible. But I doubt they’d stop after conquering the West. They’d likely turn their sights on the Central Plains as well. In fact, it might be better if they invade the Central Plains first.”
“And why is that?”
“I’ve faced the leader’s superficial martial arts before. The power was immense. If he were to fully develop his skills in the West and gain real combat experience, I shudder to think of the bloodshed he could unleash upon the martial world of the Central Plains.”
“So, it’s just a matter of timing, then.”
Three-Eyed Buddha smirked. “Let me give you some practical advice.”
“What is it?”
“Don’t wait for the Demonic Cult to make the first move. Gather your forces and attack Tianshan before the leader completes his training. This isn’t about starting another righteous-demonic war for the sake of it. It’s about survival.”
It was a bold suggestion.
Yeongheo stared intently at Three-Eyed Buddha. Was he saying this to serve his own interests, being a former member of the Demonic Cult? Rationally, that seemed the most likely explanation, yet it didn’t feel like a lie.
With a deep sigh, Yeongheo rose from his seat. “Understood. I’ll be staying at the Cheongseong Sect’s branch until the end of the year. If you have more to discuss, feel free to visit.”
With that, Yeongheo left.
Three-Eyed Buddha had offered his advice sincerely, but he didn’t expect the righteous sects to rally and attack the Demonic Cult first. People tend to remain inactive until the threat is imminent. It had always been that way, and this time would be no different.
The long-awaited end of the year arrived.
In Seongdo, inns with guest rooms typically operated from spring to fall, closing in winter. Most visitors were merchants traveling along the Yangtze River during warmer months, so there was no reason to keep inns open when even flies froze in winter.
But this year was different. As winter approached, more and more outsiders filled Seongdo’s empty rooms. Room rates, which were usually affordable with a handful of coins, skyrocketed. Now, it took fifty coins to secure a night’s stay, making rooms a rare commodity.
With the cold winds blowing, innkeepers found themselves earning as much in two months as they usually did in a year, leading to rumors that they bowed in gratitude toward the Tang family estate daily.
With so many flocking to the inns, many outsiders couldn’t find rooms. But having come so far, they couldn’t return empty-handed. They found lodging in private homes, offering a couple of silver coins a month for a spot by the warm hearth.
For locals, who struggled to make ends meet in winter, this unexpected income was a blessing. Occasionally, romances blossomed between visiting men and local women, especially widows. It was only natural for lonely souls to find comfort together during the long winter nights.
It was an unusual winter, one that even the oldest resident of Seongdo claimed was the most prosperous and warmest they had ever experienced.
The popularity of the Blood Rain Guest soared as well. Visitors to Seongdo often asked first, “Where is the Blood Rain Guest staying?” or “Where is the Tang family estate?”
Even the village children knew that the winter’s prosperity was thanks to the Tang family and the martial artist known as the Blood Rain Guest.
As the lunar year’s end approached, three days before New Year’s Eve, Namung, a disciple of the Blood Rain Guest, and Hyungong climbed to the highest roof of the Tang family estate.
With a deep breath, they shouted, “The supreme martial artist of the Sapa, the Blood Rain Guest, seeks to cleanse his past and return as Jang Il-nam, the eldest son of the Jang family! If anyone has objections, come to the Tang family estate by sunset in three days!”
With that proclamation, people from all over the Central Plains, who had gathered in Seongdo, surged toward the Tang family estate like a rising tide.