Chapter 248: Yang Gwak, Baek Ya-hyo, and Hyun Gong
The moment Yang Gwak, the head of the Taeui Sword Sect, heard Yu Jin-gwang’s story, he realized the threat to pierce his heart was no idle boast.
“What should I do now?”
Yang Gwak was left with two simple choices.
First, he could humble himself, bowing low to remain in the Wudang Sect as long as possible, seeking a chance to survive.
Second, he could face death with dignity, lending weight to his story, however slight.
Naturally, Yang Gwak’s heart leaned toward the first option. It was how he had lived his entire life.
On the day the assassins of Salmak were burned alive, Yang Gwak couldn’t utter a word in front of Dang Mu-jin.
Even when he visited Wudang to confront Dang Mu-jin, he was the same. Fearing Dang Mu-jin would come for him if he returned to the Taeui Sword Sect, he abandoned his position and fled, making a mockery of his title.
“I’ve always been like this.”
In that moment, disillusionment filled Yang Gwak’s body and mind—not with the world, but with his own powerlessness and cowardice.
His life as the head of the Taeui Sword Sect had been filled with emptiness and regret, and it seemed it would continue to be so.
“A tiresome life.”
A life marred by being swept away, manipulated, and constantly on the run.
Even if he tried to find a way to survive, the odds of escaping Yu Jin-gwang’s gaze were slim.
Yang Gwak opened his eyes wide. He hadn’t come to Wudang Mountain to flee.
If survival had been his only goal, he would have let go of his grudges long ago. He wouldn’t have harbored resentment for years, nor would he have risked coming to Wudang Mountain.
For the first time in his life, Yang Gwak mustered the courage to shout.
“I’m not a coward who avoids fights. If you have a grievance, come and face me!”
His jaw trembled, and he feared his teeth would chatter like a coward’s. He clenched his molars tightly.
“Did they notice my fear? No, they couldn’t have.”
Contrary to Yang Gwak’s expectations, the other martial artists sensed his fear. They simply chose not to show it.
Those who have never faced an enemy with a sword or confronted their fears believe courage and spirit must be flawless. Yang Gwak was one of them.
But the other martial artists, having faced their fears, knew such perfection was impossible.
To the martial artists of the Central Plains, Yang Gwak appeared quite courageous. At least in this moment.
Yang Gwak concealed his trembling legs as he headed outside Namhwagak.
Yu Jin-gwang and Dang Mu-jin followed him, and the martial artists gathered at Namhwagak followed them. Even Young Bo-jin, carried on Hyun Gong’s back, mingled among the crowd.
Soon, they reached Haegumji.
What was stored in Haegumji was not Yang Gwak’s sword, but his life. The moment he drew his sword from Haegumji, he would die.
Yang Gwak reflected on his past.
Unlike his exceptional father, he had never lived up to expectations. Yang Gwak revered his father as if he were the sky.
But Dang Mu-jin was a prodigy who surpassed his father at a young age. Yu Jin-gwang was likely far above even Dang Mu-jin.
“I’m just an insect.”
Yang Gwak knew his place. He had no capacity to stand against such prodigies.
He couldn’t even leave a scratch, let alone drive a dagger into his opponent.
Yet, in this moment, Yang Gwak decided to be a bee, not a mere insect hiding under leaves to survive, but a bee that stings once and dies.
Even if all he could leave Dang Mu-jin was a brief sting, he desperately needed that chance.
Yang Gwak steeled himself.
“This is my last chance.”
Yang Gwak retrieved his sword from Haegumji and stepped outside.
In front of him stood Yu Jin-gwang, sword lowered. A supreme master, renowned across the world.
A man standing at an unreachable height, far beyond his grasp, even if he were to die and be reborn ten times.
Yet, Yang Gwak raised his sword.
Yu Jin-gwang also raised his sword. It was an unusual stance, with his arms raised high and the sword held horizontally, as if mocking him. But Yu Jin-gwang didn’t seem like the type to wield his sword in jest. It must be a preparation for an extraordinary technique.
Yang Gwak shouted.
“Come, Neunggwang Sword! Yang Gwak of the Taeui Sword Sect is here!”
But Yang Gwak couldn’t charge. Someone stood in his way. It was Dang Mu-jin.
“This isn’t something to pass on to Yu Daehyeop.”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s not about being fine. It’s something I must do.”
“If you think so, then do it.”
At Dang Mu-jin’s words, Yu Jin-gwang lowered his sword and stepped back.
Now, with Dang Mu-jin holding his sword, Yang Gwak’s heart pounded even harder.
Yang Gwak knew. Just as with Yu Jin-gwang, Dang Mu-jin was beyond his reach.
Yet, somehow, he saw a glimmer of possibility.
Dang Mu-jin naturally raised the tip of his sword. Everyone around held their breath.
Dang Mu-jin didn’t bother to yield the first move to his opponent.
He had never wielded his sword lightly. In life-and-death situations, he always gave his best.
Yang Gwak, determined to seize the initiative, clenched his teeth and charged at Dang Mu-jin.
But as Yang Gwak took two steps forward, something like a flash of light pierced his chest.
“A thrust!”
Yang Gwak’s eyes couldn’t properly follow Dang Mu-jin’s sword.
But his survival instinct, honed over a lifetime, shone through.
Yang Gwak executed the most perfect defense of his life against the barely visible sword.
And astonishingly, he deflected Dang Mu-jin’s sword cleanly.
“I blocked it! I did it!”
Yang Gwak’s mind was ablaze with euphoria.
“I can do this!”
But in the next moment, a sharp pain erupted in his chest.
Yang Gwak looked down. A sharp sword was embedded in the center of his chest.
What Yang Gwak had deflected was not Dang Mu-jin’s ultimate technique.
It was one of the many sword paths Dang Mu-jin could take, a strike that could be extended if blocked.
Blood trickled from Yang Gwak’s mouth. If only he had a bit more talent. If only he had tried a little harder. If only he could have blocked a few more strikes.
He felt regret, but no remorse.
The bee’s small sting wasn’t in the sword.
“Father. Your unworthy son has done it once.”
With a smile on his lips, the head of the Taeui Sword Sect died.
Dang Mu-jin let out a sigh as he sheathed his sword.
“Something feels off.”
It wasn’t because he hadn’t won in a single strike.
In fact, the duel had ended quickly, even by the standards of life-and-death battles between masters and first-rate fighters. Some martial artists seemed to think Dang Mu-jin’s achievement was beyond expectations.
But most eyes were not on the victorious Dang Mu-jin, but on the fallen head of the Taeui Sword Sect. A man who had faced death head-on, despite his fear.
Every martial artist present was talented. To them, the head of the Taeui Sword Sect’s accomplishments seemed insignificant.
But he was no coward. How many in the world could march straight toward death?
People reflected on the story of the head of the Taeui Sword Sect.
Sometimes, the defeated can gain more than the victor.
That was what Dang Mu-jin had worried about, and why the head of the Taeui Sword Sect hadn’t backed down, even in the face of death.
Understanding the thoughts of those around him, Dang Mu-jin sighed deeply.
Back at Namhwagak, Dang Mu-jin began explaining the situation to the gathered crowd.
The tangled fates of the Jeweon Baek family, Salmak, and the strange research of the Sama family.
The previous head of the Taeui Sword Sect and the people of Nogunsan.
Even the Gongdong and Jeomchang sects.
Dang Mu-jin’s story fit together seamlessly, without any mismatched pieces.
With Shin Seung and Yu Jin-gwang actively testifying about the related matters, people were more or less convinced.
There were even topics that required no testimony. Salmak.
“Uiryong, did you eliminate Salmak?”
“I merely lent a hand.”
“From what I’ve heard, it seems like more than just that… No wonder. I haven’t heard of Salmak causing trouble in recent years.”
But a bigger issue remained. Regardless of the circumstances, the fact that martial artists from the Demonic Sect, led by Sam An-bul, were staying at the Tang family estate was undeniable and unsettling.
People couldn’t completely shake off their doubts, so they ultimately judged based on practicality rather than trust.
Conveniently, the stories of Dang Mu-jin and the Demonic Sect martial artists served as a good excuse.
“If the Demonic Sect rises, the Shandong Evil Clan will be the first to rush in. I promise.”
“The Moyong family will also depart as soon as we receive word.”
It was pleasant to hear, but ultimately, it was an admission that they were reluctant to launch a preemptive strike against the Demonic Sect.
At this point, even those like Yuyu Do-in and Yeong Heo-ja, who had been advocating for an aggressive stance against the Demonic Sect, felt deflated.
“Should we attack the Demonic Sect ourselves? Do we stand a chance?”
“Is it right for us to sacrifice ourselves for those who stand by with folded arms?”
Yuyu Do-in glared at the crowd, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He had already issued a warning, so if the Demonic Sect invaded, he would simply flee with all his might.
The meeting wrapped up in a rather muddled fashion. As hoped, the leader of the Taeui Sword Sect had become a stumbling block for Tang Mujin. Not just for him, but for the entire orthodox martial world.
Before everyone dispersed, Yeong Heoja spoke up, grasping at straws.
“We might have similar discussions in the future, so if you receive a message, please gather at Mount Wudang.”
No one was shameless enough to refuse such a suggestion, especially when they were already retreating with their tails between their legs. The murmured responses were predictable.
“Sure, that’s not too difficult.”
“What should we call this gathering?”
Yeong Bojin almost said “Jeongcheon Alliance” but held his tongue. The name was one the Wudang Sect used when they absorbed a few minor sects around them. Given the current situation, with the Taeui Sword Sect in ruins and its leader dead, it wasn’t the best time to bring up such a name.
A monk from the Shaolin Temple interjected, “Does the name really matter? Let’s just call it the Martial Alliance. There’s no other group like it now. As for the leader… Yeong Bojin or Yeong Heoja could take the role. I doubt anyone would object.”
Even though the Sama family had been wiped out, reducing their numbers, the Martial Alliance was still the largest organization in the orthodox martial world. After all, it included both the Shaolin Temple and the Beggars’ Sect.
Offering the leadership to Yeong Heoja was a gesture of consideration, acknowledging his deep sorrow.
“Very well, let’s do that. Thank you all for taking the time to be here.”
With that, people began to drift away, exchanging polite farewells.
But Yu Jingwang’s business wasn’t finished. He scanned the area until he found Baek Yahyo, the head of the Gongdong Sect.
“Master Baek, could we have a word?”
“What is it?”
Baek Yahyo approached, standing a little apart from Yu Jingwang. At first glance, Yu Jingwang hadn’t noticed, but Baek Yahyo was taller than he appeared, a head taller than the average-sized Yu Jingwang.
“It’s great to have another top-tier martial artist in the orthodox sects, but something’s been bothering me. When did you become the head of the Gongdong Sect?”
Baek Yahyo replied in a light tone, as if amused by the curiosity.
“Not even a year ago. I joined the Gongdong Sect and soon after became its leader, so it still feels strange to be called that.”
It had been exactly two years since the death of Muryangja and the burning of Hwangolgak. Yu Jingwang pressed further.
“So there was over a year between Muryangja’s death and your appointment… Was the leader’s position vacant all that time?”
Baek Yahyo waved his hand dismissively.
“Not at all. After Muryangja, Sangyudo took over temporarily, but he stepped down shortly after I joined the sect.”
Tang Mujin had never heard of Sangyudo, but Yu Jingwang, with his experience, had. However, Yu Jingwang knew Sangyudo wasn’t someone with the martial prowess to lead a large sect like Gongdong.
‘Did Sangyudo step down because Baek Yahyo joined and the position became too burdensome?’
The situation made sense. With such a disparity in skill, the authority of a superior wouldn’t hold. Moreover, the Gongdong Sect often chose or passed on leadership based on martial strength, so Sangyudo stepping down was a natural course.
Yu Jingwang told Baek Yahyo, “I understand. But I can’t help but feel uneasy about you, Master Baek.”
“What is it that bothers you so much?”
Baek Yahyo consistently maintained a humble posture in front of Yu Jingwang, who was at least ten years his junior. Yu Jingwang found dealing with such people uncomfortable. Determined not to be swayed, he spoke bluntly.
“Arriving late to the meeting is one thing, but showing up with the Taeui Sword Sect leader is suspicious. Are you up to something?”
“Up to something? I just happened to meet the Taeui Sword Sect leader on the way to Mount Wudang. Are you suspicious because of what he said?”
Baek Yahyo looked genuinely troubled.
Yu Jingwang, along with Tang Mujin, remained silent, simply watching Baek Yahyo. Eventually, Baek Yahyo sighed deeply.
“I don’t fully understand how the orthodox martial world operates yet. I just felt sorry after hearing the story and decided to accompany him. I don’t agree with the Taeui Sword Sect leader’s views. Please, put your suspicions to rest.”
Something still felt off, but with such a demeanor, it was hard to press further. Yu Jingwang left Baek Yahyo with a final word.
“I’ll be keeping a close eye on the Gongdong Sect.”
“I lack experience, so if you have advice, I’ll always listen carefully.”
Yu Jingwang turned away, spitting on the ground. That slippery character.
Baek Yahyo watched Yu Jingwang’s retreating figure for a moment, then smiled slightly and left Mount Wudang.
It took less than half a day for the people who had gathered from all over the central plains to disperse as if it had all been a lie. By evening, the only outsiders left at the Wudang Sect were Tang Mujin and his group.
Tang Mujin had no further business with the Wudang Sect. Neither did Hong Geolgae. However, Hyeongong still had something to do.
“I’ll be back.”
As Hyeongong stood up, Hong Geolgae, lying sprawled on the floor, spoke.
“Mess it up royally and quit being a Taoist. You’ve done it for about twenty years; that’s enough.”
“Stop talking nonsense.”
“I’m serious. Your nature suits the Beggars’ Sect more than being a Taoist.”
“Sounds like you’re just insulting me.”
Late at night, Hyeongong grumbled as he left the guest house.
He went to see Yeong Bojin to demonstrate his progress.
When Hyeongong slid open the door to the head’s room in Hyeoncheondang, Yeong Bojin was sitting with his back to the door.
“Hyeongong, come over here.”
“Yes.”
Hyeongong walked over quickly, positioning himself to face Yeong Bojin, at the farthest point from the entrance.
Yeong Bojin’s gaze fell on the sword hanging at Hyeongong’s waist.
Hyeongong bowed slightly, clasping his hands in respect.
But something felt off. Normally, the Songmun Ancient Sword would be hanging on the wall with the other swords, yet it lay across Yeong Bojin’s lap.
Yeong Bojin spoke in his usual gentle voice.
“Well done.”
Hyeongong found Yeong Bojin’s words strange.
He had been at the Wudang Sect for about two weeks and had greeted Yeong Bojin when he arrived. He had also visited him every few days since.
So why the sudden “well done”? It was odd.
‘Is he losing his mind? Well, given his age, it’s possible. But if the head’s position becomes vacant, that’s not good timing. I’m not old enough to become the head yet. It’d be best if he held on as long as possible before stepping down…’
‘Or maybe it’s not that. Maybe he’s just saying it’s good I came at this late hour.’
As Hyeongong’s mind raced, Yeong Bojin spoke again.
“And farewell.”
”…What?”
As Hyeongong lifted his head slightly, the Songmun Ancient Sword in Yeong Bojin’s hand grazed his throat.