As Manryeokseung’s grip tightened around Baek Yahyo’s face, a single thought flashed through Baek’s mind.
It wasn’t admiration for the power of Shaolin, nor fear of Manryeokseung, nor even the terror of impending death.
It was a question.
“If these people didn’t bring the secret manual, then who did…?”
Crack.
Baek Yahyo died with an unsolvable mystery lingering in his mind.
Manryeokseung carried Baek Yahyo’s crushed body outside and hurled it high into the sky.
The corpse soared briefly before crashing down in the midst of the battle between the orthodox and unorthodox martial artists.
Thud.
”…”
The clamor of clashing steel in the training grounds of the Alliance fell silent for a moment.
The unorthodox fighters hesitated, assessing the situation. They had held the upper hand until now, but breaking through the orthodox ranks had proven difficult. With the addition of two sect leaders and Manryeokseung, their chances of victory seemed to dwindle.
Should they fight to the death, or flee?
As the unorthodox fighters wavered, one made a decisive move. He turned and leaped over the Alliance’s wall, disappearing from sight.
“That coward!”
Like wild animals following their leader, the unorthodox fighters began to flee. It was an expected outcome. A few slower ones were caught and killed, but most managed to escape the Alliance.
The orthodox fighters, exhausted themselves, did not pursue. Instead, they surveyed the aftermath. Their fallen comrades lay cold on the ground, and the wounded groaned in pain.
The orthodox fighters reacted in two ways.
Some mourned the dead, while others celebrated the victory. The latter were in the majority.
“We won!”
“The sword of Zhongnan has vanquished the Alliance’s villains!”
Tang Mujin found the jubilant orthodox fighters somewhat unsettling. But it was understandable.
In the martial world, one had to be a little mad to survive.
The joy of victory and the sorrow of sacrifice.
Those who were overwhelmed by sorrow would not have chosen the path of the sword.
The orthodox fighters expressed their joy to Ilseonja and Seonwuja, while Tang Mujin and his group approached Manryeokseung.
“Are you alright?”
“You seem different somehow.”
While Tang Mujin and Hong Geolgae exchanged pleasantries, Hyeongong took more direct action. He immediately removed his outer garment to wipe the blood from Manryeokseung’s body.
Ilseonja and Seonwuja, watching this, felt a bit uneasy. They were far more injured and bloodied than Manryeokseung, but they had their sect’s disciples and brothers to tend to them.
‘Well, since Manryeokseung came alone from Shaolin, it’s only right for Jeong-eon to look after him. It’s not like he’s trying to curry favor with Manryeokseung.’
After a brief moment of celebration, the orthodox fighters dispersed to tend to the dead and wounded.
Though treating sword wounds and broken bones was difficult, there were still those they could help.
Tang Mujin called out loudly.
“Gather the wounded here!”
All eyes turned to Tang Mujin and his group.
Their contributions had been too significant to dismiss as mere juniors.
Though Hong Geolgae hadn’t distinguished himself and had even embarrassed himself by seeking alcohol during the battle, his skills weren’t lacking.
‘Are they the next generation of the orthodox martial world?’
With various thoughts in mind, the orthodox fighters brought the wounded to Tang Mujin.
While Tang Mujin tended to the injured, the orthodox fighters resumed their search of the Alliance.
They hadn’t come to fight the Alliance but to find the secret manual.
As they neared the end of their search, they discovered a suspicious area.
Behind the Alliance lay numerous graves, their grass-covered mounds suggesting they were relatively new.
And behind the graves, they found a prison.
’…’
Not every sect had a prison.
But the Alliance did, and it was unusually large compared to those of other sects or clans.
Not every unorthodox fighter who joined the Alliance shed their past, so many ended up imprisoned.
The orthodox fighters cautiously entered the prison and found people in a pitiful state, emaciated and battered.
They had expected to find captives. The surprise was recognizing some of them.
Most notably, Sang Gwaldo, the brother of Sang Yudo, who had become the Alliance’s leader after the death of Wuliangja.
“Sang Gwaldo!”
At Seonwuja’s shout, Sang Gwaldo looked up at him.
“Isn’t that the head of the Mount Hua Sect? How did you come to be here?”
Seonwuja hesitated, unsure how to explain that they had killed many Alliance fighters and were now searching for the secret manual.
But Sang Gwaldo spoke unexpectedly.
“Have you dealt with the villains outside?”
Seonwuja detected a faint hope in Sang Gwaldo’s voice.
And the term “villains” was curious.
The orthodox fighters realized something was amiss.
None of the Alliance fighters they had faced were familiar, nor had they used the Alliance’s martial arts.
Initially, they thought it was due to lack of training, but there was no trace of the Alliance’s signature demonic sword techniques.
It was as if they had never learned the Alliance’s proud demonic sword techniques.
The orthodox fighters led Sang Gwaldo and the other prisoners outside.
Sang Gwaldo squinted in disbelief at the sunlight, his face a mix of joy, anger, and pain.
Seonwuja asked Sang Gwaldo.
“What happened to the Alliance?”
Sang Gwaldo replied haltingly.
“Not long after the Bone-Transforming Pavilion burned down two years ago, unorthodox fighters from the north began arriving at the Alliance’s main base. We thought they were seeking to leave their unorthodox lives behind and start anew. Since they couldn’t go to the Bone-Transforming Pavilion, we assumed they came to the Alliance.”
Sang Gwaldo staggered to his feet and looked at the graves, still not fully covered with grass.
“But the number of people coming to the Alliance grew suspiciously large. Just as we decided to stop accepting unorthodox fighters and focus on strengthening ourselves, dozens of unorthodox fighters attacked under the cover of night. They killed my brother, Sang Yudo.”
The orthodox fighters finally understood what had happened to the Alliance.
The Alliance’s leaders they had known were not the type to roam the land stealing secret manuals. It was undoubtedly a scheme by the cunning unorthodox fighters.
Sang Gwaldo continued.
“Most who resisted were killed, and those who bowed their heads were imprisoned but survived.”
However, those imprisoned hadn’t bowed merely to survive.
They, too, had once been unorthodox fighters.
People who were no strangers to choosing death over submission.
But if there was a greater purpose than death, they knew how to bend.
Sang Gwaldo was the same. He intended to survive and take revenge on the unorthodox fighters.
Seonwuja reassured Sang Gwaldo.
“Don’t worry. We’ve avenged the Alliance.”
“How many of the Six Masters are here?”
“Manryeokseung has reached a level comparable to the Six Masters, but they did not come. We didn’t expect a battle when we came to the Alliance.”
“How many supreme unorthodox masters were there?”
”…How many?”
Seonwuja’s expression turned puzzled.
It was as if there should have been more supreme masters besides Baek Yahyo.
And the mention of “how many” suggested there were more than two.
Seonwuja replied.
“There was only one supreme master, Baek Yahyo.”
After a brief silence, Sang Gwaldo spoke.
“If Baek Yahyo had been the only supreme master who attacked the Alliance last year, the Alliance would not have fallen.”
With no way to gauge the remaining strength of the unorthodox forces, Seonwuja felt a growing unease.
Sang Gwaldo raised his skeletal arm and tore his tattered garment.
His upper body bore the marks of torture.
It wasn’t torture for information. Sang Gwaldo had no information to give, and the unorthodox fighters sought none.
It was done purely out of malice and sadistic amusement.
As a result, Sang Gwaldo had lost an eye, and his body was covered in scars.
To make matters worse, a humiliating tattoo was etched on his forehead.
But Sang Gwaldo endured.
He hid the fact that he was Sang Yudo’s brother and bore all the pain and humiliation. All to survive and exact revenge.
“Please, follow us.”
The warriors of the Gongdong Sect and Sang-gwal Do-in staggered precariously into the training grounds of the Gongdong Sect.
The scene was still littered with countless bodies.
With his emaciated arm, Sang-gwal Do-in picked up a sword and mercilessly slashed at the body of a wounded enemy fighter.
“You filthy bastards!”
The enemy fighter screamed in agony.
“Just kill me! End it already!”
But Sang-gwal Do-in, eyes burning with hatred, continued to swing his sword.
Finally, when he was utterly exhausted and the enemy’s cries had faded to silence, Sang-gwal Do-in drove his sword through the man’s throat.
“Gurgle…”
The enemy fighter choked on his own blood as he died.
The warriors of the righteous sects watched in silence, saying nothing as they witnessed the brutal scene.
To inflict such pain on an already wounded man was undeniably cruel, yet no one condemned Sang-gwal Do-in. They understood the extent of the suffering he had endured.
The history of the Gongdong Sect seemed destined to end here, and they could afford him this small mercy as he faced the demise of his own sect.
However, contrary to what everyone thought, Sang-gwal Do-in had no intention of letting the history of the Gongdong Sect end here.
He raised his sword to his own head.
Namgung Myung and Hong Geol-gae, fearing he intended to take his own life, rushed forward to stop him.
“Stop!”
But Sang-gwal Do-in did not pierce his throat.
Instead, he brought the blade to his forehead, where the enemy had carved a humiliating mark.
He cut away the skin of his own forehead.
Blood streamed down, covering his face, yet he seemed oblivious to the pain. He even chewed on the flesh he had cut from his own forehead.
Namgung Myung, Hong Geol-gae, and everyone else watched in stunned silence.
No one spoke, no one moved. What Sang-gwal Do-in did was more grotesque than taking his own life.
Then, he cut off his hair.
The dirty strands fell over his blood-soaked face, but his eyes, burning with fierce determination, could not be hidden.
“The Gongdong Sect will not end here,” he declared in a cold voice.
“I will become the next leader and continue its legacy. But it will not be the Gongdong Sect of the past. We will no longer accept those from the enemy factions.”
Sunwoo-ja thought of the Sang-gwal Do-in he once knew.
He had been a gentle soul, hard to believe he had ever been part of the enemy faction, much like the late Sang-yu Do-in, who had been killed by them.
But now, Sang-gwal Do-in was a completely different person.
Not by choice, but because the world had forced him to change.
He raised his sword horizontally to the sky.
And with a voice full of steely resolve, he declared, “The Bokma Sword Technique will no longer be a weapon to embrace the enemy. It will be a sword to bring them to their knees and cut them down. I will dedicate the rest of my life to this goal!”
As he did, the other members of the Gongdong Sect raised their swords high in agreement.
It was a sign of their acceptance of Sang-gwal Do-in as their new leader and their willingness to follow his path, even at the cost of their lives.
Whether the Gongdong Sect could overcome this trial and rise again was uncertain.
But one thing was clear: the future Gongdong Sect would share nothing but its name with the past.
Dang Moo-jin recalled something Yoo Jin-gwang had once said.
That the sect might never be rebuilt.
That one day, the Gongdong Sect might no longer accept those from the enemy factions.
Yoo Jin-gwang’s prophecy had come true in just two years.
“Is this the way of the world?”
The transformation of the Gongdong Sect, the enemy factions, and the demonic cults.
It felt as if dark clouds were gathering from all directions, and Dang Moo-jin let out a deep sigh.