Dang Mujin sat on the broad stone in front of Hyeoncheondang, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in his mind—confusion, bewilderment, disbelief, and a surprisingly vivid sense of joy. Despite priding himself on having experienced all sorts of things, this was a feeling he had never encountered before.

He glanced at Namgung Myung and Hyeon Gong, who wore similarly complex expressions.

“That thing earlier… it was Hong Geolgae, wasn’t it?” Dang Mujin asked.

Namgung Myung replied, “Seems like it. There can’t be two of those in the world.”

Despite his furrowed brow and crossed arms, Namgung Myung’s voice carried a clear note of relief, hinting at the depth of his previous anxiety.

Hyeon Gong, however, shook his head slightly. “No, I have a feeling it might not be Hong Geolgae.”

“Why? We saw the same face and behavior,” Dang Mujin pressed.

“The problem was what happened afterward. As far as I remember, Hong Geolgae wasn’t someone who would just disappear like that…”

Dang Mujin recalled the Hong Geolgae he first met—poor but full of spirit, someone who valued his dignity and wouldn’t back down from a challenge, even risking his life to save a child. But the recent Hong Geolgae seemed to have lost his sense of shame.

With a heavy voice, Dang Mujin said, “No, having watched him for the past decade, it’s clear Hong Geolgae has been changing. He must have lost the last shred of his dignity without us realizing it…”

The debate over whether the man was truly Hong Geolgae continued, a mix of discussion and collaboration. Soon enough, Hong Geolgae revealed himself, and the three watched him in silence.

His mannerisms, from fiddling with his staff to his peculiar smile, confirmed his identity. Dang Mujin cut to the chase, “What’s going on?”

Hong Geolgae hesitated, then gestured toward the building. “Let’s talk inside.”

“Why?” Dang Mujin asked.

“There’s a reason. Just come in, and don’t say anything…”

Namgung Myung, still frowning, cleared his throat. But Dang Mujin and Hyeon Gong sensed his excitement.

Despite his outward demeanor, Namgung Myung was in a good mood, though he was also tempted to give Hong Geolgae a good thrashing. The only thing stopping him was the lack of a solid reason—after all, Hong Geolgae wasn’t at fault for the recent events.

“Ultimately, Jwa Hobum met a strange end,” Namgung Myung muttered.

Hyeon Gong replied coolly, “No need to pity Jwa Hobum. He killed plenty for his master, so it’s only fitting.”

From Hyeon Gong’s perspective, Jwa Hobum was not someone to be recruited. As long as his master lived, betrayal was always a possibility. Thus, Hyeon Gong saw Jwa Hobum’s death as a good outcome.

“Is that so,” Dang Mujin mused.

“Yes. He wasn’t weak-willed, so he won’t end up in the lowest depths of the afterlife…”

Dang Mujin then turned to Hong Geolgae with a hint of sarcasm. “But that display earlier… wasn’t it a bit too disgraceful? Did the death of the esteemed Hong Jusan also kill your sense of shame?”

Hong Geolgae shrugged, “I had no choice. It was all for the sake of the Beggars’ Union.”

Dang Mujin and Namgung Myung watched him, waiting to see what nonsense he’d spout next.

“After the decisive battle, the atmosphere in the union was quite down. Even after years, it hadn’t improved. With the death of our respected leader, if rumors about me, the only one left to rely on, started spreading, what do you think would happen?”

His reasoning seemed sound, but it was clear Hong Geolgae had lost his sense of shame.

“Hmm…” Dang Mujin grunted, unimpressed, but Hong Geolgae remained unfazed.

“It’s not an excuse. The union members wouldn’t want to follow a leader who attended the funeral out of jealousy. I had to clear up any misunderstandings in front of everyone. I wanted to show that, contrary to popular belief, the leader of the Beggars’ Union is humble and capable.”

“But wasn’t your self-praise… I mean, praise for the leader a bit over the top? Honestly, defeating Jwa Hobum with your skills is unbelievable.”

“I wanted to give the union members hope and a sense of possibility.”

“What hope?”

“Many in the union have half-given up, thinking there’s no point in mastering fake martial arts. I wanted to tell them we could reach the pinnacle too. Hope is always a good thing, right?”

Hong Geolgae’s response was smooth, almost as if he were reciting a script. Namgung Myung interjected, “But wasn’t there too much emphasis on the leader’s personal virtues? It seemed like you were deliberately trying to pass on the leadership.”

Hong Geolgae hesitated before speaking, “The saddest thing about Hong Jusan is that even those close to him didn’t recognize his true worth.”

Unable to hold back, Namgung Myung stood up abruptly, glaring at Hong Geolgae.

Hong Geolgae looked slightly weary.

Two days later, at noon, the righteous martial artists gathered to discuss the situation. The sudden retreat of the demonic sect’s forces had completely changed the dynamics of the conflict.

Few of the demonic sect’s fighters who had been at the water fortress survived. Now, only the sect leader and the great protector remained.

“Do we have any clues about the whereabouts of the sect leader and the great protector?”

“We need to investigate further, but so far, we have no information.”

With only the sect leader and the great protector left, and their whereabouts unknown, it effectively marked the end of the conflict. Hundreds of martial artists couldn’t remain gathered indefinitely, waiting for two elusive figures.

Moreover, the righteous fighters were eager to return home. After months away, anyone would long for their homeland.

It wasn’t just nostalgia driving them back. Life is complex, and everyone has their reasons, often urgent, to return to their sects and homes.

For sects like the Gongdong, Kunlun, Huashan, and Zhongnan, whose headquarters had been devastated, the situation was even more dire. They needed to return and rebuild as soon as possible.

“With the conflict winding down, wouldn’t it be best to disband for now?”

“That’s a good idea. If we learn of the sect leader and the great protector’s whereabouts, we can regroup.”

“Given the circumstances, it’s likely to end this way. The sect leader was severely injured, so he might become incapacitated or even die.”

“Indeed, that would be ideal.”

Of course, there were those who opposed disbanding.

“Even if he’s injured, we don’t know the extent. We must find and eliminate the sect leader before he recovers.”

The Blood Rain Guest and the Taoists of the Wudang Sect, who had lost their leader, felt this way. They needed to see the bodies of the sect leader and the great protector.

The experts from the Tang Clan, especially those who had fought the sect leader, shared this view. The sect leader’s power was too great to leave things unresolved. If he reappeared and picked off the righteous fighters one by one, they wouldn’t be able to respond as effectively.

“However, we can’t wait indefinitely for clues. Our sect set out for Gongdong Mountain last winter, so even if we leave now, we’ll have spent a year away.”

”…”

But the opinion to find the sect leader and the great protector and finish things before disbanding was in the minority.

Those who had already decided to leave couldn’t be held back. They had sacrificed much in this conflict, and it was time to let them go.

Thus, the martial artists who had gathered from all over began to disperse. Some returned to their sects, while others, like Dang Mujin’s group, lingered a bit longer, unwilling to abandon Hyeon Gong and the Blood Rain Guest’s desire for revenge, and wary of giving the sect leader time to recover.

However, Dang Mun-jin thought to himself that sooner or later, he would inevitably return to his hometown.

When most of the people had left and Mount Mudang had returned to its usual tranquility, a welcome visitor arrived. It was a day when Dang Mun-jin was pondering whether to organize the shaman’s quarters and the Honggeoljae dojo.

Yoo Jin-gwang appeared, having led a small group to the Mago Temple around lunchtime. The journey had been long and filled with challenges, leaving Yoo Jin-gwang and his companions utterly exhausted. Their clothes were filthy, their hair disheveled, and their numbers had dwindled by a couple.

Spotting Dang Mun-jin and his friends, Yoo Jin-gwang waved and called out, “What, is it over already?”

“Yes, it’s wrapped up, though not as neatly as I’d hoped. You seem to have had a rough time yourself.”

“We nearly wiped out the Cheonsan sect. But the leader wasn’t there.”

“I knew. The leader showed up in Amok.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Dang Mun-jin began to recount the events slowly.

”…Everyone’s gone back, so we’ll soon be scattering as well.”

Yoo Jin-gwang listened quietly, nodding slightly, then casually pushed his unruly hair back. At that moment, Dang Mun-jin and his friends were taken aback. Yoo Jin-gwang’s right eye was covered with a makeshift bandage.

“Captain Yoo, your eye!”

“Oh, this? It’s nothing. Just got rid of something that was in the way.”

No one took his joke or his reassurance at face value. Losing an eye meant the end of a martial artist’s career. In fact, a one-armed warrior was often in a better position than a one-eyed one.

Namgung Young, who had lost an arm himself, spoke with sympathy, “They say losing an eye makes it hard to judge distance.”

Yoo Jin-gwang didn’t deny it. “That’s true. But it wasn’t that important.”

“Not important? Losing the ability to gauge distance in a fight is…”

“No, really, it wasn’t important. At least not to me. In fact, it was an opportunity. Losing my right eye led to a revelation.”

“A revelation?”

Yoo Jin-gwang stood up and drew his sword, raising his right hand to his ear. It was the preparatory stance of the Jeomchang School’s Four-Element Sword Technique.

In the next instant, his sword seemed to bypass the space between and reached its target with uncanny precision. The air trembled in its wake.

The speed was such that neither Dang Mun-jin nor Nam Gwang-myung of the Jeomchang School could follow the movement. Only one person, Hwa Yeon-shin, perched on a tree and swinging her legs, managed to catch the swift motion, and even she seemed impressed.

Yoo Jin-gwang slowly sheathed his sword and said, “For those who cautiously measure distance and draw their swords tentatively, having both eyes might be crucial. But not for the Jeomchang School. We always draw our swords fully. Losing an eye doesn’t change that.”

He used the scabbard in his left hand to scrape the ground slowly. Scritch, scritch.

“The important thing is this: once you draw your sword, you must strike decisively. You can’t just sheathe it without purpose. It doesn’t matter if we don’t know the leader’s whereabouts or if the gathered people disperse. There’s no need to hesitate or retreat for such reasons. So.”

Scritch, scritch.

The scraping stopped, and the small noise ceased. On the ground, a single character was written.

Kill (殺).

Yoo Jin-gwang declared, “We will find the leader, kill him, and return.”