Hundreds of onlookers gathered, yet not a single one dared to speak. Everyone held their breath, eyes wide open in anticipation.

Rumors travel fast, as they say. The people of the city had heard tales of the duel that took place last month in Jonggyeong. But the stories were so fantastical that they were hard to believe.

A sword moving so fast it was invisible? That was something they could accept, albeit with some skepticism. After all, the swords wielded by the masters of the Cheongseong School were known for their incredible speed. The martial artists gathered here were said to be even more skilled, so a sword moving a bit faster wasn’t entirely out of the question.

But tales of a sword that shone with its own light, or countless poison needles flying through the air on their own, targeting opponents? Those were harder to swallow. Most people dismissed such stories as exaggerations.

Yet, there was a reason why people couldn’t completely dismiss these rumors. The man standing alone by the riverbank was said to be one of the greatest martial artists in the world, and those who had gathered to face him were the next best. The information came from the Cheongseong School, so it couldn’t be entirely false.

Interestingly, the person who drew the most attention wasn’t the martial arts master, but Tang Mujin.

Unlike the famous martial artists who had come from far and wide, Tang Mujin was a local, born and raised in the city. Almost everyone present had some connection to him.

Some had grown up playing in the dusty alleys with Tang Mujin, while others had visited the Tang family clinic regularly to receive herbal medicine from him.

It was hard for those who knew the old Tang Mujin to believe that he had become one of the most renowned martial artists in the world after leaving with a mysterious figure a decade ago.

True to expectations, Tang Mujin was the first to make a move. As he pulled out ten steel rings, everyone on the mountain held their breath.

“Those are the Flying Dragons. They’re sharp as blades.”

Tang Mujin swung his arms, scattering the ten Flying Dragons into the air. They flew far, seemingly unrelated to the target, but soon changed direction, circling high above, waiting for his command.

The Flying Dragons moved without entangling, never descending to the ground, as if they had wings. It was a mesmerizing sight, leaving the onlookers in awe.

Then, with a downward motion of Tang Mujin’s hands, the command was given.

Descend.

The Flying Dragons, which had been circling the sky, plummeted toward the ground.

Whoosh—

They didn’t just fall; they descended with a forceful pull, like a kite being yanked down. Their trajectory was a stark contrast to their previous leisurely flight, spiraling down with incredible speed. Those with keen eyes noticed the ten Flying Dragons spinning in a spiral.

“Wow!”

Almost simultaneously, the ten Flying Dragons struck the leader. Snow that had accumulated was sent flying, creating a blizzard.

And then, a moment later, the thunderous sound followed.

Boom—

The impact of the Flying Dragons was so powerful that it sounded like a boulder had crashed down, not just steel rings. One of the onlookers cautiously spoke.

”…Is he dead?”

Given the display of power, it was a reasonable assumption. It seemed impossible for anyone to survive such an attack.

However, Tang Mujin didn’t believe the leader was dead. In fact, he was certain the leader hadn’t even been scratched. Someone who could easily deflect the Mancheonhwa Rain couldn’t be taken down by the Flying Dragons.

Tang Mujin hadn’t launched the Flying Dragons to defeat the leader. He merely intended to distract him momentarily, buying time for others to surround him.

But even that was proving difficult. As Tang Mujin and the other martial artists charged toward the leader, his figure emerged from the dissipating snowstorm, unscathed.

The problem was that the leader had regained his stance too quickly.

Tang Mujin thought to himself.

’…We need more time to complete the formation.’

Others shared the same thought. Manryeok Song was the first to make a decisive move.

With a graceful step, Manryeok Song clasped his hands together in a brief moment of meditation, recalling the teachings of his revered master.

Between his clasped hands, a small space formed. His left hand was placed horizontally in front of his dantian, while his right hand hung loosely.

The stance of the Demon-Subduing Earth Touching Mudra.

Simultaneously, a surge of internal energy rose from Manryeok Song’s dantian, filling his veins. He took a deep breath, raising his right hand. As the energy traveled along the lung meridian to his right arm, those watching saw his fist glow with a radiant light.

Feeling the immense heat in his fist, Manryeok Song stepped forward with his right leg, bending his knee into a half-horse stance to maintain balance. He thrust his fist forward, slicing through the air.

Hundred Steps Divine Fist.

Though his fist stopped after advancing a single step, the force within it continued forward, followed by a resounding explosion.

Boom!

Manryeok Song hadn’t reached the level his master had before his death, but he had spent far more time mastering the Hundred Steps Divine Fist. The power he displayed was no less than his master’s.

The leader didn’t remain idle.

He raised his right knee higher than usual, forcefully stomping the ground.

The Sovereign’s Step.

A step, a technique, or something in between. Centered around the leader, the air vibrated, brushing past everyone nearby. Those sensitive to such things felt the distinct tremor in the air.

In response, the snow that had just settled was violently thrown into the air. The force of the step nearly nullified the power of the Hundred Steps Divine Fist. The leader gazed ahead calmly.

As the residual force of the Hundred Steps Divine Fist pierced through the snowstorm, creating an opening, the leader swung his sword, slicing through the remaining energy. The once formidable force of the fist was reduced to a mere gust, ruffling the leader’s hair.

At a glance, it seemed as if the Hundred Steps Divine Fist had broken through the leader’s step, but in reality, it was the opposite. Unlike the focused force of the fist, the leader’s step enveloped the entire area, its power overwhelming.

The shockwave from the leader’s step caused the hundreds of onlookers to collapse to the ground.

Fortunately, they were at least twenty to thirty meters away, so they only fell to their knees or sat down, rather than being crushed or injured.

Among the onlookers, only a few monks from the Seongseok Temple and nuns from the Amipa, who were deep in their training, managed to remain standing. Even those who had fallen didn’t quite understand why they had collapsed.

”…What, what just happened?” Suddenly, my legs gave out. It feels like something’s pressing down on me from above…”

A young nun from the Amipa, who had also fallen, was equally bewildered. She turned to the elder nun beside her, seeking answers.

“Grandmaster, what on earth…?”

The elder nun, Hyangbaek Sinyeo, had a vague understanding of the brief exchange that had just occurred. But she couldn’t explain it all to the young nun, knowing it would only lead to despair.

Instead, she placed a reassuring hand on her disciple’s shoulder, offering a simple piece of advice.

”…Don’t try to understand it just yet. Just watch and take it all in. For now, that’s more than enough.”

Though the events were beyond comprehension, the onlookers were more excited than ever.

“Amazing!”

They couldn’t grasp the true danger of the situation, and by now, the danger was of little concern to them. The more perilous it was, the more thrilling the spectacle.

Thanks to Manryeok Song’s Hundred Steps Divine Fist, they had bought a little time. Tang Mujin and the other martial artists were able to surround the leader as planned. Of course, Tang Mujin kept his distance, knowing he couldn’t withstand the leader’s sword.

The leader’s sword gleamed with a trail of light. Tang Mujin and the others expected him to target Yeomso first, but surprisingly, the leader aimed for Jang Il-nam instead.

The leader’s sword left a crescent-shaped trail in the air.

Jang Il-nam didn’t dodge but met the leader’s sword head-on, skillfully deflecting its force at the last moment. It was partly because he couldn’t withstand the direct impact, but also a strategy to target the leader’s vital points.

Jang Il-nam advanced with a precarious half-step, aiming his left fist at the cult leader’s chin. Though his left thumb was bent awkwardly, if his punch landed, it would surely pierce the leader’s chin and send him reeling.

Hyeon-gong quickly assessed the situation, as swiftly as the founding of Hyeon-gong itself. He shouted to the onlookers, “If you value your lives, run!”

But escape was no longer an option. The cult leader’s oppressive presence had their legs trembling, making it difficult to move without assistance.

‘This is going to be tougher than I thought.’

Now, dodging the cult leader’s deadly sword was not an option. If he evaded, someone behind him might die.

“Attack!”

At Sam An-bul’s command, all the martial artists charged at the cult leader. The leader’s martial arts were formidable, but his fighting style was cunning, like a fox. He would swing his sword, then suddenly withdraw his fingers. Sometimes he wielded the sword, other times it was just a gesture.

Yet, whether there was an invisible sword at his fingertips was uncertain, so those facing him had to block his fingers with their own swords.

However, Hyeon-gong gleaned a small insight from this. The cult leader’s sword technique consumed an immense amount of internal energy, even for him.

‘If it wasn’t burdensome, he wouldn’t need to withdraw the sword. There must be a limit.’

In the next moment, Sam An-bul leaped forward, swinging his fist at the cult leader. The leader’s crimson sword blocked the punch, causing blood to flow from Sam An-bul’s hand, splattering around them.

Someone witnessing the scene shouted, “Did the cult leader forget that Namgung’s left arm is a prosthetic?”

No, that wasn’t it. The cult leader deliberately targeted Namgung’s uncertain right arm, opting to deal with the prosthetic left arm instead.

In such a precarious fight, a prosthetic that merely wobbled might seem insignificant. But in reality, Namgung used it not for combat, but to maintain his balance.

When the prosthetic was severed, Namgung’s balance was thrown off. The cult leader was not one to miss such a small opening.

The leader swung his sword at Namgung again, and Namgung barely managed to block it, his balance further compromised.

’…I can’t block the next attack.’

The cult leader, aware of this, took a calculated risk and launched a third strike at Namgung.

It wasn’t about internal energy or martial prowess, but a battle of wits with the cult leader that put Namgung’s life at risk. He hoped someone would save him, just once.

Elder Jang, Hyeon-gong, or even Hong Gyeong-geo. Anyone, just once…!

Then, a sword emerged, skillfully intercepting the cult leader’s blade.

Namgung looked to see who wielded the sword.

It was his father, Namgung Jin-cheon.

Though he should have felt grateful, Namgung was filled with an unsettling sense of unease.

Namgung Jin-cheon was undoubtedly a master, among the best of the best. But could his father so effortlessly parry the cult leader’s sword?

’…No way.’

Namgung couldn’t believe it.

Namgung Jin-cheon spoke, “At last, I get to play the role of a father.”

Namgung met his father’s gaze, seeing eyes devoid of regret, a strange joy in his smile, and a prowess beyond his usual.

Namgung understood what it meant.

“What’s there to be ashamed of, being called the Sword King? A sword demon has his own path.”

With a face full of exhilaration, the sword demon Namgung Jin-cheon charged at the cult leader.