The Wudang sect, in its pursuit of the Taiji, developed the arts of Taijiquan and Taiji Sword. The Jianzhang sect, seeking the balance of yin and yang, mastered the Sile Sword Technique and the Silver Moon Splitting Light Sword. The Qingsong sect, following the principles of the Bagua, created the Azure Cloud Descending Sword and the Four Directions Cutting Light Sword. Each martial sect in the martial world embodied their philosophical pursuits through their martial arts, manifesting their ideals physically.

But how did the Huashan sect, which pursued the Six Harmonies, come to be associated with the plum blossom? Was it simply because there were many plum trees on Mount Hua? This was the first question that Mu Hui pondered upon entering the Huashan sect’s martial arts.

“The Six Harmonies encompass thirty-six directions. The Six Harmonies Sword Technique lays the foundation for extending and defending in any of these directions,” Mu Hui explained calmly.

“That’s why we spend so much time practicing the Six Harmonies Sword at the Spring Plum Pavilion,” Bai Yu observed, his eyes lighting up with interest as he listened to Mu Hui.

‘They said Mu Hui’s demeanor had changed, and it seems they were right,’ Bai Yu thought, surprised at the transformation from the timid child who used to stutter in front of him.

“I had a thought while training in each direction. What if we executed all the techniques of the Six Harmonies Sword simultaneously in every direction?” Mu Hui continued.

Bai Yu nodded, waiting for Mu Hui to elaborate.

“Blooming. From above, it would look like a flower in bloom,” Mu Hui concluded.

The swordsman at the center, wielding the Six Harmonies Sword, was the calyx. The swords extending in all directions were the petals.

“You are correct,” Bai Yu said, smiling warmly at Mu Hui. He had only intended to spark a discussion about the Six Harmonies Sword, but Mu Hui had already delved deep into the concept and found an answer.

“There are many flowers on this mountain, not just plum blossoms. It would be a good study to ponder why the plum blossom, in particular, is significant,” Bai Yu suggested, refraining from giving a direct answer. The process of contemplation itself was crucial for a martial artist’s growth.

Bai Yu believed Mu Hui could find the answer. Watching Mu Hui now reminded him of his own master, Hyeonjo, during his days as a second-generation disciple—a brilliant talent that shone brightly.

‘Hyeonjo, was it only you who saw the potential in this child that no one else noticed?’ Bai Yu thought, reaching out to gently grasp Mu Hui’s hand. The calloused and scarred hand spoke of the time Mu Hui had dedicated to his sword training.

“I hear you’ve been showing a different side of yourself lately, as if you’ve set a goal,” Bai Yu remarked.

“It’s nothing grand. I just want to continue what my master started and fill the void he left,” Mu Hui replied.

“Haha…” Bai Yu chuckled, stroking his beard. He knew Hyeonjo had been trying to create a new martial art, but such an endeavor was no small feat.

‘It will be difficult,’ Bai Yu thought. Even if Mu Hui dedicated himself, it was unlikely he would see the new sword technique before his own death. Yet, Bai Yu was pleased that Mu Hui was determined to carry on Hyeonjo’s legacy.

“By ‘void,’ do you mean becoming the foremost sword of Huashan?” Bai Yu asked.

“Yes. I have no intention of yielding that position to anyone,” Mu Hui declared with unwavering eyes.

The elders, including Bai Yu, had assumed the next foremost sword of Huashan would naturally be one of the three prodigies. But seeing Mu Hui’s determination made them reconsider.

‘The more new plum blossoms that bloom after winter, the better,’ Bai Yu mused. He had only intended to gauge the resolve of the second-generation disciple, but Mu Hui’s confidence was reassuring.

“You’ve clearly chosen the path you wish to take,” Bai Yu said.

“Isn’t it a disciple’s duty to follow and surpass their master?” Mu Hui replied boldly, prompting Bai Yu to laugh heartily.

“Hahaha! Then Hyeonjo would surely be pleased,” Bai Yu said, his smile deepening. After exchanging a few more words, Mu Hui expressed his desire to study more martial arts manuals, and Bai Yu left the pavilion alone.

Though it was night, the cold moonlight cast a bluish hue over the plum blossoms.

“Beautiful,” Bai Yu murmured, pausing to take in the sight of the blossoms.

‘Hyeonjo…’ he thought. The most splendid plum blossom of Huashan had withered, but a small bud remained beside it, perhaps capable of blooming even more brilliantly.

‘My task is to protect and nurture the bud you left behind. Am I right, Hyeonjo?’ Bai Yu reflected.

The fragrance of plum blossoms in the snow, though the winter chill was harsh, would be all the more intense for having endured it, like the red plums in the crimson forest.

With the rich scent of plum blossoms in the air, Bai Yu walked away with a light step.

* * *

Mu Hui, shirtless, hung from a plum tree branch.

“Huff!”

His face and upper body were flushed red, like the surrounding plum blossoms in full bloom. As he pulled himself up and down, his muscles rippled, and the iron weights on his limbs clinked rhythmically, adding to the intensity of his training.

“Hoo,” Mu Hui exhaled, listening to the cries of his muscles as he maintained a steady breathing pattern. His physique was unremarkable, but Mu Hui was determined not to leave it that way, pushing his muscles to their limits.

Even with the most advanced martial techniques and profound internal energy, a weak body would render them useless. To meet the minimum physical standards, Mu Hui was sacrificing sleep, alternating between rest and rigorous training.

Despite the grueling regimen, the slight improvements he felt each day fueled his motivation. After two months of training, Mu Hui’s body had undergone a dramatic transformation. His back was straight, and his shoulders broad, necessitating a new martial robe.

‘Brutally simple, but undeniably effective,’ Mu Hui thought. Two months was a short time to achieve noticeable results in external martial arts, but Mu Hui had invested every moment, even reducing his sleep, and followed the training methods of a certain master to the letter.

The Iron Mountain Fist King.

In the martial world, he was known as the man with the heaviest fists, but to Mu Hui, he was just an old man obsessed with muscles. While other masters meditated or practiced their techniques thousands of times, the Iron Mountain Fist King focused solely on his muscles.

– Hey, junior. No matter how skilled you are with a sword, a frail body won’t do. Look at these solid muscles. I’ve recently developed a new training method…

Mu Hui never imagined that the muscle stories he heard ad nauseam during drinking sessions after sparring matches in his past life would prove so useful.

‘The results are so good it’s almost eerie,’ Mu Hui thought. Properly organized, this method could be applied to the training of other disciples.

Though his muscles screamed that they had reached their limit, Mu Hui gritted his teeth to push for one more repetition. His arms trembled with the effort.

“Ugh!”

Each movement of Mu Hui’s body on the branch sent two or three plum petals fluttering to the ground. The earth beneath was damp, soaked with the sweat Mu Hui had shed during his training.

“Senior Brother!”

While Mu Hui was engrossed in his training, Mu Hwa bounded into the courtyard like a rabbit, her steps light and quick.

Mu Hwa swallowed as she took in Mu Hui’s muscular upper body. His muscles, not overly bulky but robust, and the large scar on his chest that seemed to pulse with life as his muscles moved, drew her gaze. Though scars usually elicited a wince, on his well-defined muscles, they seemed fitting.

Momentarily captivated, Mu Hwa quickly averted her eyes and shouted, “Senior Brother! Put on your robe!”

“What are you talking about? Who interrupted my training? You should close your eyes,” Mu Hui replied, wiping the sweat from his face with his forearm and draping his robe over his shoulder. Mu Hwa pursed her lips, knowing that no matter what she said, it wouldn’t sway her senior brother.

“Senior Brother, let’s have a meal together today. You hardly ever eat at the dining hall,” Mu Hwa suggested.

“Did you come all the way here just to ask me to eat?” Mu Hui asked.

“Of course not. I have something to tell you over the meal. You’ll be surprised,” Mu Hwa said with a bright smile, prompting Mu Hui to toss something into her hands.

Mu Hwa looked down to find a flint stone, tilting her head in confusion.

“Senior Brother?”

“You learned how to start a fire at the Spring Plum Pavilion, right? I’ll be back soon, so get the fire going,” Mu Hui instructed.

Mu Hwa blinked her large eyes, watching Mu Hui disappear into the forest.

“What?” she murmured.

* * *

Mu Hwa stared blankly at the rabbit meat roasting before her, its juices dripping tantalizingly.

“Senior Brother… so this is why you rarely eat at the dining hall,” she remarked.

“Well, if the food were good, I’d eat there,” Mu Hui replied, recalling his initial shock at the Huashan sect’s menu. It was mostly greens, and the occasional meat was boiled to remove all fat, with little seasoning, leaving it bland and dry.

As a member of the Do clan, it was understandable to strive for a diet of celestial food, but Mu-hui was not one to force himself to eat something he didn’t enjoy.

Somehow, Mu-hui had managed to get his hands on some jerky. He tore it into small pieces and spread them evenly over the rabbit meat. Thanks to the oil on the surface, the jerky clung tightly to the meat as it cooked over the fire.

“Why are you doing that with the jerky?” Mu-hwa asked, curious.

“This way, the saltiness of the jerky makes the meat taste better,” Mu-hui explained.

“Wow,” Mu-hwa marveled. To Mu-hui, it was common knowledge from his past life, but to Mu-hwa, who had only ever known life on Mount Hua, it was a fascinating trick.

Once the meat was perfectly cooked, Mu-hui handed one of the two pieces to Mu-hwa.

“Don’t tell the other disciples. If you do, I’ll focus all my training on you for the next month.”

“Ugh,” Mu-hwa groaned, giving Mu-hui a sideways glance.

In addition to his early morning training, Mu-hui often stayed behind in the training grounds to help guide the martial arts of his junior disciples. This was typically the responsibility of the senior disciples, but due to the recent bloodshed in Shaanxi, their numbers had dwindled. The remaining senior disciples were overwhelmed with the task of restoring the Hua Mountain Sect.

As a result, the junior disciples, regardless of whether they had a master, were desperate for martial arts instruction. Recognizing this issue, Mu-hui took it upon himself to make time for them. However, his method involved sparring, which often resulted in the juniors getting a few bruises from wooden swords. Mu-hui believed that learning through pain was the fastest way to correct mistakes and grow.

Mu-hwa, who had recently been on the receiving end of one of these sessions, puffed out his cheeks in protest.

“Senior Brother, I’m the youngest of the junior disciples. Can’t you go a little easier on me? The bruises on my thighs and waist still haven’t faded.”

“Of course, I’m going easy on you. I’m only hitting you once when I could be hitting you three times.”

“Ugh, never mind,” Mu-hwa sighed, taking a big bite of the rabbit meat as if to vent his frustration. Watching him, Mu-hui asked, “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“Oh, right!” Mu-hwa exclaimed, wiping his greasy lips with excitement. “Senior Brother! We’re going down the mountain!”

At those words, Mu-hui’s previously indifferent eyes lit up with interest.

“Oh… really?”

It was the most intriguing thing Mu-hui had heard in a while. Seeing Mu-hui’s lively reaction, Mu-hwa chewed his meat, amazed.

“Senior Brother, did you really want to leave the mountain that badly?”

End