Kang Ho-baek sat cross-legged, deep in meditation, with sweat pouring down his face and body. His disciple, assisting him by placing hands on the vital point on his back, was also showing signs of strain, his brow furrowed with concentration.

Crack!

A wave of energy erupted from Kang Ho-baek, sending cracks radiating outwards from where he sat. The residual energy blockages in his meridians had been completely cleared.

“Ugh.”

The disciple withdrew his hands from Kang Ho-baek’s back and stood up, stretching his back. Kang Ho-baek opened his eyes and spat out a mouthful of blackened blood.

“Wow. Even with sharing the elixir, this is the result?”

“If it weren’t for Mu-hui, I’d have needed another day of meditation.”

Before starting his meditation to heal his internal injuries, Kang Ho-baek had received half of a precious elixir from Mu-hui. It was a prize wrested from the Qingbing Yinwang during the last martial arts tournament.

Mu-hui, who carried the elixir for emergencies, had taken half himself and given the other half to Kang Ho-baek.

The disciple clicked his tongue as he patted Kang Ho-baek’s back, helping him expel more of the clotted blood.

“Ho-baek, you hid such severe injuries and acted as if nothing was wrong. You’ve truly become a leader.”

“Ugh, I’ll take that as a compliment, senior.”

As Peng Ho-yeon playfully tapped his shoulder, Kang Ho-baek managed a relieved smile. Then he turned his gaze to Mu-hui, who was still enveloped in a serene aura.

The energy flowed around Mu-hui, who sat cross-legged, as if protecting him.

“Mu-hui is still meditating, I see.”

The disciple shook his head.

“He’s finished meditating. Now he’s in deep contemplation. Surviving a confrontation with Guan Ya-chang must have given him much to ponder.”

The disciple marveled at the dense energy surrounding Mu-hui.

“They call it the ‘Jaha Divine Art,’ right? The purity of this energy is astounding. It’s rich with the unique clarity of Daoist arts, yet it flows powerfully. It’s worthy of being called a divine art. I wonder how it would fare against the Thunderous Divine Art.”

The disciple’s hand crackled with red lightning as he spoke, not entirely joking. After a moment, he withdrew the lightning and turned to Kang Ho-baek.

“It’s been over a decade since you last faced the Overlord, hasn’t it? How was it?”

Kang Ho-baek’s expression hardened at the question.

“The Overlord has only grown stronger. I’m at least half a step behind him.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s no wonder he’s one of the Three Seats. I can only match them, but if I reveal all my cards, I fall short. So I have to at least pretend to be strong.”

Kang Ho-baek had shown no weakness after his bout with the Overlord, solely for the sake of his juniors.

Both he and Mu-hui were too injured to continue fighting, and if the disciple or the Iron Fist King had faced the Overlord or Guan Ya-chang, it would have resulted in significant casualties among their ranks.

If only masters had been present, they might have risked everything to turn the tide, but that would have meant sacrificing their juniors.

Such a course of action was against Kang Ho-baek’s code of honor.

Thus, all he could do was maintain a facade of strength, hoping the Overlord and Guan Ya-chang would sense their disadvantage and retreat.

“Tsk, tsk. Why is the leader of the alliance making such weak complaints?”

The disciple scolded him, perhaps feeling sorry for his junior’s lament. Kang Ho-baek, understanding the intent, smiled slightly.

“Weak complaints? I’m just accurately assessing our strength. Even if the Three Seats are stronger, I’m confident I can endure. The one who survives to the end is the true victor.”

“That’s the spirit.”

With that, the disciple’s face relaxed, and Kang Ho-baek slowly stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to check on the injured.”

“There are no critically injured. Some were in danger, but the Iron Fist King and the old master infused them with their energy, and they’re recovering. The Iron Fist King, despite his focus on external martial arts, has a knack for treating physical injuries.”

The martial alliance couldn’t immediately head north and was recuperating at a branch located on the border of Hunan and Guizhou. The battle had left everyone injured, and many were too wounded for long-distance travel.

“Thank you, senior.”

“Enough of that. I just followed the Iron Fist King’s lead. He’s better than most doctors.”

As the disciple waved him off, Kang Ho-baek headed towards the area where the injured were gathered. Despite the disciple’s reassurances, he needed to see for himself to be at ease.

The disciple glanced at Mu-hui, still deep in meditation, then sat cross-legged and closed his eyes. Though it seemed he was meditating, he was actually standing guard over Mu-hui.

* * *

Mu-hui was meticulously reviewing every moment of his encounter with Sama-gang through meditation. Memories of his past life, when he had faced Sama-gang as the Sword Demon, naturally resurfaced.

‘Being at a high level doesn’t mean growth slows. He’s steadily becoming stronger. No wonder he’s one of the Three Seats.’

Mu-hui recalled Sama-gang’s techniques, their counters, the distinction between real and feigned moves, missed opportunities, and mistakes, as well as the unfolding of the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art, organizing his insights.

The conclusion he reached was clear.

‘I’ve surpassed my past life.’

Compared to the time when he had been defeated as the Sword Demon, it was a significant improvement. Yet, Mu-hui felt no joy.

‘It was an unavoidable but wasted opportunity.’

Opportunities to face the leaders of great factions were rare. If Mu-hui had been stronger, able to handle Guan Ya-chang properly, Kang Ho-baek might have had more options, rather than prioritizing the safety of the juniors.

‘I’m still lacking.’

The current martial world was filled with masters.

In another era, there might have been no more than ten supreme masters, but now they were abundant. Moreover, alongside the existing three factions, the Black Night Palace had also revealed itself.

With numerous renowned masters and each faction seeking opportunities for their own goals, the current martial world was in chaos.

‘I need to at least approach the level of the Three Seats.’

With this goal in mind, Mu-hui continued to review his battle with Sama-gang. Naturally, he recalled the final technique he had used, the Breaking Spear Seeking Chivalry, and other unique techniques emerged in his mind.

Breaking Sword Seeking Faults.

Breaking Blade Seeking Initiative.

Breaking Spear Seeking Chivalry.

Breaking Sword Seeking Faults was a technique that concentrated sword energy at a single point, unleashing it explosively.

Breaking Blade Seeking Initiative disrupted the opponent’s flow with a wave of energy, drawing them into his rhythm.

The newly acquired Breaking Spear Seeking Chivalry focused his weight forward, concentrating internal energy into a thrust that shattered the opponent’s attack head-on.

Mu-hui was reflecting on the new techniques he had developed.

Unlike the meticulously crafted Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art, these techniques were raw, born from moments of insight and understanding.

These techniques were created in the same way the Sword Demon had improvised techniques in battle during his past life. The Sword Demon’s techniques had been developed by combining such techniques.

‘I don’t know how many more techniques will emerge.’

He felt he was ahead of the Sword Demon’s techniques. These new techniques incorporated not only insights from his past life but also new understandings and experiences from his current life.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Mu-hui recalled Sama-gang’s Formless Spear, which symbolized the gap between them.

Could the Breaking Spear Seeking Chivalry have shattered Sama-gang’s Formless Spear? Knowing the answer, Mu-hui naturally pondered the Formless Sword.

Even if one could communicate directly with the natural energy and overflow with internal power, simply having a large amount of internal power wouldn’t be enough to create a Formless Sword.

‘Is it a matter of intent?’

Intent or will.

A martial artist who manifests their intent through martial arts, realizing the phenomena their intent signifies, is a true master.

The power of intent varies greatly among martial artists. A novice’s intent might only move their internal energy, while a master’s intent could influence the vast nature beyond their own microcosm.

Sama-gang’s Formless Spear was such a case.

Sama-gang had shaped it as a spear, but if Mu-hui reached the same level, he might create a sword or make flowers bloom. Perhaps he could even release the scent of plum blossoms without a sword or the Plum Blossom Sword.

‘Intent. It’s both the path and the barrier to the next level.’

Mu-hui realized that intent would be the key to transcending the Transcendent Realm and reaching the Absolute Realm.

When Mu-hui finished his meditation and opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the disciple, arms crossed, watching him.

“Your energy changed a bit during meditation. Did you gain some insight?”

“I think I’ve found my direction.”

“Finding the right path is proof of insight. The Transcendent Realm is like standing alone in the middle of a vast ocean. Just finding the right path is a significant achievement. Congratulations.”

In response to Doje’s congratulations, Muhui offered a respectful bow with his fists clasped.

“I hear you’ve created the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Technique and the Purple Mist Divine Art. Truly impressive. It took me until my later years to develop the Mixed Thunder Divine Art and the Mixed Thunder Blade.”

“I’m still lacking in many areas,” Muhui replied humbly, lowering his head.

Doje, stroking his beard that reached down to his chest, spoke thoughtfully. “That’s to be expected. Creating a martial art is not the end but the beginning. Even if you’ve invented something, there’s always a mountain of things to improve. But don’t let yourself get too caught up in it.”

“Why is that?” Muhui asked, eager to understand Doje’s wisdom.

“You know as well as anyone that martial arts are never truly complete. Most people strive for perfection, but in doing so, they often dig too deep, trying to find every flaw.”

“You mean their perspective narrows,” Muhui said, quickly grasping the point.

Doje nodded, closing his eyes briefly. When one’s focus narrows too much, inner demons are bound to appear.

“That’s why I’ve set aside the Mixed Thunder Divine Art and Blade, and I’m working on a new technique in my later years. I doubt I’ll finish it before I die, but there’s a certain joy in the process.”

“I understand. I feel the same way,” Muhui replied.

Doje’s eyes widened momentarily before he chuckled. “Ha! Creating another martial art, are you? What an audacious young master you are. Let’s test our new techniques against each other someday. We might just spark new insights.”

“That sounds good to me.”

The two continued their conversation for quite some time, sharing insights and experiences from their journeys in martial arts creation.

* * *

After spending half the day in deep discussion with Doje, Muhui decided to stretch his stiff body with a solitary walk through the forest near the branch office.

All the junior disciples were bedridden, recovering from their injuries, especially Mucheol and Seonun, who needed absolute rest due to their severe wounds.

As he walked, Muhui glanced at the plum blossom-patterned robe draped over his shoulder. It had served him well this time. Although Samagang’s spear had torn through it, without the robe, his injuries would have been far worse—he might have even lost an arm.

“I should have it repaired at the Cheonryu Trading Company,” he murmured to himself, instinctively turning his head.

“What is it? Are you here to prey on the wounded?” he called out.

There was nothing in the shadow his eyes landed on, but as soon as he spoke, a dark figure appeared.

The figure wore a mask that covered everything but the mouth, a mask Muhui recognized. His eyes narrowed as he identified it.

“A mask just like the Dark Emperor’s. Are you one of the Heavenly Assassins’ lackeys?”

The assassin moved silently, launching himself forward. As the energy of the Plum Blossom Mountain Technique bloomed from Muhui’s slowly raised left hand, the assassin suddenly dropped flat to the ground, maintaining the posture of his movement technique without a hint of disturbance.

Even in such a dramatic motion, the assassin calmly pressed his forehead to the earth, an impressive display of control that surprised even Muhui.

“What is this?” Muhui asked, his voice betraying a hint of confusion. The assassin lifted his head slightly, then pressed it back to the ground, shouting, “I greet my benefactor!”