Mount Chamdan.

Mount Chamdan was a place where the mountain range seemed to have been sliced by a colossal sword, leaving numerous cliffs and gorges in its wake. The mountain’s rugged and fragmented terrain earned it the name Chamdan, meaning “severed.”

Climbing Mount Chamdan, one would more often encounter sheer cliffs and deep ravines than the typical peaks found on other mountains.

“The depth of these cliffs rivals that of a volcano.”

Mu-hui gazed down into the abyss below and at the bridge spanning the chasm.

A man appeared on the opposite side, swiftly crossing the bridge. Despite the massive sword slung over his shoulder, he moved with unwavering balance.

Mu-hui clicked his tongue as he watched Dokgo Yul, who, though bloodied, seemed remarkably intact. Dokgo Yul, upon spotting Mu-hui, leaped from the middle of the bridge.

“How did you get here? Ow!”

Dokgo Yul yelped as Mu-hui suddenly smacked his calf, causing him to jump.

Even as he recklessly threw himself into danger, Dokgo Yul’s foolish grin prompted Mu-hui to step forward instinctively.

“Doesn’t he value his life… Or is this something I taught him? Hmm…”

Lost in thought, Mu-hui sighed as he looked at Dokgo Yul, who was clutching his calf with a pained expression.

“I came to rescue you. Where are the other first disciples of the Cheongseong Sect?”

Dokgo Yul shook his head, his face turning serious. Mu-hui nodded, sensing a new presence.

“They’re coming again.”

There was no time for Mu-hui and Dokgo Yul to catch up. Dokgo Yul readied himself for battle once more, and Mu-hui turned his back to him.

Behind them, warriors from the Paewang Fortress were rushing in.

“Well, well. I came to block the retreat of the Arang Sword, but it seems we have unexpected guests.”

A middle-aged man emerged from among the Paewang Fortress warriors. Though Mu-hui had never seen him before, he recognized the man’s identity.

“Myeong Sagun.”

With the death of the Sichuan Poison Marquis, Myeong Sagun was now the sole survivor of the Five Martial Generals. He was intrigued that Mu-hui recognized him immediately.

“The Sword Saint of Mount Hua knows me. What an honor. Allow me to introduce myself formally. I am Myeong Sagun of the Five Martial Generals.”

Myeong Sagun offered a polite gesture, but Mu-hui merely stared at him. Myeong Sagun quietly lowered his hand.

“I first heard your name during the Great Sect’s incident, but I never expected you to become the Sword Saint of Mount Hua so quickly.”

“Sounds like you’re saying you should have killed me before I grew.”

“Ha ha, is that so?”

Myeong Sagun chuckled, glancing between Mu-hui and Dokgo Yul with a glint in his eye.

“Ah! I have someone to introduce. Come out, Baekchil Ho.”

At Myeong Sagun’s command, a figure cloaked in black, save for his eyes, stepped forward.

Known by a number rather than a name, Baekchil (107) appeared to be a young man in his prime.

“Remove your mask.”

When Baekchil Ho removed his mask, Mu-hui’s eyes narrowed. The face was familiar.

Seeing Mu-hui’s reaction, Myeong Sagun nodded in satisfaction.

“Do you remember? The son of the Great Sect’s leader you brought down, the prodigy of Winam. This is Gasein. After the Great Sect fell, he trained in the Killing Star Cave of the main fortress.”

Mu-hui nodded at Myeong Sagun’s words.

Though Gasein’s features had changed, likely due to hardship, his basic appearance was recognizable.

“The one who wet his pants back then.”

“Who is he?”

Dokgo Yul, curious, asked from the side, but Mu-hui ignored him.

Unlike the time he lost to Myeongsan, Gasein, now called Baekchil Ho, had become a full-fledged assassin.

“I intended to send him to Mount Hua to assassinate Wisanha, now known as Myeongsan, but it seems that’s no longer possible.”

Mu-hui scoffed as he looked into Gasein’s eyes, devoid of emotion.

“With those skills? Not a chance. He’d be lucky not to wet his pants again.”

Mentioning Myeongsan brought a flicker of emotion to Gasein’s eyes.

A simmering killing intent, typical of assassins.

As Mu-hui observed this, Myeong Sagun placed a hand on Gasein’s head.

“How does it feel? Thanks to you, a promising disciple of the orthodox sect lost his family and sect, becoming an assassin of the main fortress. Isn’t it nostalgic?”

Mu-hui twisted his lips into a smile.

“Your attempt to stall for time is too crude. Did you think I’d feel guilty for destroying the Great Sect?”

Myeong Sagun clenched his hands behind his back. Even if his subordinates attacked simultaneously, survival was unlikely.

‘This young one is sharp.’

He had hoped to buy time for the fortress lord, who had just arrived at Mount Chamdan, but Mu-hui caught on too quickly.

“You…”

Myeong Sagun, about to retort, closed his mouth and inhaled sharply.

Mu-hui, who had been far away, was suddenly standing before him. It was a movement so swift it defied comprehension.

“Gah!”

Feeling the cold steel near his throat, Myeong Sagun reached out desperately. Though he grasped the blade, it continued its slow approach to his neck.

Despite his internal energy, blood flowed from his hands, and Myeong Sagun gritted his teeth.

‘He’s toying with me.’

Myeong Sagun realized that Mu-hui could have easily severed his hand and neck but was deliberately moving the sword slowly.

Mu-hui twisted the blade slightly.

“Like a snake with ‘Sa’ in your title, you slither with your words to the end.”

“What are you all doing?!”

Myeong Sagun shouted at his subordinates in frustration, but the warriors of Paewang Fortress were paralyzed by Mu-hui’s overwhelming aura.

“Sword Saint of Mount Hua! Wait!”

Mu-hui didn’t wait for Myeong Sagun’s words and swiftly decapitated him. It was an anticlimactic end for someone renowned as one of the Five Martial Generals.

Mu-hui withdrew his aura and turned to Gasein, who was staring at Myeong Sagun’s headless body.

“The killing intent you showed wasn’t directed at me. It was for Myeongsan, wasn’t it?”

At Mu-hui’s question, Gasein’s expression twisted with rage.

“Of course! Wisanha! I’ll kill him for sure! Because of him…”

Gasein screamed, his eyes brimming with murderous intent, and Mu-hui made a decision.

“Dare to threaten my disciple?”

Thud!

Mu-hui kicked Gasein in the stomach, sending him flying. The sound of a drum echoed as Gasein’s body bent like a shrimp.

Crack!

Gasein couldn’t even scream as he crashed into a tree, disappearing into the forest. Mu-hui’s kick was merciless.

His core was likely shattered, rendering him powerless, and if unlucky, he might have died instantly.

As Gasein flew away, the warriors of Paewang Fortress belatedly attempted to attack Mu-hui, but a low voice cut through the air.

“Stand down.”

The imposing figure in a red cloak exuded an overwhelming presence just by walking.

Though he approached from afar, the surrounding vegetation wilted, and only the Paewang Lord stood out prominently.

The smile vanished from Dokgo Yul’s face as he watched the Paewang Lord approach.

“Greetings, Lord.”

The warriors of Paewang Fortress quickly retreated after paying their respects to the Paewang Lord.

This left only Mu-hui, Dokgo Yul, and the Paewang Lord. The wind from the cliff below whipped at their clothes.

“You two have wiped out the Five Martial Generals. Even they couldn’t have foreseen this. The martial world is truly unpredictable.”

“Myeong Sagun could have been saved.”

Mu-hui had sensed the Paewang Lord’s presence when he held his sword to Myeong Sagun’s throat.

If the Paewang Lord had wanted, he could have saved Myeong Sagun.

“If Myeong Sagun had chosen to fight you instead of babbling, he might have lived.”

The Paewang Lord spoke as he looked at Myeong Sagun’s headless body.

“The Five Martial Generals faced many stronger opponents while leading the main fortress’s grand endeavors. Yet they survived and earned their name.”

But Myeong Sagun had changed.

The Paewang Lord didn’t know why, nor did he care to find out. The consequences of change were his alone to bear.

The Paewang Lord stepped forward, gazing down at Myeong Sagun’s body.

“As the times change, so do the Five Martial Generals. A dull blade has no place in my sheath.”

His gaze was cold and detached, though Mu-hui sensed an undercurrent of emotion he couldn’t decipher.

The Paewang Lord turned his attention to Mu-hui and Dokgo Yul.

One was the disciple of the Sword Demon, the other bore the eyes of the deceased Sword Demon, now a swordsman of Mount Hua.

The Five Martial Generals, once the mainstay of the Paewang Fortress, and the Sword Demon, their arch-nemesis, were gone.

In their place stood the next generation, and the Paewang Lord felt the rapid shift of the times once more.

“While I was busy looking up, striving to climb higher, those below have risen to meet me.”

A sudden surge of immense energy, like a typhoon, erupted from the Overlord as he muttered to himself. His long hair and crimson cloak whipped violently in the wind.

“Do you know why I pursue the grand ambition of dominating the martial world?” he asked.

Mu-hwi and Dokgo-yul remained silent, unsure of the true reason themselves.

“What is the reason?” Mu-hwi inquired, his curiosity piqued.

The Overlord recalled the countless martial artists he had encountered over the years. His quest for supremacy was not driven by mere vanity or a desire for fame. The martial world was a place where masters vanished overnight, only to be replaced by new ones.

Though he was part of this world, the Overlord wondered if he could truly encompass it, just as it had encompassed him. Could he, with his own capacity, contain this vast world that nurtured so many warriors?

This curiosity marked the beginning of his journey as the Overlord. He looked at Mu-hwi and Dokgo-yul, the new generation of masters, and declared with conviction, “It is because of this world that I seek to conquer it.”

No matter how many masters emerged, new ones would always rise. The Overlord wanted to see if he could fit this endlessly rich and expansive world into his own vessel, even if it meant shattering it in the process.

Crack!

With a heavy step, the Overlord’s energy surged from his feet, splitting the ground beneath him. Crimson energy coiled around his hands like threads, signaling the imminent unleashing of his devastating technique.

Mu-hwi and Dokgo-yul exchanged a quick glance. Mu-hwi stepped forward, readying himself, while Dokgo-yul retreated into the forest, disappearing from sight.

“Heh.”

Mu-hwi wiped the blood from his sword and let out a short laugh. He could feel the Overlord’s formidable energy pressing down on him. This was a crisis, no doubt. Though he was on the verge of reaching the ultimate realm, he hadn’t fully arrived yet.

In the martial world, victory wasn’t solely determined by one’s level, but the gap between levels was vast, especially between the transcendent and the absolute. Mu-hwi knew that bridging this gap depended entirely on his own abilities.

Yet, he felt no fear. ‘This feeling, this sensation,’ he thought. The thrill of pitting his own martial prowess against an insurmountable force, where life and death hinged on a single move, was exhilarating.

The Overlord, observing Mu-hwi’s intense gaze, was reminded of the legendary sword demon. Mu-hwi steadied his racing heart and traced his sword path, while the Overlord slowly extended his hand.

Hidden behind a tree, Dokgo-yul watched the confrontation, gritting his teeth. ‘Damn it. If only I had reached the transcendent realm.’

If he had, he wouldn’t be watching from afar but fighting alongside Mu-hwi. But with his current skills, he would only be a hindrance.

‘If I help, it will be at a decisive moment, and I must be ready to risk my life.’

The glance Mu-hwi had given him earlier clearly meant he should escape while he bought time. But Dokgo-yul couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t see how Mu-hwi could survive against the Overlord, despite having defeated many masters before.

“Haah.”

Dokgo-yul focused on gathering his inner strength, honing his footwork. His master’s sword technique emphasized the importance of footwork and positioning, perhaps even more than the swordplay itself. Having trained under his master and observed countless masters across the martial world, Dokgo-yul was confident in his footwork.

His eyes, sharp and focused, captured the clash between Mu-hwi and the Overlord with precision.

‘Grr.’

The strain of reading their movements was immense, consuming both mental and inner strength. Yet, Dokgo-yul pushed his concentration further. Just as Mu-hwi had come for him, he couldn’t abandon Mu-hwi.

In his eyes, he saw the intertwining of dozens of violet trails and a single, bold crimson line.

Boom!

The collision of the two masters shook the canyon violently. The fierce energy tore through the landscape, leaving new scars on the mountain.