The war that nearly erupted between four great factions never came to pass.

The grand martial arts tournament that was supposed to take place on the Green Deer Plains was ultimately called off. Without any formal treaties, the major powers of the martial world withdrew from the plains and even from the Hunan region, as if by unspoken agreement.

In the aftermath, tales of the Huashan Sword Debate spread rapidly across the martial world.

“A gathering of supreme masters to decide the greatest under heaven? I wonder if we’ll get to witness it.”

“Consider yourself lucky if you don’t get caught up and killed just by watching.”

“The Spring Festival… So next year, the greatest under heaven will finally emerge.”

“With the Three Thrones gone, an era is ending.”

A middle-aged man, who had been listening to the chatter of the gossipmongers over drinks, asked, “But why Huashan for the debate? There are plenty of other scenic mountains.”

“I heard it was the Huashan Sword Saint who proposed the idea to the supreme masters. That’s why they’re gathering there.”

“So, the Huashan Sword Saint has returned to Huashan?”

“Indeed. He’s likely in seclusion, preparing for the debate, as are the other supreme masters.”

Contrary to the expectations of the gossipmongers and other martial artists, Mu Hui was leisurely taking in the scenery of Huashan. His training continued, but it was no longer the frantic, desperate struggle it once was.

He had trained alongside the Sword Immortal at Dongting Lake, learning much, but his greatest insights came not during training, but during moments of rest and relaxation. He realized that swinging his sword with reckless abandon was not the way to advance his martial arts.

While moving forward was important, he understood that on a long, uncertain journey, there were times to walk and times to rest.

“Hyunjo, this is truly the end. I don’t know what the outcome will be.”

Mu Hui poured a drink over Hyunjo’s grave as he gazed at the Huashan landscape. The sun, half-hidden by clouds, sent rays of light through the sharp peaks that rose like giant swords. The snow-covered mountain reflected the winter light.

‘I wonder what Heukcheon is seeing now.’

Heukcheon, who sought to reshape the martial world to his liking without a hint of emotion. Mu Hui found himself curious about how Heukcheon viewed the world.

“With everything happening at Huashan, you’ll be able to see it too. Watch closely.”

The response came not from Hyunjo’s grave, but from elsewhere.

“Kiik!”

A black fox appeared beside him, reaching out with both hands as if asking for the bottle. Mu Hui chuckled and tossed the bottle to the fox, which tilted it vertically and drained it in one go before sitting down cross-legged.

“Keek.”

The fox let out a calm cry, closing its eyes and regulating its breathing, as if it were practicing meditation.

“You’re almost identical now.”

The fox had been mimicking the breathing of the Purple Cloud Divine Art for some time, so Mu Hui naturally sat cross-legged beside it. Together, they gazed at the Huashan scenery and slowly entered a meditative state.

A hum resonated as the Purple Cloud energy coursed through his body, dyeing his meridians a violet hue. The aura emanating from Mu Hui’s shoulders shielded him from the biting winter wind.

He observed his inner self, a small, insignificant body compared to the vast universe. Yet, the deeper he delved, the more infinite its potential seemed. It was no wonder the human body was called a microcosm.

As he communicated directly with the natural energy, his mind, energy, and body evolved daily. Despite his continuous progress toward the pinnacle, he couldn’t claim to have reached the summit. There was still room for growth and areas that needed improvement.

‘What is the true nature of the ultimate peak? Does it even exist, and can it be reached?’

Mu Hui’s breathing grew longer and deeper.

As he closed his eyes, darkness naturally enveloped him. Within that darkness, light appeared.

In the void, clusters of light, like stars in the night sky, began to flicker. These clusters stretched out like comets, sometimes bending, sometimes illuminating the darkness like starlight. Mu Hui immediately recognized the nature of these light trails.

‘From the Six Harmonies Sword Technique to the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Technique.’

The paths of all the sword techniques Mu Hui had mastered connected and expanded like constellations, illuminating his vision.

Then, a violet sunset rose along the ridges, blending into the darkness and dyeing the world in shades of purple.

Mu Hui reviewed all the martial arts he had learned, not by blindly forging ahead, but by retracing the path he had swiftly traveled.

The violet sky and light trails in his mind expanded endlessly, making Mu Hui feel small. It was awe-inspiring and vast.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the ever-changing sky of the Purple Cloud.

Amidst this, the intersecting and crossing light trails formed a shape.

Intricate yet as natural as the changes in the universe.

Plum blossoms.

The plum blossoms bloomed profusely, using the Purple Cloud as branches, reaching endlessly into the sky like stars.

Spring was arriving in his mind.

“Beautiful.”

The countless plum blossoms, though based on the Purple Cloud, seemed within his grasp.

When Mu Hui reached out without hesitation toward the scene before him, the spring day in his mind compressed as if being drawn into his hand.

It felt as if the world was pouring into his palm.

The condensed scene in his mind resembled a sword. Mu Hui grasped the sword of spring, imbued with the Purple Cloud and plum blossoms, without hesitation.

“Mm!”

Mu Hui opened his eyes, ending his meditation.

Before him was not the scene he had just witnessed, but the peaks of Huashan. He carefully lowered his outstretched hand.

Naturally, there was nothing in his hand, yet he felt as if he were holding something substantial.

As he finished his meditation and inhaled the fresh mountain air, Mu Hui realized that he was different from before.

He smiled as he watched the steam from his breath dissipate.

“By retracing my steps, I’ve actually moved forward. It’s not about how fast you walk, but which direction you choose.”

Mu Hui lightly meditated, consolidating the insights he had just gained. Not only had his level increased, but his martial arts had also advanced.

In terms of achievement, the Purple Cloud Divine Art was on the verge of reaching its peak, and the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Technique had reached its pinnacle.

Mu Hui recalled the moment he reached out toward the scene in his mind.

Now, he felt he could effortlessly execute the final move of the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Technique.

“Has that rascal disappeared already?”

The black fox, which had been meditating beside him, was nowhere to be seen, leaving only Hyunjo’s grave by his side.

The fox, which usually stayed by his side even after days of meditation, was gone, indicating that quite some time had passed during his meditation.

Mu Hui turned his gaze from the rugged terrain of Huashan.

To the east, a towering peak pierced the clouds. The Morning Sun Peak.

The site of the upcoming Huashan Sword Debate.

“Fortunately, it’s visible from here. Watch closely.”

After a final glance at Hyunjo’s grave, Mu Hui turned away.

As he stood, the grass growing over Hyunjo’s grave shivered under the weight of the snow.

* * *

A new year’s sun was rising.

The winter of this time was harsh.

A biting wind, sharper than any sword, cut through clothing and grazed the skin.

To make matters worse, snow was falling heavily, covering everything. Just a short walk outside left one’s hair and shoulders dusted white.

Yet, every disciple of the Huashan Sect had gathered at the mountain gate. Though their breath formed misty clouds, no one paid it any mind.

All eyes were fixed on one place.

“Have you eaten well?”

“Yes, Master.”

Baek Yu looked at Mu Hui, struggling to find the right words. His mustache quivered slightly. What could he possibly say?

‘He reminds me of Hyunjo during the Xianxi Blood Incident.’

With a sigh, Baek Yu clasped Mu Hui’s hand tightly. Mu Hui opened his palm, feeling the cold touch, and found a bracelet made of red jade.

It was a familiar design.

“What is this?”

“Mu Hui, you must have seen it before. It’s the Plum Blossom Spirit Bead that was lost during the Xianxi Blood Incident.”

Mu Hui nodded.

How could he forget?

“The Plum Blossom Spirit Bead was a sacred artifact said to aid the Huashan Sect in times of crisis. But since it’s no longer with us, the elders and I crafted a new one.”

At Baek Yu’s words, Mu Hui examined the new Plum Blossom Spirit Bead. Each of the numerous red jade beads had tiny inscriptions of chosen scripture passages.

“Each of us inscribed a passage from a scripture we favored. We hope it brings you strength, Mu Hui.”

Baek Sun, the head of the Martial Arts Hall, spoke as he looked at the new Plum Blossom Spirit Bead.

“A sacred artifact is nothing special. If you return safely with it, then this bracelet becomes the new Plum Blossom Spirit Bead.”

“Indeed. Over time, with stories and experiences, it will become a new sacred artifact.”

At Baek Jin’s words, Mu Hui fastened the Plum Blossom Spirit Bead around his wrist. Watching him, Baek San, the head of the Finance Hall, examined it closely.

“Is it comfortable? Will it hinder your swordplay?”

“It’s all right, Elder.”

As Mu-hui nodded, Hyun-baek gripped his shoulder, his hands trembling slightly.

“Forgive us for making you take the lead. We, your seniors, have fallen short.”

“I’ll wield my sword as if it were my master’s own.”

At the mention of Hyun-jo, the other first-generation disciples nodded in agreement.

“Thank you.”

Mu-hui bowed to Hyun-gak, who stood beside Hyun-baek with reddened eyes, then turned to the second-generation disciples.

“If it’s you, Senior Brother, you’ll defeat them all!”

“Of course.”

Mu-hwa clenched his fist with determination, and Mu-cheol nodded. Mu-jin, who had been smiling faintly, now looked at Mu-hui with a serious expression.

“Senior Brother, go and return safely!”

As Mu-jin clasped his hands in a respectful gesture, the second-generation disciples followed suit in unison.

“Senior Brother, go and return safely!”

Mu-hui nodded at the sight.

“Don’t slack off in your training while I’m gone.”

With his usual parting words, Mu-hui leaped towards Jo-yang Peak.

Though Jo-yang Peak was steep and towering, Mu-hui, who had mastered the art of light-footed movement, ascended as if taking a leisurely stroll.

In less than a single breath, he reached the summit of Jo-yang Peak. It was one of the highest points in the region, making the sky feel almost within reach.

“Hmm.”

The summit was as spacious as the grand arenas of major martial sects, perfect for masters to test their skills.

The martial arts masters gathered for the Huashan Sword Debate sat cross-legged on rocks or small peaks, each in their own space.

Mu-hui’s gaze settled on Heuk-cheon, who sat alone, cross-legged atop a peak, surrounded by a circle of melting snow.

Sensing a presence in the sky, Mu-hui turned his head.

The masters, who had been meditating with closed eyes, opened them simultaneously, sensing the approach of a sword master flying towards Jo-yang Peak.

From the distant skies above Nak-an Peak, a sword flew swiftly towards Jo-yang Peak, carrying a sword master upon it.

The sword descended slowly over Jo-yang Peak, and the sword master, his robe billowing, surveyed the gathered martial arts masters.

Heuk-cheon, the last to open his eyes, took in the assembled masters with a nod.

“Everyone’s here.”

The Huashan Sword Debate was about to begin.