The crimson cloak of the Conqueror flared dramatically as he soared into the air, narrowly evading the dark energy surging beneath him. Each sweep of his limbs sent the dragon embroidered on his cloak writhing, baring its fangs and claws.

With every flick of the Conqueror’s palm, a dozen shadowy handprints materialized around him. In the span of a single breath, the sky was filled with fifty such imprints, densely packed and ready to descend.

The Falling Conqueror’s Seal.

The imprints rained down like a relentless storm, leaving their mark on the summit of Mount Joyang, as if intending to stamp it with the Conqueror’s presence.

Boom!

Each impact sent tremors through the ground, causing the snow to erupt like a fountain, scattering in all directions. The barrage of handprints pressed down on Mu Hui, who stood beneath them. Above his head, a crimson imprint was slashed by a streak of violet sword energy.

Mu Hui’s sword, imbued with a deep violet hue, cleaved through the overlapping imprints with a single, decisive stroke, splitting them in two.

“The Conqueror’s ultimate technique.”

The Conqueror’s handprints were swift and heavy, each one crashing down with the weight and force of a massive boulder. As Mu Hui sliced through them, the shockwaves reverberated through his body, testing his strength and resolve.

“But my sword…”

Is even stronger.

With a powerful swing, Mu Hui unleashed a sword strike that carried the weight of his accumulated energy, cutting through the Conqueror’s onslaught like a bolt of lightning.

The Conqueror, using the last of his handprints as cover, launched himself forward, unleashing a double palm strike. Two crimson arcs converged into a single line, hurtling towards Mu Hui, who met them with a horizontal slash of his sword.

Thud!

The ground beneath Mu Hui’s feet sank under the force of the impact, his cloak billowing wildly in the wind. Yet, his body, honed through the rigorous training of the Fist King and the internal energy of the Purple Mist Art, stood firm against the Conqueror’s might.

The Conqueror, pushed back by the recoil, flipped in mid-air and landed gracefully. “So, you let the Heavenly Lord escape… impressive.”

The Conqueror’s smile was met with a scowl from the Heavenly Lord, who muttered in discontent, “Who said I ran away? I merely stepped back for a moment.”

The Conqueror spread his hands wide, crimson energy trailing like a long tail. Mu Hui tightened his grip on his sword, the blade shimmering with a radiant violet light that danced across the snow-covered peak.

The winter wind swept between them, scattering as it collided with their auras. Sword and palm met in a flurry of crimson and violet, exploding in the air.

The crimson energy slashed through the air in rough, straight lines, while the violet energy branched out like the swaying limbs of a flowering tree.

Crash!

The explosive clash of their energies echoed, the Conqueror’s eyes narrowing as Mu Hui’s movements grew faster, almost blurring before him. The sword seemed to dissolve into light, replaced by a cascade of blossoming plum flowers.

Without hesitation, the Conqueror reached out, grasping and tearing through the floral illusion. Their attacks rained down upon each other in a relentless exchange, leaving afterimages in the air that vanished only to be replaced by new strikes.

Mu Hui deflected a rising knee with the flat of his sword, then pushed aside a slash aimed at his thigh with the back of his hand. Their battle was a dazzling dance of offense and defense, each move calculated and precise.

Around them, the ground was torn and scarred by the storm of energy unleashed by their clash. “So, your sword has reached this level,” the Conqueror thought, feeling the sharpness of Mu Hui’s attacks.

The Conqueror’s cloak, woven from celestial silk, began to fray under the relentless assault. The once erratic and bewildering swordplay of Mu Hui suddenly became heavy and deliberate.

As a diagonal slash descended, the Conqueror met it with a fist, deflecting it with the back of his hand.

Clang!

The metallic sound resonated as the Conqueror twisted his fingers, sending five crimson claw-like energies spiraling towards Mu Hui.

Mu Hui countered with a swirling storm of plum blossoms, the petals spinning in the opposite direction to meet the Conqueror’s attack.

The clash of energies erupted into a fierce wind, yet neither Mu Hui nor the Conqueror budged, maintaining their stances.

Though the energies canceled each other out, the Conqueror was ready with another strike.

Boom!

Mu Hui sidestepped the force aimed at his shoulder, his cloak fluttering as he swung his sword in a wide arc.

“The Conqueror hasn’t been standing still either,” Mu Hui realized, planting his feet firmly like the roots of a tree.

The sunlight fractured as it passed through the myriad changes of Mu Hui’s sword, while the Conqueror’s unhesitating strikes swallowed the scattered light.

Each collision of hand and sword sent shockwaves through the air, the sound of their impact echoing like thunder.

Thud!

The Conqueror lunged forward, his palm growing larger in Mu Hui’s vision. Mu Hui thrust his sword straight, aiming to pierce through.

Clang!

Mu Hui was pushed back a step, while the Conqueror took three steps before halting. Feeling the numbing shock in his palm, the Conqueror grinned, baring his teeth.

“So, it’s you.”

In the upcoming martial arts tournament, the Conqueror realized that his greatest opponent was not the Sword Saint or the Black Heaven, but the man standing before him.

The Conqueror understood.

His long-held ambition.

To encompass the vast martial world.

His duel with Mu Hui was a continuation of that dream.

The Conqueror sensed it was time to unleash everything he had built up over the years, without holding back.

“Hoo.”

The Conqueror’s breath deepened, exhaled like a roaring flame, yet inhaled with the calm of a forest breeze.

The change in the Conqueror’s aura caught the attention of the other masters.

“The Conqueror. He’s going to burn everything,” the Sword Saint murmured, watching the Conqueror’s aura surge like a towering flame.

It wasn’t that the Conqueror hadn’t been fighting with all his might. It was his mindset that had shifted.

The Conqueror, who had been considering the aftermath of his duel with Mu Hui, erased those thoughts. He decided to devote himself entirely to this one battle, and the Sword Saint understood.

Boom!

The Conqueror stomped forward with a resounding step.

The Conqueror began his path of dominance.

Standing in his way was Mu Hui.

To the Conqueror’s senses, Mu Hui was like a towering volcano, with a vast expanse of violet mist swirling above it.

The young man he had once seen at the gates of the mountain, full of potential, had become the embodiment of the mountain itself.

“If I overcome this, my path continues. If not, it ends here.”

A moment of a lifetime.

Everything he had built could crumble in an instant.

Yet, the Conqueror moved forward without hesitation.

That was the way of the Conqueror.

“I will not stop, even if I break.”

The Conqueror’s hands moved.

A massive force descended upon Mu Hui, as if a mountain peak itself was pressing down. His knees threatened to buckle, but Mu Hui stood firm, unleashing a fierce burst of sword light. The Conqueror seized the opportunity, aiming a punch at Mu Hui’s solar plexus.

Mu Hui countered with a defensive flourish of plum blossoms, bringing his sword down in a clean arc. Even the Conqueror felt a chill at the precision of the strike.

“The Sword Saint’s influence is clear.”

It was as if he were facing the Sword Saint himself.

Or perhaps, an even greater threat.

Yet, the Conqueror smiled, his instincts proving true as his blood surged with renewed vigor.

“Haap!”

With a shout, the Conqueror bent the violet line before him.

Crash!

Each clash of hand and sword was accompanied by a flash of lightning.

Neither master yielded, exchanging hundreds of blows in the blink of an eye.

Mu Hui parried the Conqueror’s palm aimed at crushing his torso, steadying his sword.

“Conqueror.”

Among masters, even the clash of hands and weapons could reveal the opponent’s intentions.

Every technique, every subtle gesture, carried the essence of their inner thoughts.

The Conqueror’s full commitment to this duel was palpable.

As Mu Hui absorbed the Conqueror’s relentless assault, he saw many things.

The Tyrant’s Path.

The mindset of a conqueror.

The world as seen by the Tyrant.

– It is this world that I shall conquer.

A single phrase from the Tyrant, heard in Sichuan.

At the time, it was spoken without context, leaving its meaning unclear.

But now, standing in the arena of the Huashan Sword Debate, Mu Hui finally understood the Tyrant.

The Tyrant was a man who clashed with the martial world with his entire being.

His method of challenge was simply the path of domination.

Petty grudges were not even worth calling grudges.

They were merely moments when paths crossed.

Mu Hui’s righteous path and the Tyrant’s path of domination met and clashed in the martial world.

As the Tyrant’s fist, wrapped in a fierce whirlwind, came crashing down, Mu Hui raised his Simmyung Sword high.

The scattered energies converged around the sword, forming a single, focused force.

‘It’s just that our martial paths are different.’

Just as Mu Hui could sense the Tyrant, the Tyrant could sense him. At the end of this process, only martial prowess would remain.

The Tyrant recognized it immediately.

The astonishing technique that had once nearly cost him his right arm when it shattered his defense.

As the descending strike of the Pa Jang Gu Je bore down, the Tyrant felt the weight of the heavens pressing down along the edge of the Simmyung Sword.

Yet, the Tyrant did not hesitate to extend his twin palms. They rotated slowly, tracing a small circle.

The Tyrant’s retreat to his fortress was not only to heal his injuries but also because the memory of the Pa Jang Gu Je, which had broken through his defenses, lingered in his mind.

In the end, the Tyrant perfected it.

A supreme technique to counter the Pa Jang Gu Je.

It was possible only because the Tyrant, never content to remain in one place, constantly challenged the martial world.

The Tyrant condensed the power of his twin palms within a small circle, simplifying his movements to focus solely on raw power. Making it impossible to counter.

A transparent red disc formed at the tips of the Tyrant’s fingers. The concentrated force began to spread outward.

Pa Ryun Hong Kyung.

A thick line of the Pa Jang Gu Je descended upon it. In that instant, a tremendous shockwave erupted, pushing back the air and swallowing the ensuing roar.

Even the seasoned masters watching had to muster their inner strength to withstand the onslaught.

As the dust settled, the two men stood apart, facing each other.

The Sword Saint and the Tyrant locked eyes.

“To think you would create a technique to counter the Pa Jang Gu Je.”

“And yet, it wasn’t enough. You’ve developed an entirely new technique in the meantime.”

Though the Tyrant spoke thus, Mu Hui was equally impressed that his technique had been completely blocked.

From their recent clash, both masters realized.

They had set everything aside, focusing solely on the martial contest.

In the midst of comparing their martial paths, everything else seemed trivial and insignificant.

The Tyrant nodded.

“Truly, this is the Huashan Sword Debate.”

“Indeed, the Huashan Sword Debate.”

Mu Hui and the Tyrant took a moment to catch their breath, each reviewing the other’s moves and preparing for the next exchange.

“It is exhilarating.”

The Tyrant’s voice trailed off as he spoke, barely managing to get the words out.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, the Tyrant’s expression grew serious.

Though it was enjoyable, it was time to bring it to an end.

The Tyrant, now fierce once more, gathered his twin palms to his chest. With that simple gesture, the air around them trembled, and space seemed to ripple.

In contrast, nothing seemed to happen around Mu Hui. He simply brought his Simmyung Sword to the ready.

As the energy gathered in the Tyrant’s palms reached its peak, a crimson wave as if drawn from the depths of hell, the Tyrant launched himself forward.

In that moment, the surroundings were engulfed in a sea of energy.

In the blink of an eye, the air was filled with countless sword paths. Resembling the branches of a plum tree, they continued to extend endlessly.

Hundreds of blossoms bloomed at the tips of those branches. In an instant, hundreds of transformations were imbued into a single strike.

Unlike before, the Simmyung Sword showed no tremor. Achieving perfect stillness, the single strike spread its subtle fragrance in all directions.

Amhyang Budonghwa.

The Tyrant’s twin palms advanced toward that single strike.

Swae Cheon Jang Su.

A white flash erupted, and from its center, crimson and purple beams burst forth, shaking the peaks of Mount Huashan.

As the blinding light faded, Mu Hui and the Tyrant stood facing each other. The Tyrant lowered his arms, gazing at Mu Hui.

Though he appeared unscathed, the Tyrant’s breathing was faint and irregular.

The Tyrant’s body showed no signs of weakness, but it was not that he was not moving; he could not move.

Having to endure the accumulated energy of the Simmyung Sword and the impact of the Amhyang Budonghwa, the Tyrant’s body had reached its limit, showing signs of exhaustion.

The Tyrant stood on his feet only through sheer force of will.

Mu Hui lowered his Simmyung Sword and sheathed it. The Tyrant managed to part his lips.

“Are you not going to finish it?”

“We’ve clashed our martial paths and confirmed whose path continues forward. Is there a cleaner end than this?”

The Tyrant let out a light sigh and turned his head. He gazed beyond the peaks of Mount Huashan, toward the world beyond.

“My path of domination does not end. Even if I can challenge the martial world again, do you still say so?”

Mu Hui also took in the world the Tyrant was gazing at.

“It doesn’t matter. In the martial world you challenge, I will be there.”

Mu Hui, too, intended to embrace it.

This vast martial world.

The Tyrant silently looked at the martial world before speaking.

“It is my defeat.”

It was the first time the Tyrant had ever uttered those words.