Years had passed since the greatest martial artist and the Heavenly Alliance crossed the Blue Sea, and their exploits had slowly faded from the memories of the martial world.

In the meantime, the Martial Alliance, which had been quiet for some time, was bustling with activity. The long-awaited Celestial Dragon Tournament was about to take place during the upcoming Mid-Autumn Festival.

As the disciples of the Mount Hua Sect made their entrance, the crowd of martial artists parted to make way for them.

The martial artists paused to watch, their eyes drawn to the leading first-generation disciples.

There was Mu Hui, the Sword God of Fragrance.

Mu Jin, the Plum Blossom Sword Hero.

Mu Hwa, the Mad Sword Knight.

And Mu Cheol, the Iron Plum Sword General.

The sight of these renowned figures from the Mount Hua Sect walking together was a rare spectacle. The martial artists couldn’t take their eyes off the disciples as they moved through the grounds of the Martial Alliance.

“The Sword God! To see the greatest under heaven in person!”

“The Sword Hero, the Sword Knight, and the Sword General—all the Mount Hua legends are here.”

“I witnessed them defeat the Wudang and Namgung at the World Sword Tournament. It was incredible.”

The Mount Hua Sect had earned the title of the greatest sword sect under heaven by defeating the Namgung family and the Wudang Sect at the tournament. The Plum Blossom Swordsmen, especially the Mount Hua legends, played a pivotal role in that victory.

The whispers of the martial artists reached the ears of the second-generation disciples following behind.

Myeong San, Myeong Yeong, and Myeong Am felt a surge of pride as they heard their masters’ titles. They were filled with respect and pride for their masters, a sentiment shared by the other second-generation disciples.

Wearing the same robes as their esteemed seniors, the disciples couldn’t help but smile with pride.

The martial artists’ attention shifted from the first-generation disciples to the second-generation ones.

“Are those the second-generation disciples competing in this Celestial Dragon Tournament?”

“They may be young, but their eyes and presence are anything but ordinary.”

“Can these youngsters carry on the legacy of the renowned first-generation disciples?”

Feeling the eyes of the martial artists upon them, the second-generation disciples straightened their backs and walked with renewed determination.

The plum blossoms embroidered on their sleeves swayed as they moved with confidence.

Upon reaching the pavilion assigned to the Mount Hua Sect, the disciples unpacked and gathered in the main hall.

“Is everyone here?”

“Yes, Mu Hui!”

The second-generation disciples responded in unison. Mu Hui nodded as he surveyed their faces.

“Even though the sect leader and elders aren’t here, it doesn’t matter. Whether they’re watching or not, give it your all.”

The current sect leader, Hyun Baek, and the elders had stayed behind to select the third-generation disciples, leaving Mu Hui and the other Mount Hua legends to lead the second-generation disciples to the Martial Alliance.

“Having earned the title of the greatest sword sect, you’ll face the most scrutiny and competition in this tournament. What will you do?”

Myeong Yeong, Mu Hwa’s disciple, was the first to respond with determination.

“I’ll defeat them all!”

Having accompanied Mu Hwa on several journeys, Myeong Yeong had begun to mirror his master’s bold spirit. His movements and swordplay carried that same fierce energy.

‘That’s my disciple,’ Mu Hwa thought proudly as he watched.

Myeong Am, Mu Cheol’s disciple, said nothing but squared his shoulders, his eyes brimming with quiet resolve.

Though Myeong Am was as taciturn and steady as Mu Cheol, he had a fiery side that his master lacked.

“We’ll prove once again that the title of the greatest sword sect belongs to Mount Hua.”

Myeong San spoke calmly, and Mu Hui nodded at his disciple.

“Good.”

Master and disciple exchanged a knowing look.

* * *

The finals of the Celestial Dragon Tournament.

The final match was between Myeong San and Peng Guk, a rising star from the Hebei Peng family. Standing between them, Woo Tae-gang raised his fist and shouted.

“Begin!”

At the call of Woo Tae-gang, the tournament’s referee, the two competitors launched themselves at each other, their swords clashing fiercely.

Having studied each other’s techniques throughout the tournament, they attacked without hesitation.

As four arcs of lightning-infused sword strikes twisted and surged toward him, Myeong San’s plum blossom sword danced in response.

In an instant, the sword, which had been bending like a branch, split into dozens of strikes, scattering the incoming lightning like petals.

The plum blossoms, having deflected the lightning, burst into a brilliant red.

Boom!

With another thunderous crash, a powerful strike descended vertically, slicing through the plum blossoms.

In terms of sheer power, Peng Guk, with his robust build and the overwhelming nature of the Hebei Peng family’s martial arts, had the upper hand.

But Myeong San knew how to fight.

Feigning a direct confrontation, he skillfully redirected the force of Peng Guk’s strikes, exploiting openings with swift, precise attacks.

Though it seemed like Myeong San was being pushed back, he was gradually gaining the upper hand.

‘Now!’

Deflecting a strike aimed at his shoulder, Myeong San stepped into Peng Guk’s range with a swift footwork technique.

Mu Hui watched Myeong San execute the Plum Blossom Sword Technique, then glanced at Woo Tae-gang’s broad back.

“Tae-gang’s skills have improved.”

“Hmm. But it’s still too early for him to inherit the title of Fist King.”

The Iron Mountain Fist King, who had taken on the role of acting leader after the previous leader’s retirement, shook his head.

“Junior, my peers have all retired and are enjoying their leisure, but I’m still stuck with this job. I feel like my muscles are shrinking. It’s a real problem.”

As Mu Hui turned his head slightly, the Fist King flexed his muscular arm and asked.

“Take over as leader.”

“Senior, I have to become the sect leader of Mount Hua eventually. How can I take on the role of leader?”

“Come now. The current sect leader of Mount Hua has only been in the position for five years. You have at least ten more years. I’m not asking you to be leader forever, just for a while.”

Je Gal-myeong, who had been listening, chimed in.

“Recently, the leader has had less time for training. Perhaps you could take on a suitable position, if not the leadership.”

Je Gal-myeong had succeeded his father, Je Gal-jin, as the strategist of the Martial Alliance, known for his gentle leadership and precise execution of military strategies.

Mu Hui let the words of the Fist King and Je Gal-jin pass in one ear and out the other, giving a noncommittal response.

“I’ll think about it.”

As Mu Hui tried to brush off the conversation, the Fist King’s arm muscles rippled with intensity.

Boom!

Just as the Fist King was about to speak again, an explosion erupted from the stage. A red lightning bolt flashed, and Peng Guk was sent flying out of the ring.

He nearly crashed into the wall, but Woo Tae-gang leaped forward and caught him effortlessly. At the same time, he raised his other hand and shouted.

“The winner! Myeong San of the Mount Hua Sect!”

With Woo Tae-gang’s declaration, a thunderous cheer erupted for Myeong San.

“Wow!”

“As expected of the Sword God’s disciple!”

Mu Hui watched Myeong San bow to the audience and then turned to the Fist King.

“Senior, are you sure I should give it to them?”

“Yes. They’ll appreciate it more coming from you, the one who saved the martial world and is the greatest under heaven. Please.”

Mu Hui nodded and rose from his seat. He stepped into the air from the highest seat in the stands.

Naturally, Mu Hui didn’t fall.

Using his mastery of air-walking, he descended gracefully as if stepping on invisible stairs, leaving the audience in awe.

“Wow…”

Myeong San and Peng Guk, standing on the stage, were equally impressed. In Mu Hui’s hands were the prizes for the winner and runner-up.

With a slight wave of his hand, the two prizes floated through the air, each stopping in front of Myeong San and Peng Guk.

The two young competitors ignored the prizes hovering before them, their eyes fixed on Mu Hui. Peng Guk’s gaze, in particular, was filled with admiration.

‘This is the greatest under heaven…’

Mu Hui met the eyes of the two young men.

He first addressed Peng Guk.

“Your mastery of the Thunderbolt Blade was impressive. But don’t try to control the lightning too strictly. Let it flow freely within your control, and you’ll unleash its true power.”

Though Mu Hui’s advice was cryptic, Peng Guk responded with enthusiasm.

“Yes!”

“If Senior Do Je had seen you, he would have been pleased. Keep striving.”

At the mention of the Thunderbolt Blade Master, Peng Guk’s smile faded, and he nodded seriously.

Mu Hui then turned to Myeong San. The two exchanged a simple smile.

“Well done.”

“Yes, Master.”

Nodding, Mu Hui gestured to the two young men, indicating the seats above where the leaders and esteemed figures of the martial world were gathered.

“Continue to walk the righteous path and grow stronger. One day, you’ll sit in those seats, guiding, leading, and protecting the next generation. These prizes are for that future.”

“Yes!”

Mu-hui and Peng-guk answered in unison, bowing respectfully to Mu-hui, who responded with a nod and a gesture of his own.

That night, after the conclusion of the Celestial Dragon Tournament, a grand banquet was held.

Mu-hui joined his fellow disciples in the festivities, enjoying the camaraderie and the wine.

As Mu-jin refilled Mu-hui’s cup, he leaned in with a sly comment.

“Isn’t our junior sister getting quite close to the leader of the Dokgo clan these days?”

Mu-hui turned his head, smiling at Mu-jin’s teasing. He glanced over to see Mu-hwa and Dokgo-yul deep in conversation, clearly enjoying each other’s company. Mu-hui shook his head.

“Let them sort it out themselves.”

Just then, a man approached Mu-hui.

“Brother Mu-hui!”

“Seon-un! Were you at the Martial Alliance?”

The Wudang Sect hadn’t participated in this year’s tournament, so it was a surprise to see Seon-un, once known as the Rising Dragon of Wudang, now the leader of the new Seven Swords of Wudang.

But Seon-un’s usual gentle smile was absent, replaced by a more serious expression. Mu-hui noticed immediately.

“What’s the matter?”

“You need to go to Cheonju Peak right away.”

The mention of Cheonju Peak made Mu-hui’s face turn grave.

* * *

Cheonju Peak, Wudang Mountain.

It had been a long time since Mu-hui last climbed Cheonju Peak. His steps were hurried, urgency driving him forward. With each stride, the scenery around him changed rapidly, and soon he reached the summit, scanning the area.

The Sword Sage was seated on a rock at the edge of the peak, gazing out at the breathtaking view of Wudang Mountain.

“Sword Sage, sir.”

“You’ve come.”

The Sword Sage gave a faint smile and patted the spot beside him. Mu-hui sat down.

“What brings you all the way here?”

“Seon-un told me to come.”

“Ha, making a busy young man like you come all this way for nothing.”

“It’s not for nothing.”

Mu-hui turned his head, unable to face the Sword Sage directly. The old master seemed so frail, his vitality almost gone.

“Mu-hui… how much longer do you think this old man has?”

“You should have at least another ten years, shouldn’t you?”

“You’ve grown wiser with age, I see. Flattering an old man like me. Ha ha ha!”

The Sword Sage chuckled, patting Mu-hui’s shoulder with a touch so light it felt like a leaf brushing past.

“Once, Heukcheon said I had five years left with my damaged dantian.”

Mu-hui recalled the words from the Huashan Sword Conference and nodded.

“I was determined not to accept the limits others set for me. I devoted myself to the path of Taiji and self-cultivation, but in the end, I was just a man.”

Mu-hui smiled.

“And yet, you succeeded.”

“Perhaps the heavens took pity on my struggle rather than any success of mine.”

The Sword Sage had worked tirelessly to surpass the five-year limit Heukcheon had predicted. But when all efforts seemed in vain, he found enlightenment through letting go, extending his life beyond those five years. Now, it was time to return to nature.

The Sword Sage took in the sight of the seventy-two peaks of Wudang Mountain, piercing through the clouds. Though he had seen them countless times, they felt both new and bittersweet now.

But he brushed off these emotions with a sense of relief.

“I met mentors worthy of respect and juniors I could trust. I roamed the martial world with them, and it was a fulfilling life.”

He watched the white clouds drift over the peaks like living dragons.

“When I die, I’ll become a cloud, watching over the young disciples of Wudang.”

The Sword Sage gently took Mu-hui’s hand.

“I’ll visit Huashan when I’m bored. Then I can see you.”

Mu-hui could only bow his head.

“Mu-hui.”

“Yes.”

His voice was low, filled with emotion.

“You became the best in the world at a young age. You’ll have to watch over the martial world for a long time. It will be tough.”

“It’s all thanks to my seniors.”

“Ha ha. Then, for our sake, hang in there a little longer. And when you find a trustworthy junior, pass it on, as we did.”

Mu-hui carefully held the Sword Sage’s frail hand.

“I will remember.”

“I trust you. Stay healthy.”

The fierce wind that had been blowing over Cheonju Peak suddenly calmed, leaving a profound silence.

The rustling of branches in the wind.

The sound of leaves brushing against the ground and rocks.

The faint, shallow breathing of the Sword Sage.

All these sounds ceased.

Mu-hui felt the silence was unbearably cruel.

“Sigh…”

Only Mu-hui’s soft sigh broke the stillness. He held the Sword Sage’s gradually cooling hand, taking in the majestic landscape of Wudang Mountain.

“You’ve worked so hard all this time.”

Mu-hui gazed at the view the Sword Sage had last seen, as if to etch it into his heart.