“Senior Brother, I can see Mount Yeosan ahead.”

Mucheol, who was leading the group, reported to Muhwi.

Mount Yeosan.

It was the final destination for Muhwi and his companions, the last secular martial arts sect they needed to visit. Once they completed their business there, they could finally return to Mount Hua.

“Ah, the last one at last,” Muhwi sighed.

“When we first left the mountain, I was a bit worried, but we’ve made it this far without any trouble,” Mujin replied.

Walking side by side, Muhwi and Mujin seemed quite at ease with each other now, a stark contrast to their initial awkwardness. Spending considerable time together had helped, but it was mainly Muhwi’s impressive conduct in the martial world that had left a strong impression on Mujin.

Mujin glanced at Muhwi’s profile. It was a view he hadn’t dared to approach before, always keeping a respectful distance behind.

‘Initially, I thought I’d use this journey to showcase my skills to the elders of Mount Hua,’ Mujin reflected. Back then, he was still vying for the position of the head disciple, anticipating fierce competition and subtle rivalries.

But reality had turned out differently.

Muhwi’s path was anything but serene, more like a storm, yet his actions left a profound impact, offering valuable lessons to those who followed. Through countless sparring sessions, Mujin had received teachings that were as sharp as a blade, yet they pierced deeply and effectively.

Direct and insightful guidance.

Like the other disciples, Mujin’s martial skills had improved significantly since they first descended the mountain. His master, Hyunbaek, would surely be astonished by his progress. Mujin’s growth was evident, thanks in part to the diverse experiences he had gained, but mostly due to the seemingly offhand advice from Muhwi.

It was remarkable that Muhwi, aware of Mujin’s ambitions for the head disciple position, treated him no differently than the others, offering the same guidance.

‘Could I have done the same?’ Mujin wondered.

He knew he could never bring himself to strengthen a potential rival.

‘In terms of martial arts, I’ve lost completely, and even in terms of character, I seem to have been outmatched.’

Mujin had nearly let go of his aspirations for the head disciple position. Simply growing alongside Muhwi was enough for him.

It wasn’t so much that he had given up on the position, but rather that he had come to acknowledge Muhwi’s worthiness.

‘Having Senior Brother as the head disciple would be better for the sect, for Mount Hua, and for me as well.’

Noticing Mujin’s lingering gaze, Muhwi finally asked, “What is it? Why do you keep staring at me like that?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Senior Brother.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Mujin snapped out of his thoughts and turned his gaze forward.

As Muhwi and Mujin bantered, Muhwa suddenly interjected between them.

“Senior Brother…”

Muhwa’s voice was playful, and Muhwi stepped aside with a look of distaste.

“Cut it out with the nasal voice, it’s creepy, Junior.”

But Muhwa persisted, tugging at Muhwi’s sleeve.

“Senior Brother, let’s visit the hot springs when we get to Yeosan!”

“Hot springs?”

When Muhwi asked, Mujin chimed in, recalling something.

“Yeosan has been famous for its hot springs for ages. Many people visit them for relaxation and healing.”

“Hot springs, huh… It wouldn’t hurt to check them out.”

“Yay!”

Muhwa cheered, jumping up with excitement at Muhwi’s response.

As Muhwa chattered on about the hot springs, Muhwi noticed the steep path ahead and his eyes gleamed.

“This will be good for lightness skill training. Keep up.”

With that, Muhwi leaped forward, and the disciples quickly followed.

“Hey, wait up!”

Distracted by thoughts of the hot springs, Muhwa was a beat late in using his lightness skills to catch up with his seniors.

* * *

Yeosan was renowned for its hot springs. The surrounding scenery was pleasant, making it an ideal place to relax and enjoy the view. As a result, people from all over the martial world flocked to the hot springs, and Yeosan was always bustling with visitors.

Observing the peaceful expressions of the locals, Muhwa remarked, “I heard there were sightings of the ‘Killer Ghosts’ around here, but it seems pretty calm.”

“Two of the five ‘Killer Ghosts’ have been dealt with, and the remaining three are being pursued by the disciples of the Zhongnan Sect. That’s probably why people are more at ease,” Muhwi explained.

After a brief tour of Yeosan, Muhwi and his disciples headed straight for the Huahong Gate.

The guards at the gate widened their eyes as they spotted the approaching group.

Black martial robes, plum blossoms embroidered on the sleeves, and the clear, bright aura in their eyes.

There was no doubt.

“Are you from Mount Hua?”

“I’m Muhwi of Mount Hua. These are my fellow disciples.”

After exchanging greetings with the guards, the gate was promptly opened for them.

“We heard that disciples from the main sect were visiting. Please, come in.”

The guards quickly sent word inside, and soon a middle-aged man came rushing out from the main hall.

“Welcome. I am the chief steward of Huahong Gate. The sect leader was in training, but he will join us shortly after changing.”

Compared to the other secular sects they had visited, Huahong Gate was noticeably larger, and the disciples they encountered seemed more skilled.

The chief steward led Muhwi and his companions to a reception room, personally serving them tea and refreshments.

“We’ve heard of your exploits with the Seonhwa Sect,” the steward said, looking at them with admiration.

As a branch of Mount Hua, hearing about the Seonhwa Sect’s achievements had been exhilarating. The steward was impressed not only by the feats of Mount Hua’s second-generation disciples but also by the fact that Mount Hua was finally making its presence felt again.

After the Bloodshed of Shaanxi, Mount Hua had been silent, as if sealed off, and seeing it come alive again was a source of great joy.

“Chief Steward, do you know of any good hot springs around here?” Muhwa asked eagerly.

“Haha, if you’re in Yeosan, you must experience the hot springs. I can recommend a place where you can unwind and relieve all your travel fatigue.”

“Wow, I’m looking forward to it. They say the water is incredibly soothing.”

As Muhwa and the steward chatted about the hot springs, a middle-aged man entered the reception room.

With a strong presence and muscular build visible beneath his martial robes, it was clear he was a seasoned martial artist.

“Sorry for the delay. I am Kang Bo-eum, the sect leader of Huahong Gate.”

Muhwi and his disciples stood and greeted him with a respectful bow.

“I am Muhwi, second-generation disciple of Mount Hua.”

Kang Bo-eum’s right sleeve swayed slightly as he moved, indicating the loss of his right arm. Unable to return the bow, he nodded his head instead.

“I lost my right arm during the Bloodshed of Shaanxi. I hope you understand my inability to greet you properly.”

Losing a limb was not uncommon for a martial artist, but hearing that it happened during the Bloodshed of Shaanxi naturally drew Muhwi’s attention.

“You participated in the Bloodshed of Shaanxi as well, Sect Leader?”

“Of course. Not just me, but most of the sect leaders from the branches participated, except for those without successors. I was surprised by how many gathered.”

“That many?” Muhwa asked, intrigued.

Kang Bo-eum smiled faintly, recalling the past.

Leading his disciples to the gathering point at Mount Hua, Kang Bo-eum had been astonished.

Flags of countless branch sects encircled the large banner of Mount Hua, as if protecting it.

There were more unfamiliar flags than familiar ones.

And beneath the Mount Hua banner, countless red and white plum blossoms.

Regardless of the color of the plum blossoms on their sleeves, they were all disciples of Mount Hua.

The main sect had sent almost all its disciples, except for the very young and those unable to fight, and the branches had done the same.

The order from the sect leader of Mount Hua.

Though they had responded out of loyalty, without looking back, how could they not feel fear?

But seeing so many gathered at Mount Hua, the disciples were amazed, impressed, and eventually burst into laughter.

“At that moment, we were all Mount Hua,” Kang Bo-eum said, his voice filled with nostalgia.

Even the venerable Baekyu Jin-in had insisted on passing on the position of sect leader to the first-generation disciple so he could personally join the battle.

Mount Hua, Zhongnan, their branches, and the smaller sects of Shaanxi, even the Guiyou Sword Sect joined later, but the largest number of martial artists came from Mount Hua.

And so, Mount Hua and its branches suffered the greatest losses.

As the disciples listened, captivated by Kang Bo-eum’s story, only Muhwi wore a subtle smile.

‘Indeed, though they came from all walks of life, they were truly Mount Hua.’

Even the Sword Demon had been there.

Of course, he had watched from a distance with Hyeonjo, but he had been present.

The laughter of Mount Hua’s disciples, filled with a myriad of emotions, still echoed vividly in his ears.

Some laughed with pride for Mount Hua.

Some laughed out of fear of the demonic path.

The laughter that had once shaken Mount Hua ceased, and the men, having shed all emotions with their laughter, marched lightly into battle.

Though the Sword Demon was not originally from Mount Hua, he had been touched by the emotions of its disciples, leaving a lasting impression.

Finishing his tale, Kang Bo-eum looked at Muhwi and his disciples with a rugged smile.

“I lost my right arm, but I’ve never regretted participating in that battle. Seeing you all today, I feel that even if I had lost both arms, it would have been worth it.”

Though many red and white plum blossoms had withered, new ones were blooming brightly.

Back then, those gathered at Mount Hua fought for the plum blossoms that would bloom the following spring.

“Continue to strive as you have been.”

Kang Bo-eum had been closely following Mu-hui and his group’s movements. It wasn’t just Kang Bo-eum; most of the secular disciples of Mount Hua were doing the same.

The secular sects of Mount Hua were waiting.

Waiting for the scent of plum blossoms to once again fill the martial world.

Mu-hui and his companions simply nodded in silent agreement to Kang Bo-eum’s heartfelt words.

“The Flower Soul Sect has no pressing issues, so feel free to stay and rest. If you feel stiff, let the disciples show you the sword techniques of Mount Hua.”

“Thank you, Sect Leader.”

Mu-hui bowed, and the other disciples followed suit, showing their respect.

* * *

The moon had waned to its thinnest sliver, and the light that seeped through the darkness was faint.

In such dimness, the occasional flash of a sword seemed even brighter.

Mu-hui was alone in the training ground, practicing his swordsmanship.

With each passing moment, he demonstrated a different sword technique, all of which were those mastered by the Sword Demon in his past life.

Swish!

Slash!

Most of the techniques were lethal and aggressive, focusing on power rather than profound principles, designed to deceive the opponent’s eyes.

The unorthodox sword techniques aimed for the most efficient and straightforward way to cut down an opponent.

Though they were mostly unorthodox, it didn’t mean they were without merit.

In essence, they adhered to the fundamental nature of the sword: to strike down the enemy in a single blow.

Mu-hui thrust his sword dozens of times in a single breath, tearing through the air.

He was sifting through the techniques he knew, selecting those worth keeping.

Viewing the sword techniques from the perspective of the Sword Demon and from his own perspective as Mu-hui offered subtly different insights.

“Is it because the sword I wish to wield is different?”

Thanks to the Sword Demon’s experience, Mu-hui had no bias in evaluating martial arts by orthodox standards.

As long as it contributed to his own swordsmanship and martial path, that was enough.

Just as he was about to demonstrate the fifteenth technique, Mu-hui sheathed his sword. Practicing unorthodox martial arts could be troublesome if someone saw him.

To sharpen his senses, he had been training with his awareness spread wide.

Something caught his attention.

A moment later, Kang Bo-eum entered the training ground, his right sleeve fluttering.

“Mu-hui, training at this late hour? It seems like you’ve been wielding your sword all day.”

“It’s become a habit. I can’t sleep otherwise.”

“Haha… You remind me of someone.”

Kang Bo-eum stood beside Mu-hui and continued.

“There was a warrior among the Blood Sect who was like that. Even after cutting down countless foes during the day, he would practice his sword instead of resting. He was the only one like that among those gathered on the battlefield.”

Mu-hui’s expression turned curious at Kang Bo-eum’s words.

He had a feeling he knew who Kang Bo-eum was talking about.

“A man obsessed with the sword, a man deserving of the title Sword Demon. His image is still vivid in my mind.”

Mu-hui pretended not to know and just listened.

It wasn’t surprising that Kang Bo-eum had seen the Sword Demon, given how often they fought alongside Mount Hua’s disciples against the Blood Sect.

“Was he really that memorable?”

“Even if he wasn’t, I could never forget. He saved my life.”

At those final words, Mu-hui looked at Kang Bo-eum.