Seobongju was Mu-hui’s favorite drink.

While its unique blend of rich aromas and flavors was certainly a delight, there was another reason he favored it.

No matter how much he drank, he never suffered from a hangover the next day, allowing him to wield his sword with clarity and precision.

But now, with unpleasant sights before him, the taste of the drink soured.

“Tsk.”

Mu-hui leaped over the spot where the bottle had fallen.

He landed on the shards of the broken bottle, yet not even the faintest sound was heard, as if a feather had gently settled.

As Mu-hui descended, shadows hidden in the pavilion’s shade emerged.

The shadows belonged to Ilsun and Ilhun of the Jongnam Sect.

“Mu-hui, it seems you’ve had quite a bit to drink.”

“Indeed, you were drinking quite a lot earlier.”

Crack!

With a silent press of his foot, Mu-hui crushed the glass beneath him, the shards crying out in protest. The Jongnam Sect disciples fell silent, watching him intently.

“Beyond here is the office of the Hwahun Sect’s leader. Were you targeting him?”

“Heh, Mu-hui, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We were just…”

Mu-hui stepped on the glass again.

“Let’s drop the act, shall we? Enough with the charade, you wretched souls.”

The smiles vanished from Ilsun and Ilhun’s faces.

“How did you know?”

“We didn’t make any mistakes.”

Mu-hui smirked coldly.

“At first, you hid it well, but the strong drink soon revealed your true nature.”

Mu-hui had procured the strongest Seobongju to strip away the masks of these sinister spirits.

“When I asked about the deeds of the evil spirits, a dark, murderous glint flickered in your eyes. It must have been a reflection of your own actions.”

The spirits frowned at Mu-hui’s words.

To think he had noticed such a subtle change in their eyes.

Even if he had, only seasoned masters or experienced warriors of the martial world could discern such things.

They couldn’t believe that a young warrior like Mu-hui could read their expressions so keenly.

Then, Ilsun asked Mu-hui, genuinely curious.

“You must have known our identities beforehand to have prepared the drink. How did you figure it out?”

As Ilsun asked, the two spirits naturally closed the distance, and Mu-hui stepped forward to answer.

“Byunhonsaryugong.”

At Mu-hui’s response, the two spirits halted abruptly.

Byunhonsaryugong (變混寫流功).

A martial art with no distinct characteristics, unlike others that reflect the practitioner’s style. It was akin to the widely known Tonap method, flavorless and scentless.

The true value of Byunhonsaryugong lay in its ability to adapt its nature according to the practitioner’s will.

It could exude a dignified strength like the martial arts of the Buddhist sects or unleash a wild, explosive energy like the demonic arts.

Such versatility made Byunhonsaryugong a formidable skill, worthy of being called divine.

Yet, these spirits were wasting it merely to mimic the Jongnam Sect’s techniques.

What if they had focused on mastering it?

There may be the greatest martial artist, but no single martial art is supreme, and this is why.

But the spirits had no choice. They were taught to use Byunhonsaryugong for such purposes.

“The Jongnam Sect’s techniques are known for their weighty yet refreshing lightness, like a breeze over mountain peaks. But you focused only on the heaviness.”

The spirits’ imitation of the Jongnam Sect’s techniques felt lacking, which was why Mu-hui sensed something was off when he first encountered them.

“What?”

“Lightness? Was there such a thing?”

Even the spirits had missed what Mu-hui pointed out. It was unbelievable that a young warrior noticed what they hadn’t.

“Since you’ve learned Byunhonsaryugong, you must also know Chukgulgong and Yeokyongsul?”

Chukgulgong was a technique to alter one’s physique using bones and muscles, while Yeokyongsul was a method to change one’s facial features.

These were the specialties of Baekmyeon Gwaeno, the Hundred-Faced Old Monster.

“To think that old monster left behind disciples. Like master, like student. You’re nothing but vermin.”

Ilsun and Ilhun were speechless as Mu-hui even mentioned their master’s nickname.

The spirits exchanged glances.

Mu-hui was someone they were certain needed to be eliminated.

“We even used Chukgulgong and Yeokyongsul to mimic the Jongnam Sect, but it was all for nothing, wasn’t it, brother?”

“Thanks for the advice. Next time, we’ll mimic them more perfectly.”

“Then let me ask you something. Why disguise yourselves as Jongnam Sect disciples? It would only draw attention and make escape difficult.”

At Mu-hui’s question, the spirits grinned wickedly.

“We have no intention of escaping. We wanted to make Jongnam pay for interfering with our pleasures and killing our comrades.”

As they spoke, the distance between them closed. They were now close enough to strike at any moment.

Though they conversed, they were all watching for an opening.

“By posing as Jongnam Sect disciples and committing atrocities, their reputation will be tarnished. Even if they explain and reveal the truth, they won’t regain their former glory.”

The spirits’ eyes gleamed with a madness that disregarded death.

Mu-hui nodded, understanding.

These spirits weren’t disguising themselves as Jongnam Sect disciples just to escape.

Their eyes showed they weren’t afraid of being caught and killed.

They intended to continue their misdeeds to trouble Jongnam and tarnish their name.

“That old monster, Baekmyeon Gwaeno, only gathered scum like you as disciples.”

As Mu-hui looked at the two spirits with disdain, Ilsun and Ilhun suddenly lunged.

“If we kill the head disciple of Mount Hua and the leader of the secular sect, Mount Hua and Jongnam will be in chaos!”

“Coming here was the right choice.”

Their specialty seemed to be palm techniques, as they reached out with their hands instead of drawing their swords.

Ilsun’s hand struck with fierce momentum, while Ilhun’s palm twisted with graceful changes.

Mu-hui recognized the technique.

Baekhyeongjangbeop (百形掌法).

The signature martial art of Baekmyeon Gwaeno, paired with Byunhonsaryugong.

Mu-hui responded with his own palm techniques, without drawing his sword.

Ilsun and Ilhun snorted.

“Famous recently, yet so arrogant!”

Mu-hui intercepted Ilsun’s fist with a shadowy hand technique and met Ilhun’s palm with a falling flower palm strike.

Smack!

The force from their palms sent Mu-hui and Ilhun’s hands flying apart.

Ilhun spun in the air to dissipate the impact, while Mu-hui used the recoil to flip his body.

He then unleashed a double palm strike at Ilsun on his right.

Ilsun quickly moved his hand to block Mu-hui’s sudden change in direction.

Mu-hui flicked away Ilsun’s hand, which tried to grab his wrist, and twisted his own hand to seize Ilsun’s wrist instead.

His movement was like a snake climbing a branch, a technique known as Sa-yeong-su (蛇影手).

“Gah!”

Seeing this, Ilhun quickly aimed a palm strike at Mu-hui’s shoulder, prompting Mu-hui to release Ilsun’s wrist and slide back smoothly.

“Brother, are you alright?”

“Disciple, he channeled his inner energy in that brief moment. He’s no ordinary opponent.”

Ilsun frowned as he expelled Mu-hui’s energy from his wrist.

Despite the brief contact, Mu-hui’s energy had penetrated several of his meridians.

‘How can such a young man fight so well?’

Ilsun retreated five steps, glaring at Mu-hui, who was waving his hand in the air.

‘If I combine the snake shadow hand with the variations of the chasing shadow palm, it might become even more versatile.’

Mu-hui was testing various palm techniques against the two spirits, integrating them with Mount Hua’s martial arts.

Mount Hua’s palm techniques, like its sword techniques, were based on complex and elegant changes.

Many of them seemed to be directly adapted from sword techniques, and as a result, they lacked the depth of Mount Hua’s primary martial art, the sword.

Of course, not every martial art in a sect can be exceptional, but with some refinement, they could certainly be improved.

Thus, Mu-hui was diligent in studying palm techniques.

‘If I assume holding a sword in my right hand and using only my left, the changes would be limited.’

Meanwhile, Ilsun and Ilhun simultaneously lunged from both sides.

Mu-hui, retreating with backward steps, was fending off the two spirits’ attacks with one hand each.

The ones who were truly surprised were the spirits.

The young warrior was effortlessly handling their combined assault.

Moreover, Mu-hui often seemed lost in thought, his vacant gaze driving the assassins to the brink of frustration.

In an attempt to unsettle Mu-hui, Il-seon conjured three shadowy palm imprints and spoke.

“But where could the last one be?”

Mu-hui effortlessly tore through the advancing shadows with a swift motion of his hand.

“Where else? He’s gone to Mu-hwa.”

Mu-hui’s smile caught the assassins off guard.

“Il-mu, was it? The one who stripped and assaulted the women in the village you ravaged?”

Mu-hui hadn’t missed how Il-mu’s eyes often lingered on Mu-hwa.

By now, the disciples would be confronting Il-mu in the secluded quarters.

“They’re my students. Do you think they’d fall to some lowlife?”

Bam!

In a flash, Il-seon’s palm clashed with Mu-hui’s left hand, followed by Mu-hui’s right hand meeting Il-hun’s. Their palms stuck together, refusing to part.

The two assassins laughed.

“So much for not worrying. You fell into a power struggle so easily.”

“This is the end.”

Mu-hui stood in a wide stance, locked in a battle of internal energy with the two assassins.

The assassins knew Mu-hui’s martial skills were exceptional for his age.

But after a few exchanges, they realized his internal energy wasn’t beyond his years.

There was no way a mere late-stage practitioner could withstand their combined force.

The assassins fell silent, pouring their energy into Mu-hui.

The internal energy of the Gu-so Heart Technique surged through Mu-hui’s veins, but it was too much to handle both assassins at once.

Even with the boost from the He Shou Wu and the Ghost Blade’s energy, the gap was too wide, and Mu-hui was slowly being pushed back. The assassins exchanged glances.

‘It’s over.’

‘We must kill him quickly and tear apart the sect leader.’

As the tension eased from the assassins’ faces, Mu-hui’s lips curled into a smile.

Suddenly, Mu-hui twisted his palms, interlocking his fingers with the assassins’.

The assassins stared at Mu-hui in confusion.

Why would he lock their hands together when he should be trying to break free?

Unable to speak during the power struggle, Mu-hui boldly opened his mouth.

“You fools, do you think we’re fighting in some deserted mountain?”

The assassins’ eyes widened at Mu-hui’s words.

Not only had he seen through their identities, but he also mentioned the White-faced Demon, which they had completely forgotten.

This was the heart of the Hwa-hon Sect.

Even in the dead of night, with a feast just concluded, there were always guards on alert.

There was no way the commotion from their clash with Mu-hui had gone unnoticed.

‘Damn!’

‘What a blunder.’

As the assassins tried to withdraw their energy, Mu-hui’s energy surged forward, baring its fangs.

The assassins found themselves trapped, unable to advance or retreat.

They wanted to strike Mu-hui with their free hands, but standing in a wide stance, their arms couldn’t reach. Diverting energy to launch an attack during a power struggle was beyond their skill.

Meanwhile, Mu-hui heard a sound. The rustling of sleeves in the wind.

“Mu-hui Dojang!”

Kang Bo-eum, who had sensed the disturbance while reviewing paperwork, shouted as he rushed out.

“Strike them down!”

Raising his voice disrupted Mu-hui’s breathing, and he felt blood rising in his throat.

At the command to cut down the Zhongnan Sect disciples, Kang Bo-eum’s eyes flickered.

But without hesitation, Kang Bo-eum swung his sword, sending crescent-shaped energy waves.

Swish!

As Kang Bo-eum’s sword energy sliced through the air, Mu-hui watched the assassins’ faces contort and burst into a deep laugh.

“Does it hurt, you worms?”

End