“Senior Brother! Are you awake?”

Mu-hui, who had been engrossed in the secret manual of the Gu So Heart Technique, snapped his head up at the booming voice from outside.

“Senior Brother… Oh, right, that’s me.”

Who would have thought the day would come when he would be called Senior Brother? With a wry smile, Mu-hui opened the door.

Standing there was a towering figure, a man who looked every bit the part of a Shaolin monk if you stripped him of his martial robes and shaved his head.

Mu-hui quickly recalled the man’s name, which suited his robust appearance perfectly.

“Mu-cheol. What brings you here?”

Mu-cheol blinked slowly, taken aback by the change in Mu-hui’s demeanor and tone.

“It’s been three days since you left the Hall of Harmony, and you haven’t shown up for morning training even once, so I came to check on you.”

“Three days already?”

Mu-hui ran a hand through his disheveled hair, frowning slightly.

He had been so absorbed in learning the new martial arts techniques that he had barely noticed the passage of time, despite occasional bouts of fatigue and thirst.

Realizing how much time had passed, he suddenly felt the dryness of his lips, followed by a wave of thirst and hunger.

‘Reminds me of being trapped in the Blood Wind Sect’s net.’

Shrugging off the thought, Mu-hui stepped outside.

He was no stranger to going days without food or sleep while on the run in the martial world.

Emerging after three days, he saw the first rays of sunlight filtering through the plum blossoms. The cool air cleared his mind.

‘A drink would be perfect right now, but damn these monastic rules.’

Taking a deep breath, Mu-hui gave Mu-cheol a light tap on the arm and started walking.

“Let’s head to the training grounds. Lead the way.”

“Yes, Senior Brother.”

Mu-cheol tilted his head, puzzled. This wasn’t the Mu-hui he was used to.

‘His tone, his actions… something’s definitely changed.’

Despite his swirling thoughts, Mu-cheol led the way. When they arrived at the training grounds, the second-generation disciples were already gathered, practicing together.

The Huashan Sect had a tradition where the second-generation disciples would gather every morning for an hour of training.

While the third-generation disciples learned basic martial arts at the Spring Plum Pavilion, the second-generation disciples focused on mastering techniques that suited them best.

The most talented among them would form a master-disciple bond with a first-generation disciple, living and learning under their guidance.

This made it rare for all the senior and junior brothers to gather in one place, so these morning sessions were crucial for building camaraderie.

“Ascend the Plum, Flourish and Sway!”

A man on the platform called out the name of the technique, leading the training. Aside from Mu-hui, Mu-jin was the most senior among the second-generation disciples.

Mu-hui observed Mu-jin’s sharp features closely.

“Mu-ryun, raise your arm an inch higher!”

“Yes!”

Every time Mu-jin’s gaze swept over the training grounds, the disciples in that direction tensed, their shouts growing louder.

‘He’s got a good grip on them.’

In truth, leading the training and managing the junior brothers was supposed to be Mu-hui’s role as the senior brother.

But the previous Mu-hui lacked the charisma, martial prowess, and respect to lead effectively, making him a figurehead at best.

His timid nature often led to him being subtly disregarded.

Thus, Mu-jin had effectively become the leader of the second-generation disciples.

‘But that ends today.’

Mu-hui had no intention of remaining in the shadows, leaving everything to Mu-jin.

“Haap!”

With a loud shout, the disciples executed a diagonal slash with their wooden swords, moving in perfect unison.

The slight tremor of the wooden swords created an illusion of the blades splitting into two.

“The Falling Plum Sword.”

While the Six Harmonies Sword taught the basics, the Falling Plum Sword introduced the concept of illusion.

Though it was just the second-generation disciples practicing, Mu-hui watched with keen interest.

‘Not bad.’

Overall, their level was decent, but there were many areas that needed improvement.

Their stances lacked proper grounding, causing their feet to lift slightly, and their wrists weren’t strong enough, leading to a slight wobble at the sword’s tip.

‘The average level is high, but they’re still just late bloomers.’

Having clawed his way up from the bottom to become the best swordsman in the unorthodox sects, Mu-hui found their skills lacking.

As Mu-hui continued to observe, the final technique of the Falling Plum Sword, the Chaotic Wind of Falling Plums, was executed, marking the end of the morning training.

“Senior Brother, are you feeling alright?”

“It’s been a while, Senior Brother.”

The second-generation disciples, having sheathed their wooden swords, noticed Mu-hui at the back of the training grounds and greeted him.

While Mu-hui was recalling their names, Mu-jin descended from the platform and approached him.

“Senior Brother. I couldn’t greet you properly during training.”

Mu-jin bowed deeply, showing proper respect.

“Yes, Mu-jin, you’ve worked hard.”

As Mu-jin slowly raised his head, his eyes narrowed slightly.

“What do you mean by ‘worked hard’?”

“From now on, I’ll take over. All the responsibilities I’ve left to you.”

The atmosphere in the training grounds grew tense. The second-generation disciples exchanged surprised glances between Mu-hui and Mu-jin.

‘What’s going on all of a sudden?’

‘I have no idea.’

The disciples exchanged silent looks, afraid that speaking up might lead to trouble.

‘I knew it wasn’t just my imagination. He’s definitely changed.’

Mu-cheol, who had brought Mu-hui to the training grounds, also noticed the change, his eyes widening slightly.

Mu-jin met Mu-hui’s gaze directly and asked, “Your words are different from before.”

“What’s the problem with me taking back the role of Senior Brother?”

“You entrusted it to me because you weren’t confident in fulfilling it yourself.”

Mu-hui’s eyes glinted as he observed Mu-jin’s expression.

‘This young fox, so you had ambitions after all.’

Mu-hui understood why Mu-jin was reluctant to relinquish the power he held.

The position of Sect Leader’s Disciple.

The qualification to become the future sect leader.

Traditionally, the Huashan Sect’s leader was the most senior disciple, but being the most senior didn’t always equate to being the most capable.

Not all disciples formed master-disciple bonds, so rankings were determined by the time of entry rather than ability.

This sometimes led to less capable senior disciples becoming sect leaders.

Seeing this as a flaw, a previous sect leader had revised the rules entirely.

As a result, the Huashan Sect now selected outstanding disciples from each rank to become the Sect Leader’s Disciple, who would then succeed the sect leader.

‘This must feel like a bolt from the blue for you.’

Mu-jin’s position was understandable.

He had been doing well, and now Mu-hui was suddenly disrupting everything.

Unfortunately, Mu-hui couldn’t let Mu-jin continue in the role of Senior Brother. He, too, was aiming for the position of Sect Leader’s Disciple.

For Mu-hui, the second-generation disciples were the perfect agents of change for the Huashan Sect.

Rather than trying to convince the elders or first-generation disciples to make drastic changes, it was better to foster a natural evolution through the next generation.

To influence the second-generation disciples, becoming the Sect Leader’s Disciple was the surest path.

Aside from that, there was a martial art he was particularly interested in.

The Purple Mist Heart Technique.

‘I must master it.’

Renowned as one of the top ten internal energy techniques in the martial world, it was a profound art.

Only the sect leader or the Sect Leader’s Disciple could learn it, so even the legendary Huashan Sword Saint hadn’t mastered it.

In his past life, Mu-hui had created his own advanced technique by refining and combining various unorthodox methods, but it couldn’t compare to the Purple Mist Heart Technique.

To surpass his past life’s Sword Demon, mastering the Purple Mist Heart Technique was essential.

As Mu-hui’s smile deepened, Mu-jin swallowed dryly.

‘Is this really the Senior Brother I knew?’

Mu-jin felt something was off as he looked at Mu-hui, who was now meeting his gaze directly.

The Senior Brother who had once been too insecure to even make eye contact was now exuding a powerful presence.

‘Did I just feel intimidated by his gaze?’

Mu-jin’s lips twitched as he tried to calm his startled and confused mind.

“During the Black Night Palace’s surprise attack, you led the second-generation disciples, didn’t you?”

At the time of the attack, Mu-jin had been away from the mountain with his master, Hyun-baek.

“Senior Brother, instead of charging recklessly, you should have ordered a defensive formation.”

Mu-hui nodded, understanding what Mu-jin was getting at, having seen it in his dreams.

Mu-jin had been absent, and the demonic cultivators were closing in. Waiting for the elders was not an option, and the disciples were all looking to Mu-hui.

In a panic, Mu-hui had no choice but to grit his teeth and shout.

“Disciples, do not be afraid! We must protect the Huashan Sect.”

“It’s a miracle no one died from such an order. If the elders hadn’t arrived in time, some of us wouldn’t be here now.”

The second-generation disciples’ expressions hardened as they recalled the event. While no one had died, more than half had been injured.

One of the disciples pressed a hand to a suddenly aching wound.

As Mu-jin said, it had indeed been a miracle. While everyone else’s faces were grim, Mu-hui alone wore a slight smile.

‘He knows how to use his tongue a bit.’

Bringing up this matter now was as good as questioning whether Mujin was truly fit to be the senior disciple.

Moreover, many of the second disciples had shed blood under Muhwi’s orders, which only weakened his position further.

Muhwi, who had been smiling, loosened the front of his robe. Mujin frowned at the gesture.

The bandages wrapped around Muhwi’s chest were stained with red, a testament to his still-healing sword wound.

“Yes, because of that reckless order, I paid the price too. Mujin, isn’t this enough for you?”

“Senior Brother.”

Everyone present knew that Muhwi had narrowly escaped death, even if he seemed fine now.

To say this wasn’t enough was akin to telling him to die.

“And you’re misunderstanding something.”

“What misunderstanding, sir?”

Muhwi’s face, which had been holding a smile, suddenly turned expressionless.

The oppressive glare from Muhwi’s eyes, now devoid of laughter, bore down on Mujin.

‘Is this really the same senior brother standing before me?’

Unconsciously, Mujin took a step back, unable to reconcile this man with the one who had been burdened by his own position.

“I’m informing you, not persuading you.”

Mujin closed his slightly parted lips.

“This is the last time I’ll say it. Mujin, you’ve worked hard until now.”

Mujin, his face hardened, looked at Muhwi for a long moment before speaking in a much softer voice.

“You seem like a completely different person, Senior Brother.”

“They say people change when they’re close to death. Maybe that’s what happened to me.”

Muhwi chuckled softly and patted Mujin’s shoulder. Only then did Mujin realize his shoulder was trembling slightly.

“Don’t take it too hard.”

“……”

Without another word, Mujin bowed respectfully and left the training ground alone.

The second disciples blinked in surprise as they watched Mujin retreat first.

‘Did stubborn Mujin really back down?’

‘Did Senior Brother always have this side to him?’

The once timid senior brother had won a battle of wills against Mujin, who had always lorded over the second disciples.

Muhwi took in the sight of the second disciples still staring at him in a daze.

“From now on, I will fulfill my duties as the senior disciple of the Martial Arts Sect. I apologize for not acting properly until now.”

Seeing the second disciples still in a stupor, Muhwi spoke again.

“Answer me.”

His voice was deeper than usual, a single word carrying an undeniable weight.

The second disciples, snapping back to their senses, quickly raised their voices.

“Yes, sir!”

Hearing their resounding response, Muhwi nodded.

“Today’s early morning training is dismissed. Disperse.”

As the second disciples quickly vanished, Muhwi turned his head from side to side, surveying the now-empty training ground.

“Sigh.”

In his days as the Sword Demon, he could have simply cut down anyone in his way, but that was no longer an option.

Muhwi had never been one for words. If talking failed, he had always resorted to his sword.

“Arguing with these young ones is exhausting. Truly exhausting.”

But Muhwi’s life as the senior disciple was just beginning. A smile tugged at his lips as he took in the training ground.

“Malco, you spoke of a declining sect. Let’s see if I can’t turn it around.”

Muhwi lifted his gaze to the plum tree swaying in the wind.

End