“Magic Path?”

Upon hearing the term “Magic Path,” Mu-hui’s expression hardened as he looked at Dokgo Yul and asked again.

“Magic Path… Are you talking about the Black Night Palace?”

Dokgo Yul nodded seriously, mirroring Mu-hui’s demeanor.

“When Master and the Sword Saint were fighting the Black Night Palace Lord to the death at the peak of Sword Night Mountain, I was below, holding off the Black Night Palace’s minions.”

Mu-hui nodded in acknowledgment. Dokgo Yul had been involved from the start of the Xianxi Blood Battle, cutting down a fair number of those minions.

“Somehow, the Black Night Palace knew their lord had fallen and suddenly retreated, scattering in all directions. We managed to track down and eliminate some, but many more vanished without a trace.”

Mu-hui listened intently, knowing he had no way of learning the aftermath of the Xianxi Blood Battle otherwise.

“Are you saying you’re searching for the vanished Black Night Palace?”

Dokgo Yul picked up a bottle of liquor with a grim expression.

“For so many of them to disappear so seamlessly, even after the lord and the left and right guardians were killed, there must be another leader uniting the entire Black Night Palace.”

As Dokgo Yul spoke, Mu-hui couldn’t help but think of the man in the black mask.

‘Could it be him? Is he connected to the Black Night Palace?’

Pondering the masked figure, Mu-hui turned to Dokgo Yul.

“What do you plan to do if you find the Black Night Palace? Are you seeking revenge for Senior Sword Ghost?”

Dokgo Yul didn’t answer immediately. He paused, lost in thought, before speaking.

“With my skills, avenging Master is beyond me.”

“Then why?”

“It’s not about revenge. It’s about honoring the will of those who fought in the Xianxi Blood Battle. I understand why they sacrificed their lives to stop the Black Night Palace.”

The Magic Path is a calamity.

While the unorthodox sects may stray, they don’t completely abandon humanity. But where the Magic Path passes, nothing remains, leaving devastation in its wake.

Dokgo Yul had witnessed countless scenes of chaos and despair during the Xianxi Blood Battle. There were moments he wanted to flee, to leave Xianxi altogether.

Yet, he survived to see the end of the battle, thanks to his master, who led the way without faltering. His master had paved the path, and as a disciple, he simply followed.

But now, his master was gone, and he had to lead others himself. No longer could he hide behind his master; he had to forge his own path.

‘The Magic Path is a disaster that must not exist in the martial world where the new Dokgo family will establish itself.’

In Dokgo Yul’s mind, the Magic Path was an entity that should not persist in the martial world.

“Have you made any progress?”

“We’re working with the Beggars’ Sect to search the southern martial world. We’ve noticed some suspicious movements.”

“Why the Beggars’ Sect all of a sudden?”

“With the Dokgo Association’s manpower and information, finding the Magic Path is difficult. So I asked the Beggars’ Sect Leader for help, and he agreed it was necessary and offered his support.”

Mu-hui frowned at the mention of the Beggars’ Sect.

‘The Wind King… That old man…’

Recalling the Beggars’ Sect Leader, Mu-hui sighed softly.

“Don’t chase the Magic Path.”

“Why not?”

For the first time, Dokgo Yul, who had been sharing his story, asked Mu-hui.

“Unless you possess martial skills on par with our masters, it’s pointless. You’d likely end up dead for nothing.”

“But the Magic Path…”

Mu-hui interrupted Dokgo Yul.

“Even if you don’t seek them out, the Black Night Palace will resurface eventually.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Thinking of the masked figure, Mu-hui added, “They’re likely gathering strength, determined not to repeat their failure in Xianxi. So we must also grow stronger. When the time comes, it will be up to us to stop them. Our masters are no longer here.”

Dokgo Yul nodded slightly.

“That’s true. Our masters are gone.”

Muttering to himself, Dokgo Yul fell into thought before nodding again.

“Instead of wandering the mountains, it’s better to wield my sword. The Beggars’ Sect is more suited for this kind of work anyway… I’ll follow your advice.”

Mu-hui nodded, accepting the bottle Dokgo Yul handed him. He took a sip, then passed it back.

“And get yourself a better sword.”

At Mu-hui’s chiding, Dokgo Yul caressed the scabbard of the heavy sword beside him, smiling wryly.

“I’ve heard my martial skills don’t match the quality of my weapon, but I don’t want to use another sword until I find Master’s.”

Mu-hui’s lips twitched.

‘Still as stubborn as ever.’

But the sword used by the Sword Ghost in his past life was indeed a rare masterpiece. It was a heavy sword made entirely of black iron, and Mu-hui understood why Dokgo Yul wanted to find it.

‘Though I think it was cracked at the end.’

Recalling the black iron sword he used in his past life, Mu-hui felt a desire to retrieve it.

If he could melt it down and forge a new sword, another masterpiece would be born.

‘It’s no ordinary item, so if it’s in someone’s hands, I’ll see it again someday.’

Thinking of the black iron sword, Mu-hui drained the last of the bottle.

“If you’re not chasing the Magic Path, what will you do now?”

“Well… I’ve gained some insights recently, so I’ll focus on training for now.”

“Yes, focus on your training.”

Seeing Mu-hui nod, Dokgo Yul grinned.

“When I challenge you again and win, you’ll have to call me brother. I grow quickly once I gain insight.”

Mu-hui looked at the confident Dokgo Yul with a hint of pity, then smirked.

“You’ll never be called brother for life, but give it your best shot.”

***

“It feels like the Huashan Sect is always nearby in Huayin.”

“Does it?”

“Yes. Plum trees are everywhere, and many inns and shops have ‘Hua’ in their names or floral patterns.”

The two were strolling through the streets of Huayin. Seon-ju, who had been staying at the Huashan Sect, had dragged Mu-hui down to explore the town.

Mu-hui, tasked by Baek-yu to observe the townsfolk, was keeping an eye on things as they walked.

“The Taoist from Huashan has come down.”

“Master, would you like a juicy apple?”

The townsfolk of Huayin were exceedingly friendly to Mu-hui, recognizing the plum blossom pattern on his black robe and the plum blossom sword at his waist.

Seon-ju, meanwhile, was sampling delicious-looking street food and admiring hairpins and other trinkets.

Mu-hui watched her from behind, not feeling particularly bored. It was like watching the mist drift between the peaks of Huashan.

“Brother Mu-hui, I’m getting a bit hungry from all this walking since morning.”

At Seon-ju’s comment, rubbing her stomach, Mu-hui glanced up at the sky.

“It’s almost noon. Time flies.”

“Hehe, maybe it’s because I’m with you that time flies by.”

Ignoring Seon-ju’s playful tilt of her head, Mu-hui scanned the surroundings.

“Found it. The disciples said the food at that inn is good.”

According to Mu-sang, the chef at the inn, Huaping Inn, was the best in Huayin.

‘If the food is good, I’ll have to grab a few bottles of wine too.’

Huaping Inn was a rather luxurious three-story establishment, and the attendant, upon seeing Mu-hui’s attire, promptly led them to the third floor.

“It’s an honor to have a Taoist from Huashan visit Huaping Inn.”

The attendant bowed deeply, took Mu-hui’s order, and quickly descended the stairs.

“Since Brother Mu-hui showed me around, I’ll treat you to this meal.”

“I won’t refuse that.”

Mu-hui nodded without hesitation, and Seon-ju leaned forward slightly, adding, “Next time, you have to treat me, Brother Mu-hui.”

Seon-ju’s eyes gleamed sharply, as if she were eyeing an opening in an opponent’s defense. Mu-hui felt an unnecessary tension, even though they weren’t crossing swords.

“Well… sure. I’m not so shameless as to only take and never give.”

“Hehe. Great.”

As Mu-hui and Seon-ju chatted, the attendant returned with their food.

He placed two bowls of sesame sauce cold noodles and a plate of bumpy stone bread on the table.

Seon-ju mixed the wide noodles, topped with bean sprouts, cucumber, chili oil, and peanut sauce.

“Huh? The cold noodles in Xi’an are sweet, but the ones in Huayin are spicy? That’s different.”

Seon-ju began devouring the noodles, her face almost buried in the bowl.

“Try this too. They say the cold noodles taste better with the stone bread.”

Mu-hui picked up a piece of stone bread with his chopsticks and placed it in Seon-ju’s bowl.

Stone bread is made by adding sugar and sesame to a salty dough, then baking it with preheated stones, giving it a unique texture. The stone bread at Huaping Inn was even lightly glazed with honey, making it a luxurious treat.

The fiery heat of the spicy sauce was perfectly balanced by the sweetness of the plum sauce and the refreshing hint of sesame, creating a harmonious blend of flavors in Seonju’s mouth.

“Delicious…”

Seonju murmured, placing a hand on her cheek with a contented smile. Across from her, Muhui quietly maneuvered his chopsticks.

As the two enjoyed their peaceful meal, new guests began to ascend to the third floor.

Leading the way was a middle-aged man with a serious demeanor, followed by a strikingly young woman. Her calm, drooping eyebrows and cool gaze created an intriguing contrast with her youthful face.

Another middle-aged man trailed behind, suggesting that the men were likely bodyguards for the young woman.

Even as she slurped her noodles, Seonju kept a watchful eye on the newcomers climbing the stairs.

‘They must be from a distinguished family,’ she mused, noting the woman’s elegant, pale yellow gown.

“Third Lady,” the first man whispered to the woman, having noticed the plum blossom embroidery on Muhui’s sleeve.

“Hmm,” the woman responded, covering her mouth as she glanced at Muhui’s profile.

Seonju’s chopsticks paused mid-air as she observed the woman’s eyebrows lift slightly, a subtle change that caught her attention.

Muhui followed Seonju’s gaze, turning his head. When the woman met his eyes, her eyelids lowered again.

She extended her hand to the bodyguard beside her, who promptly produced a neatly folded piece of paper from his coat.

It was a wanted poster of Muhui.

After comparing the image on the paper with the man before her, the woman nodded and approached Muhui.

“Excuse me for interrupting your meal. Are you perhaps the renowned swordsman, Muhui?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Pleased to meet you. I am Im Suryun, the Third Lady of the Cheonryu Trading Company.”

Muhui’s eyes sparkled with interest, while Seonju looked at Im Suryun in surprise.

‘No wonder her clothes reek of wealth,’ Seonju thought.

The Cheonryu Trading Company was a powerhouse, holding the top position among the three great trading companies in the northern region.

“It seems you’ve finished your meal. May I offer you a cup of tea?”

“I have company, but if that’s not an issue, I’d be happy to accept.”

Im Suryun glanced at Seonju and nodded.

“That’s not a problem. It’s not a confidential matter.”

With the help of a server, Im Suryun arranged a new table and exchanged greetings with Muhui and Seonju.

“I am Im Suryun, Third Lady of the Cheonryu Trading Company.”

“I’m Seonju, second disciple of the Jongnam Sect.”

After introductions, Im Suryun took a sip of tea, pausing briefly before continuing.

“I’ve heard of your great deeds in defeating the Hell Dragon and your significant contributions at Mount Sohwa. The fame of the ‘Volcano Sword Demon’ has spread far and wide. Congratulations.”

Muhui nodded in acknowledgment.

“If you have something to say, feel free to get straight to the point. I’m not fond of beating around the bush.”

Im Suryun nodded, setting her teacup down. She scrutinized Muhui, taking in his upright posture, subtle gestures, and the intensity in his eyes.

Her gaze was meticulous and sharp, much like a merchant appraising a valuable item.

Muhui was aware of this scrutiny but waited patiently for her to speak.

“Forgive my forwardness,” Im Suryun said, bowing her head slightly before continuing.

“I would like to invest in you, Muhui.”