Someone asked Hong Samyeong in a slightly trembling voice.

“Senior Hong, does this mean the demonic sects are rising again?”

“I can’t say for sure.”

Hong Samyeong, surveying the faces of the martial arts masters gathered in the hall, paused before continuing.

“It’s just a small stir, but the fact that they’re moving in the current martial world is concerning. We never know when or where they might appear.”

He glanced at Baek Yu, the head of the Zhongnan Sect, and Hong Seon.

“The terror of the demonic sects is something the sect leaders know all too well.”

“The Black Night Palace we let slip during the Shaanxi Blood Incident… or rather, let go. Not only Zhongnan and Huashan, but even the Nine Sword Sect was devastated. I didn’t expect the Black Night Palace to resurface so soon.”

“We tried to track them from the Beggars’ Sect, but they eluded us. We know nothing of their purpose or base, but their mere appearance is enough to warrant caution.”

Those listening to Hong Samyeong nodded gravely.

“Moreover, the Seven Evil Heavens are showing unsettling movements across the land. With the martial world in such chaos, shouldn’t we hasten the formation of an alliance?”

Namgung Heo addressed the gathered masters, and they all nodded in agreement.

The most crucial agenda of this grand assembly was the discussion of forming a righteous alliance to counter the growing threat of the Seven Evil Heavens and the Tyrant Castle.

‘If only we had been united, we could have easily thwarted the Shaanxi Blood Incident.’

Recalling those days, Baek Yu clenched his fist. Back then, other sects couldn’t send aid to Shaanxi due to the proximity of the Seven Evil Heavens. A unified command could have changed everything.

“The construction of our main base in Wuhan, Hubei, is progressing more smoothly than planned. The real question now is how we will fill this alliance.”

At the words of the Wudang Sect leader, Yunzhong Zhenren, Baek Yu nodded.

“Then the first decision should be about the leader of this alliance.”

At Baek Yu’s words, the martial arts masters fell silent. The leader of the alliance would represent the righteous sects, a decision not to be made lightly.

Strength, reputation, character.

The chosen leader must excel in all these aspects.

One of the masters offered a suggestion.

“Why not choose the leader from the Nine Great Schools or the Three Great Families? It would make unification easier, as they are the pillars of the righteous sects.”

“That would indeed be the simplest approach.”

Several others agreed, but the abbot of Shaolin, Gonghyeon, merely smiled.

“Forgive my boldness, but I must disagree.”

“And why is that, Abbot?”

In response to Baek Yu’s question, Gonghyeon nodded calmly.

“If we’re not careful, it might seem like we’re forming this alliance just to consolidate the power of the Nine Great Schools and the Three Great Families. It’s something we must be wary of.”

When people gather, power naturally forms, and those with easy access to it must be especially cautious in their actions. This alliance isn’t being formed out of selfish ambition.

“So you suggest we choose someone outside the Nine Great Schools and the Three Great Families as the leader.”

Yunzhong agreed, and Gonghyeon nodded, chanting a silent prayer.

Listening quietly, Hong Samyeong grinned, revealing his yellowed teeth.

“In that case, only one person comes to mind.”

“Who might that be, Senior Hong?”

“The Hero Emperor.”

Namgung Heo nodded in agreement, and the other masters seemed to concur.

“The Hero Emperor…”

“If the greatest hero of the martial world were our leader, we couldn’t ask for more.”

The Hero Emperor, a legendary figure known for his chivalrous deeds since his youth, feared by the demonic sects. Despite coming from a destroyed sect, he achieved remarkable feats, surpassing even the disciples of prestigious schools. He was once called the Great Hero, but after single-handedly defeating the Extreme Killing Spear Emperor, who had massacred five hundred warriors, he earned the title of Hero Emperor.

Strength, reputation, character. The Hero Emperor lacked nothing.

“But isn’t he a wanderer, roaming the martial world without a fixed abode? Who knows where he might be now.”

“I heard he’s been pursuing the Mad Sword of Zhenjin recently, but his whereabouts are unknown.”

At the mention of the Mad Sword of Zhenjin, Yunzhong’s expression darkened slightly. The Mad Sword claimed to be the successor of the long-destroyed Zhenjin Sect, but his actions were no different from a madman. He had single-handedly annihilated two Wudang Sect branches in Hubei. Despite dispatching elders and the Seven Swords of Wudang, two elders returned severely injured. The Mad Sword’s rampage continued as he fled west, burning down three small sects, earning him infamy in the martial world.

“I heard on the way here that another sect at the edge of Hubei recently suffered a tragedy.”

Yunzhong nodded and continued.

“If Wudang had captured the Mad Sword early on, things wouldn’t have escalated like this. I am ashamed.”

“The Hero Emperor mentioned that the Mad Sword’s level might be akin to a king’s. Don’t blame yourself too much.”

Despite Hong Samyeong’s words, Yunzhong’s expression remained stern. To lighten the heavy atmosphere, Baek Yu changed the subject.

“Then we’ll leave the matter of the Hero Emperor to you, Senior Hong. If the Beggars’ Sect locates him, please convey our intentions.”

“Leave it to me. He’s always on the move, so I’ll have to go myself.”

Hong Samyeong nodded at Baek Yu’s words and munched on the refreshments before him.

“Let’s return to the alliance matters. Since the construction of our base is on track, we should also prepare for the alliance’s inaugural event.”

As the discussions on the alliance’s event and organizational structure proceeded, the Wind King, who had been silently nibbling on snacks, suddenly flashed a sharp gaze. In an instant, he transformed into a gust of wind and vanished from the hall.

***

While the elders of the martial world were deep in discussion, the younger generation gathered among themselves.

For the younger generation, the grand assembly was more about drinking and forging connections. Occasionally, some would pair off and head to the training grounds for a friendly duel.

Among the younger crowd, the most popular was the Huashan prodigy, Wuhui. A throng of young martial artists surrounded him.

“I’m curious about your duel with the Hell Sword Dragon, Wuhui.”

“Hmm. It wasn’t much.”

Namgung Gak, the young master of the Namgung family, eagerly refilled Wuhui’s cup. Normally, Wuhui would have brushed off such attention, but the wine Namgung Gak brought was a rare delicacy, hard to come by even with money.

Sipping the exquisite Gujing Tribute Wine from Huangshan, Anhui, Wuhui couldn’t help but nod in appreciation. The smooth taste was followed by a rich aroma that lingered in his throat and nose, relaxing his entire body.

“Here’s how it happened.”

Like a storyteller in a tavern, Wuhui savored the wines brought by the young martial artists from various regions and slowly recounted his tale.

“Wow.”

“So the rumors were understated rather than exaggerated.”

The young martial artists listened with wide-eyed wonder, reminiscent of children hearing stories from elders.

As they listened, Namgung Gak, after some hesitation, asked a question.

“Wuhui, how do I compare to the Sword Dragons you faced?”

At this, the others fell silent, eagerly awaiting Wuhui’s response.

Wuhui’s eyes, softened by the wine, suddenly sharpened, piercing through Namgung Gak. Under that intense gaze, Namgung Gak could only swallow nervously.

“You recently sparred with Mucheol, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

Namgung Gak had shown interest in Mucheol, the only one in Huashan who wielded a heavy sword, and had challenged him to a duel, which Mucheol accepted without hesitation.

Namgung Gak used the Boundless Sky Sword Technique, while Mucheol countered with the Iron Plum Blossom Sword Technique, refined through the Plum Blossom Sword Art.

After a fierce exchange of over sixty moves, Mucheol emerged victorious.

“If the Imperial Sword Form embodies the solitary majesty of the heavens, the Boundless Sky Sword Technique captures the freedom of the vast sky.”

Namgung Gak, tense under Wuhui’s gaze, nodded blankly.

“As you know, the Boundless Sky Sword Technique isn’t meant for a heavy sword. It’s a technique known for its diverse sword moves. Yet, you seem focused on the heavy sword, perhaps with the Imperial Sword Form in mind.”

“Ah!”

“Though the Imperial Sword Form is singular, the Namgung family isn’t solely about the heavy sword. Instead of fixating on the heavy sword, focus on the essence of the sword technique itself.”

Hearing Wuhui’s advice, Namgung Gak’s eyes widened. He understood why Wuhui offered this counsel instead of directly comparing him to the Sword Dragons. There was still a significant gap, and Wuhui was subtly suggesting he address his weaknesses.

Mu-hui had graciously preserved Namgung-gak’s dignity.

“Such deep consideration,” Namgung-gak thought, realizing Mu-hui’s intentions. He sprang to his feet, clasped his hands, and bowed his head.

“Thank you for your wise counsel, Mu-hui.”

“It’s nothing. How about another drink? The Baiju from Anhui is quite delightful.”

“Haha, it was worth sneaking out a bottle of my father’s prized wine.”

The young martial artists, who had been listening in awe, snapped back to reality and eagerly approached Mu-hui with their own bottles.

“Mu-hui, if I may ask…”

“I have a question too.”

After witnessing his sword demonstration and hearing of his reputation as the “Sword Ghost of Mount Hua,” they understood that Mu-hui stood on a different level. They hoped to receive even a brief piece of advice, just as Namgung-gak had.

“The Grand Martial Gathering is truly a place where the finest wines of the martial world converge,” Mu-hui remarked with a chuckle, accepting a drink from each of them and offering concise advice in return.

“Mu-hui, what would you do in this situation?”

“Focus more on external techniques than internal ones. At a glance, your thighs seem too weak.”

The gathering naturally transformed into a discussion forum where the young martial artists shared their growth concerns and debated martial theories. Mu-hui sipped his drink, occasionally correcting misconceptions and guiding the conversation.

Some of the young martial artists seemed to have moments of clarity, their faces brightening with newfound understanding.

“Debating martial theories with you all is quite enjoyable. I didn’t expect it to be more intriguing than discussing the greatest beauty of the martial world,” mused Mu-sang, who had been quietly listening, prompting laughter from the others.

“Indeed. Even the same technique can be viewed differently depending on one’s martial arts training, offering much to learn.”

“Mu-hui, your knowledge of martial arts is truly impressive. You seem to know everything, like a master of a sect.”

Mu-hui merely smiled, reaching for a new bottle. But his hand suddenly stopped mid-air.

Namgung-gak looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“Mu-hui?”

Before Namgung-gak’s question could fully leave his lips, Mu-hui had vanished, as if swallowed by the earth. His form elongated, crossing the grounds of the Mount Hua Sect, his plum blossom sword drawn. He swiftly expelled the alcohol from his system with a surge of internal energy.

Mu-hui was heading toward the sect’s main gate, where an overwhelming aura was emanating.

Mu-jin and Mu-hwa, who were guarding the gate, stood frozen, unable to move as they stared at the approaching presence.

“What is this?”

“Is this truly a human’s aura?”

They were drenched in sweat, unable to utter a word, while the red tassel of the plum blossom sword swayed precariously.

The figure of an old man ascending the steps was like a towering mountain slowly rising, exuding an immense pressure that seemed to tilt the very mountain itself.

Mu-jin and Mu-hwa’s shoulders and waists trembled violently, unable to resist. Their bodies demanded they collapse, but their mental fortitude held them upright.

“Impressive. Better than the children of the main sect,” the old man remarked, his eyes gleaming as the two disciples held their ground.

Despite his gruff voice, blood trickled from the corners of their mouths. As they reached their limit, two firm hands supported them.

In an instant, Mu-hui’s internal energy, infused with the Zaha Heart Technique, spread through their meridians like a gentle purple hue, unraveling the old man’s oppressive aura.

“Ho,” the old man murmured, impressed by Mu-hui’s intervention.

“Can you move? Step back,” Mu-hui instructed.

Mu-jin and Mu-hwa, too exhausted to respond, slowly retreated.

A thunderous clash erupted as the Zaha Heart Technique met the Heaven-Shattering Technique. The air screamed, and the steps of the gate began to crumble.

The Heaven-Shattering Technique, a martial art with the audacious intent to break the heavens and replace them with oneself, unleashed a devastating force. Yet, the purple twilight surrounding Mu-hui held firm, protecting its domain.

“Overlord. Did you come alone?” Mu-hui muttered, a crease forming on the old man’s brow.

“You know of me? Your insight is remarkable for one so young,” the Overlord, Kang Tae-hyuk, replied, baring his sharp teeth in a grin.

“Impressive, but you have yet to earn the right to stand before me on your own two feet.”

Kang Tae-hyuk’s hand swept toward Mu-hui.