The weathered pavilions stood quietly amidst the soft mist.

The ancient structures of the Wudang Sect, rising through the gentle fog, bore the marks of time’s passage. Yet, thanks to meticulous care over the years, they exuded a serene, rather than dilapidated, atmosphere.

“So peaceful.”

Mu Hui, having crossed the threshold of the Wudang Sect, immediately sensed a stark difference from the Huashan Sect. Compared to the lively Huashan, Wudang was steeped in tranquility and stillness. This calmness soothed the excitement he felt about his upcoming duel with the Seven Swords of Wudang.

“Greetings, Elder Yunbaek.”

As they passed through the sect’s grounds, disciples of Wudang respectfully greeted Yunbaek, casting curious glances at the sword hanging from Mu Hui’s waist.

“The Plum Blossom Sword of Huashan!”

“Could it be that their masters were defeated?”

Mu Hui’s waist was adorned with the Plum Blossom Sword, as always. Here in Wudang, the red tassel attached to the sword seemed to draw even more attention.

Sensing the disciples’ gazes, Yunbaek glanced at the sword’s red tassel.

“How long has it been since a weapon other than the Songmun Ancient Sword was seen within Wudang’s grounds?”

In the past, the Conqueror had broken through the Sea of Swords, but he wielded no weapon, relying solely on his bare hands. Now, with the owner of this weapon being a prodigious talent, today’s events would surely be remembered in Wudang’s history.

“Though he appears to be a mere prodigy, he’s already a pillar supporting the orthodox sects.”

How many in the martial world could single-handedly break the Seven Star Sword Formation of the Seven Swords of Wudang? Even excluding the emperors, who transcended the realm of martial artists, the number was likely very few.

Perhaps the leaders of the Nine Great Schools, the Three Great Families, and the masters of the Seven Heavenly Sects could achieve such a feat. But even then, the number wouldn’t exceed thirty.

“Truly beyond comprehension.”

Mu Hui’s martial prowess was so extraordinary that many who hadn’t witnessed it firsthand dismissed the rumors as exaggeration. It wasn’t uncommon for martial artists to be embarrassed when their inflated reputations were exposed.

“But this child is the real deal.”

Throughout history, there were always exceptional individuals who, from a young age, built a reputation that would echo through the martial world. These individuals often went on to become the greatest in the land.

The current emperors, and among them the three known as the Sword Saint, the Azure Sky, and the Conqueror, were such figures.

“At the upcoming Martial Alliance’s opening ceremony, the entire martial world will witness Mu Hui’s true nature.”

While Yunbaek pondered Mu Hui’s potential, they reached the path leading to the peak where the Sword Saint resided.

Snapping back to reality, Yunbaek turned to Mu Hui and spoke.

“This is the path to Tianzhufeng. Just follow it straight.”

“Thank you.”

With his guidance complete, Yunbaek did not accompany Mu Hui further, leaving him to ascend the peak alone.

“I wonder how this will unfold… Oh, Primordial Lord.”

Yunbaek considered this meeting a significant moment in the history of the martial world.

“Damn, it’s high.”

Tianzhufeng, where the Sword Saint resided, was the highest among the seventy-two peaks of Wudang Mountain. As Mu Hui climbed, the surrounding peaks gradually disappeared from view, or lay beneath him.

After a long ascent, he reached a point where the middle of the peak was shrouded in a sea of clouds, obscuring everything in a white mist. Breaking through this cloud sea, he finally reached the summit, where a breathtaking panorama greeted him.

The vast sea of clouds enveloping Wudang Mountain and the tips of the seventy-two peaks piercing through it created a view that cleared the mind and refreshed the spirit.

“Truly one of the Five Great Mountains of China.”

All the peaks of Wudang lay beneath Tianzhufeng, and the sky, always so high, now seemed close enough to touch.

After taking in the scenery for a moment, Mu Hui turned and headed towards the small cottage at the summit.

Under a pine tree in front of the cottage, a middle-aged man was engrossed in a game of Go, contemplating the black and white stones on the board.

Mu Hui hesitated to speak.

“I heard he’s over a hundred years old.”

Yet the Sword Saint before him was not a wrinkled old man but a middle-aged figure with taut skin. The only sign of age was his long, flowing white hair.

In such cases, there was only one explanation.

“Rejuvenation.”

A phenomenon seen in martial artists who had reached the pinnacle of their art, a level even the Sword Ghost of his past life couldn’t attain. Mu Hui could only watch in silence as the Sword Saint placed a stone on the board.

“What kind of swordsmanship would one at such a level display?”

Thump, thump!

His heart pounded so loudly that Mu Hui could hear it himself. Imagining the Sword Saint’s swordplay, he felt a surge of fighting spirit.

Just as his right hand twitched, yearning to reach for his sword, a clear sound rang out.

Clack!

The white stone placed on the Go board resonated across the summit of Tianzhufeng, instantly quelling the competitive spirit and fighting intent that had been welling up within Mu Hui.

The Sword Saint, now holding a black stone, looked up at Mu Hui.

“You’ve arrived. Tianzhufeng is quite a climb, even for a martial artist. You’ve done well.”

His gentle voice welcomed Mu Hui, though his eyes narrowed slightly.

“Hmm? Young man, why do you look like that?”

“Pardon?”

Mu Hui was taken aback by the unexpected question.

“Your face and eyes don’t match. It’s as if two different faces were combined. Strange. It’s like two lifetimes are intertwined in your features.”

Mu Hui halted, startled by the Sword Saint’s perceptive gaze that seemed to pierce through to his essence.

Stroking his beard in thought, the Sword Saint soon shook his head.

“The martial world is vast; nothing is truly surprising. Sit.”

At the Sword Saint’s gesture, Mu Hui sat across from him, the Go board between them.

“Do you know how to play Go?”

“No, I don’t.”

The Sword Saint clicked his tongue at Mu Hui’s firm response.

“Well, at your age, it’s a time when even swinging a sword all day isn’t enough.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Mu Hui got straight to the point.

“I heard you summoned me, Sword Saint.”

“Indeed.”

“May I ask why?”

The Sword Saint, lost in thought for a moment, gestured to the Go board. Mu Hui followed his gaze.

Though he knew nothing about Go, he could tell the black and white stones were intricately entangled.

“It seems intense… and it looks like white is at a disadvantage.”

“Correct. Since I was young, whenever I hit a wall in my sword training, I played Go. It brought me many insights.”

They say the Way is found in all things.

It seemed the Sword Saint had found and cultivated his understanding of the Way through Go.

“What insights did you gain?”

The Sword Saint chuckled at Mu Hui’s bold question and continued.

“In simple terms, Go is about maintaining connections. If you fail, your corners and sides become unstable, and you lose momentum in the center. The large groups die. Maintaining connections is crucial.”

He caressed the black and white stones on the board as he spoke.

“Anyone who learns Go realizes this. It’s not much of an insight. Yet this small realization was the foundation that gave birth to the Sword Saint.”

Mu Hui nodded. The same teaching or insight could lead to vastly different outcomes depending on who received it.

Even when looking at the same thing, people perceive it differently.

“When I was young, I saw the sword in this small Go board, but as I grew older, I saw something else.”

The Sword Saint, still focused on the stones, finally looked up at Mu Hui.

“Now, in the harmony of black and white, I no longer see the sword but people. Not the connection of forms and techniques, but the connection between generations, the weaving of fate.”

Understanding the Sword Saint’s words, Mu Hui asked.

“Fate… Isn’t there a talented disciple named Je Yunbiryong in Wudang?”

“The sword of Wudang, which the predecessors must pass on to the next generation, has been fully inherited by that child. How much he can absorb depends on his capacity.”

The Sword Saint paused, then returned his gaze to the Go board.

“However, that child cannot control the flow on the Go board. Unfortunately. The move that turns the tide is not his.”

Mu Hui nodded.

Though he hadn’t met Je Yunbiryong, he had heard that he was defeated by the Southern Sea Sword.

Even if he was one of the most talented in the martial world, it meant he didn’t possess the overwhelming talent to dominate an era.

“Though black and white are in harmony now, the day will come when that harmony breaks. When that time comes, I believe you are the move that will overturn the disadvantaged position of white.”

Clack!

The Sword Saint placed a white stone on the board, changing the unfavorable position of white.

Of course, Mu Hui, unfamiliar with Go, merely thought the Sword Saint had placed a stone.

The Sword Saint rose and began to walk, with Mu Hui quietly following.

Behind the cottage, a large clearing stretched out, bordered by a sheer cliff.

“Face my sword with all your might. You will gain only as much as your eyes can perceive.”

In other words, the Sword Sage was offering Mu-hwi the wisdom he had accumulated over a lifetime.

‘He’s from a different sect, yet he’s willing to go this far.’

Noticing the slight change in Mu-hwi’s expression, the Sword Sage shook his head.

“I don’t believe the principles of Wudang and Mount Hua differ greatly. What does it matter if one is from Wudang or Mount Hua? What truly matters is maintaining a world where the Taiji is in harmony and the plum blossoms release their fragrance in due time.”

The Sword Sage held an old Songmun sword.

Slowly, the blade emerged from its sheath, without a sound, exuding a calm and serene aura.

“Wudang and Mount Hua—such distinctions are unnecessary. Focus only on the continuity of the Sword Sage’s legacy, passed down without interruption.”

If the Seven Swords of Wudang showcased the essence of Wudang’s martial arts, the Sword Sage seemed to embody the spirit of the orthodox sects.

Instead of responding with words, Mu-hwi bowed deeply, his hands clasped in respect.

He understood that the Sword Sage was imparting his teachings out of concern for the future of the martial world.

Even so, passing on insights that were nearly unparalleled to a disciple of another sect was no easy decision.

Recalling the words of a past mentor, Mu-hwi wondered if this was the Sword Sage’s unique interpretation of chivalry.

“Mu-hwi, second disciple of Mount Hua, humbly receives the teachings of the Sword Sage of Wudang.”

With a soft, metallic ring, Mu-hwi drew his plum blossom sword with due reverence.

As he slowly closed the distance between them, he halted.

Two streams of energy flowed along the Songmun sword’s blade.

One was white, the other black.

The energies intertwined harmoniously, a perfect balance of yin and yang, and Mu-hwi couldn’t help but smile.

Though many martial arts existed, those that mastered both yin and yang were rare.

Among them, the divine arts were few: the Sun and Moon Divine Art of Ilwolmacheon, and Wudang’s Liangyi Divine Art.

‘And the yin-yang energy drawn from the Liangyi Divine Art forms the Taiji with the Taiji Wisdom Sword.’

The Taiji Wisdom Sword.

Paired with the Liangyi Divine Art, it was hailed as Wudang’s supreme martial art.

The Taiji sword, painted in black and white, was aimed at Mu-hwi. His eyes sharpened, and his demeanor grew serious.

Even the mere presence of the Songmun sword’s intent made Mu-hwi feel the brush of death.

Yet, he relaxed his tense muscles, lowered his stance, and steadied his center of gravity.

The plum blossom sword, aimed at the midsection, trembled slightly as a violet aura began to rise.

Against the Sword Sage’s black and white, the plum blossom sword started to glow with a purple hue.