On the peak of Cheonjubong, Mu-hui sat cross-legged, deep in meditation, while Geomseon watched him from a short distance away.

“He’s not even thirty yet,” Geomseon mused.

Such a young age, yet already achieving so much. Geomseon felt a swell of pride.

“He’s surpassed me in my youth.”

In the future, when the current leaders of the orthodox sects have faded away, Mu-hui could become a pillar supporting the orthodox world.

All Geomseon could do was offer a little guidance to help Mu-hui bear that weight more easily.

“Perhaps I’ve lived this long just to meet you,” Geomseon thought.

Having passed on his life’s work in swordsmanship to the next generation, Geomseon felt no lingering regrets.

“Heh heh.”

His hearty laughter caused the pine trees on Cheonjubong to sway gently.

After meditating for about half an hour, Mu-hui organized his newfound insights and opened his eyes.

He had fully grasped the essence of the Six Harmonies Sword Technique and established the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art.

Mu-hui planned to record these insights in a manual as soon as he returned to the Mount Hua Sect.

“You’ve reached the pinnacle,” Geomseon observed, sensing the change in Mu-hui’s aura during meditation.

Mu-hui bowed his head in gratitude.

“Thanks to your generous teachings.”

“It would have been useless if you hadn’t been able to receive it,” Geomseon replied, looking at Mu-hui.

“In the future, when you see the end of your life approaching, pass on your skills to the next generation. Even when you become dust, let there be someone in the martial world who carries on your martial arts.”

As Geomseon stood up, Mu-hui followed suit.

“The orthodox path is slow because it follows the natural order. The unorthodox path is fast because it goes against it, and the demonic path is beyond human comprehension.”

The two men walked side by side, the mountain breeze gently pushing them forward.

“Yet, the orthodox sects continue to endure and uphold their place in the martial world because the efforts of the predecessors are passed down intact to their successors. This is the power of time, the reason the orthodox sects grow stronger.”

Geomseon wasn’t just talking about the transmission and development of martial arts within a sect.

The “accumulated effort” he spoke of included martial arts, inner strength, chivalry, conviction, and the very essence of martial virtue.

Even if they belonged to different sects or met for the first time, if there was a worthy successor, they would pass on their knowledge.

This was the connection and opportunity of the orthodox path.

Today’s meeting between Geomseon and the Sword Ghost was just one chapter in the story of creating a supreme master.

Listening to Geomseon, Mu-hui had a thought.

“What if I had been part of the orthodox sects in my past life instead of the unorthodox?”

The predecessors sacrificed and gave without hesitation for the successors, and the successors showed respect and cultivated themselves for the predecessors.

Perhaps this underlying consciousness was why the orthodox sects valued chivalry and etiquette so highly.

“I’ve entrusted it to you, so take good care of it and pass it on to the next generation.”

In his youth, Geomseon had also received an opportunity from an unknown senior.

Thus, Geomseon intended to pass on what he had received to another successor.

One day, Mu-hui would also pass on the insights he had gained to the next generation.

This was the cycle and flow.

Even if Geomseon were to die and disappear, the legacy he left would continue to flow endlessly in the martial world.

Geomseon practiced not just with his sword but with his convictions.

“I will do so,” Mu-hui replied firmly, and Geomseon nodded in approval.

As they talked and walked, they soon reached the path leading down from Cheonjubong.

“Go on.”

“I’ll return again someday.”

Mu-hui bowed respectfully and descended from Cheonjubong, while Geomseon watched until he was out of sight.

“Are you leaving right away?”

As Mu-hui descended, Unbaek and the Seven Swords of Wudang were waiting for him.

“Yes. I need to move quickly to reach Wuhan in time.”

Unbaek nodded and personally escorted Mu-hui to the mountain gate.

“While you were at Cheonjubong, your name was inscribed in the Hall of Swords. I wonder if anyone as young as you will ever defeat the Seven Swords of Wudang again.”

Inside the Hall of Swords stood a stone tablet the size of a child, inscribed with the names and titles of those who had succeeded in the Sword Challenge.

Now, Mu-hui’s name and title would remain in the history of the Wudang Sect until its end.

“Mu-hui, it was truly a meaningful time. We will continue our training, so when we visit the Mount Hua Sect, please accept our challenge.”

Inho, the leader of the Seven Swords of Wudang, spoke and bowed, followed by the rest of the Seven Swords.

“It was a good match.”

“We’ll refine our Seven Star Sword Formation further.”

Seeing the Seven Swords bowing and challenging him without hesitation, Mu-hui felt he should respond in kind.

The Seven Swords’ willingness to bow and challenge a junior without hesitation hinted at the depth of their cultivation.

“Seeing the Seven Swords, I thought it would be great if our sect had masters representing us like you. I’ve learned a lot this time.”

As Mu-hui crossed the mountain gate of the Wudang Sect, Geomseon’s voice echoed in his mind.

[It was a pleasure after so long. Perhaps we’ll meet again if fate allows.]

Mu-hui turned his head sharply to look at Cheonjubong. But the peak, the highest in the Wudang Mountains, was obscured by thick clouds.

“To send a message from such a distance… I can’t even imagine attempting it.”

It seemed more like a high-level technique, such as Thousand Mile Transmission or Mind Communication, rather than a simple message.

“Mu-hui?”

A Wudang disciple, noticing Mu-hui staring blankly at the sky, cautiously spoke to him. Regaining his composure, Mu-hui bowed his head and continued down the mountain.

“I’m glad I came to Wudang.”

Wudang was indeed Wudang, and Geomseon was indeed Geomseon.

***

Wuhan, Hubei Province.

Wuhan was always bustling with tourists from all over the martial world, eager to see the East Lake and the Yellow Crane Tower.

Thus, Wuhan was always crowded.

“So many people.”

But now, it was beyond crowded.

The throngs of people were overwhelming, forming a sea of humanity. It was a sight Mu-hui had never seen in either his past or present life.

Even Mu-hui was taken aback by the sheer number of people, letting out a sigh.

“The Martial Alliance is quite something.”

With the establishment of the Martial Alliance, martial artists from all over the world gathered, along with merchants and infrastructure like inns, forges, and fabric shops.

In front of the Martial Alliance’s main fortress, which had once been an empty plain, new markets and buildings sprang up daily.

After struggling through the crowd to reach the location of the Martial Alliance’s main fortress, Mu-hui was greeted by a massive wall.

The circular wall stretched endlessly, showcasing the vastness of the Martial Alliance, and its bright, almost white surface gleamed in the sunlight, catching the eyes of the common folk.

The enormous black gate and golden plaque at the center of the wall exuded grandeur to the martial artists entering and leaving the Martial Alliance.

Mu-hui glanced at the two large flags fluttering atop the gate, each embroidered with the characters for “Justice” and “Alliance,” before moving forward.

“Next.”

“Mu-hui, second disciple of the Mount Hua Sect.”

The man writing in the guestbook at the gate paused and looked up.

The first thing he noticed was the handsome face with smooth features, followed by the plum blossom embroidered on the robe and the plum blossom sword at the waist.

“The Sword Ghost of Mount Hua!”

The gatekeeper exclaimed in surprise, raising his voice, drawing the attention of the martial artists waiting in line to pass through the gate.

“The Sword Ghost? The one who defeated the Sword Dragon?”

“That’s old news. I heard he single-handedly took down the Sword Demon of the Wudang Elders.”

“Is that possible for someone so young? He must have accompanied the elders of the Mount Hua Sect. They must have given him credit to boost the future star of their sect.”

Despite Mu-hui’s many achievements, many dismissed them as exaggerations.

This was partly due to the nature of rumors in the martial world, but also because there were often no witnesses to Mu-hui’s feats.

“Even if exaggerated, he’s undeniably a top contender for the upcoming Heavenly Dragon Tournament.”

“Indeed. He defeated two of the Six Dragons and reportedly handed the Fist King’s disciple his first defeat.”

The gatekeeper quickly wrote Mu-hui’s name in the book and cautiously asked, “You’re participating in the Heavenly Dragon Tournament, right?”

Mu-hui merely twisted his lips slightly in response.

“Perhaps. Who knows?”

Vaguely answering, Mu-hui recalled the reactions of the martial artists he had just heard as he walked away.

“I’ll make sure they remember the name Sword Ghost of Mount Hua.”

Mu-hui intended to firmly imprint the name Sword Ghost in the minds of the crowd gathered for the Martial Alliance’s opening ceremony.

In the martial world, strength was paramount, but reputation was equally important.

Especially for the orthodox sects, which valued honor and face above all.

In the world of martial arts, reputation often carried more weight than sheer strength.

“Two tournaments at once? Perfect.”

Many of the martial artists participating in this tournament were likely doing so not for the elixirs, but for the fame. A memorable performance in a match could earn them a nickname from the audience, and just reaching the finals would spread their name far and wide.

Competing in a tournament and winning was far more effective for gaining recognition than wandering the martial world aimlessly.

“I’ll sweep them all away.”

Resolute, Mu-hwi gazed at the towering structures before him, letting out a brief sigh of admiration. The forest of buildings, though their details were unclear, seemed strategically arranged for easy defense, following the principles of formation.

Though not certain, Mu-hwi’s instincts suggested that hidden mechanisms were scattered throughout. The city was equipped with essential infrastructure, allowing it to withstand a siege for quite some time if the gates were closed.

“Was it Daegal, or was it Jegal?”

He had heard that the Jegal family was behind the construction of the new headquarters for the Martial Alliance.

The Jegal Family.

One of the rapidly rising families, known for their deep knowledge in strategy, formations, and mechanisms. Yet, no one underestimated their martial prowess, as the Jegal warriors had consistently proven their skills.

“A clever family indeed. They’ve made it quite a challenge to breach.”

As Mu-hwi muttered to himself, a man passing by on the main road glanced at him, then approached with a smile.

“Haha. Our family members do have a knack for intelligence.”

The man, dressed not in martial attire but in a scholar’s robe, held an iron fan and smiled warmly at Mu-hwi.

“Are you from the Jegal family? If my muttering offended you, I apologize.”

Mu-hwi clasped his hands in a gesture of respect, but the man waved it off.

“Not at all. Are you Mu-hwi from the Mount Hua Sect?”

Feigning ignorance, the man looked Mu-hwi up and down, prompting Mu-hwi to ask out of curiosity.

“How did you recognize me?”

“I’ve seen a sketch of you before, and when I visited the Mount Hua Sect, you were the only one not present.”

“Hmm… I wonder why there’s a sketch of me floating around when I’m not even a public figure.”

“Hahaha. Pardon my late introduction. I’m Jegal Myung, the young master of the Jegal family.”

“Mu-hwi of the Mount Hua Sect.”

After exchanging a few light words, Jegal Myung began to excuse himself.

“I must attend a gathering at Hwanghak Pavilion. Are you familiar with it, Mu-hwi?”

“What is it?”

“It’s a meeting organized by Byeokryeok Dolong to foster unity among the young talents gathered at the Martial Alliance. Your presence would surely delight him.”

“Hmm…”

Jegal Myung’s eyes sparkled with anticipation, but Mu-hwi was visibly uninterested. Such gatherings often led to romantic entanglements or meaningless flattery that ended in brawls. While the drinks might be good, the event itself didn’t appeal to him.

“I assure you, it’s quite different from what you might expect. You’ll find many familiar faces there. Why not stop by? You can leave anytime you wish.”

Jegal Myung’s insistence piqued Mu-hwi’s curiosity about what made this gathering different.

“I haven’t yet paid my respects to the elders of my sect. I’ll handle my duties first, and if time permits, I’ll drop by.”

“Thank you, Mu-hwi. I’ll see you later then.”

With a nod, Mu-hwi watched Jegal Myung depart with a gentle smile before turning on his heel.

***

After greeting the elders, including Baek-yu, Mu-hwi left the headquarters. He had heard that some of his fellow disciples from the Mount Hua Sect had also gone to Hwanghak Pavilion, which sparked his interest in the gathering.

“What on earth is this gathering about?”

He doubted it was anything more than a simple social event. Yet, as he approached Hwanghak Pavilion, which seemed to have been entirely reserved for the occasion, he sensed something unusual. The five floors were filled with the presence of young talents, but the closer he got, the more peculiar it felt.

Mu-hwi’s eyes narrowed as he wrinkled his nose.

“Strange. Why is there only the scent of tea?”

He had expected the young talents to be drinking and reveling, but his assumptions were proven wrong.