Mu-hwi took a deep breath, letting the aroma of tea from Hwanghak Pavilion tickle his senses.

“Well, well…”

He trailed off, glancing up at the sun’s position in the sky. Even if the sun hadn’t set yet, the young martial artists, full of youthful vigor, wouldn’t wait for nightfall to enjoy a drink.

With a slight smack of his lips, Mu-hwi stepped into Hwanghak Pavilion. As expected, the tables were adorned with teapots, cups, and an assortment of snacks, but not a single bottle of alcohol in sight.

‘Just as I thought…’

The interior was elegantly decorated, with tables arranged in a circle, likely borrowed from a nearby inn. This setup allowed the young martial artists to easily converse with one another despite the number of people present.

Confirming the absence of alcohol, Mu-hwi furrowed his brows and turned his attention away from the tables.

“You’re from the Mount Hua Sect, aren’t you? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“Could it be Mu-hwi, the one who was supposed to arrive late?”

“Just like the rumors say, he really does have a radiant presence.”

“Excuse me? Miss Muk, what did you just say…”

The young martial artists whispered among themselves as they glanced at Mu-hwi ascending the stairs. Normally, they might have approached him, but his slightly furrowed expression kept them at bay.

On the second floor, Mu-jin, who was chatting with other young martial artists over tea, immediately caught sight of him.

“Senior Brother! You’re here.”

As Mu-jin rose to greet him, Mu-hwi relaxed his brows and nodded. He looked around, curious as to why Mu-jin was alone. It seemed Mu-jin was the only disciple from the Mount Hua Sect on this floor.

“Where are the others?”

“The juniors are scattered across the different floors.”

“I see.”

As they spoke, Je-yun Biryong, Kwon-un, who had been conversing with Mu-jin, joined the conversation.

“Nice to meet you, Mu-hwi. I’m Kwon-un.”

Kwon-un looked at Mu-hwi with bright eyes, clasping his hands in greeting. Mu-hwi returned the gesture with a polite nod.

“Why don’t you head up to the fifth floor? Peng, the one who organized this gathering, is eagerly waiting for you.”

“Hmm. Alright.”

Mu-hwi continued up the stairs, recognizing a few familiar faces on each floor.

“Senior Brother.”

“Mu-hwi! You’re here. Thanks to your advice last time, I’ve made some progress. Watch me at the upcoming Heavenly Dragon Tournament.”

On the third floor, Mu-cheol and Namgung-gak were deep in discussion about swords. Many other young martial artists he had met at previous gatherings were also present.

“It’s been a while since we last met, Mu-hwi.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Mu-hwi. You’re as impressive as they say.”

The young martial artists eagerly tried to engage Mu-hwi in conversation. He exchanged brief greetings with them before moving on to the fourth floor.

‘This is unexpected.’

In gatherings like this, people usually sorted themselves by rank or prestige. Mu-hwi had assumed the young martial artists would be divided by the status of their sects, with the prestigious ones on the upper floors and the lesser-known ones below.

But it seemed they were mixed together, regardless of their sect’s reputation.

“Long time no see.”

On the fourth floor, Unha Sword Dragon, Baekri-sang, greeted Mu-hwi. Baekri-sang looked different from when he was at Mount Hua. His hair was tied back casually, and he wore a loose yellow martial robe instead of the Baekri family’s attire, giving him a more carefree appearance.

“You’ve changed a lot on the outside.”

“I’m trying to change my swordsmanship too. Just wandering wherever my feet take me, and the martial world is vast.”

It seemed Baekri-sang was trying to find his own path, having shaken off the constraints that once held him back. Though he hadn’t found his way yet, he was on the right track, and his wandering wasn’t in vain.

“Thank you for coming, Mu-hwi.”

While Mu-hwi inquired about Baekri-sang’s recent activities, Jegal-myeong approached with a smile.

“On the upper floor, Thunder Dragon is waiting for you. Would you mind going up to meet him?”

“I’ll do that.”

Since he was here, Mu-hwi decided to meet the man who had organized this gathering, known as Thunder Dragon.

On the fifth floor of Hwanghak Pavilion, the scene was much the same as the other floors, with young martial artists sipping tea and chatting.

“Mu-hwi!”

“Mu-hwi, it’s good to see you.”

As soon as he reached the fifth floor, familiar voices called out to him. Turning, he saw Seon-ju and Woo Tae-gang. Mu-hwi waved lightly, a chuckle escaping him.

It was amusing to realize how many connections he had made, with familiar faces on every floor.

‘Did I really make this many connections?’

In his past life, he hadn’t formed such diverse relationships, so the current situation felt a bit strange.

Just today, he had exchanged greetings countless times.

It was an experience he hadn’t had in his previous life.

“Do you two know each other?”

Mu-hwi asked, looking between the seemingly friendly Seon-ju and Woo Tae-gang.

“No, I just met Woo here. We bonded over stories about you.”

“We both have the shared experience of losing to you, Mu-hwi.”

Mu-hwi smiled at Seon-ju and Woo Tae-gang.

“You two haven’t been idle. You’ve gotten much stronger since last time.”

His praise made them happy, and they looked eager to spar with him again. Mu-hwi gently patted their shoulders.

“Enjoy yourselves.”

As Mu-hwi turned away, he noticed a large man waiting patiently for their conversation to end. The man was as imposing as Mu-cheol or Woo Tae-gang, with a powerful build.

His red martial robe was embroidered with a vibrant tiger, as if ready to roar at any moment.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Peng Ho-yeon from the Peng family of Hebei.”

Peng Ho-yeon, known as Thunder Dragon, was the young master of the Peng family.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Mu-hwi from the Mount Hua Sect.”

Their eyes met, and Peng Ho-yeon’s intense gaze clashed with Mu-hwi’s calm, unreadable one.

‘I can’t read him at all.’

Peng Ho-yeon gave a wry smile. It felt like facing a master far beyond his level, not a peer.

There was no overwhelming pressure or fierce aura, but the absence of any discernible presence made the gap between them feel even wider.

‘Is he on a completely different level?’

Peng Ho-yeon had heard the rumors about Mu-hwi and had considered testing his skills, but he quickly dismissed the idea.

His competitive spirit was ignited, but this wasn’t the right setting for a duel.

‘There will be other opportunities to spar.’

With a slight twitch of his lips, Peng Ho-yeon led Mu-hwi to an empty seat.

Once Mu-hwi was seated, Peng Ho-yeon poured him a cup of tea.

“Have you heard about the Sojeong Meeting?”

“Isn’t it just a social gathering?”

“If it were merely a social event, we would have given it a more common name like Yongbong Meeting.”

Shaking his head, Peng Ho-yeon continued.

“With the Seven Killers and the Tyrant’s Castle causing chaos, the elders of the righteous sects have decided to form an alliance. Even though we’re young, we can’t just stand by, can we?”

In essence, Peng Ho-yeon explained that the meeting was about young martial artists stepping up to uphold the values of the righteous sects amidst the growing turmoil.

“Hmm… Sometimes it’s better to stay put than to act recklessly out of a sense of justice.”

“Ugh, cough!”

Caught off guard by Mu-hwi’s unexpected response, Peng Ho-yeon choked on his tea, coughing repeatedly.

Despite his large frame, Peng Ho-yeon hunched over, trying to suppress his coughs, and Mu-hwi gave him a light pat on the back.

“Thanks. So, what do you think the Sojeong Meeting should do, Mu-hwi?”

“What else? Just keep training and honing your skills. What could be more important for young martial artists than that?”

Peng Ho-yeon, arms crossed and deep in thought, nodded.

“Jegal-myeong said something similar. No matter what we try to do, it’s useless without enough skill…”

Watching Peng Ho-yeon ponder, Mu-hwi nibbled on a snack.

Though they seemed impulsive, the young martial artists of the righteous sects coming together to pursue justice was a positive sign.

‘Much better than those treacherous young ones from the unorthodox sects.’

In his past life, the young martial artists from the unorthodox sects were always eager to stab each other in the back.

“Well, do your best.”

Lost in thought, Peng Ho-yeon leaned in slightly.

“Mu-hwi, how about leading the Sojeong Meeting? To keep us on the right path?”

Surprised by the sudden proposal, Mu-hwi frowned openly, crunching on his snack.

“What are you talking about? Isn’t this your gathering, Peng?”

“Haha, that’s a misunderstanding. The Sojeong Meeting is a gathering of young martial artists who came together because they share the same ideals. I’m just temporarily representing them because I’m one of the Six Dragons.”

“That’s right. If you think about it, Peng Ho-yeon is just a temporary leader. But for the Sojeong Society to truly function, we need to elect a formal leader.”

As Peng Ho-yeon and the others were deep in conversation, Jegal Myung joined them on the fifth floor.

It wasn’t just Jegal Myung. All the young martial artists who had been scattered across the different floors were now gathered on the top floor of the Hwanghak Pavilion.

What had initially seemed like a quiet space was now bustling with people, making it difficult to move around.

All eyes were on Mu-hwi, the focus of the Sojeong Society’s young talents.

“I hear the Demonic Sect is hosting a tournament called the ‘Tuyaje’ to rally their young fighters. We can’t just sit idly by,” Namgung Gak spoke up, and the others nodded in agreement.

“If war breaks out, we must be ready to step forward.”

“The Demonic Sect doesn’t discriminate by age or gender, so we must strengthen ourselves to uphold justice.”

Baek Li-sang, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. “It seems the Red Dragon is their central figure. We need someone like that too, don’t we? Even with the Six Dragons here, none can compare to you.”

Despite Baek Li-sang’s praise, Mu-hwi’s expression remained unchanged.

Jegal Myung sent a private message to Mu-hwi. [Being the leader doesn’t mean you’ll have much to do. I’ll handle the tedious tasks. You just need to be the focal point for the righteous young fighters.]

“Hmm.”

If this were just a trivial social gathering, Mu-hwi would have flipped the table and left. But it wasn’t, so he sat and pondered.

He glanced at his fellow disciples, who seemed to want him to take on the role of leader.

‘With both major and minor sects involved, the Sojeong Society could grow significantly. Having a disciple from the Mount Hua Sect as the leader wouldn’t hurt our reputation.’

Mu-hwi made his decision. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with my path, I’ll take on the role of leader.”

***

Mu-hwi was chosen as the first leader of the Sojeong Society, marking the official start of the group.

On the fifth floor of the Hwanghak Pavilion, the young members of the Sojeong Society held cups filled not with tea, but with wine.

Standing alone on a table, Mu-hwi raised his cup and addressed the crowd. “The beginning and end of the Sojeong Society is justice. The moment anything else interferes, I’ll personally dismantle it.”

Despite the seemingly harsh words, the young fighters smiled, clearly pleased.

Watching them, Mu-hwi raised his left hand, pressing his thumb into his finger until blood dripped into his cup.

The others followed suit, each adding a drop of their own blood to their wine.

Once all the cups had a tinge of red, Mu-hwi lifted his cup. “Let’s not forget why we’re gathered here today.”

With a serious expression, Mu-hwi drank, and the others echoed his sentiment.

“Justice Unforgotten!”

Clang!

The young fighters drained their cups and smashed them on the ground, showing they had drunk every last drop.

“Haha!”

“Now it begins!”

Laughter erupted among them as they celebrated the successful founding of the Sojeong Society.

Jegal Myung then brought out the prepared drinks and snacks, turning the gathering into a lively feast.

While the others reveled in the moment, Mu-hwi stood alone at the pavilion’s railing, gazing at the Yangtze River, painted by the setting sun.

Carved into the pillar beside him were words, as if etched by a sword. Despite the passage of time, the characters remained clear.

An old friend bids farewell at the Hwanghak Pavilion, Descending to Yangzhou in the vibrant March, A lone sail fades into the blue sky, Only the Yangtze flows to the horizon.

The poem was said to be written by Li Bai, a legendary swordsman known as the Poet Immortal to the common folk and the Clear Lotus Hermit to martial artists. Jegal Myung had mentioned it was composed to console a friend he met by chance.

“Consolation, huh…”

Mu-hwi wasn’t sure if the poem was truly remarkable, but seeing the scenery of the Hwanghak Pavilion brought thoughts of Hyeonjo to mind.

“Hyeonjo, isn’t it funny? In my past life, you were my only friend, and now everyone wants me to lead.”

Though he spoke to himself, Mu-hwi felt as if he were conversing with Hyeonjo, watching the sunset over the Yangtze.

Perhaps it was the poem and the view that stirred something within him today.

“The sunset stretches far and wide.”

Lost in thoughts of Hyeonjo, Mu-hwi recalled the Zaha Heart Technique.

As he developed the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Art, he gained new insights into the Six Harmonies, raising his mastery of the Zaha Heart Technique to the Seven Stars level.

‘It feels like I’m on the verge of a breakthrough.’

With each advancement, Mu-hwi wondered if he could expand the Zaha even further.

The Great Void of the Taihe Wuling Heart Technique.

Could there be a way to harness this profound emptiness?

The current Zaha Heart Technique was impressive, but it didn’t feel like the pinnacle.

Especially after witnessing the Sword Saint’s Yang’s Divine Art, the thought grew stronger.

As Mu-hwi’s contemplation deepened, his eyes, fixed on the Yangtze’s waves, began to reflect the hues of the sunset.