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chapter 75
Sword Spirit and his companions were walking along the endless main road — heading toward the Martial Alliance.
Sword Spirit and Ye Hwirang walked together like affectionate siblings, while Seo Gun-ha wore an expression suggesting she was lost in thought.
Yu Ak-gun and Jeok Hwa-myeong seemed a bit tense.
Seo Gun-ha had been shocked the previous night when she heard about Sword Spirit’s internal energy.
It was because she realized that Sword Spirit — who had trained under Solitary Demon, Ghost Demon Emperor, and Heavenly Mother Jeon-mo — was a master on a completely different level from herself.
“What are you thinking so deeply about?”
Sword Spirit asked.
“Oh, nothing much…”
Seo Gun-ha tried to brush it off, but her face made her curiosity obvious.
“The three of them grew up together since childhood. Old Man Solitary started learning martial arts first. A year later, Old Man Ghost joined him, and after that, Grandmother Jeon-mo started training as well.”
“Really?”
“Yes. So you don’t have to wonder why the three of them were always together.”
Seo Gun-ha nodded.
Having resolved her curiosity, she finally looked around.
Many people were walking the road that stretched toward the Martial Alliance. Most had swords or sabers at their waists, and some even carried spears or meteor hammers on their backs.
“Looks like the demons haven’t shown up,”
Yu Ak-gun said to Jeok Hwa-myeong.
The reason the two of them looked uneasy was precisely because they feared the demons might appear.
“It seems that way. The Alliance has people patrolling everywhere, so even demons will have a hard time sneaking in here.”
“Still, where did all these people come from all of a sudden?”
Yu Ak-gun grumbled, displeased as the outer walls of the Martial Alliance came into view and a long line stretched ahead.
Jeok Hwa-myeong chuckled softly at his complaint.
“Oppa, I think we need to line up to get in there.”
Ye Hwirang said, looking at the long queue.
“You’re right. Let’s hurry and find our place in line.”
“Okay!”
Sword Spirit and Ye Hwirang dashed over to the end of the line.
Seeing them, a smile naturally formed on Seo Gun-ha’s lips.
“Those with invitations, please come this way!”
The Martial Alliance had sent invitations to reclusive masters, the Nine Great Sects, and the Ten Great Clans and Twenty-Four Major Schools — the pillars of the righteous martial world.
The Alliance did so as a gesture of respect toward those sects devoted to maintaining peace across the martial world.
A few people stepped out of line, heading to the side.
“Lucky them,”
Ye Hwirang said enviously as she watched them enter first.
“Don’t worry. We’ll be inside soon enough.”
Sword Spirit reassured her with a smile, and she nodded brightly.
Clatter, clatter…
A magnificent carriage approached the Alliance grounds.
It was an eight-horse carriage — each horse one of the legendary Daewangu, a breed so prized that they were rarely seen in the Central Plains. To see eight of them at once was astonishing.
The carriage itself gleamed with ornate decorations, clearly belonging to a noble or a wealthy merchant.
“Wow, oppa, look at that! The horses are huge!”
Each Daewangu was almost two heads taller than an ordinary horse. Ye Hwirang stared in fascination.
“I want to ride that carriage someday.”
Sword Spirit gently patted her head.
“If I make enough money one day, I’ll buy you one.”
He knew well, though, that even with all the treasures he’d taken from Wangak Fortress and Bulshan Citadel, it was nowhere near enough to afford something like that.
“You don’t have to buy one. I just want to ride in it once.”
The carriage rolled straight down the center, stopping before the Alliance’s grand gate.
A woman stepped out when the door opened.
“It’s Hwang Geum-hwa!”
A man’s shout drew everyone’s attention to her.
Hwang Geum-hwa Na Somi — also known as the “Golden Phoenix” — was the jewel of the Great Continental Trading Company.
Sword Spirit’s gaze followed hers.
“She’s really pretty,”
Ye Hwirang murmured in awe.
Even as a fellow woman, she couldn’t help but admire Na Somi’s beauty.
Sword Spirit agreed — she was beautiful, but her beauty lacked warmth.
“Hwirang, do you want to be like her someday?”
“Yes. She’s so pretty.”
“I’d rather you resemble Sister Gun-ha instead.”
Seo Gun-ha looked startled.
“Why?”
“Because that woman’s beauty feels cold. I’d rather you resemble someone kind and warm — like Sister Gun-ha.”
Ye Hwirang glanced at Seo Gun-ha, whose cheeks had turned slightly red.
“I like Sister Gun-ha too!”
“Good. And Hwirang…”
“Yes?”
“You’ve learned manners now, right? When you talk to people, you should speak politely. Otherwise, they might think badly of you or of me and Sister Gun-ha.”
She remembered hearing something similar from Seo Gun-ha while learning etiquette.
“I understand… sir.”
Sword Spirit laughed warmly, and Hwirang smiled back, happy.
They watched as the Alliance attendants bowed low before Na Somi — a clear sign of her status.
She was the Golden Jewel of the Great Continental Trade, one of the Ten Dragons and Eight Peaks, and widely hailed as the most beautiful woman under Heaven.
Her fame was so great that even the top hundred masters of the martial world could scarcely match her renown.
When she entered the Alliance, many men sighed regretfully.
The female warriors nearby sneered, though their sneers carried a trace of jealousy.
Then another group came into view — their uniforms embroidered with the word Namgung on the chest.
The Namgung Clan!
While countless clans had risen and fallen throughout history, only the Namgung Clan had thrived for generations in Anhui Province, earning the title Foremost Martial Family.
They still stood proudly among the Ten Great Clans, uniting others under their influence.
Sword Spirit looked toward the man leading them.
“That’s Namgung Seok, the Sword Dragon of the Namgung Clan!”
Someone’s shout made everyone turn their eyes to him.
He strode at the front, leading the Namgung retainers, even ahead of the clan elders.
Unbothered by the crowd’s attention, they proceeded straight down the main avenue to the Alliance gates.
“That man’s handsome,”
Ye Hwirang whispered, delighted by people-watching and commenting on everyone’s faces and clothes.
Sword Spirit and Seo Gun-ha humored her with amused responses.
“But our Sword Spirit’s even more handsome, right?”
“No, oppa isn’t handsome — he’s pretty.”
“Haha, that’s right, our Hwirang’s always right.”
After the Namgung Clan, the other Ten Great Clans arrived one after another, as though by prior arrangement. Following them came three of the Five Great Houses, including the Seok Clan.
Each brought their elite guards — partly for safety, as demons were still active, but also to flaunt their power.
Next came the Nine Great Sects:
From Shaolin, Master Bul-ryong Mangong and the Eighteen Arhats.
From Wudang, the Seven Sword Masters.
From Huashan, the Eighteen Plum Blossom Swordsmen.
From Qingcheng, the Blue Plum Sword Masters.
From Kunlun, the Divine Dragon and the Eight Immortals.
From Kongtong, the Twelve Forward Blade Masters.
From Dianchang, the Eight Spear Masters.
From Emei, the Fairy Matriarch and the Eight Immortal Maidens.
From Beggars’ Sect, the Little Beggar and Dragon-Taming Beggar.
Lastly, from Hengshan, the Grand Elder Gun Ilsan led the younger disciples.
“So here you are.”
“Greetings, Grand Elder.”
Jeok Hwa-myeong bowed first, followed by the others — he was officially their escort for this event.
“And who is this child?”
He looked at Ye Hwirang.
“Her name is Ye Hwirang. She’s connected to Brother Sword Spirit. Hwirang, this is Elder Gun Ilsan of Hengshan Sect. You should greet him properly.”
“Hello, my name is Ye Hwirang.”
Her polite bow brought smiles to both Sword Spirit and Seo Gun-ha.
“Ah, I’ve heard much about you. Your grandmother often spoke of me — said I once helped her.”
At that, Gun Ilsan studied her more closely — his eyes widened slightly. He saw traces of someone familiar in her face.
(— In this child’s features… I can see the shadow of Arang, the woman once called the Little Fairy of Soju. Could she be related?)
He sent a whisper transmission to Sword Spirit, assuming he might know her background.
(— Yes, Elder. She is Lady Arang’s granddaughter.)
Gun Ilsan’s shoulders trembled faintly.
Arang had been the only woman he had ever held in his heart — a love that had both pained him and made him grow.
“So you are her granddaughter…”
If they hadn’t been in public, he might have embraced her.
“Instead of standing here, shall we go in together?”
“No, Elder. We’ll wait our turn. If we go in with you, it might cause trouble for you.”
“Trouble?”
“It’s a long story — something that happened in Wuhuan…”
“Ah, I see. Very well. If the time comes when you need me, do not hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, Elder.”
As they talked, others whispered, glancing curiously at Sword Spirit’s group.
Seo Gun-ha felt uneasy under the stares.
(— How many people can truly live free from the gaze of others?)
Her master, the Sword Queen Cheong Yak-ryeo’s words came to mind.
Now she understood what her master meant — how every action she took reflected not just on herself, but on her master and the Sword Pavilion’s reputation.
‘The world truly isn’t easy.’
“Then I’ll go ahead. Come to Hengshan’s quarters later.”
“Thank you for your kindness.”
After the Hengshan group went in, a few others with invitations entered, though none attracted much attention.
At last, it was Sword Spirit’s group’s turn.
“Please sign the guest register.”
The man speaking was Gon-yeong, vice steward of the Alliance’s Reception Hall. A large guestbook lay open on the desk.
Jeok Hwa-myeong stepped forward first and wrote his name.
“Ah, Master Jeok Hwa-myeong, the Crimson Shadow Sword. Thank you for attending the Alliance gathering.”
The words were formal politeness; Jeok Hwa-myeong returned the same courtesy and stepped aside.
Next, Seo Gun-ha wrote her name — Seo Gun-ha of the Sword Pavilion. Gon-yeong’s eyes widened slightly.
The Sword Pavilion of Mount Tian, home of the Sword Queen Cheong Yak-ryeo — a sacred place for swordsmanship itself. But his surprise wasn’t because of the Pavilion’s fame — it was because he knew Seo Gun-ha was the Sword Queen’s personal disciple.
Gon-yeong bowed deeply to her.
“We are honored by your presence.”
People nearby looked puzzled by his respectful tone, but Jeok Hwa-myeong didn’t mind. He knew the kind of company he was keeping.
While they spoke, Sword Spirit wrote two simple characters in the register: Geom-ryeong (Sword Spirit).
“Please enjoy the gathering.”
Gon-yeong bowed as they entered the Alliance.
The moment they stepped inside, they were struck speechless.
The Martial Alliance was vast — so large it could be called a small city rather than a fortress.
It was divided into Outer City and Inner City.
The broad road connecting them was wide enough for two carriages side by side, paved entirely in marble — the famed Path of Chivalry, the very symbol of the Alliance.
Lining both sides were countless buildings, forming what looked like a bustling market district.
Here, the warriors of the Alliance — men who honored righteousness and chivalry — and the residents who lived within the Alliance walls came to buy daily necessities.
The shops traded with external merchants, so there was almost nothing that couldn’t be found inside the Alliance.
Behind the stores stood inns, taverns, and pleasure houses such as the Blue Pavilion and Red Pavilion — favorite haunts of young warriors returning from missions or hard training.
After arduous days of battle or practice, the hot-blooded young men often sought release there with courtesans — one of the reasons the Alliance enjoyed such popularity among younger martial artists.
The merchants paid taxes to the Alliance, allowing the leadership to recoup part of the stipends paid to their warriors.
The great avenue bustled with people.
For the merchants lining the Path of Chivalry, the Martial Arts Tournament — one of the three grand events of the martial world — was a once-in-a-lifetime business opportunity.
“Fine goods here! You there, beautiful heroine — I have the finest silk threads for sale!”
Peddlers shouted to passing warriors, trying to lure customers — a familiar, colorful scene.
Sword Spirit and Ye Hwirang looked around in wonder; they had never seen such crowds before.
“Brother!”
A voice called from behind. Sword Spirit turned and saw someone stepping out from a group approaching them — Yi Do-gi, the second son of the Shinchang Yi Clan of Guangdong Province.
Beyond him stood another familiar figure — Yi Do-gun, the third son.
Their eyes met briefly, and Yi Do-gun quickly looked away.
“This is going to be troublesome,”
Sword Spirit muttered quietly.
