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chapter 72
Because of the Martial Arts Tournament hosted by the Martial Alliance, many people had come to Wuhan, in Hubei Province.
Two representative sects based in Hubei were the Wudang Sect, which resided on Mount Wudang, and the Zhuge Clan, established on Mount Yunzhong.
Since the Martial Alliance, the unifying body of the righteous factions, was headquartered there, no major unorthodox sects existed in Hubei Province—though individual unorthodox masters still appeared from time to time.
Similarly, in Gansu Province, where the Alliance of Evil Ways was based, no righteous sects existed either.
As always, when large crowds gathered, incidents and accidents tended to follow.
During August, when the Martial Arts Tournament was held, the governor of Hubei would deploy troops to maintain public safety, while the Martial Alliance also cooperated to prepare for any potential trouble.
“There’s no need to fear the Demon Cultists. Look at the Seomun Clan—they faced them head-on…”
Every inn and tavern in Wuhan was packed to capacity. Everywhere, people gossiped about the martial world—especially the recent appearances of demonic beings (마인).
“Demons have shown up all over the place, but they’re always defeated before they can even show their strength.”
“I heard Hero Jeok Hwa-myeong played a huge role in that.”
There was so much talk that simply sitting in a tavern was enough to hear all sorts of rumors about demons.
“Welcome, dear guests!”
As four men and two women entered the tavern, the server hurriedly rushed forward and bowed deeply, smiling as he guided them to their seats.
They were all young martial artists, each with a sword at their side.
“As you can see, we’re quite full, so I can’t offer the best seats. Please sit over there for now, and once a better table opens, I’ll move you.”
They nodded and took the seats indicated.
“Everywhere we go, it’s nothing but talk about demons,”
said the youngest-looking woman, perhaps around eighteen years old.
They were young elites from Shandong Province, here to attend the Martial Arts Tournament—representatives from the Hwangbo Clan, Ak Clan, Jeongcheol Sect, and Manhwa Hall.
“Still, I just don’t get it. Brother Soong, does it make sense to you?”
At Ak So-hye’s question, Hwangbo Soong asked what she meant.
“The demons. They’d been quiet all this time, and now suddenly they’re popping up all across the Central Plains.”
“Perhaps they’ve lost their reason to demonic nature. If they’re acting purely on instinct, that might explain it.”
“But that’s just it. If that were the case, they’d have appeared one by one over time, not all at once—as if they’d planned it together…”
She had a point.
“That’s true. But sometimes coincidence can cause strange events like this.”
“And if that kind of coincidence keeps happening, don’t you think it’s worth investigating?”
They agreed it was worth thinking about—but not necessarily worth getting involved in.
“So-hye.”
Her older brother, Ak Sang-geol, heir of the Ak Clan, spoke.
“Yes?”
“The martial world is not a place where you should move without certainty. Even if you’re sure, if it’s beyond your power, you must not step forward. That is the rule of Jianghu.”
Although he was speaking to his sister, he also meant it for Wang Jin-ha of the Jeongcheol Sect and Heo Jin-ran of Manhwa Hall, both newcomers to the martial world.
“If something goes wrong, it won’t just affect you—it could drag down your clan or sect, and entangle you in grudges with countless others.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“Understood… but still—”
“Enough. Let’s talk about the tournament instead.”
Ak So-hye pouted, unhappy with her brother’s tone.
“Fine. Brother Soong, how many of the Ten Dragons and Eight Peaks do you think will attend this time?”
Hwangbo Soong, known as the Fist Dragon, was considered one of the strongest of the younger generation—a potential successor to the King of Fists.
“Well, Brother Ok will surely attend, but as for the others, I’m not certain. I imagine most of them will come—except those from unorthodox sects.”
He predicted that Namgung Seok of the Namgung Clan, Paeng Cheon-hak of the Paeng Clan, and Monk Mangong of Shaolin would attend, as they were righteous figures.
But Hwa-ryong Son Hak-gyu, Geum-ryong Mak Mu-son, and Sal-ryong Ha Jin-woo were from unorthodox factions and likely wouldn’t come.
As for Nakr-yong Jeok In-geol and Sinbi-ryong Mu-yeong, who stood between righteous and evil, their attendance was uncertain.
“I’m most curious about Mystic Dragon Mu-yeong. Brother, have you ever met him?”
“No, but Brother Ok said he once met him.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Apparently, they sparred out of rivalry—and ended in a draw.”
It was a well-known story in Jianghu.
“So that means Mystic Dragon must be very powerful.”
“Welcome!”
The familiar voice of the server rang out again. Everyone turned instinctively toward the tavern’s entrance.
A group of six people entered.
“My apologies, dear guests. As you can see, we’re full. But a table just opened—please wait while I clean it.”
“Please do.”
The speaker was Cheon Jin-haeng, master of the Cheonryong Trading Company.
They were travelers from Chongqing, on their way to Wuhan for the tournament—among them was Geom-ryeong (Sword Spirit) himself.
Beside him walked Ye Hwi-rang, who clung to him as though to her older brother and refused to leave his side.
Although she’d grown closer to the others during the journey, she still insisted on staying near Geom-ryeong.
They sat down as the server quickly cleared the table.
“Please wait a moment—I’ll deliver these dishes to the kitchen and take your order shortly.”
Cheon Jin-haeng smiled at the boy’s politeness.
“What a beautiful-looking man,”
murmured Heo Jin-ran quietly as she glanced at Geom-ryeong.
“He must be a man dressed as a woman,”
Ak So-hye added.
“Watch your tongue,”
Ak Sang-geol scolded them. “They might hear and take offense.”
He thought Geom-ryeong’s group hadn’t overheard—but everyone except Cheon Jin-haeng had.
“Brother, she said you’re too pretty,”
Ye Hwi-rang whispered, making Ak Sang-geol’s and Hwangbo Soong’s faces stiffen slightly.
Ak Sang-geol quickly rose and greeted Geom-ryeong’s group formally.
“I am Ak Sang-geol of the Shandong Ak Clan. My juniors have spoken out of turn. Please forgive their rudeness.”
He wanted to avoid misunderstanding.
Jeok Hwa-myeong stood and returned the courtesy.
“So you’re the young dragon of the Ak Clan. I am Jeok Hwa-myeong. Don’t worry—we’ve made the same mistake ourselves.”
Since the Ak Clan was of the righteous faction, it was more appropriate for Jeok Hwa-myeong, who stood between orthodox and unorthodox, to respond.
“Jeok Hwa-myeong! The Crimson Sword!”
Whispers spread through the tavern.
Even though Hwangbo Soong was among the top young talents, he was still lesser-known compared to Jeok Hwa-myeong.
Ak Sang-geol stiffened slightly; though strong, he was still below Jeok Hwa-myeong in skill.
“Thank you for your grace, Senior Jeok.”
“Just be more careful next time.”
“Of course.”
After exchanging bows, Ak Sang-geol warned his sister.
Ak So-hye glared, as if to say Heo Jin-ran said it first—why scold me? But seeing her brother’s expression, she could only lower her head.
“Jin-ran, you as well. I know you’re excited to be traveling in Jianghu for the first time, but remember your master’s teachings—mind your words and actions.”
“I’m sorry, Senior Brother,”
she said, bowing.
Gun Ja-gi, eldest disciple of Manhwa Swordsman So Seong-hye, also reminded his junior.
In Jianghu, even small misunderstandings could lead to grudges, so avoiding unnecessary conflict was always best.
“We’ll take pork stir-fry, noodles, some chive salad, and a few dumplings,”
said Geom-ryeong’s group as they ordered.
That reminded the others that they hadn’t ordered yet.
“Take our order too,”
said Ak Sang-geol.
“Yes, sir! One moment—my memory’s poor, so I’ll just tell the chef quickly.”
“We’ll just have the same as them,”
Ak So-hye said lightly.
Ak Sang-geol frowned—her words could easily be misinterpreted as mockery.
“Didn’t I tell you to mind your words?”
“Did I say something wrong?”
She blinked, confused.
“She’s young. Don’t scold her too harshly—we don’t mind,”
Jeok Hwa-myeong interjected kindly, easing the tension.
“Thank you for your understanding. She’s reckless by nature—my family often worries.”
Ak So-hye pouted, feeling resentful. She disliked how her brother kept scolding her, and she didn’t like Jeok Hwa-myeong’s tone either.
Was his status really higher than her clan’s?
Still, she held her tongue.
“Brother, they scolded me because you’re too pretty,”
Ye Hwi-rang said innocently.
Though she’d been taught manners on the road, she was still learning.
“Hwi-rang,”
said Seo Gun-ha gently,
“That’s impolite. You should apologize to those sisters.”
“Why is it impolite?”
She truly didn’t know—her mother had died young, and she’d grown up isolated from the world, so her emotional maturity lagged behind her physical growth.
Seo Gun-ha patiently explained the reason in simple words.
Over time, he had learned how to teach her in a way she could understand.
“Oh… I see. I’m sorry.”
Ye Hwi-rang stood up and bowed respectfully to Ak So-hye and Heo Jin-ran.
“I apologize. Rang made a mistake because she doesn’t know much yet. Please forgive me.”
Ak So-hye narrowed her eyes, thinking the girl was mocking her.
Ak Sang-geol discreetly tapped his sister’s hand under the table—a silent signal to return the gesture.
Though reluctant, she bowed back for her brother’s sake.
The awkward misunderstanding thus ended on a peaceful note.
Relieved, Ak Sang-geol tried to make conversation.
“Senior Jeok, are you also headed to the Martial Alliance?”
“Yes. Though I’m not of the orthodox faction, the Martial Tournament is a grand event for all of Jianghu. And you’re attending as well?”
The Martial Tournament (정파), the Alliance Gathering of the Unorthodox (사파), and the Black Path Assembly (흑도) were known collectively as the Three Great Events of the Martial World.
“That’s right. I brought my juniors to broaden their horizons.”
Thanks to their exchange, the atmosphere relaxed. The food arrived soon after, and conversation quieted as they ate.
Geom-ryeong gently helped Ye Hwi-rang eat comfortably.
“Chew slowly and eat properly.”
“Okay.”
Cheon Jin-haeng smiled warmly watching them.
No one else knew, but he was aware that Ye Hwi-rang was the granddaughter of the Heavenly Demon of Solitude, Cheon Nam-yeon.
The revelation had shocked him—but also made him happy.
To Cheon Jin-haeng, Ye Hwi-rang was family, almost like a daughter, though he couldn’t treat her as such openly.
“Brother, you eat too,”
Ye Hwi-rang said affectionately.
She liked how Geom-ryeong always looked after her. Seo Gun-ha felt a twinge of jealousy but couldn’t really complain—Geom-ryeong had been even kinder to him lately.
“You too, Sister,”
Geom-ryeong said, passing food to her.
As they ate, he listened quietly to the chatter around the tavern—most of it trivial gossip, though he picked up what was useful and ignored the rest.
He also noticed Ak So-hye occasionally glancing at him, but he paid her no mind.
“Welcome!”
Once again, the server’s voice rang out. All heads turned to the entrance.
A large group entered, and when Geom-ryeong saw the man leading them, his expression darkened.
It was Hyeon Tae-ji, the First Elder of Cheonmyeong Manor.
