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chapter 77
The room was dark.
Heavy curtains blocked out the sunlight that tried to seep in through the windows.
From the large dressing table standing in one corner, it was clear this was a woman’s room.
“Is everything going as planned?”
A woman’s voice came from behind a curtain that divided the room in two.
In front of it, a man was kneeling so low that his forehead almost touched the floor.
“Yes, everything is proceeding well. Rumors about the Jangbo Map are quietly spreading. The Demonic Alliance, the Martial Alliance, and even several sects and warriors are now moving to find it, Lady Hwa Ryeong.”
The man speaking was none other than Muyeong.
No one knew what exactly was written on the Jangbo Map, but one thing was certain — it contained enough fortune to change one’s destiny.
If too many people found out about it, his own chances of seizing it would diminish. Hiding it was only natural.
“When enough people have gathered, it would be best to reveal a clue about the map, don’t you think?”
“I am making the necessary preparations.”
“You are preparing? Then I’d like to hear exactly what you’ve prepared.”
“I have secretly brought demonic practitioners into the Martial Alliance.”
“Is that so?”
“All of them have reached the Eighth Stage of Demon Arts.”
Reaching the Eighth Stage meant they had surpassed the level of Skilled Demons and entered the realm of Advanced Demons—a level comparable to a martial grandmaster.
Those at that level could think and act by their own will, unlike lower-ranked demons who moved by instinct.
“Bringing Eighth Stage demonic experts here must have cost us something, no?”
“No, my lady. We knew their weaknesses—so we suffered little loss.”
“I see. That’s fortunate.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Good. Muyeong, continue.”
Muyeong’s plan was as follows:
When the Martial Tournament, the highlight of the grand Martial Arts Gathering, began, he would unleash the demons to cause chaos.
Then, he would step in, defeat them himself, and gain recognition from the Martial Alliance and prominent figures.
By doing so, he could infiltrate the Martial Alliance’s inner workings, gather intelligence, and advance his own hidden schemes ahead of everyone else.
“Not bad,” Lady Hwa Ryeong said approvingly.
Muyeong bowed even lower, his forehead pressing against the floor.
“I heard our children are also participating in the tournament. Why is that?”
“Both the Demonic and Martial Alliances are pursuing the Jangbo Map. That means a clash between the two is inevitable.”
“True.”
“The Martial Alliance will surely form a Special Task Force, and I predict that those who perform well in the tournament will be heavily recruited into it.”
“So, you mean our children will join the Special Task Force and feed us their intelligence from within.”
“Exactly. If we can monitor their movements from the palm of our hands, our plans will go exactly as we wish. That is why I have arranged for our children to infiltrate the tournament.”
“Well done, Muyeong. And you—you’ll also enter the tournament yourself?”
“Yes. No one knows who I am, so I intend to participate.”
“Very good. You’ve worked hard. When your plans bear fruit, I’d like to share a drink with you.”
At the mention of drinking together, Muyeong’s shoulders trembled faintly.
“I will do my utmost, Lady Hwa Ryeong.”
✦ ✦ ✦
The Biikdan, the intelligence division of the Martial Alliance, worked day and night.
Using the guest registry, they secretly investigated any attendees of the Martial Gathering whose identities seemed suspicious.
Though the Martial Alliance was an organization representing the righteous sects, it did not open its gates to just anyone, even for such a grand event.
The Biikdan’s job was to ensure that no one from the demonic or unorthodox factions had slipped in under false pretenses.
The leader of Biikdan, Gongsongi, met with the Alliance’s Chief Strategist, Jegal Mingi, and handed him a thick book.
“There are a few whose identities we cannot confirm. I’ve written their names in blue ink. The verified ones are in black.”
“You’ve done well.”
“I also heard that the Young Sword Queen of the Sword Pavilion has come to the tournament—is that true?”
The Sword Pavilion—the Holy Land of Swordsmanship.
Located in Mount Tianshan, it rarely interacted with the rest of the martial world. Yet, from its high peaks, it had always silently watched over the world below.
“Yes. Lady Cheong Yakryeo’s disciple, Seo Gunha, has come. She is said to be continuing the Pavilion’s sword tradition through intense training.”
The Pavilion’s tradition was simple: to prove one’s existence through the sword itself.
It wasn’t about winning or losing—it was about being acknowledged.
“Her appearance at such a turbulent time will be a great help to the righteous sects.”
“But she’s still young. Strength without experience is merely arrogance.”
Jegal Mingi nodded.
“True. But she could become a rallying point for the righteous side. What about the young man who cut off the ear of Geompa Hyuntaeryeong’s disciple?”
“We can’t be certain. But since Jeok Hwamyung, the Crimson Sword of Remaining Life, is here, it’s likely he came with him. Also…”
Jegal Mingi paused. Gongsongi looked at him questioningly.
“Seo Gunha, the young lady herself, entered the Martial Alliance together with Jeok Hwamyung.”
“With the Crimson Sword?”
“Yes.”
“Then they must have met during their travels.”
“That’s my assumption.”
Jegal Mingi pondered for a moment, then nodded.
“For now, keep the suspicious ones under surveillance. As for Jeok Hwamyung and his companions, it would be best to leave them be.”
“But what about their connection to Cheonmyeong Manor?”
“Cheonmyeong Manor has its own faults—they won’t act rashly. Just keep watching.”
“Understood.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Morning broke on the first day of the Martial Arts Gathering, hosted by the Martial Alliance.
Unlike the Demonic Blood League’s assemblies or the Black Path’s dark meetings, this was an event open even to the public.
Of course, ordinary folk were not allowed to stay inside the Alliance grounds. That was one of the many subtle forms of discrimination between commoners and martial artists.
Those who came to spectate were mostly merchants, officials, poets, wandering storytellers, and traveling performers.
From dawn, the Martial Alliance was bustling with activity to welcome the guests.
By the hour of the Dragon (around 7–9 AM), everyone had gathered in the Outer Arena of the Alliance’s fortress.
In front of them stood five large dueling platforms prepared for the tournament.
In the front rows stood the Nine Great Sects and Ten Noble Clans, representing the orthodox martial world. Behind them were independent masters and participants entering individually.
Behind the stages, twenty chairs were arranged—ten on each side of a central seat.
In that central chair sat Seo Jamyung, the Iron Saber Lord and current Leader of the Martial Alliance.
To his right sat elders of the Nine Great Sects, and to his left, those of the Ten Noble Clans.
At the center of the stage stood Jegal Mingi, the Chief Strategist, who was presiding over the ceremony.
Though most of what he said was formal, everyone listened attentively.
“And now, the Lord of the Martial Alliance, the great Iron Saber Seo Jamyung, will say a few words.”
As Seo Jamyung rose and walked forward, murmurs spread through the crowd.
Many had heard of his name—but few had actually seen him in person.
People had imagined the Alliance Leader as an overwhelming presence radiating fierce, unapproachable energy.
But the man before them looked calm—more like a refined statesman than a warrior.
That quiet, composed demeanor stirred whispers of awe among the crowd.
Among them stood Geomryeong (the Invincible Sword Spirit) and his companions from the Shinchang family.
While Jeok Hwamyung and Yu Akgun had seen Seo Jamyung from afar before, it was the first time for Geomryeong, Seo Gunha, and Ye Hwirang.
“Brother, that man… he feels incredibly strong,” Ye Hwirang whispered.
Those with keen martial senses could feel the immense, subdued power hidden within Seo Jamyung’s gentle appearance.
“Softness overcomes hardness.”
That phrase described him perfectly.
“Yes,” Geomryeong said quietly. “He may not look like it, but the Iron Saber Lord has mastered the ‘Iron Mountain Invincible Divine Art’—one of the mightiest arts in all the land.”
“Is it really that strong?” Ye Hwirang asked.
“Of course. That’s why the word Invincible is in its name.”
Ye Hwirang nodded solemnly.
Indeed, the Iron Mountain Invincible Divine Art was one of the representative techniques of the orthodox world—an art that subdued opponents with sheer power and dominance.
Its nature was similar to the demonic Heavenly Demon Invincible Art, though less tyrannical.
The most domineering art in all the martial world was the Heavenly Demon Invincible Art,
the fastest was the Celestial Commander’s Spirit Art,
and the most graceful was the Heavenly Emperor’s Sword Wisdom.
“I see… If only my Ice-White Elemental Art had ‘Invincible’ in its name—like Ice-White Invincible Elemental Art! Wouldn’t that sound cool?”
Geomryeong chuckled and patted Ye Hwirang’s head affectionately.
Her innocent words were just too adorable.
Beside them, Seo Gunha smiled softly.
“Then you just have to train hard, Hwirang. Make it invincible yourself.”
“But I still can’t beat you or Brother Geomryeong,” she pouted.
“Not now. But if you keep training, you’ll surpass us someday.”
Ye Hwirang nodded enthusiastically.
Though she studied etiquette and knowledge, she was still just a child at heart—perhaps even a lonely one who craved affection. The kindness Geomryeong and Gunha showed her filled that emptiness.
Seo Jamyung began his address:
“I thank all of you who have come to join this great event of the Martial Alliance.”
After brief words encouraging everyone to enjoy the tournament safely and honorably, he concluded and declared the Martial Tournament officially open.
“WAAAAAHHH!”
The cheers of the crowd filled the skies above the Alliance.
Boom… boom… boom… boom!
Drums thundered from both ends of the stage.
Twenty martial artists stepped onto the dueling platform, forming two neat rows.
They bowed formally with cupped hands raised to their chest.
They were the White Tiger Squad, one of the Martial Alliance’s four outer military divisions: Vermilion Bird, Black Tortoise, White Tiger, and Azure Dragon.
Every year, one of these units performed a ceremonial martial display at the opening.
This year, it was the White Tiger Squad’s turn.
Shrring!
They drew their swords in unison.
Boom… boom… boom…
As the drums beat, their performance began—flawless synchronization that made twenty men seem like one.
“Amazing… You can feel the spirit of the Martial Alliance itself,” Seo Gunha murmured.
“For an outer division to have such presence—it’s clear why the Martial Alliance stands as the pillar of the righteous world,” she added.
To the untrained eye, it was just a disciplined, elegant performance.
But those of higher cultivation could feel the sheer force emanating from it—enough to suppress a thousand men.
“If the outer division is this strong,” Seo Gunha asked, “then how strong must the inner division be?”
Geomryeong smiled.
“I’m not sure. The inner divisions are said to be formed from members of the Nine Great Sects and Ten Noble Clans. But strength isn’t everything—these men have real battle experience. I’d wager they could stand against anyone.”
He was right.
The outer divisions were formed from smaller sects or independent warriors serving under the Alliance.
The inner divisions, meanwhile, were made up of elite members from the Nine Sects and Ten Clans.
In theory, the inner divisions had deeper mastery—but the outer ones had far more real combat experience.
So, no one could say who would win until they actually fought.
When the White Tiger Squad finished their display, thunderous applause filled the arena.
But they weren’t the last performers.
As the drums ceased, musicians stepped up with their instruments.
Piriiririk…
At the sound of flutes, ten women stepped onto the stage.
They were from the Phoenix Corps, an all-female unit of the Martial Alliance, composed of daughters from the Ten Noble Clans.
Each represented her family and performed not with swords, but with graceful, flowing sleeves—dancing elegantly like courtesans performing before poets and nobles.
Though it might have seemed improper for martial women, none felt shame.
This too was part of the festival—a symbol of harmony between strength and beauty.
Paaaat!
Suddenly, the dance changed.
Their sleeves fluttered, revealing hidden techniques—martial arts disguised within their dance.
The moves looked delicate, but the hidden force in them was anything but simple.
“Wow… so cool,” Ye Hwirang whispered in awe, eyes shining.
She said she wanted to be just like them someday.
“Yes, you can…” Geomryeong began, then stopped. His gaze shifted—toward a crimson building behind the market stalls to the left of the main road.
“What is it?” Seo Gunha asked.
“Nothing, Sister.”
“…!”
“Please watch over Hwirang for a moment. I need to step out.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain when I return.”
Whoosh!
Before she could ask more, he vanished—so swiftly no one saw where he went.
“Haa…” Seo Gunha sighed.
“Why are you sighing?” Ye Hwirang asked.
“I was just wondering… how deep does Geomryeong’s martial power truly go?”
Ye Hwirang grinned brightly.
“Brother Geomryeong is the strongest!”
