58 - Martial Might, Foundation (1) - The Heaven-Slaying Sword

It took another week to travel from Hubei Province to Wuhan. During that time, the mood of the group had considerably lightened. Most notably, Mok Riwon had regained his spirits, which played a significant role. Though it must have been some change of heart after his conversation with Kwak Chil, Dang Hwa-Seo and Jegal San did not pry into it. After all, the fact that Mok Riwon had cheered up was more important than such personal tales. “This is the Martial Alliance of Wuhan...!” Mok Riwon’s eyes sparkled as if his heart was racing, looking at the heart of Wuhan. At the end of his gaze stood the largest pavilion he had ever seen. And on the grand gate of that pavilion was an elegantly written name. The White Path Martial Alliance. Mok Riwon's fist clenched tightly. Dang Hwa-Seo smiled lightly at this sight and said, “Are you ready to go straight there? Have you prepared your heart?” “Yes! How could I hesitate any longer, now that we have come this far!” Mok Riwon’s spirited response made Jegal San laugh heartily. “Hmm, forming a band might be easier than we anticipated. Or rather, they might come to us with a request first.” “Eh? Why would that be?” Mok Riwon’s body twitched. With a serious face, he continued, “...That’s right. The demons have appeared.” The thought that blood might be shed again crossed his mind. With this in mind, Mok Riwon shook his head as if making a promise, “No, I won’t let bloodshed happen again. It's for this reason that I learned the sword.” Determined not to falter again for the same reasons, Mok Riwon moved forwards. “Let’s go!” This was the entrance of Mok Riwon, also known as the Silent Dragon, into the Martial Alliance. * Today, the Martial Alliance was quite lively. The reason was the appearance of the Silent Dragon, the Mysterious Dragon, and the Lone Phoenix, who had been elusive since the last Dragon Peak Assembly. It was, of course, good news. The news of their entry that had been circulating since the Dragon Peak Assembly had turned out to be true, and it was unsurprising that they were warmly welcomed. The mood of the alliance, which had darkened with demon sightings growing frequent, was lighter and more cheerful than usual today. Among them, a certain figure had stepped forward. “Fortunate, indeed. It was about time we fortified our strength.” Walking down the long corridor of the alliance was a middle-aged man. His appearance suggested that of a scholar from some academy rather than a warrior of the Martial Alliance. However, the sharpness in his stride and gaze belied a mere scholarly impression. “Commander, are you going there personally?” “It is the Dragon Peak. If not I, who else will go?” The commander licked his lips, choosing his words, then added, “...Moreover, my nephew has come. I must see him at least once.” “Haha…” The aide, smiling awkwardly, understood well. The commander of the Martial Alliance, notorious for not being swayed by familial affection, and for not particularly liking those who tarnished the family name. Likely, just as he was harsh with his subordinates, he would deliver piercing words to his nephew’s heart. Jegal Mu Yeon, the commander of the Martial Alliance, was known for having the most venomous tongue. He was Jegal San’s uncle. * The reception room of the Martial Alliance was magnificent. Apart from everything else, it occupied one of the best-view pavilions in Wuhan, which made the scenery from the windows uniquely exceptional. Not just that, the room was adorned with traces of numerous dignitaries and on one side of the wall sat densely the achievements of the White Path Martial Alliance. These were enough to intimidate Mok Riwon, who had lived his life far from such grandeur. Actually, if we delve into the real reason for Mok Riwon feeling intimidated, it was something else. “I heard you’ve done it again. Harassing another widow somewhere?” “Harassment? Such a misunderstanding. It was a ‘consultation’.” “Your ‘consultation’ seems to always end at a widow’s breast, I see.” “Your observation isn’t entirely wrong. But, uncle, it seems your wrinkles have deepened? The affairs of the alliance must not be easy…” “Unlike someone, I don’t prance around.” It was an unyielding exchange of words. Or, could this even be called an exchange? Both were smiling at each other, and though the words seemed concerned for the other, the underlying meaning was razor-sharp. Naturally, Mok Riwon found himself in a situation where he needed to be cautious around them. Mok Riwon whispered to Dang Hwa-Seo, “Miss... Should we intervene…?” “Leave them. It’s a family reunion, isn’t it?” While it was debatable whether this could be called a reunion, Dang Hwa-Seo had no intention of interfering. Seeing the usually sly Jegal San with veins bulging on his forehead was rare. “Mok Riwon, you should watch carefully. Scenes like this are priceless.” Hesitantly at first, Mok Riwon took Dang Hwa-Seo’s advice. His eyes slowly drifted towards the two men. Commander Jegal Mu Yeon maintained a calm expression. His uniquely gentle atmosphere was so strong that if not for his lips moving, one might not even recognize he was the one speaking. Jegal San faced him similarly. Though veins were popping on his forehead, his weasel-like face was smiling so mischievously that it didn’t seem like he was angry. “You really have no work to be busy with, visiting us in such times just to see our faces.” “The Martial Alliance does not mistreat masters. If it is about the Dragon Peak, I have a reason to come out myself. Ah, that's not about you. I doubt you're even qualified to be a dragon.” Jegal Mu Yeon chuckled softly. “I heard you didn’t even make it to the main finals and lost miserably.” “Ah, Kwon Ryong is still Kwon Ryong, I see.” Jegal San laughed heartily, filled with a forced aura. Jegal Mu Yeon scoffed at him and then finally turned away, a smirk floating over his face. “Apologies. The reunion with my nephew got a bit lengthy.” “Oh, no!” Mok Riwon, feeling the attention shift to him, stiffened and rose to his feet, assuming a martial salute. “I am Mok Riwon! The warriors of the east call me the Silent Dragon!” The words came out unexpectedly. Mok Riwon blushed, realizing he had blurted out what he had always imagined saying, a step too late. Dang Hwa-Seo, smiling at his expression, rose and saluted as well. “Lone Phoenix.” Jegal Mu Yeon too stood up. Despite being known for his venomous tongue, he knew there were times when it wasn’t wise to use it. “I am Jegal Mu Yeon, the strategist.” He greeted with a salute, then sat down again and continued. “Your purpose in coming here must be for the founding of a band.” The Martial Alliance was the fortress of orthodox martial arts. Such placed him at the pinnacle of intelligence to speculate the conflicts between Dang Hwa-Seo and the Dang family, and the unique competitive tension she must navigate. Dang Hwa-Seo didn’t pry further. The more they understood her stance, the more advantageous it was for her. “Yes, initially it was just a desire to enter, but on the journey here, my resolve deepened. After encountering the demons and witnessing the atrocities, I felt an undeniable urge to bolster the virtues of the White Path Martial Alliance here.” Her bravado was uncharacteristic of Dang Hwa-Seo. Jegal San snorted laughingly, poking Mok Riwon's side. All Mok Riwon did was admire Dang Hwa-Seo, his eyes shining. “I was hoping to ask for your help.” Jegal Mu Yeon said, smiling like a scholar. “We have intelligence.” The demons had appeared. Not just the ones encountered by Mok Riwon’s group, but across the martial realm. Not merely practitioners of demonic arts, but organized demons. Those from beyond the Western Xinjiang, from the depths of the Ten Thousand Mountains. “It seems the Heavenly Demon Cult is on the move.” The Heavenly Demon Cult. A name that had become a fearsome legend in the martial world after the Third Heavenly Demon, Li Mu Bai. With their movement confirmed, the martial realm would only grow more turbulent. “These are challenging times. As such, we need more heroes. Especially young heroes like dragons and phoenixes.” It was more than a mere welcome. Even someone as naive as Mok Riwon could catch the overt hint. Jegal Mu Yeon made no effort to hide it. “There’s a band in the making. It will be the young face of the White Path Martial Arts.” Jegal Mu Yeon’s smile deepened. “The Martial Alliance intends to gather dragons and phoenixes to found this new band.” The White Path Martial Arts needed vigor and hope. “The Dragon-Phoenix Band. We would like to invite you to join.” The martial world needed new names to follow the Four Saints and the Six Kings. * In the inner halls of Shaolin, Kwon Ryong Ilwoon had been meditating in a seated position for a long while before finally opening his eyes. Rising from his spot, he turned around and deeply bowed. “What brings you here?” There was an old monk before him, sturdy as an ancient tree. However, Ilwoon would not have bowed so deeply if he was just any old monk. “The alliance has contacted us. Have you heard the contents?” “I shall follow the director's will.” The Abbot of Shaolin, Buddha Star Won Myung, a former leader of the Martial Alliance and one of the current supreme figures of the White Path Martial Arts, smiled. “You look like you're dying to go.” A playful light danced on the old monk's face, a boyish grin. Ilwoon gave a bitter smile in response. “...I’m just ashamed of my worldly attachments.” “Go ahead.” Ilwoon’s head shot up, astonishment written all across his face. Won Myung laughed heartily, as if delighted by his reaction. “What does it matter if you have worldly attachments? If there’s a will of Buddha there, by all means, go.” Sophistry. Yet, it was an incredibly sweet sophistry. Ilwoon knew. That the words Won Myung was uttering weren’t solely for the sake of martial justice, but also out of pity for his desires. Ilwoon, flustered and at a loss, soon dipped his head with a soaked smile. "Thank you." With gratitude, Kwon Ryong Ilwoon stepped back into the secular world. * On the Golden Summit of Mt. Emei in Sichuan, one of the martial realm's nine schools, the Amitabha Sect resided, and there, Hye Woon shouldered her bundle. 'I can't live like this any longer.' She yearned for the secular world. She missed delicious food, the lively atmosphere, and many other things, but what she missed most was something else. 'Men.' She longed for men. Young, vigorous men. Fortunately for Hye Woon, she had a perfect excuse. A message had come from the Martial Alliance. She intended to use it as a pretext to escape from here. "Hye Woon, where do you plan to go?" Startled, Hye Woon's body shook. Somehow knowing her secret intent to flee, her master had approached silently, smiling. Hye Woon took a deep breath, thinking, 'A fight would be a certain loss.' Persuasion would never work. There was only one way left. "I intend to go and uphold the justice of the martial world!!!" With that declaration, Hye Woon fled. Her master laughed heartily as she vanished like a streak of light. "I didn't say she couldn’t leave; wonder why she took off like that." "Will she be alright?" A nun asked from her side. To this, Hye Woon's master responded, "Let her be. She might grow tired of men eventually. One can only learn that all is vanity through experience." The nun smiled awkwardly at the wry smile etched into the wrinkled face of the Bhikkhuni. 'That girl?' It seemed her master didn't fully grasp that Hye Woon, who might starve but could never abstain from men, was a different case altogether. * In the training ground of the Namgung family, Namgung Jincheon sheathed his sword. Opening his eyes, he saw the floor of the training ground scarred with overt marks of destruction. 'This should suffice.' He had mastered every move. From now on, perfection would come only from his own training and experience. 'I am leaving.' The face of a man surfaced in Namgung Jincheon's mind - Mok Riwon, who smiled foolishly yet wielded a sword that could not be defied. Namgung Jincheon clenched his fist tight. 'I will not lose again.' His eyes harbored an intense spirit of rivalry, unprecedented. "Brother?" A young girl's voice echoed. Turning, Namgung Jincheon laid his eyes on his much younger sister. "Soa." Namgung Soa crossed her arms, making a sullen face, yet her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled with curiosity. She was feigning indifference in a humorous manner. "Are you leaving?" Speaking with uncharacteristic formality, it was a demeanor she had been showing consistently since meeting Mok Riwon the day before. Namgung Jincheon nodded indifferently. Seeing this, Namgung Soa struggled to contain her urge to jump up, instead repressing it and said, "Then, Soa will go..." "Stay at home." Namgung Jincheon passed by Namgung Soa, not turning back even as she nearly cried out behind him. To him, proving the worth of his sword was more critical than indulging his young sister's naive affection. Emperor Sword Style. Armed with a new resolve and weapon, Namgung Jincheon set his sights on the Martial Alliance.