Brrrr.
Jin Dam-hwi's whole body trembled, rigid as if paralyzed.
Then came the scream.
"Guaaaah!"
It sounded disturbingly like the squeal of a pig being slaughtered.
He threw away the club in his hand and clutched his groin with both hands, hopping up and down. Cheon ryu yeong's club came crashing down toward his head, his eyes rolled back white.
Crack!
"Gaaah!"
Jin Dam-hwi choked out a dying sound and collapsed forward. But Tian Liuying's club didn't stop—it rained down on his head and back in quick succession.
Thud! Thud-thud-thud-thud!
"Aaagh! Spare me! Spare me! Aaagh!"
He screamed again and again. After his head and back, the blows began striking his sides and thighs.
Just as Cheon ryu yeong's own flesh had split and bled earlier, now Jin Dam-hwi's body was splitting and spraying blood. But still, Jin Dam-hwi rolled on the ground, clutching only his groin with both hands.
Tian Liuying paused to catch his breath and clenched his teeth. Then his arm swung in a wide arc.
Whoosh!
Wham!
The club smashed into both hands clamped over Jin Dam-hwi's groin.
"Aaaagh!"
His hands fell away.
Whoosh!
Crack!
The club struck directly where his hands had been.
"Urk!"
Jin Dam-hwi let out a pain-stricken death rattle, then sprawled out, motionless. Foam dribbled from his mouth, and blood soaked his crotch.
Silence fell, broken only by the crackle of flames.
The ordinary-yet-not-ordinary Cheon ryu yeong had defeated a martial artist, even if only of third-rate caliber. It was like a mouse biting a cat. Even if Jin Dam-hwi had been completely off guard, it was still hard to believe.
Cheon ryu yeong stared fixedly at the unconscious man. The onlookers watched him in turn.
A slow grin spread across Tian Liuying's lips. At that smile, everyone shuddered.
It was like seeing the mad grin of a demon—someone savoring the ruin of his opponent.
The flickering flames cast over his blood-smeared face made the sight all the more chilling.
Feng Yun subtly covered his own groin, and even Su-yeon and Dokgo Seol stood dumbstruck.
Some even began to worry—had some deep, hidden instinct for cruelty awakened in Cheon ryu yeong?
But that wasn't the meaning of his smile. It was the joy of realization.
I've found it. The martial art I must master. And the path I must take!
How to face an opponent stronger than oneself.
Cheon ryu yeong had seen a fair number of fights and matches—not many, but not few either.
Unless the difference in skill was overwhelming, defeat always came from failing to block a single decisive blow.
And most openings appeared—eight or nine times out of ten—when the opponent attacked.
If you focused on defense, protecting your vital points, you could endure somehow. And if you could land just one single strike—just once—you could overturn the fight and grasp victory.
Now, exhausted as he was, he couldn't keep taking Jin Dam-hwi's attacks. That's why he'd had to take a hit to the shoulder to land his own blow.
But ultimately, the path for his martial arts was to block the enemy's attacks as much as possible, then find and exploit the opening within.
If that one move failed, the opponent would become wary, so it had to end in a single strike for any hope of victory.
No matter how hard I train from now on, I'll have limits. So I must finish the opponent in one move—one single technique.
Gyeongilcho ("One-Move Alert")!
This was the small beginning of the legend that would later give Cheon ryu yeong the nickname "One-Move Alert" alongside "Scholar of the Martial World."
His head was spinning, and at the same time, relief washed over him—this was over.
In the heavy silence, Dokgo Seol finally stepped forward.
"Master Cheon. You… won."
"..."
"Congratulations. So now, please rest."
"..."
"Master cheon?"
She took hold of his shoulder. His body sagged downward. Having held himself up with nothing but wrung-out strength and willpower, Tian Liuying finally lost consciousness.
Sword Fragrance Manor .
A manor half a day's journey from the Tang Clan's estate, currently hosting the Dokgo Clan, Mount Kunlun Sect, and the Black Tortoise Group.
Spring rain drizzled in the rear garden of Sword Fragrance Manor.
In a pavilion surrounded by blooming flowers, three young people sat around a round table, savoring tea.
One man, two women.
All in their twenties, all fine-looking youths.
Facing the entrance sat Bingfeng Murong Lin, sipping her tea with a trademark cold expression and a furrowed brow.
Then the cute nineteen-year-old girl seated on the right stretched and spoke.
"Aww, I'm bored. If I'd known, I'd have gone out sightseeing with Senior Namgung instead. But… Sister Murong, why do you look so annoyed?"
To her question, the handsome young man opposite her smirked.
"Heh heh heh. Probably because she came to see the famed 'Scholar of the Martial World,' but after days of waiting, she hasn't had a single glimpse."
The girl from Mount Hua's secular branch, Hwa Ga-yeon, shrugged and added,
"Or maybe he heard Sister Murong was here and tucked his tail between his legs?"
The youngest of the group spoke, and the young man replied,
"Heh heh heh. Maybe so. In fact, I heard a few interesting rumors at the tavern yesterday—one of them about the Scholar."
At that, the silent Murong Lin's eyes brightened.
"Pyeong-u Jong, you said? Rumors?"
Pyeong-u Jong—twenty-seven years old.
Second son of Hebei Peng Clan, one of the Eight Great Clans of the orthodox sects, and even more famous than his elder brother, the heir.
With natural martial talent, hard work, and a warrior's frame, he had once been considered a potential future hegemon. But he disliked seeing the clan split over succession disputes between himself and his brother, so he'd wandered the jianghu for the past four years.
A man who could have risen high but instead stepped down to the ground.
People called him "Ha-Wol" (Lower Moon), one of the "Twelve Months of the Jianghu."
He answered Murong Lin's question.
"Yes, Bingfeng. I did. Two rumors in particular were quite amusing."
Murong Lin and Pyeong-u Jong were the same age, but their personalities were so different they weren't exactly close.
And though Pyeong-u was the son of a prestigious clan, he had no official position—while Murong Lin held the high post of Strategist of the Martial Alliance. Their mindsets and speech differed greatly.
Murong Lin set her teacup down and asked,
"Two, you say? Both about the Scholar?"
Pyeong-u shook his head.
"No, one about the Scholar, and one about the Heavenly Demon Sword."
Hwa Ga-yeon's eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"Wow! The two hottest figures in the martial world right now. What are they?"
Pyeong-u glanced at Murong Lin.
"Which do you want to hear first? Remember, these are just rumors."
Meaning he couldn't vouch for their truth.
Murong Lin was silent for a moment, then spoke.
"The Scholar."
"Heh heh heh. Is this rivalry because you both hold strategist titles?"
Her brows knit at Pyeong-u's teasing, and Hwa Ga-yeon glared at him.
"Pyeong-u Gongja! How can you compare Sister Murong, Strategist of the Martial Alliance, with the Scholar? That's like comparing a phoenix to a sparrow!"
Pyeong-u clicked his tongue and made an apologetic face, but quickly grew serious again.
"They say the Scholar won't be coming to Sword Fragrance Manor at all—he's going straight to the Dokgo Clan."
Murong Lin's face chilled like frost. Hwa Ga-yeon looked incredulous.
"What? Then why are we waiting here for him?"
Pyeong-u burst into hearty laughter.
"Hahaha! Well, leave me out of it, Ga-yeon. I've got no interest in the face of some gloomy man."
"Hmph. You just want to see Sister Geombong—or rather, Sister Cheong-hwa."
"A hot-blooded man has to see all of the Five Flowers of the Martial World, doesn't he?"
Ga-yeon pouted.
"Men…"
Pyeong-u started to retort, but when he saw Murong Lin's steady gaze on him, he just gave a small smile.
"I forgot. I was speaking with Bingfeng."
"Why is there a rumor that the Scholar of the Martial World is going to the Dokgo Clan? The Dokgo Clan Leader told me himself that he was coming here. There's been some incident that delayed him, but he clearly said he'd be arriving here."
"That's why I said it was a rumor, didn't I? Anyway, the gossip is that the Scholar will go to the Dokgo Clan because he's afraid of being compared to Strategist Bingfeng."
"Mmm…"
Bingfeng let out a low murmur, gripping her teacup. She felt there was a real possibility he might indeed be avoiding her.
Hwa Ga-yeon cut in again.
"What's the rumor about the Heavenly Demon Sword?"
Pyeong-u Jong suddenly grew serious.
"I don't think this one's just a rumor."
His shift in tone piqued Murong Lin's curiosity.
"What are they saying about the Heavenly Demon Sword?"
"This is fresh—just came in yesterday. He supposedly sent a duel challenge to the head of the Qingcheng Sect. A one-on-one contest."
Murong Lin's and Hwa Ga-yeon's eyes widened at the same time.
Pyeong-u crossed his arms and looked straight at Murong Lin.
"The Heavenly Demon Sword promised that if he lost, he would take his own head and withdraw the Demonic Cult from Sichuan. In return, he demanded that if the Qingcheng Sect Leader lost, the sect would close its gates for ten years."
Murong Lin replied coldly.
"The Heavenly Demon Sword is just a general, not the leader of the Demonic Cult. What authority does he have to make such promises? Nonsense."
"Well… regardless, the Heavenly Demon Sword is the commander entrusted by the cult leader with full authority over the mission to occupy Sichuan. And considering the reputation he's earned within the cult, perhaps it's premature to dismiss this as mere bluster."
"I admit, it's not impossible. But it's excessive."
Pyeong-u shrugged with his arms still crossed.
"Yes, I agree. It's certainly excessive. Still, it's oddly exciting, isn't it? Could a man of only twenty-nine years truly challenge the head of the Qingcheng Sect—one of the Nine Great Sects? And to do so on the eve of a massive war to invade the Central Plains, bearing the weight of responsibility for everything… to make such an audacious proposal…"
"..."
"I was shocked. Shocked that a man's boldness could be so great. Even Mount Tai would pale beside the Heavenly Demon Sword's nerve."
Hwa Ga-yeon nodded, equally shocked.
"I've heard demonic cultists can be arrogant, but this is incredible."
"Right? And that's not all."
Hwa Ga-yeon's eyes widened further.
"What else?"
"If they refuse the duel…"
Pyeong-u paused for a moment before speaking.
"He declared that the Qingcheng Sect would not merely close its gates, but be annihilated! That it would be burned to ashes!"
"...!"
Hwa Ga-yeon's mouth dropped open—so much that a bit of saliva fell out in surprise.
But Murong Lin kept her cold smile.
"That's a perfect example of the exaggeration that makes rumors what they are. That's why I never treat street gossip as information."
Hwa Ga-yeon wiped her mouth, shaking her head.
"Sister Murong's right. It's just too much."
Pyeong-u uncrossed his arms and raised both hands in acknowledgment.
"Fair enough, it is a bit much. But do you remember what I said earlier? That I didn't think it was just a rumor?"
"Yes. What made you say that?"
"In six villages around Mount Qingcheng, notices describing the duel challenge have been posted. Many people have seen them, so perhaps it's not something that can be dismissed so easily."
Hwa Ga-yeon's expression hardened.
"Then why hasn't the Qingcheng Sect told you, Sister Murong, or any other orthodox sects about it?"
Pyeong-u had no answer. Murong Lin spoke instead.
"Because the Qingcheng Sect Leader knows it's nothing but psychological warfare."
"Psychological warfare?"
Murong Lin nodded.
"Yes. The demonic cultists trapped in the Sichuan branch compound are bound to grow anxious over time. Once the Emei Sect joins forces, a major purge will begin. So the cultists are waging psychological warfare to keep the Qingcheng Sect from leaving its gates—trying to instill fear that their base will be left undefended and robbed in their absence."
At her words, Hwa Ga-yeon let out an "Ah!" and smiled brightly.
"As expected of Sister Murong. That makes sense."
"Attacking the Qingcheng Sect at all is nonsense. They have two thousand swordsmen. Even if every cultist in the Sichuan branch went there, they'd have trouble breaking through."
Hwa Ga-yeon nodded repeatedly.
"Abandoning their stronghold in Sichuan just to attack Qingcheng? That's impossible. Unless they were retreating entirely to the northwest, maybe. Right?"
Murong Lin nodded, picking up her teacup—now cold.
She took a sip and said,
"They say the Scholar of the Martial World claimed the Heavenly Demon Sword might attack both the Qingcheng Sect and the Tang Clan before Emei could join the fight."
Pyeong-u chuckled.
"That's definitely far-fetched. Impossible. Even Qingcheng alone is a challenge, let alone the Tang Clan. Heh heh heh. The Tang Clan is on another level."
Murong Lin nodded.
"Exactly. The cultists are in no position to launch an attack. They can either defend the Sichuan branch or retreat. Nothing else."
But inwardly, Murong Lin began to suspect the Scholar even more.
Was he stoking the psychological war alongside the Heavenly Demon Sword?
Just then, a middle-aged warrior rushed into the rear garden and ran toward the pavilion. At the entrance, he spoke quickly.
"Strategist, urgent news."
Murong Lin's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Urgent news?"
"The watchers stationed northwest of the Sichuan branch… all dead."
"...!"
Murong Lin, Pyeong-u, and Hwa Ga-yeon's eyes widened.
The northwest—
That was the road to Mount Qingcheng.
"They were supposed to send word once a day, but when no message came, we checked the area and…"
Murong Lin sprang to her feet.
"So it happened today or yesterday?"
The middle-aged warrior shook his head grimly.
"We believe it happened at dawn two days ago."
Murong Lin ground her teeth in disbelief.
"You call that a report? You check every day—how could this happen?"
"Well… the higher-ups said there was no way the cultists would leave the branch… so they focused all checks on the western side for possible retreat…"
Murong Lin swayed slightly.
It was true—she had given that order herself. To watch the west closely. That elsewhere, nothing would likely happen.
An organization moves according to the will and mindset of its leader. Naturally, subordinates judge priorities as the leader does. That's the nature of a hierarchy.
"So you're saying this is my fault?"
"No, no… of course not. It's just… the officers collecting reports have been overwhelmed lately, as you know. Finding enemy agents hidden in Chengdu has been extremely difficult and time-consuming. A massive amount of information comes in every day. They probably thought this could wait a day, thinking it unlikely."
Murong Lin bit her lip, then asked,
"Have all the cultists left the Sichuan branch?"
"No. We can't confirm exactly, but it seems most are still there."
Her frown deepened.
Her mind—renowned for its brilliance—was spinning, but she could not make sense of it.
"A few dozen, or perhaps a few hundred, left for Mount Qingcheng. And in the villages around Qingcheng, duel challenges have been posted everywhere."
She muttered, trying to piece the situation together.
Pyeong-u shook his head.
"I really don't get it. If only a small force left, they can't possibly face the Qingcheng Sect. What's their scheme? Is this more psychological warfare?"
"..."
"At times like this, wouldn't that Scholar fellow be of some help? Hmph. If the Dokgo Clan Leader is right, he'll be here soon. I suddenly find myself wanting to see not only Cheong-hwa, but the Scholar as well."
At Pyeong-u's unexpected comment, Murong Lin said coldly,
"Why bring up the Scholar now?"
"Well, it's just… he's the only one who said the cultists wouldn't stay holed up in the branch. Wasn't he the only one who foresaw this?"
Murong Lin clenched her teeth, her hand trembling. It almost felt like she was competing against Tian Liuying, who wasn't even there, over a few words he had once said.
Then a sudden thought struck her, and she turned to Pyeong-u.
"When was the duel the Heavenly Demon Sword proposed to the Qingcheng Sect Leader supposed to take place?"
Pyeong-u replied with a troubled expression.
"Noon today. Which means… right about now."