Cheon Ryu-yeong let out a shout, then winced, his face contorting from the throbbing pain running through his body.
"Ugh."
The physician, Yu-hwa, Su-yeon, and Dokgo Seol all caught him at almost the same time.
"You mustn't push yourself yet."
"Lie down."
"Please lie down!"
Four people, eight hands, carefully pushed his upper body down onto the bed. The physician left the room, saying he would finish preparing the medicine, and repeatedly warned them not to let Cheon Ryu-yeong move. Madam Yu-hwa and Su-yeon followed to help him.
Cheon Ryu-yeong bit his lip in thought for a moment, then spoke.
"I have to go. We must leave for Chengdu immediately. Five days, you say? Phew… far too much time has been lost."
At his words, Pyeong-u glanced at Dokgo Seol. He knew how anxious she had been all this time—after all, it wasn't anyone else but Cheon Ryu-yeong who had said it: the Heavenly Demon Sword would soon resume fighting.
And since her father was in Chengdu, Dokgo Seol naturally couldn't help but worry.
She gave him an awkward smile.
"Yes, we have to go. But not right now. Let's rest for three days—no, two days more before we leave. With the Tang Clan there, what could possibly happen? And the Cheongseong Sect is far stronger than my family's household as well."
"That's true, but…"
"Trying to do everything alone is just greed. They have more than enough strength to be trusted, so don't worry too much. Besides, you left a letter warning what should be watched for—it will be fine."
Dokgo Seol spoke as if to erase the unease in her heart. Cheon Ryu-yeong stayed silent for a moment, then replied.
"They'll still see the Heavenly Demon Sword as a rookie. I took Sichuan's branch, yes, but it wasn't a perfect victory. All the more so for me. Even if Lord Dokgo steps forward himself, there's a high chance they'll ignore my warning."
"…"
"I think I'll have to leave tomorrow."
"That would still be too much for you."
"No. In any case, I'll be living under the protection of the Dokgo Clan from now on. I can't turn my back on the current affairs of the martial world."
"That's true, but…"
"First, I need to send someone ahead to Chengdu. I have something to ask of Lord Dokgo."
"…?"
"Of course, I need to grasp the current situation, but there's something I want investigated in advance."
"Is it urgent?"
Cheon Ryu-yeong bit his lip hard at her question, then spoke.
"I hope my fears are unfounded, but I must be sure."
Pyeong-u, who had been watching, shook his head and cut in.
"Brother, were you working even while unconscious? I've heard of people working in their dreams, but this is a first. Brother! You need to rest when it's time to rest. Like Seol-i said, what could the cornered demon cultists possibly do? We can trust the Tang Clan and the Cheongseong Sect to handle it."
But Cheon Ryu-yeong's expression remained firm.
Seeing his face, Dokgo Seol swallowed a sigh and nodded.
"Alright. Tell me what you need investigated."
"There are also some things we'll need to prepare."
She gave a small chuckle.
"Yes. Just say the word."
"First, I'll need a few sets of the demon cult's clothing…"
At that, both Dokgo Seol and Pyeong-u stiffened. Pyeong-u grabbed onto the end of his words with a horrified look.
"Surely you're not saying you plan to infiltrate Sichuan's branch?"
Dokgo Seol followed up.
"You know that's impossible, right?"
At their sharp tone, Cheon Ryu-yeong gave a bitter smile.
"Of course I know that. Anyway, can't you let me finish before reacting? I'd like to explain quickly and then get some more sleep. Strangely enough, I'm feeling very drowsy."
Dokgo Seol and Pyeong-u exchanged slightly guilty looks, though there was still worry in their eyes that perhaps his mind had been damaged.
But at the words that followed, both of them froze in shock, unable to say a single word. They were so stunned that they stayed blank-faced until Cheon Ryu-yeong had fallen back asleep.
Pyeong-u was the first to speak.
"Seol-i."
"…"
When she didn't answer, Pyeong-u shifted his gaze from Cheon Ryu-yeong to her. She rubbed her arms to calm the goosebumps, then finally spoke. Only then did Pyeong-u realize he'd broken out in goosebumps too.
"Pyeong-u, you'll have to go."
He nodded.
"Yes. But… if Brother's assumption is right, or worse, if it's already happened, what then?"
Dokgo Seol closed her eyes.
"It would mean the end of Sichuan's orthodox martial world. And the arrival of a true age of chaos."
"…"
"That's why you must hurry before it's too late."
"Understood."
"You remember everything Young Master Cheon just said?"
"My memory's decent enough—so long as I'm not being compared to a monster like Brother Cheon Ryu-yeong."
Pyeong-u leapt to his feet.
He threw open the door and dashed out. Watching him go, Dokgo Seol turned back to the sleeping Cheon Ryu-yeong, murmuring with a sigh.
"What if we're already too late? Will you be able to stop it, Young Master Cheon? Please… don't give up. Stay strong."
Her white hand softly stroked his still-swollen face. Then, glancing toward the doorway to check for prying eyes, she gently took his hand in both of hers.
Feeling the warmth of his skin, a smile touched her lips.
About 130 li northwest of Chengdu in Sichuan lies Mount Qingcheng, a mountain boasting no fewer than thirty-six peaks.
Qingchengshan Tianxia You — "Mount Qingcheng, the most serene under heaven."
The name is no exaggeration; it is said to be the most tranquil mountain in the world.
High peaks, lush forests, and azure waters—including the mountain-top lake, Moon Star Lake—give visitors and pilgrims alike a deep sense of peace and beauty.
Mount Qingcheng is renowned not only for its scenery, but also for being home to the Taoist sect known as the Cheongseong Sect.
For ages, the Cheongseong Sect vied with the Tang Clan and Emei Sect for the title of Sichuan's foremost power. When the Tang Clan created the Formless Deadly Poison, they seized that top position, but even so, the Cheongseong Sect remained one of the Nine Great Sects no one in the martial world could disregard.
Its leader, the Clear-Absolute Sword (Cheongjeolgeom) Jang Woon, possessed a distinctively square-shaped face and was a master who had reached the Tenfold Perfection in both the inescapable Absolute Shadow Hand and the sect's secret technique, the Blue Clouds Red Haze Sword, twenty years ago at the age of forty.
He now sat in the main hall of the Upper Azure Palace with the elders and disciples.
"That so-called Heavenly Demon Sword's stated time has long passed—why has Hall Master Uiseong still not returned?"
Jang Woon murmured as he unfolded the duel challenge sent by Baek Un-hoe. At that, his successor and direct disciple, the Divine Sword Dragon (Shingeomnyong) Na Han-min, spoke in a deep, weighty middle-aged voice.
"Master, are you concerned about him not going to that place? But if our sect leader were to move so easily in response to the clumsy tricks of a mere greenhorn, it would make us the laughingstock of the martial world."
At Na Han-min's words, everyone nodded in agreement. But Jang Woon's frown deepened, his expression showing his dissatisfaction.
Then the oldest elder, Cheong Hyeon-jin, opened his mouth.
"Heh heh heh. It seems the sect leader has something on his mind."
At his words, Jang Woon nodded.
"Yes, senior brother. If the Heavenly Demon Sword were to appear, I can't help but be uneasy. If that happens, won't the world think he stayed away because he feared me?"
Cheong Hyeon-jin stroked the long white beard that reached his waist and smiled.
"The Heavenly Demon Sword is surely hiding in the Sichuan branch—how could he possibly come here for a duel? It's nothing more than psychological warfare."
"Yes, I reached the same conclusion before. But still, there's an unpleasant aftertaste I can't shake."
Na Han-min nodded and said,
"I think this too is part of the psychological game. Even when you've made an entirely natural and correct judgment, it's meant to leave you with a lingering feeling of unease."
Everyone nodded in agreement. But Jang Woon still didn't relax his expression.
"And what exactly would the Heavenly Demon Sword have to gain from this?"
Na Han-min straightened his back.
"That's the nature of psychological warfare, isn't it? You keep staging ridiculous, far-fetched provocations to disturb the opponent's mind, then seize the decisive moment."
Standing beside Cheong Hyeon-jin, the Cheongseong Sect's law keeper, Daoist Cheong U, spoke up.
"I agree with the Divine Sword Dragon. When the opponent employs such psychological tactics, the wise course is to stand a step back and coolly observe the unfolding situation. If you get drawn into their mind games, it's all too easy to make a foolish misjudgment."
When even the famously cautious Law Keeper Cheong U said this, Sect Leader Jang Woon nodded.
"Then let's simply enjoy our tea until Hall Master Uiseong returns."
Cheong Hyeon-jin smiled broadly and nodded.
"That would be best. But surely, we all already know the outcome, don't we? Hall Master Uiseong will return empty-handed, looking like a drowned rat."
At his words, low chuckles spread among them.
But their easy laughter didn't last even a quarter of an hour before it was shattered.
Hall Master Uiseong appeared at the Upper Azure Palace alone—having lost all of the disciples under him.
Moments later, Mount Qingcheng was on full alert. A fortress-tight security cordon surrounded the entire mountain.
Visitors were barred from entering or leaving.
But none of the Cheongseong Sect members realized that these seemingly natural precautions were exactly what Baek Un-hoe of the Heavenly Demon Sword had intended.
The rain that had fallen at midday had fully cleared by evening at the Sword Fragrance Grounds (Geomhyangjang).
Though many still remained, the place felt quieter than it had a few days ago, as quite a number had already departed.
The wounded from the Dokgo Clan and Kunlun had all been transferred to the Dokgo Clan's main household in Hanzhong, while the injured of the Black Tortoise Corps (Hyeonmudan) had returned to the Martial Alliance headquarters.
They had even been provided with escorts, just in case.
Now, those remaining at Geomhyangjang numbered only about eighty from the Dokgo Clan, a hundred from Kunlun, and twenty-odd from the Black Tortoise Corps—a total of roughly two hundred.
At that time, a hundred members of the White Tiger Corps (Baekhoda) from the Martial Alliance's Guizhou branch arrived at the grounds.
While the Black Tortoise Corps was largely composed of skilled late-stage jisu-level warriors, the White Tiger Corps had an entirely different makeup.
It was formed of wandering swordsmen hired by the Martial Alliance, the youngest of whom was thirty-two. Over eighty percent of them were in their forties. In short, the White Tiger Corps could be summed up in one word—rough.
Because of this, they were the ones entrusted with the most intense duties, like charging at the forefront in battle.
To control such men, the corps' commander had to be exceptionally strong.
This was Wolf King (Nangwang) Bang Ya-cheol.
A man in his early fifties, he was a rare case of a wanderer who had risen to the rank of a peak master.
He was also an idol to countless drifters in the martial world, and among the leaders of the Martial Alliance's four corps—the Black Tortoise, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Azure Dragon—he ranked at the very top in both martial skill and combat experience.
That evening, after dinner and a bath, Bang Ya-cheol went alone to the rear garden in light attire.
In the center, before the steps of the pavilion, a bonfire had been lit, pushing back some of the surrounding darkness.
He sat on the steps, staring at the flames, then lifted his head.
In the clear black sky left by the passing rain, red, blue, and white stars shimmered.
His gaze found the Milky Way, and soon after, the Conqueror's Star (Paewang-ui Byeol).
Bang Ya-cheol gazed at it for a long while.
Why was that?
Despite being a wanderer by origin, his neat forehead and prominent nose gave him a handsome appearance, but his eyes seemed tinged with melancholy.
That lonely gaze turned from the Conqueror's Star to the side.
A woman had entered the rear garden.
It was Military Adviser Wu, Ice Phoenix (Bingbong) Murong Lin.
Bang Ya-cheol rose from the steps, dusted off his seat, and approached her with a clasped-fist salute.
"I greet the Military Adviser."
Murong Lin inclined her head in her characteristic cool manner.
"You've had a hard journey. I couldn't come to greet you myself as I had matters to attend to."
Bang Ya-cheol stood silently, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Seeing this, Murong Lin bit back a wry smile.
Among the many warriors of the Martial Alliance, he was one of the few counted as truly taciturn—a man whose thoughts were nearly impossible to read.
She looked into his dark eyes, clicked her tongue inwardly, then spoke.
"As you've surely heard from the Chief Military Adviser, the original plan was for you, Commander of the White Tiger Corps, to join directly under Martial Scholar Cheon Ryu-yeong, pretending to guard him while actually keeping watch."
"…"
"But things have taken an odd turn. The Martial Scholar said he was going to his hometown, and he still hasn't reappeared."
Bang Ya-cheol remained silent. Murong Lin, suddenly struck by a pounding headache, pressed her thumb into her temple and continued.
"On top of that, even if he does appear, it's unclear whether he'll accept the position of Fourth Military Adviser and the Guidan."
"…"
"Commander, you're listening, aren't you?"
Bang Ya-cheol nodded. Still without a word, he earned another look of mild exasperation from her before she resumed in a cool tone.
"For now, we'll watch the situation and decide later. Until then, you and your men can rest here at ease."
"…"
"Then please return to your quarters and rest."
But Bang Ya-cheol didn't move. He simply stood there, staring into the bonfire.
At last, Murong Lin spoke again.
"Then go back later, if you prefer."
Only then did Bang Ya-cheol nod. Murong Lin felt a sudden, irrational surge of irritation, but knowing that was simply his nature, she bit her lip and turned to leave.
Just then, a man burst into the rear garden.
It was Ha Wol, Pyeong-u Jong.
"Ah! Ice Phoenix, you're here?"
From the look on his face as he rushed toward her, Murong Lin instantly sensed that something serious had happened.
One thought flashed through her mind—
Surely not… could it really be the Heavenly Demon Sword? No, that's impossible!
Her hands clenched into fists before she even realized it, the tension gripping her whole body.