From the mountain gate pillar, the Cheonma Sword Baek Unhoe appeared alone.
He lifted his head to the sky and gave a bitter smile.
"Fufufu. Is that so? That friend, Ryu Yeong, foresaw my stratagem? Truly, he's too valuable a man to kill outright."
"..."
"But he went back to his hometown? Interesting. Still, perhaps that means Heaven's fortune rests with me—that wouldn't be a bad interpretation."
Murong Lin regained her senses and stammered, voice trembling.
"Ch–Cheonma Sword?"
Baek Unhoe smiled faintly.
"So you're the one who thought to send me the Challenge Scroll. Bingbong, the deputy strategist. That method was rather refreshing. I had thought you nothing more than a hollow scholar who only memorized books—but perhaps not."
From behind him, far beyond the mountain gate, a troop in black garb appeared.
Murong Lin swallowed hard.
"The Cheonrang Troop? Y–you're insane… truly appearing here? How could you? You mean to face the entire Qingcheng Sect head-on?"
Even as the words left her mouth, she regretted them.
Of course he wouldn't have come alone.
It was a foolish question, but proof that the sudden appearance of the Cheonma Sword had driven her into mental chaos.
Baek Unhoe's white teeth flashed.
"Fufufu. I am not a coward like your sect master, who shuns challenges."
Qingliang Daoist recovered from his shock, hastily drawing his sword.
Chaaang!
"Cheonma Sword! You wretch!"
Pyeong-u Jong too drew his blade, tension written across his face.
"I respect your audacity. But this makes it clear, Cheonma Sword—you may have a marvelous brain, but you are mad!"
Two swords glittered in the air, catching the pouring sunlight. Yet Baek Unhoe still did not so much as reach for his weapon.
"And you are?"
"Ha-wol, Pyeong-u Jong."
"Ah! From the Twelve Months of Jianghu, you're Ha-wol? I heard the Peng clan once believed you to be a destined Conqueror's Star. Hahaha. Fools with no sense of their own limits."
At his mockery, Pyeong-u Jong's face flushed slightly.
Murong Lin shook her head violently, drawing a deep breath.
The issue wasn't whether Baek Unhoe was insane.
It was whether the three of them could withstand him.
Her eyes darted left and right, a movement Baek Unhoe caught—and he chuckled.
"Searching for the Qingcheng Daoists who were guarding this place?"
"..."
"How disappointing. If they were alive and well, could I be standing here alone?"
Qingliang Daoist shouted in fury:
"You fiend! You mean you've slain our disciples yet again?"
Baek Unhoe shrugged lightly.
"They asked who I was, so I told them. Then they drew steel and charged at me without a word. Far too rude."
"A–and you call that an excuse?"
"Hmph. Should I have politely offered my neck to their swords, then?"
The Daoist was struck speechless, and Baek Unhoe roared with laughter.
"Hahaha! If you miss those dead disciples, don't worry—you'll join them soon enough."
Murong Lin's breath caught as she watched the Cheonrang Troop advance steadily.
The time had come to choose.
The three could either launch a joint assault—or scatter in different directions to reach Wolseong Lake.
She reached for the soft sword at her waist, but then tilted her head.
Baek Unhoe's expression was far too relaxed.
At Wolseong Lake, not only Qingcheng's direct disciples but even its inner council were gathered—a total of fifteen hundred sword cultivators.
Strategists cannot abide unanswered questions.
"Cheonma Sword. Do you truly believe you can fight and win against the entire Qingcheng Sect?"
"Of course. Our losses will be negligible, while you will be annihilated—just as I warned."
Qingliang Daoist, face dark with fury, snapped at Pyeong-u Jong.
"Pyeong swordsman, I'll take the right!"
"Yes. Then I'll take the left!"
Murong Lin stifled a sigh and drew her soft sword—only for her face to blanch in an instant.
And so too did the faces of Qingliang Daoist and Pyeong-u Jong turn deathly pale.
At Wolseong Lake, the mountain lake of Qingcheng.
Most of the fifteen hundred swordsmen had not slept, weighed down less by fatigue than by grief.
After cremating their fallen comrades and finishing the memorial rites, they had eaten a simple meal and now prepared for the Inauguration march.
Just then, a young Daoist rushed up to Sect Master Jang Un. He was the keeper of Qingcheng's carrier pigeons.
"Sect Master! A letter has arrived from Clan Head Dokgo."
"Clan Head Dokgo?"
"Yes. It actually came at dawn, but at that time the situation was…"
Jang Un nodded, extending his hand.
"You were too distraught to deliver it. Never mind—give it here."
"Yes."
Jang Un wondered if it might be from the Murim Scholar, and quickly unfolded the paper.
Elder Cheonghyeon Jin asked,
"Sect Master, was it sent by the Murim Scholar?"
He too had the same thought. Indeed, all the Daoists nearby watched with hopeful curiosity.
Jang Un read the opening lines and answered calmly,
"Yes, senior brother. The Murim Scholar is currently in his hometown, but he entrusted his request to Clan Head Dokgo. Therefore…"
["Even ten guards cannot keep watch over a single thief. No matter how tightly one defends, a formidable expert might infiltrate, so once more I beg your attention. Please do not dismiss these words as a nuisance, but read carefully."]
Jang Un clicked his tongue.
"And yet we ourselves invited the thief within. Tch tch."
He sighed, but kept reading.
["Since the Cheonma Sword must subjugate Sichuan before the Demon Army's main force arrives, he will seek the greatest victories with the least losses. Against the gathered Qingcheng Sect, the most efficient methods narrow to two."]
"Two methods…"
["First is fire attack. Qingcheng Mountain is thickly forested, so fire would be a potent weapon. But in my judgment, the odds of this are low. The mountain has abundant water, so while it could cause chaos, mass casualties would be difficult."]
Jang Un nodded.
Indeed, from the vast Wolseong Lake before them to countless streams and even perennial wells, Qingcheng Mountain was rich in water.
["What I most fear is the second method. That is…"]
Jang Un's eyes widened to the point of tearing, his whole body trembling.
The others around him stiffened in alarm.
Cheonghyeon Jin asked nervously,
"Sect Master—what is it? What did the Murim Scholar write?"
Jang Un closed his eyes, sighing in anguish.
"Ahh… so Qingcheng's fate will end in such a futile manner?"
Back at the mountain gate.
Murong Lin gripped her soft sword, eyes trembling with disbelief as she stared at Baek Unhoe.
He was still smiling faintly.
Qingliang Daoist's shoulders sagged, and he shook his head.
"Impossible… When did he…?"
Pyeong-u Jong spoke, his face paling blue.
"Poison! Poison, you say?"
So it was. Without realizing it, the three of them had already been poisoned.
Baek Unhoe replied in an indifferent tone.
"It's Divine Immortal Waste (Shinseon-pye)."
Shinseon-pye!
A type of scattered-energy poison (San'gong Poison) that causes one's inner force to dissipate. Normally, one would not even know they were poisoned. But the moment they tried to draw upon their inner strength, the venom would flare violently, draining their qi—a terrifying poison indeed.
Murong Lin's body swayed as though she would collapse at any moment. Even so, neither Qingliang Daoist nor Pyeong-u Jong moved to support her.
The shock was simply too overwhelming. They could do nothing.
Murong Lin managed to steady herself, then glared at the Cheonma Sword.
"When…? With what did you poison us?"
Even as she asked, the answer struck her.
"Ah! So it wasn't Nogungak you were truly after. That was just a decoy to hide the real target!"
Pyeong-u Jong turned sharply to her and shouted,
"What do you mean?"
"What they really targeted was the well—the water everyone drinks! They poisoned it."
"...!"
"Disgracing Qingcheng's honor was a feint. It wasn't about rousing Qingcheng into a blind attack against the Sichuan Branch. No—the Cheonma Sword… as he so boldly declared—he truly came here to annihilate Qingcheng Sect atop Mount Qingcheng, to burn it all to ash. Just as he promised…"
Pyeong-u Jong stared at Murong Lin in shock, then ground his teeth, glaring at Baek Unhoe.
"Isn't this far too cowardly? Poison, of all things!"
Baek Unhoe only shrugged.
"Calling poison cowardly? Then what of you, who brought the Tang Clan—masters of poison—into the righteous Murim Alliance? Are you admitting that the Murim Alliance itself is dishonorable?"
"Th–that's…"
Pyeong-u Jong faltered, unable to answer. Baek Unhoe looked at him with contempt.
"Listen, boy. In war there is no such thing as honorable or cowardly. There is only one choice—kill, or be killed."
"..."
"I was meticulous. You were lax. The result? I am the one who kills, and you are the ones who die."
Qingliang Daoist shouted, unable to accept it.
"You call using poison 'meticulous'?"
"Of course. Can poison be used so easily? One must infiltrate. We infiltrated, and you were breached. Before that came the preliminary strike on Wudun-ri. Ah! To go even further back, it began with sending the Challenge Scroll. You dismissed it as mere psychological warfare, but that was exactly where you were first ensnared."
"..."
"You lost both justification and initiative, and so you became cornered mentally. You wondered: How can we reclaim justification? How can we regain advantage? How do we avoid being defeated in detail? Even with overwhelming numbers, you fools allowed yourselves to be chased in circles. Why? Because you laughed off my declaration of war as madness. Had you taken it seriously, you would never have made these blunders."
Murong Lin, Pyeong-u Jong, and Qingliang Daoist were struck dumb.
They had been utterly toyed with by the Cheonma Sword.
He had laid the board, and they were nothing more than monkeys dancing on it. And all within their own home ground.
Baek Unhoe continued.
"As for poisoning the well, that too required precision. If anyone had cultivated their qi or used inner force at dawn, they would have noticed. That's why we poisoned the well only after your pursuit ended this morning—taking into account the possibility of qi circulation or lightness skill being used during the chase."
Murong Lin's eyes widened in shock, and she shook her head.
"Impossible! The Demon Troops attacked the third Daoist Hall at dawn and then retreated down the mountain… Ah! They only pretended to retreat!"
Baek Unhoe laughed. Behind him, the Cheonrang Troop had already advanced to within thirty paces.
"Precisely. Besides, when does one normally cultivate qi circulation? Before bed or upon waking. But with your comrades slain and Nogungak burned, who could sleep peacefully? Even if one dozed before the memorial rites, exhaustion would delay cultivation for at least a day. In other words—you had no chance to discover it this morning."
Murong Lin could only acknowledge it.
This was a flawless strategy and tactical victory.
Cheonma Sword Baek Unhoe.
He was a terrifying man. Worse than the rumors claimed.
Murong Lin exhaled a bitter sigh, her face resigned.
"Now I truly understand. Why Clan Head Dokgo and League Lord Neung Unbi praised Ryu Yeong so highly. To have stood against a foe like you without yielding a single step…"
Her sorrowful eyes turned to Pyeong-u Jong, then to Qingliang Daoist, and finally back to the Cheonma Sword.
"We've lost. I admit it. Kill me, then."
At that moment, Qingliang Daoist suddenly lunged forward. Even if he died, he had resolved to make one final attempt—before the Cheonrang Troop arrived.
"Cheonma Sword, you currrrsssed one!"
His silver blade tore through the air, driving straight at Baek Unhoe. If the opponent had been anyone else, the sheer force of that strike would have daunted them. After all, it was the sword of a Daoist who had spent a lifetime in Qingcheng with the blade.
But the opponent was Cheonma Sword Baek Unhoe.
He stood still, watching the sword descend, then shifted slightly aside.
The strike missed by a hair's breadth, cutting only empty air. Baek Unhoe's fist shot out horizontally.
Kwa-jik!
Qingliang Daoist's face caved in, his head snapping back.
The devastating blow left him barely conscious. His grip slackened, and his sword fell.
Baek Unhoe casually kicked it as it dropped.
Swae-ek!
"Guhk!"
Qingliang Daoist's eyes bulged. His own sword had pierced him cleanly through the heart.
Baek Unhoe gave him a light push, then turned to Murong Lin.
"Didn't you ask me to kill you? The world calls you a genius, but this is pathetically foolish. If I meant to kill you, why would I waste words explaining everything?"
Murong Lin and Pyeong-u Jong froze as Qingliang Daoist's body fell with a dull thud.
Murong Lin whispered hoarsely,
"What do you mean?"
"The two of you will live. I said I would erase Qingcheng Sect—nothing more. And more importantly, I need you to carry a message."
By then, the Cheonrang Troop had arrived at his side, three hundred and fifty warriors dropping to one knee in unison.
Captain Gwan Taerang stepped forward.
"Give the order."
"Erase Qingcheng Sect from this world."
"By your command!"
"Leave the Sect Master to me. Do not touch him."
At those words, Gwan Taerang smiled faintly and bowed his head.
"You'll have to come quickly, then."
"Fufufu. Of course. I'll be right behind."
Gwan Taerang nodded and turned.
"Move!"
At once, the three hundred and fifty Cheonrang warriors surged up Mount Qingcheng, faster than before.
Murong Lin and Pyeong-u Jong stood frozen as the torrent of murderous qi swept past them.
The Cheonrang Troop was far more terrifying than rumor had painted them—each one exuded a killing aura beyond the ordinary.
Feeling their own helplessness, the two asked Baek Unhoe,
"What message must we deliver?"
Baek Unhoe smiled faintly.