Tang Nam-u stepped out toward the training ground in front of Taedang Hall, but he could barely move forward. All he could see was Old Hawk darting back and forth among the enemies—but that was it.
The powerful foes relentlessly pounded on the Tang Clan's defensive wall. To step out alone against them would have been nothing short of suicide, given his own skill.
He was in a body that could not die—not yet. Not until he delivered the message of the Scholar of the Martial World.
Precious time slipped away too quickly, his impatience peaking. Then, from somewhere ahead, came the furious roar of Elder Jeolgangdok.
"Clan Lord! It's no use—we can't hold any longer!"
The deep voice, brimming with inner power, echoed, and at once Tang Cheol-hyeon's reply burst out, equally infused with qi.
"Fall back! Retreat to the second defense line!"
"Clan Lord!"
"I'll follow right behind! Retreat quickly! Re-form the lines at the Grand Training Ground!"
The Tang warriors, who had resisted with desperate determination until they were on the verge of collapse, now began to pour back.
They withdrew in order, slipping into the alleys between Taedang Hall and the adjoining halls—never once losing discipline.
Even amid crisis, their orderly retreat made Tang Nam-u realize that after he and his father had left, special training had clearly been given.
"Nam-u, is that you?"
Amid the chaos of those retreating toward the Grand Training Ground, someone recognized him.
How could she not, even in such disorder? It was his mother, the woman known as the Venom Executioner.
Among the women of the Tang Clan, she was the roughest in speech and deed.
Hawk Tang Cheol-hyeon had long berated Tang Cheon-wi as timid—though in truth it was not timidity, but caution.
Regardless, he had doted on the Venom Executioner, Cheon-wi's wife, saying she should have been born a man. He even boasted that the courage of every Tang man combined could not match hers alone.
It was precisely because of that nature that she had stayed behind here alone, after sending her husband and son away.
Grabbing Nam-u's shoulders, her eyes trembling, she demanded,
"Why are you here?"
Nam-u, startled at the blood soaking her shoulders, asked back,
"Mother, are you badly hurt?"
"Why are you here? Don't tell me everyone has returned—"
Nam-u shook his head.
"I came alone."
"Why?"
"There's a message I must deliver to Old Hawk."
To Nam-u, that man was properly his great-grandfather, though he simply called him grandfather. The Venom Executioner furrowed her brow, scanning him. They had no time to linger.
"To the Patriarch? Then talk as we move."
Mother and son slipped among the retreating Tang warriors, speaking in low voices as they moved.
"A message from your father?"
"From the Scholar of the Martial World."
Her eyes shook—she knew of him only from rumor.
"The Scholar of the Martial World?"
"Yes. The orthodox sects from the Sword Incense Pavilion are on their way to save us. They should be here soon."
Her face brightened, but only for an instant—then shadowed again. Even if they all came, the result might not change.
"It's a kindness—but still…"
"Mother, the Scholar has devised a stratagem. Everyone is moving in unison with it, Father and the others too."
Nam-u wished her face would brighten again, but instead it grew darker.
"Ah… foolishness. How can the one responsible for the clan's future take such risks…"
Her face, blaming Tang Cheon-wi, was now steeped in despair. She had stood proudly here, ready to die, because she believed her husband, son, and disciples who carried the clan's future had escaped.
"Mother! Please trust me. We can win."
By now they had emerged from the alleyways into the Grand Training Ground, a vast courtyard surrounded by three-to-five story halls.
Tang warriors poured in, forming lines at the far end. The last traces of hope had already vanished from their faces, replaced not with despair, but grim resolve.
The sight of their clan lord fighting desperately in the enemy ranks had kept their spirit alive, and rage for fallen comrades stoked their will.
The Venom Executioner bit her lip. The dead were not yet many, but nearly thirty percent of the living bore wounds. And their foes—demonic sect warriors overflowing with stamina and inner power—were far stronger.
They had vowed at least to inflict grievous damage, to deny the enemy an easy victory. Yet now it seemed a bitter wish.
"Mother! Listen to me—we can't be distracted now."
She seized his arm, dragging him toward the opposite end of the training ground.
"What else can we do? It's Heaven's will. Stay and die with me."
"Mother!"
"What, will you flee again, in front of everyone watching?"
But as she shouted, her face tightened. Nam-u had shaken free of her grip, drawn a dagger from his sleeve, and slashed his own forearm.
"What are you doing?!"
A red line of blood welled up.
"Mother, if you won't listen, next I'll put the blade to my throat."
"…!"
"The Scholar and everyone else are refusing to give up—they're coming to save us. Please."
She met his eyes head on. That gaze was stubborn, unyielding.
"When you wear that look… no one can stop you."
"…"
"What exactly did the Scholar say he would do to save us?"
"There's no time. I must see Grandfather."
"…"
"He won't listen if it's just me. But if you help, he will."
Nam-u thought it fortunate he had met his mother first, rather than Old Hawk.
"If this is nothing but a waste of time…"
Nam-u clenched his teeth.
"Mother, I came here risking my life."
"…"
"You must believe your son. There really is no time."
Indeed, the last of the Tang warriors were coming through the alleys, enemies surging close behind with roars.
The Venom Executioner gave a small laugh.
"Well, perhaps it won't make much difference anyway."
Then she straightened, her face hard.
"Go to the Poison King Pavilion."
The Poison King Pavilion—three stories, behind the central Grand Training Ground where the Tang were reforming.
"Yes, Mother. But I say again—time is short."
"That impatient streak—you're just like your father. If the Scholar can truly aid us, I'll ask for nothing more."
She patted his shoulder and turned back, heading toward the alley she had come from. Nam-u cried out, startled.
"Mother!"
"You said yourself there's no time."
"But it's too dangerous to walk into the enemy lines—"
She cut him off with a laugh.
"Hahaha, only joking. I'll simply wait here for the Patriarch."
"But the enemy will soon—"
"Don't worry. It's the perfect time to hit them."
"What?"
As he frowned in confusion, he saw the elders—including Elder Jeolsudo—standing at the four entrances to the training ground.
The moment the Tang had all withdrawn and the enemy began to flood in, Jeolsudo suddenly bellowed,
"Activate it!"
At his cry, the elders struck down with force on the roofs of the towers beside them.
BOOOOM.
From the eaves of the surrounding halls, a storm of hidden weapons exploded outward.
Ssssshhh!
Nam-u's jaw dropped. Even he had not known of this. Who would have guessed such mechanisms were hidden inside the inner fortress?
Seeing his face, the Venom Executioner said,
"Remember—always keep thirty percent of your strength hidden. A secret trump card is what preserves life in moments of peril."
From all sides, a deluge of weapons rained down on the enemy pouring into the Grand Training Ground.
Poisoned darts, daggers, and throwing stones pelted down like a torrential storm.
"Uwaaaagh!"
"Shields—!"
"Take cover in the halls—guhhk!"
The black-path warriors who had packed the alleyways came charging in, only to collapse with screams. Most didn't even have the chance to cry out before they fell, struck down in an instant.
Unconsciously, Tang Nam-u let out a gasp of admiration.
A fierce pride swelled in his chest—pride that his clan was by no means weak.
"Mother, are there more such hidden mechanisms inside the inner fortress?"
The Venom Executioner bit down on a bitter smile.
"No. And even if there were, do you think the enemy would fall for it twice? They'll only grow more cautious."
Nam-u nodded with regret.
After the storm of hidden weapons passed, countless wounded writhed and groaned on the ground. At each entrance stood a few surviving experts, but they too were injured and stunned.
In but a single moment, the underlings that had filled the alleys were butchered. Fifty or sixty at each gate—over two hundred black-path warriors wiped out at once.
"This… this cannot be!"
Those who survived gnashed their teeth, half in disbelief and half in fury.
But the group at the right-side alley of Taedang Hall suddenly froze, their faces stiffening at the sight of an old man approaching from behind.
It was Hawk Tang Cheol-hyeon.
He barreled forward, cutting down enemy leaders with successive blasts of Black Fog Poison Palm. Dark, venomous mist coiled from his twin palms—the very last of his inner strength. That he had used so much just to carve a path of escape was evident.
"Keheheh… this is the price of underestimating the Tang Clan."
Swish—boom—sizzle.
A squad leader of the Asura Troop, caught too close to evade the poisonous palms, screamed as his face began to melt away.
"Wooooaaahhh!"
The Tang disciples, who had been holding their breath, roared in unison. They knew instinctively this might be the last cheer they would ever raise—so they shouted with every ounce of strength left.
The Venom Executioner rushed to Cheol-hyeon's side, sweat pouring cold down his face.
"Nam-u is here."
Cheol-hyeon forced a smile to hide his fatigue from his disciples—but her words startled him.
"Wh-what are you saying?"
"The orthodox sects from the Sword Incense Pavilion have come to aid us. They are nearly here."
"But…"
"You must hear this. It's from the Scholar of the Martial World—"
At those words, Cheol-hyeon's eyes gleamed.
"The Scholar of the Martial World? He is coming himself?"
His uncharacteristically fierce reaction stunned even the Venom Executioner.
"Yes… yes, that's right. He will arrive soon, but he sent a message that must be heard first…"
"I will hear it. Where is Nam-u?"
It had been his disregard for a warning that had led to this dire state. He would not repeat that mistake. Even if the Scholar brought no aid, he needed to listen.
His easy acceptance left the Venom Executioner oddly hollow. She had been ready to cut her own arm like her son to force him to listen.
"He is at the Poison King Pavilion…"
"Hold the line with the elders, command them for a short while. I will return shortly."
And with that, Tang Cheol-hyeon sped off toward the Poison King Pavilion.
The Tang disciples, seeing their leader vanish mid-battle, were shaken.
The Venom Executioner wrestled with how to explain this—but then the answer arrived on its own.
Those who had glimpsed Nam-u began whispering to their fellows:
"Reinforcements must be on the way."
"The Young Lord himself has come."
The murmurs sparked small flames of hope, and with that came a resurgence of morale.
The instinct of man—to cling even to the smallest hope—burned all the brighter in dire straits.
The Venom Executioner bit back a bitter smile. To her, it was a vain hope. But better than none at all.
"Mmm… only a little longer, he said. But how? Our tricks are all spent… all that's left is to fight to the death."
She watched as the elders who had triggered the hidden mechanism approached her—and then an idea struck.
"Elders."
She asked them to stand by the tower at the end of the left-side alley. They understood at once, grinning darkly.
The enemy would not dare rush in again. Their caution would buy precious time.
And indeed, they advanced gingerly. Not as recklessly as when they passed the outer walls—but enough to stall.
By the time they entered the Grand Training Ground, Tang Cheol-hyeon was already atop the platform.
The Venom Executioner studied his face—she knew his inner strength was spent. Yet his eyes blazed fiercely, and his hands clenched and opened repeatedly, a habit when his excitement peaked.
Has he… truly grasped at some hope?
Across the courtyard, Nok Ak-cheon glared murderously at the Tang. The demonic sect, the So-noeum Order, and the Four Emperors Palace warriors all ground their teeth in rage.
Nok Ak-cheon thundered:
"Not one of you will leave alive! Even the dead will be torn apart, and those who fled will be hunted to the ends of the earth until none of your seed remains!"
The Blood Priest Supreme Elder added, his voice dripping with malice:
"The price for deceiving us will be known to all under Heaven. And you Tang shall be that example."
Mabul and Sa Hyeolgang too roared in fury.
They had wanted a grand, clean victory, wiping the Tang away with minimal loss. Now, because of their tricks, it threatened to become a shameful win.
To be mocked by the Heavenly Demon Sword for such disgrace—that thought made their flesh crawl.
At last, Tang Cheol-hyeon spoke.
"Absurd. Should we have offered up our necks meekly to the thieves who invaded our home?"
Nok Ak-cheon glanced around. His forces were ready. His hand rose—when it fell, the Tang Clan would be finished.
"Kekeke… old hawk. Yes, you should have. Then you could have died more peacefully."
"You mad—!"
"You, I will save for last. You will watch as every disciple is slaughtered before your eyes."
Just as Nok Ak-cheon's hand began to drop in the attack signal, a new sound arose.
Tak, tak, tak.
The steady beat of hooves.
At that sound, Tang Cheol-hyeon burst into wild laughter.
"Hahahaha! Khahahahaha!"
All stared in disbelief—Tang disciples included.
Tak, tak, tak.
The hoofbeats grew louder behind the Tang ranks. Cheol-hyeon stopped laughing, his voice ringing out.
"Why arrive only now?"
No sooner had he spoken than a clear, melodious laugh floated through the air.
"Hahaha! A dramatic entrance is always best, Elder Hawk."
The voice was enchanting—so much so that for a moment, all forgot that life and death hung in the balance.
A white stallion appeared from the alley beside the Poison King Pavilion.
Upon it sat a young man in black robes, fanning himself with a golden fan.
At his sides walked Pyeong-U and Jo Jeon-hu. To the left and right strode Dokgo Seol and Namgung Su. Behind followed Sword Phantom Jang Deuk-mu, Fire Sword Hwa Ga-yeon, and Tang Hye-mi.
For them, Tang Cheol-hyeon gave his order:
"Make way."
The Tang disciples parted, murmuring as Cheon Ryu-yeong's group advanced.
Tak, tak, tak.
The hoofbeats echoed on, until at last they stopped in the very center of the Grand Training Ground.
Nok Ak-cheon, hand still raised, ruffled his own hair in frustration.
"You—who are you?"
Cheon Ryu-yeong smiled faintly.
"I thought I'd change the outcome of this battle a little."
"What?"
Nok Ak-cheon was too dumbfounded to speak. The Tang disciples too stared blankly, blinking in disbelief.
Elder Mong Hyeol-bi barked,
"You madman, who are you?!"
"Cheon Ryu-yeong. Lately I've been called the Scholar of the Martial World."
"…!"
Shock rippled across the black-path warriors. They had heard endless warnings about this very man from the Heavenly Demon Sword Baek Un-hoe.
The Blood Priest's eyes gleamed as he asked,
"When you say you'll change the outcome… do you mean you intend to hand victory to the Tang Clan?"
Before the words even finished, Mabul cut in.
"Ridiculous! Just a handful of you—"
Cheon Ryu-yeong interrupted him.
"Yes. That is exactly what I intend."
The Blood Priest fixed his gaze on him, then broke into mad laughter.
"Keheheh! Khahaha! Khahahaha!"
His wild laughter shook the air itself. Then he bit down on his lips, eyes flashing murderously.
"How, boy? How could you possibly defeat us?"
Cheon Ryu-yeong only shrugged.
"How we'll win… no. Let me tell you why we cannot lose."
A heavy silence fell.
Every eye—Tang, Demonic Sect, Four Emperors Palace, So-noeum Order, Asura Troop—fixed on Cheon Ryu-yeong's lips.
"There are three reasons."