The peaks of the Southern Edge Sect were traditionally a place of transcendent peace, where the scent of plum blossoms supposedly granted a man a decade of longevity just by breathing the air. But today, the fragrance of flowers was choked by the sharp, metallic tang of ozone and the heavy weight of a million silver coins.
The Assembly of Jade Swords was the Murim Alliance's crowning jewel—a centennial display of the Five Great Families' and Nine Great Sects' absolute hegemony. Beneath the sprawling canopy of the Ancient Blossom Pavilion, the "Orthodox" elites sat on gilded thrones. The Namgung Family, often called the "Rockefellers of the Murim" for their staggering wealth, occupied the highest seats, their robes woven with actual silver thread that shimmered like moonlight.
At the center of the vast white-jade arena stood Namgung Tae. He was the first-born "Genius" of his lineage, a man whose skin hummed with a constant, jagged blue aura—the Heavenly Bolt Art. To the hundreds of disciples watching, he was the pinnacle of the Peak Realm, a master who had achieved "Sword-Body Unison" at the tender age of twenty-two.
"Is there no one else?" Tae called out, his voice crackling with electricity. He toyed with a heavy, double-edged blade that sparked as it sliced the air. "Has the Southern Edge Sect run out of challengers, or are they simply afraid of a little thunder?"
The Southern Edge disciples shifted uncomfortably, their eyes downcast. But before the mockery could deepen, the massive doors of the pavilion—carved from thousand-year-old ironwood—groaned on their hinges.
The sound was not a bang, but a slow, deliberate scrape that silenced the arena.
A young man entered. He was a stark contrast to the opulence around him. He wore the simple, cloud-white linen of the hidden Yun Clan, his hair tied back with a strip of plain leather. He carried no sword. He carried no spear. His hands were empty, his posture so relaxed it bordered on insult. This was Yun Baek-Ho, the Young Patriarch of the West.
As he walked, his steps were silent, yet the plum blossoms falling from the trees seemed to avoid him, as if pushed by a gentle, invisible current. This was the first hint of the Universal Origin Scripture—the Yun Clan's core philosophy that the body is not a container for Ki, but a conduit for the world itself.
"A guest from the Yun?" The High Lord of the Alliance, Jo Mu-Sang, leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "You arrive uninvited and unarmed to the most prestigious sword assembly in the Central Plains. Does your Patriarch seek death, or is he merely senile?"
Namgung Tae laughed, a harsh sound like a lightning strike. "He looks like a common beggar who stole a clean shirt. Hey, boy! Did you lose your sword on the mountain trail? Or are the Yun so poor they fight with their fingernails?"
Baek-Ho stopped ten paces from the arena's edge. He did not look at the High Lord. He did not look at the glittering audience. His eyes remained fixed on Namgung Tae's feet.
"The Yun do not use iron to prove their worth," Baek-Ho said. His voice was quiet, yet it resonated in the dantians of everyone present, a phenomenon known as "Eternal Sound-Transmission" achieved only at the legendary Nature Realm stages. "We have observed your 'Justice' for five centuries. We have watched you hoard the heavens while the earth rots. I am not here to join your assembly. I am here to end it."
Tae's face flushed a deep, furious purple. "Arrogant brat! I'll carve those words into your back!"
He lunged. It was the Violet Gale Form—a movement so fast it left a lingering afterimage of lightning. To the first-rate warriors in the crowd, it was a strike that could not be avoided. Tae's blade was a blur of high-voltage Ki, aimed directly at Baek-Ho's throat.
Baek-Ho didn't draw a weapon. He didn't even raise a hand.
He simply took a single, deep breath.
"Absolute Realm: Martial Soul."
The air did not just move; it collapsed. A shockwave of pure, invisible pressure erupted from Baek-Ho's core. To the audience, it felt as if the entire weight of the Heavens-Reach Mountains had suddenly descended into the pavilion.
The white-jade floor beneath Namgung Tae didn't just crack—it disintegrated into fine powder. The "Genius" of the Alliance was slammed face-first into the dirt, his Heavenly Bolt aura snuffed out like a candle in a void. His silver-threaded robes shredded under the sheer atmospheric force.
Baek-Ho stood perfectly still in the center of the crater. The pressure he exerted was so precise that not a single plum blossom on the trees was disturbed, yet every "Peak" master in the pavilion felt their heart skip a beat, their internal Ki freezing in terror.
"The era of the Alliance is a fractured mirror," Baek-Ho said, looking down at the broken Namgung heir. "The Yun Clan is here to break it completely."
He turned on his heel and walked out the way he came. No one moved to stop him. For the first time in five hundred years, the Great Assembly was silent, save for the sound of dust settling on the ruins of a legacy.