Chapter 42

Chapter 42
At the Ak Sword Clan House (3)

“A message was left behind by the Blood Cult Leader?”

Sa-ma Il-jung’s briefing caught Je-gal Hyeon completely off guard.

“Indeed. The spilled blood at the scene was deliberately arranged into words.”

“And what did it say?”

“Sal-cheon.”

“Sal-cheon?”

Left directly within the private estate of the Alliance Lord, it served as an unmistakable challenge directed at Ak So-gun.

“It reads like an open vow to end the Alliance Lord’s life.”

Je-gal Hyeon gave a solemn nod, agreeing with Sa-ma Il-jung’s assessment.

“Who managed to identify that the residue belonged to Hyeol-cheon-ki, the signature art of the Blood Cult Leader?”

“It was documented in the findings submitted by the Iron Sword Unit Leader. The report noted that the technique seemed to have attained Great Success.”

“Great Success?”

Je-gal Hyeon cocked his head in disbelief.

“Did Chung Yang truly deduce that on his own?”

While Chung Yang had attained the Peak realm as expected of the warrior commanding the Iron Sword Unit, Je-gal Hyeon was skeptical that his perception was sharp enough to recognize that the Blood Cult Leader’s esoteric art had reached Great Success.

“Could it be that you shared news of this matter with Division Leader Baek So-cheon?”

“I did.”

Hearing this, Je-gal Hyeon allowed a faint, knowing grin to surface.

It made sense.

In truth, the only figures capable of accurately measuring the mastery of Hyeol-cheon-ki were Ak So-gun and Baek So-cheon.

The subordinate had suspected that specifying such an advanced realm would reveal Baek So-cheon as the true source of the insight. Not out of malicious intent toward Baek So-cheon, but simply because he planned to defend himself if Chung Yang ever rebuked him later by stating he merely relayed the observed facts.

“Must we view this as an open declaration of war from the Blood Cult?”

“There is little choice but to interpret it that way.”

This was not just any random location—it had been carved into the ancestral grounds of the Murim Alliance Lord. The underlying threat was clear: if they resolved to take his life, slaughtering everyone residing there would be child’s play.

“And what if the claim of Hyeol-cheon-ki reaching Great Success is genuinely true?”

If that evaluation originated from Baek So-cheon, its validity was beyond doubt.

Je-gal Hyeon shifted his gaze toward the tactician waiting before the Murim Seol-yeol-log, who stood quietly awaiting instructions.

Following a brief pause of deliberation, Je-gal Hyeon gave an approving nod and raised two fingers.

The tactician mounted the wooden ladder to adjust the Murim Seol-yeol-log.

MURIM RANKINGS
1st: Ak So-gun – Murim Alliance Lord
2nd: Myeol Saeng – Blood Cult Lord
3rd: Yeom Hwa-sin – Black Heaven Alliance Lord

The master of the Black Heaven Alliance was demoted to the third position. Since antiquity, tales had maintained that whoever achieved Great Success in Hyeol-cheon-ki would stand entirely peerless across the world.

Yet no living soul had witnessed such mastery with their own eyes, save for ancient chronicles dating back three centuries. In modern times, no practitioner who brought Hyeol-cheon-ki to Great Success had ever tested their might against the supreme masters of the Central Plains. Consequently, the updated order was far from absolute.

Ak So-gun retained the supreme position primarily as a matter of formal respect. In truth, a fully perfected Hyeol-cheon-ki might eclipse even the Alliance Lord. Alternatively, the Black Heaven Lord might utterly crush it in real combat, reducing three centuries of myth to mere foolishness.

Whether one sat at the very pinnacle or directly beneath it was ultimately secondary.

The true peril stemmed from the reality that two of those three evenly matched titans stood united in an alliance.

The tactician attending to the roster also revised the record positioned at the very base, where Baek So-cheon was cataloged. The previous title marking him as a Mun-seong Branch Regular Warrior was scrubbed away.

SPECIAL OBSERVATION ENTRY
Baek So-cheon – Murim Alliance Hyun-cheon-dae Leader

Je-gal Hyeon kept his eyes fixed upon Baek So-cheon’s written name for several quiet moments. He harbored a faint hope that this subtle amendment at the very foundation might eventually balance out the turbulent upheaval occurring at the summit.

Whispers began to filter quietly throughout the hierarchy—passing from high commanders to division heads, and subsequently down to unit captains—revealing that Baek So-cheon had returned to assume leadership of Hyun-cheon-dae.

Though no formal decree enforcing silence was issued this time, lingering habits from past events ensured that nobody dared to speak of Baek So-cheon openly.

Not a single soul arrived to commemorate the establishment of Hyun-cheon-dae, nor did anyone risk picking petty territorial disputes. While curiosity burned at a fever pitch throughout the compound, not a solitary guest walked through the door, creating an eerie, contradictory atmosphere of pure stillness.

Naturally, a handful of exceptions existed.

No Woong, who had recently been placed in charge of the 1st Squad 3rd Unit within the Iron Sword Unit, arrived accompanied by three or four Iron Sword comrades, utterly disregarding the watchful eyes of onlookers.

Back when Baek So-cheon had been cast down to the status of a common foot soldier, No Woong had resolutely declared a hunger strike in protest. Every warrior accompanying him carried debts of gratitude, large and small, dating back to their shared service under the Iron Sword banner.

Countless others owed him their lives and fortunes as well, yet only these few were willing to march out in plain view without hesitation.

They stirred up a brief uproar, loudly demanding an immediate transfer into Hyun-cheon-dae, before eventually taking their leave.

Another person held back, convinced that drawing too close would ultimately bring harm upon her, so she stayed away entirely. She understood that distance was the wiser choice.

Then, an unexpected figure made an appearance at Hyun-cheon-dae today—a guest whom nobody across the Alliance would have envisioned: Iron Sword Unit Leader Chung Yang.

“May I ask your identity?”

Chung Yang offered a flat reply to Beon Saeng’s inquiry.

“I am the leader of the Iron Sword Unit.”

“Sir!”

Beon Saeng straightened his spine instantly, answering with vigorous respect.

“Is Division Leader Baek currently inside?”

“He is! At present, he is undergoing martial training within the rear courtyard dojo. If you would please step into the office, I shall go inform him at once.”

“Show the way.”

“Right away, sir.”

Beon Saeng led the way up toward the executive chamber on the highest level.

With every step he took, Beon Saeng’s heart thudded violently against his ribs.

Here walked the commander of the very elite force he had spent years dreaming of entering. Baek So-cheon had once held that prestigious post, but in Beon Saeng’s heart, Baek So-cheon had evolved into something far more profound.

This Chung Yang, however, held the legitimate, active authority over the Iron Sword Unit.

He escorted the guest up the winding staircase to the office entrance.

Just as Chung Yang reached for the door, Beon Saeng spoke up with polite hesitation.

“Entering the Iron Sword Unit has always been my ultimate ambition.”

“Truly? In that case, you have no business lingering in a quarters like this.”

“Excuse me?”

“How could a warrior harboring aspirations for the Iron Sword Unit ever emerge from such an untidy, second-rate hovel?”

Leaving those words behind, Chung Yang pushed into the room.

Beon Saeng stood frozen, his lips pressed into a sour pout.

The radiant admiration he had held toward the Iron Sword commander collapsed into fragments in that single exchange.

Yet when weighed against the deep-seated resentment Chung Yang harbored toward Baek So-cheon, his conduct was remarkably tame.

Meanwhile, Baek So-cheon remained fully engrossed in solitary practice within the dojo.

The rhythm of his workout today diverged sharply from his usual regime, marking the exact threshold where he was crossing into his first genuine mastery.

Focusing his entire being, he set in motion the first through third forms of Beon-cheon Gu-gwon.

Bang! Baaang!

Shockwaves detonated through the empty space. A sudden gale whipped up from absolute stillness. Drifting mist seemed to catch the rising wind, carrying Baek So-cheon’s strikes and kicks outward in a breathtaking display. Regardless of the savage momentum an adversary might wield, the profound artistry woven into Beon-cheon Gu-gwon caught and redirected that hostile force straight back toward its originator.

As the tempest settled, heavy waves appeared to crash across the floor. Moving like an acrobat riding buoyant timber across churning rapids, Baek So-cheon’s frame traversed the open hall with effortless grace. His footwork proved blindingly fast, flawless, and striking in its elegance. Through this fluidity, all sixteen protective evasion patterns designed to neutralize oncoming assaults were executed to absolute perfection.

When the crashing tide pulled back, a vortex of fierce thunder and lightning flared to life. Transitioning past mere defense and deflection, Baek So-cheon unleashed a punishing storm of offensive retribution.

Papapapang!

Who could fathom that such overwhelming ferocity was manifested without a shred of internal energy?

The fabric of the air warped and fractured beneath the relentless flurry of Baek So-cheon’s fists and sweeping kicks.

In this manner, all twenty-nine sequences comprising the opening three forms of Beon-cheon Gu-gwon were brought into flawless reality.

“Hoo.”

Bringing the sequence to a close, Baek So-cheon regulated his breathing and restored his stance.

“It is accomplished!”

These were the very first words to pass his lips since he first set out to comprehend Beon-cheon Gu-gwon.

The foundational trio of forms was now thoroughly mastered within his flesh and bone.

The profound enlightenment gleaned from his dialogue with the prisoner beneath the earth had drastically shortened the path to completion.

These opening forms did not rely upon internal energy in the slightest; they functioned entirely by harnessing the adversary’s momentum in harmony with the wondrous foundations of Beon-cheon Gu-gwon. Even if one were to pump genuine internal power into the movements, the ultimate outcome would remain identical. It stood unchallenged as the most magnificent martial art under the heavens.

Yet that initial flash of satisfaction soon deteriorated into cold apprehension.

The instant the third form reached absolute culmination, a stark truth settled into his thoughts: this technique alone would never restore his ruined dantian.

He had nursed a quiet hope that unlocking such a peerless system might grant him a sudden, transformative revelation regarding his internal injuries.

Yet as he worked through the motions, he had brought them to completion without requiring any sudden divine realization. His natural martial genius and the boundless depth of the combat wisdom he carried were simply too vast; the art fell into place smoothly without a sudden epiphany. In truth, he had vastly underestimated his own inherent gifts and the sheer breadth of his accumulated experience.

Perfecting the forms would guarantee his personal protection in a fight, but extracting a miracle capable of rebuilding a shattered energy center appeared utterly impossible.

The dilemma grew far more pressing with news of Myeol Saeng stepping forward with a perfected Hyeol-cheon-ki…

Reaching down, Baek So-cheon parted his robe to examine his lower abdomen. A grotesque, mangled scar marked the spot where his energy vessel had been violently ripped away.

He yearned for it deeply. He longed for the days when torrential energy surged through his meridians, allowing him to trade blows with dozens of experts back-to-back without ever losing his rhythm or breath. It was impossible not to grieve that lost power.

Must I truly resort to that forbidden method in the end?

A shadowed intensity settled over Baek So-cheon’s gaze. Throughout his life, he had stayed firmly within the bounds of measured rationality… yet he could sense that the hour for a reckless, desperate gamble was drawing dangerously near.

Right then, Beon Saeng came running in to deliver an urgent message.

“The leader of the Iron Sword Unit has arrived to see you.”

Inside Baek So-cheon’s office, Chung Yang waited patiently in his seat.

The working table, seating, and wooden cabinets were visibly aged and deteriorating. The entire chamber resembled the modest quarters assigned to a low-ranking officer.

The room was night and day compared to his own extravagant headquarters.

Hmph! Putting on a cheap display of modesty.

Had the place been decorated with luxury, he would have sneered at the reckless indulgence; had it been modestly tasteful, he would have mocked it for being hopelessly bland.

The entrance swung inward, and Baek So-cheon walked into the room.

“It is good to see you.”

Baek So-cheon’s reception was disarmingly polite, causing Chung Yang to feel a sudden twinge of discomfort within.

Hmph! Go ahead and maintain that courteous mask; I certainly won’t fall for your games.

Chung Yang offered a stiff, unnatural grin as he gestured toward the furniture.

“Would you care for tea?”

“I would. Waiting has left me parched.”

Baek So-cheon instructed Beon Saeng to bring in a pitcher of chilled tea.

Taking note of Baek So-cheon’s damp, perspiration-stained uniform, Chung Yang let out a dry query.

“You still bother with physical training?”

The unspoken disdain carried an obvious bite, dripping with clear mockery. Yet the answer he received was delivered with straightforward honesty.

“Every single day without a pause. With great diligence.”

“I was not inquiring about your work ethic.”

“Unit Leader Chung.”

“What is it?”

“Do you still train yourself?”

Chung Yang stiffened slightly. When had he last dedicated time to rigorous training?

Ever since breaking into the Peak realm, his martial growth had ground to a complete standstill. Every drop of sweat had yielded nothing. That had been roughly four or five years past. Realizing he had reached his ceiling, he had gradually set aside his discipline amid the ongoing chaos of regional conflicts.

Baek So-cheon spoke up without hesitation.

“You ought to keep training.”

“Is a helpless mouse trying to lecture a cat out of worry?”

“Rather, the mouse is worrying over the cat, ensuring the predator remains sharp enough to make a proper kill.”

Chung Yang shot him a piercing scowl. In his rise through the ranks, he had crossed paths with countless martial artists and considered himself an expert in reading motives and managing interpersonal tensions. Yet Baek So-cheon was infuriatingly elusive. Trying to pin him down felt like grasping at smoke.

At times, he came across as prickly, volatile, and sharp-tongued; at others, he appeared remarkably thoughtful, earnest, and composed.

“Just what kind of person are you beneath all this?”

“Ask me another time. Once I figure that out for myself, I will gladly let you know.”

“Assuming you ever do.”

Baek So-cheon set pleasantries aside and turned directly toward the true reason for the visit.

“What brings you to my door today?”

“Nothing complicated.”

The Alliance maintained a specialized drill system driven by complex mechanical contraptions.

“How would you feel about acting as the guest instructor for a day?”

Baek So-cheon let out a soft, amused laugh.

The scheme behind the offer was transparent. Chung Yang was eager to orchestrate an embarrassing spectacle, forcing a man devoid of internal power to oversee the grueling regimen. The ordinary training within the Iron Sword Unit was notorious for its cruelty, and the sessions involving automated mechanisms were perilous enough to claim lives.

“What is so amusing?”

“I am simply touched that you continue to keep me in your thoughts.”

“No need to offer gratitude. Even if relations between us are sour, that courtyard was once your primary domain, was it not? The men would surely be delighted to receive your guidance.”

“Very well. I accept.”

Baek So-cheon agreed without a shred of hesitation.

“Are you serious?”

Chung Yang had arrived fully prepared with a vast arsenal of persuasions, ranging from gentle flattery to pointed jabs at the man’s pride. To have the invitation accepted on the very first try caught him completely off balance.

“When is this session scheduled?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Understood.”

“Then I shall rely on your presence.”

Though pleased to have secured his goal, Chung Yang could not shake a growing sense of unease.

This man is hardly the sort to walk into an arrangement so meekly.

Once the visitor took his departure, Beon Saeng stepped back into the chamber.

“He could not even be bothered to carry a simple welcoming gift! Exactly what did that man come here to ask?”

“A case of the measles.”

“Pardon?”

Watching Beon Saeng’s utter bewilderment, Baek So-cheon offered a quiet, subtle smile before finishing his thought.

“A trial of the measles that a person simply has to endure once in life.”