Chapter 565

The sky came into view again. It was a sight he had grown used to.

Being beaten to the ground countless times had numbed him to the experience.

[Disciple.]

He raised his head at the voice. His neck throbbed with pain as he lifted it to see Paejon staring down at him with a peculiar expression.

It seemed like the old master had something to ask, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

[What is it?]

[I’ve been wondering.]

[About?]

[What are you planning to do next?]

[Huh?]

The question came out of nowhere. He’d just been taking a moment to catch his breath after an intense beating, and now this?

[What’s with the sudden question? Are you planning to map out my life’s goals?]

[Why would I waste my time on something so tedious?]

Paejon’s expression clearly showed how little interest he had in such matters.

What the hell? Isn’t he supposed to be my master?

[So?]

Still baffled, he asked, and Paejon finally responded.

[Didn’t I tell you last time?]

[What exactly?]

Considering the number of things Paejon had said, he couldn’t recall offhand. With a sigh, Paejon explained.

[I said it’s about time you started doing what you want.]

[Ah.]

The memory came back to him. It had been roughly three months ago.

That was when he’d successfully learned Tua Pacheonmu, the Two-Step Sky Dance. Upon completing it, Paejon had said to him:

[This should be enough.]

He’d looked satisfied, even proud.

[At least now, you won’t get beaten up wherever you go.]

After two and a half years of intense training under Paejon, he had finally earned the old master’s approval.

[You’re ready now.]

[Go ahead and shake up Zhongyuan as you see fit.]

Paejon had said this with a sense of eager anticipation.

Three months had passed since then.

[Yet here you are, still training. Why haven’t you left?]

Paejon now looked at him with a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

Seriously, if anyone should be frustrated, it’s me.

[Are you really giving me a hard time for focusing on my training?]

He couldn’t believe it. Instead of encouragement, he was getting scolded for staying dedicated to his training.

Paejon’s attitude left him completely dumbfounded.

[Didn’t you tell me to train until I was exceptional?]

[That’s just something people say. No one lives by training alone.]

[…Says the guy who...]

[What?]

[Nothing. Just clearing my throat.]

Whoosh—!

He turned his head just in time to dodge Paejon’s fist.

It had been close—just a fraction of a second slower, and his head would have been smashed.

What was amusing, however, was the faint look of satisfaction that appeared in Paejon’s eyes as he dodged.

[Well, well. Look at you.]

A few months ago, dodging would have been out of the question. Back then, he would have taken the hit outright.

Now, he could avoid a few strikes.

However...

[Could you stop trying to hit me out of nowhere?]

While his reflexes had improved, it also reinforced just how terrifyingly skilled Paejon was.

The awakening of Heavenly Sight, a gift from mastering Tua Pacheonmu, had enhanced his perception.

It allowed him to see the flow of internal energy—the direction and intent behind a martial artist’s movements—before they acted.

By observing the energy itself, he could predict their next move. It was a remarkable ability.

But it came with a flaw.

[…Ugh…]

He rubbed his temples, groaning softly.

That was the downside of Heavenly Sight. Using it for an extended period resulted in intense eye strain and splitting headaches.

The energy flows he observed were complex and chaotic. Even if he could predict movements, reacting in time was a different matter altogether.

He had only used it for a few minutes, and already his head was pounding.

[How do you endure this, old man?]

Paejon had claimed to use Heavenly Sight during all his duels—and even in daily life. He said he was so used to it by now that it no longer bothered him.

The excruciating pain that came with using Tua Pacheonmu was another matter entirely.

Every technique Paejon had created was absurdly demanding.

It wasn’t just power for the sake of power; the price of wielding it was severe.

In a way, it was almost more demonic than demonic energy itself.

[Stop changing the subject and answer me.]

[Answer what?]

[What are you planning to do from here?]

Rubbing his temples to ease the headache, he saw Paejon narrowing his eyes slightly as he pressed the question.

[You were so eager to turn Zhongyuan upside down. So why are you still holed up here? That’s what I’m curious about.]

[I just find training fun, that’s all.]

[Sure you do.]

One might think a master would take pride in their disciple’s dedication to training.

But Paejon’s attitude defied all expectations.

[And I suppose all the plotting with your subordinates is just for fun as well?]

[…How do you even know about that?]

[There are only three places in your clan where my eyes and ears don’t reach. Do you really think I wouldn’t notice?]

Three places?

One was likely his father’s private quarters.

Another could be the lodging where Cheonjon resided.

And the third...

Perhaps the Gu clan’s underground chamber?

The realization made him gulp unconsciously. Quickly, he attempted to change the subject.

[Didn’t you say I could do whatever I wanted after earning your permission?]

Once he had mastered Tua Pacheonmu, Paejon had declared that he was free to act as he pleased.

[I did. I certainly did.]

Paejon sighed deeply before continuing.

[But watching you, I can’t help but worry.]

[About me?]

[No. I’m worried about what disaster you’re holding back and when it’ll explode. That’s what concerns me.]

What kind of absurd statement was that?

He frowned at Paejon, unable to hide his irritation.

[What have I even done to deserve this?]

[Not yet. But it’s clear you’re planning something.]

[…Ahem.]

At that, he couldn’t deny it.

He

was

planning something, after all.

Training so intensely and building his foundation was all part of preparing for it.

Paejon might have said he was ready, but he didn’t think so yet.

What he aimed to achieve required much more than his current abilities.

At the very least, he needed to close the gap a bit further.

Just a little more.

[It’s not like I’m planning anything outrageous.]

He met Paejon’s gaze and added:

[There are two people I need to crush.]

Two figures he had to stop at all costs.

[And I’ve thought of a way to take them both down at once.]

One plan to counter Cheonma’s upcoming chaos and to face the Blood Demon at the same time.

It was something only he could accomplish.

The plan was simple, almost laughably so.

He would strip Cheonma of his influence and power, disrupt the chaos he sought to unleash, and simultaneously remind Zhongyuan of the looming threat of bloodshed, forcing them to prepare for the future.

At the same time...

I’ll secure the power I need to face Cheonma and the Blood Demon.

It was a gamble, one that seemed impossible and riskier than anything else.

But he believed it was worth attempting.

The problem was...

To remind the Murim Alliance of the danger posed by the impending bloodshed, an incident will be necessary.

I had discreetly spread information about handling crimson-ranked beasts through various intelligence networks, but changing perceptions about a disaster that hadn’t yet occurred was impossible through information alone.

Humans are creatures of apathy.

They tend to think absurdly lightly of future dangers.

So...

I needed a method.

And I found the simplest one.

It was a straightforward logic.

If people are indifferent to something that hasn’t happened,

Then you make it happen to force them to take notice.

To antagonize and shake the foundation of the Murim Alliance,

And to remind them of a being with overwhelming power and influence that once made Zhongyuan tremble.

The leader of the Demonic Cult, Cheonma.

His very existence had, at one time, united the fractured Murim Alliance, which had been rotting away under the weight of misplaced honor and righteousness.

He had forced them to gather unprecedented forces and wage a full-scale war.

The phenomenon born from the crisis that was Cheonma.

…And so.

If a crisis can serve such a purpose,

Then creating one is simple enough.

That much, I could certainly manage.

In other words,

In a world where such a "crisis" has not yet appeared...

[I think it’s time I staged a little play.]

It meant I had decided to

become

the crisis myself.

**************

The world swayed.

"...Brother."

A voice reached his ears, though his heavy eyelids refused to fully open.

"Come on, wake up...!"

It was an urgent voice—Gu Ryeonghwa's, perhaps? He barely cracked his eyes open, straining to focus.

Wrist.

He faintly moved his arm.

Clink.

Something was bound around his wrist. Good—it seemed the shackles were securely fastened again.

After spitting up blood earlier, he had wrapped his injuries, collected himself, and returned to the prison. He had unleashed the aftershocks to buy time, ensuring no one would approach the dungeons immediately.

He slipped back into the cell, leaving no evidence behind—or so he hoped. If there were any traces, Nahi would have handled them.

Settling back into his original position in the cell, he must have...

...fallen asleep?

It seemed he had briefly lost consciousness.

A mistake.

I didn’t realize how exhausted I was.

He should have stayed alert no matter what. Succumbing to the strain on his body and passing out was unacceptable.

Hum.

He circulated a small amount of internal energy through his body to assess his condition.

The chaotic mess of his insides was still palpable.

"Tch..."

Although his body was slowly recovering, the internal injuries remained severe. He’d need at least two months to properly heal.

...At the very least, I shouldn’t have used Hwarunseong.

The attempt to summon a sun in the void had drained half the energy in his heart. Forcing himself to use a power that exceeded his cultivation level had resulted in his energy compensating for the strain.

It’s not sustainable.

Even though he thought he had met the conditions to use it, a single attempt had left him in this state.

If he were to do this again, he’d need a more efficient method.

As he contemplated alternatives...

"...Brother, please, wake up."

The voice pulled his attention back.

Ah, right—Gu Ryeonghwa had been calling him. He quickly responded.

"Ah, sorry. I must’ve dozed off for a moment. I didn’t sleep well last night."

He suppressed the evidence of his injuries with his energy. As long as there were no visible signs, it should be fine.

Gu Ryeonghwa seemed about to say something when...

"You must’ve been very tired."

Another voice cut in.

He turned his head to see the Sword Queen standing there. She looked just as worn out as he felt, likely from the recent events.

Feigning ignorance, he gave her a polite smile.

"Your presence here must mean everything has been resolved, correct?"

Clink.

He subtly raised his shackled wrists for her to see.

"It’s getting a bit tiresome. I’d appreciate it if we could clear up this misunderstanding soon. I swear I didn’t steal anything."

He had to act as though he knew nothing about the recent events.

His face had been concealed by a mask, his body altered, and even his voice changed. There should be no traceable evidence.

Still, he remained cautious.

The Sword Queen’s expression darkened slightly before she spoke in a calm tone.

"I would like to release you, but for now..."

"It’s fine."

Before she could finish, another voice interrupted.

A figure appeared from the shadows, causing him to click his tongue inwardly.

I didn’t even sense them.

Perhaps because of his injuries, his sensory perception was dulled. He hadn’t noticed this presence, even when it was so close.

Normally, such a mistake would be impossible. Especially with someone radiating this level of presence.

The newcomer smiled at the Sword Queen and spoke.

"If anything, we should be the ones apologizing for our discourtesy, Sword Queen."

Whoosh.

A gust of wind billowed the elderly man’s pristine white robes.

On the robes, bold characters were embroidered, moving with the fabric.

"Justice ."

The meaning was unmistakable.

This was a man who embodied unwavering justice and righteousness, the heart of the orthodox sects.

The leader of the Murim Alliance.

The Alliance Leader himself.

With sharp features, snow-white hair, a neatly groomed beard, and a body still robust despite his age, the man exuded a formidable aura that instinctively made his body tense.

The presence he emanated was in an entirely different league from Yu Baek, who had been called the

Shining Star Sword

.

...So he’s really here.

The first-ever leader from an orthodox sect, one of Zhongyuan’s Ten Grand Masters, part of the Seven Irons and Three Fists—

The head of Wudang, the Wudang Sword Saint.

He had come to investigate the events that had unfolded here.

"...Huh?"

A strange sound escaped his lips.

Everyone turned to look at him, puzzled.

This wasn’t a moment to let such a noise slip out. Even he swallowed nervously after realizing it.

It wasn’t intentional.

But...

He couldn’t help it.

What is that old man doing here?

Standing quietly beside the Wudang Sword Saint was another old man.

Seeing him, he couldn’t suppress his reaction.

Under the weight of everyone’s stares...

"Hoho."

A line of curiosity and amusement settled on the mysterious elder’s face as his gaze landed on him.

"How curious. Very curious indeed."

The elderly man, hunched over as if his back had been bent for decades, held a cane to support himself. His bushy, unkempt eyebrows drooped over his eyes, almost concealing them entirely.

Thud.

The elder approached. A faint, unpleasant odor wafted around him, as though he hadn’t washed in ages.

Yet no one frowned at the smell—not even him.

If they knew the man’s identity, none of them would dare show disrespect.

The elder stopped before him and spoke.

"Pleasure to meet you, child."

Indeed, he recognized the elder.

He had recalled this man not long ago. How could he forget?

"Do you know who I am?"

The elder asked cheerfully.

"...Yes, I do."

He answered with certainty.

"Hoho, then go ahead and guess."

"..."

After a brief hesitation, he finally spoke.

"It’s an honor to meet the leader of the Beggar’s Sect."

Hearing this, the elder’s bushy eyebrows lowered slightly.

This man was none other than the leader of the Beggar’s Sect, the faction known as the Ears of the Murim Alliance.

Ubong Chwigye, Dobong.

And not only that—

The true Ghost Thief that Wudang had sought to manipulate.