Chapter 750

Smack!

“Guhh—!”

As Peng Zhou was being beaten to a pulp, the entire audience in the pavilion stood frozen, unable to utter a word.

“…What is happening?”

“This is… too much!”

Their eyes weren’t fixed on the bloodied Blade King but on the young man tearing him apart.

The most talked-about youth in Hanam.

The one who had claimed the title of the next greatest martial artist, surpassing even the Divine Dragon.

He had revealed his hidden strength and shot to fame overnight.

An unmatched talent whose power defied his age.

People whispered that he was a monster.

Some even claimed that he had already reached Hwagyeong—the highest martial state—when he was still a teenager.

After the Divine Dragon incident, the young prodigy had earned the nickname So Yeomra and rumors had spread that he had attained Hwagyeong.

But the Murim Alliance officially declared the Divine Dragon as the youngest to reach Hwagyeong, putting those rumors to rest.

And yet—

“Just what the hell is that?”

Now, looking at So Yeomra, no one could deny it.

“…The Blade King is being utterly destroyed?”

This was the central pavilion.

A place filled with the most powerful leaders—sect masters, clan heads, and merchants who controlled vast territories.

People who commanded respect and influence in the martial world.

And yet, none of them could keep their composure as they watched So Yeomra.

“Didn’t they say he just turned twenty?”

“We saw him fight the Divine Dragon, but… this is ridiculous.”

Ridiculous.

That was the only word to describe what they were witnessing.

He wasn’t just another talent.

If the Divine Dragon had only taken his first steps into Hwagyeong, then So Yeomra was already soaring.

Against the Blade King, he didn’t retreat—not even once.

Boom—!!

The explosion of Qi rippled outward, shaking the pavilion itself.

Peng Zhou, the Blade King.

Despite rumors that his strength was overrated, he was still a martial artist who had attained Hwagyeong.

Yet he bled under So Yeomra’s fists, staggering and unable to retaliate.

It wasn’t a duel.

It was a one-sided beating.

“…What… what do you even call this?”

No one could answer.

Was “genius” enough to describe it?

Even “monster” felt too small.

So Yeomra defied explanation.

“…This can’t be real.”

It felt like a hallucination—or a nightmare.

But it wasn’t.

It was the nightmare of every martial artist present.

A sight too terrifying to accept.

The Blade King being utterly crushed?

Impossible.

And yet, it was happening before their eyes.

“Heh.”

A chuckle broke the silence.

An elderly man with snow-white hair—

The sect master of Mount Hua.

One of the Ten Great Masters, known as Plum Blossom Sage.

“That boy never fails to surprise.”

He had already been stunned during the duel with the Divine Dragon.

But this fight?

This was beyond anything he could have imagined.

‘Just how much is he hiding?’

What exactly lay beneath the surface of that young man?

To call it mere talent or brilliance felt insufficient.

‘Like father, like son?’

Or perhaps—

‘Like grandfather, like grandson.’

Even those thoughts failed to capture it.

For the Plum Blossom Sage, it was enough to witness this moment.

‘I’m seeing the birth of a new era.’

The dawn of a new age.

And at its center—

Yes, this young man would stand at the forefront.

That much was certain.

While the Plum Blossom Sage pondered, a voice interrupted.

“Judging by that look, you’re brooding again.”

“….”

The Plum Blossom Sage turned, wrinkling his nose.

“…No wonder. I thought I smelled something unpleasant.”

“Huh? What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying. I heard that—”

“Never mind.”

The man was Ubong Chwigye, the leader of the Beggar’s Sect.

He smirked and jabbed at the Plum Blossom Sage.

“Still sulking because all your disciples got eliminated?”

“….”

The Plum Blossom Sage’s face twitched slightly.

Ubong Chwigye wasn’t wrong.

Mount Hua’s disciples had all been knocked out early.

He’d deliberately brought younger, inexperienced students, but even their most promising member had lost in the preliminaries.

Meanwhile, Ubong Chwigye continued, twisting the knife.

“At least we didn’t get disqualified before it even started like you.”

“…What did you say?”

Ubong Chwigye flinched.

The Beggar’s Sect hadn’t even participated in the tournament.

Because—

“You know we can’t join as long as we’re tied to the Murim Alliance.”

The Beggar’s Sect had direct ties to the Alliance, so they were barred from competing.

“Hmph. Not that it matters. Even if you had joined, what could a bunch of beggars possibly achieve?”

The Plum Blossom Sage smirked, twisting the knife back.

“You—!”

Ubong Chwigye ground his teeth.

But then—

Boom—!!

The ground shook, pulling their attention back to the arena.

“Haha. Looks like it’s over.”

The Plum Blossom Sage grinned while Ubong Chwigye scowled.

“…We’ll talk later.”

“Unfortunately, I’m busy. Maybe next time. Kekeke.”

“Damn you…!”

Despite their bickering, their eyes stayed on the arena.

The massive figure of Peng Zhou lay sprawled on the ground.

His face was unrecognizable, swollen beyond recognition.

The Blade King had been completely and utterly destroyed.

“…So it’s over.”

“He actually won.”

The realization hit like a thunderclap.

The Blade King—

A member of the Six Pillars—

Had fallen to a youth barely past twenty.

And not just fallen—he’d been beaten senseless.

The implications were staggering.

The Peng Clan was ruined.

And the martial world would never be the same.

As the crowd reeled from the aftermath—

“The winner is Gu Yangcheon—”

Clang! Clang!

Suddenly, swords were drawn.

“…What’s this?”

Sharp, oppressive energy filled the air.

Everyone felt it.

“Ubong… what’s going on?”

Before he could answer—

Rumble—!!!

The ground shook violently.

“Guhh!”

“What the hell—?!”

Rumble—!!!!

An earthquake?

As the crowd staggered, a few managed to hold their ground—

And saw it.

The clear sky above began to shift as something massive and crimson etched itself across the heavens.

Zzzzzing—!!!

A brilliant red line stretched out, vast enough to blanket the horizon.

“What the hell is that…?”

The enormous crimson streaks started connecting, forming an ominous pattern in the sky.

As the Sword Emperor studied it, another disturbance erupted.

Fwoosh—!!

“W-What now?!”

A translucent crimson barrier descended, encasing the pavilion.

It shared the same hue as the patterns in the sky—an unearthly red.

Alarmed, several martial masters reacted immediately.

Swoosh—!!

The Plum Blossom Sage, the Sword Emperor, and the Sword Saint of the Murim Alliance moved in unison, unleashing devastating slashes at the barrier.

BOOOOM—!!!

The combined force of three of the Ten Great Masters roared toward the crimson veil, a power strong enough to reduce entire mountains to rubble.

Paang—!!

Yet the attacks dissolved upon impact, leaving the barrier completely untouched.

Wooooom—!!

The crimson light continued to envelop the entire pavilion, sealing it completely.

“This can’t be…”

The Sword Emperor’s brow furrowed deeply.

He wasn’t the only one.

Everyone present felt it—the instinctual dread.

Something catastrophic had begun in Hanam.

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

Hanam—

At the heart of the Murim Alliance, the sky bore an ominous pattern—a spell.

An old man stood beneath it, his eyes alight with fervor.

“It’s finally happening…!!”

Decades of preparation.

He had honed his techniques, poured every drop of hatred into this single ritual.

Now, his life’s work unfolded in the heavens above.

“Haha! It’s finally coming true!”

The elder looked around.

Surrounding him were dozens of warriors clad in dark robes.

These were the descendants of the fallen Je Gal clan—men and women who had cast aside their names, living only for revenge.

Before them, a massive stone radiated energy.

It was the anchor of the spell—a seal containing an ancient force buried beneath Hanam.

Six of these stones had been scattered across Hanam, and the old man had found and broken each one, unleashing their power.

“Just a little longer… and we’ll drown the Murim Alliance in hellfire.”

The runes in the sky glowed brighter as the spell intensified.

The old man clenched his fists and turned to his followers.

“Listen well!”

“Yes, Master!”

Kneeling in unison, the warriors awaited his command.

“Remember our suffering. Remember the years we lived as outcasts, branded as criminals by their lies!”

Boom—!

His staff struck the ground, sending a ripple of energy outward.

“Today, we cleanse our shame! Today, we show them our wrath!”

Woooong—!

A dark aura seeped from his body—rage and hatred solidified into killing intent.

It spread to the others, igniting the same fury within them.

Rustle—!

The old man donned a black robe embroidered with a single purple character—魔 (Demon).

The others followed suit, each wearing matching uniforms.

The only difference was the elder’s robe bore a darker hue and a ceremonial armband.

Their outfits were impossible to miss.

But that was intentional.

“Just as promised. I’ve put it on. Can we begin now?”

The elder turned toward a woman standing at the back—Nahi.

She scanned the group, then nodded.

“Yes.”

“And the cult leader? When will Cheonma arrive?”

Cheonma—the one who had orchestrated this ritual.

“When his preparations are complete, he’ll come. But…”

Shhkk.

Nahi pulled out a robe identical to the elder’s and draped it over herself.

“He told me to remind you—keep your end of the bargain. Make sure your revenge succeeds.”

The elder nodded solemnly.

Cheonma’s absence was strange, but the sky held his focus.

In less than an hour, the ancient force buried beneath Hanam would awaken.

And then—

The Murim Alliance, the so-called righteous pillar of the martial world, would burn.

Clench—!

Gripping his weapon tightly, the elder declared,

“Let’s go. For revolution!”

“For revolution—!”

Their cries echoed as they marched toward Hanam.

Whether for revenge or redemption, it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that their time had come.

Meanwhile, Nahi lingered, watching the procession vanish into the distance.

Thud—!!

As if on cue, figures landed around Nahi.

They were all martial artists, clad in yellow robes.

At the front stood a familiar figure—

Hwangbo Yeolwi, the Tiger King of the Hwangbo Clan.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward and handed Nahi a folded garment.

Shff.

Nahi accepted it, her movements smooth and practiced, and immediately began changing.

Thud.

The black robe she had been wearing fell to the ground.

In its place, she donned the yellow uniform, marking her as one of the Hwangbo Clan’s warriors.

Pulling a hood over her face, concealing her features, Nahi slowly stretched her arms and shoulders before speaking.

“…All is as the Master commands.”

With those words, she turned and moved with the others.

They marched under Heavenly Demons orders—

To eradicate the evil that had infiltrated Hanam.