Chapter 204

In other words—

There were more than enough people—practically foaming at the mouth—who not only wished to call No Cheonmyeong their master, but also hoped to drag the man into their faction.

“Hey. Today we had visitors from Jintian Sect and the Hwang Family Clan. One offered the Vice-Lord position, and the other a Co-Lord seat.”

“I saw them on the way in.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. They’re still hanging around. Are you considering it?”

No Cheonmyeong gave a dry chuckle.

“Considering what? I’m not even interested. Just in the last ten days, I’ve had dozens of sects throw themselves at me. What should I do, seal myself off?”

Seated across from him, scribbling something into a manuscript, Unhwi replied without even lifting his gaze.

“You should do as you wish, Senior No.”

“Hmm?”

“Who am I to hold Senior No here against his will?”

“If I leave, is there someone to take my place?”

“There’s someone who can fill the vacancy, though nowhere near as well as you.”

“Who?”

“Sim Munryong.”

“Oh, that guy?”

“Yes.”

“Well... yeah, I suppose he’d manage just fine. But isn’t he part of the White Falcon Guard? Can you pull him out?”

“Getting him out won’t be an issue. It’ll just put me in a bit of an awkward position. But that much—I can endure.”

No Cheonmyeong burst into a laugh.

“This little brat... You really aren’t simple. I owe you my life, and if I’m the one putting you in a difficult spot, that’s like spitting in my own face, isn’t it?”

“It’s not too far off.”

Still chuckling, No Cheonmyeong set the manuscript beside him.

“By the way—you're joining Cheonimeng, right?”

“So it’s been decided.”

No Cheonmyeong crossed his arms.

“Cheonimeng, huh... Didn’t that old man Yewonje die recently?”

“Yes. He’s dead.”

“I thought he was a master of the Formless Infinite technique. How’d he die?”

“No one knows who killed him. Or why. Nothing has been revealed.”

“Sounds to me like someone’s covering it up.”

“Your assessment is accurate.”

“Well, damn...”

“Do you really have to go? Trying to rebuild that place... It reeks of a bad move.”

“You see it that way?”

“Hey, even if I’ve spent the last fifty years buried in Sinsamgok, I still have a sense of how the world turns. Trying to embrace every path—not just the righteous or the hegemonic—that’s the kind of con a swindler would pull.”

“It's similar, yes.”

“Exactly. Half-measures open the door to being manipulated. Even if they claim neutrality on the surface, underneath they’re just working to serve someone’s private interests... Oh ho...”

No Cheonmyeong seemed to have realized something mid-sentence.

“...You little bastard... You had no intention of reviving Cheonimeng in the first place, did you?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Then what?”

“I plan to observe what kind of man the Deputy Alliance Lord is, and what it is the martial artists gathered to rebuild Cheonimeng truly seek—then decide.”

“You say that, but you’re going to tear it down, aren’t you?”

Unhwi didn’t answer.

No Cheonmyeong approached him.

From the start of this conversation until now, Unhwi hadn’t once lifted his head.

That was because of the manuscript he was currently working on.

No Cheonmyeong asked,

“Having trouble finishing it?”

“I just need to fix one character.”

But that single character would take some time.

Holding the brush in silence, Unhwi eventually etched the final stroke.

“...‘破’ (Break)?”

Pondering for a moment, No Cheonmyeong glanced over at Unhwi’s face.

In those infinitely still eyes—like a thousand-year-old glacier resting atop a snow-covered mountain—clarity and depth coexisted.

“Just from the content, it feels like the pinnacle of softness... but if you emphasize ‘breaking’ at the end, will the reader understand?”

“They’ll understand.”

A subtle smile formed on No Cheonmyeong’s lips.

“Was it Ju Soa? That her name?”

“If you’re referring to the head of Yangundae, yes.”

“For someone like her... yeah, she’ll probably understand. It’ll take time, though.”

Sitting down beside Unhwi, No Cheonmyeong continued,

“Can I take a look?”

“Of course. We made it together—no need to ask.”

“‘Together,’ huh? I barely helped. This was all you. That kind of ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) humility’s practically deceit, you know.”

Unhwi let out a small laugh and handed over one of the three manuscripts.

“It’s the Ten Thousand Petals, Myriad Lights Sword Technique (Cheonhwa Mangwang Geombeop).”

No Cheonmyeong opened it and scanned through the contents. It was a sword technique that embodied the extreme of softness. Like petals scattering from the sky, the sword forms flowed with elegance—but hidden within was an explosive force that shattered the enemy with ten thousand rays of light.

Graceful sword paths transformed, in the final moment, into invincible sharpness—an ultimate form of a sword style that cloaked its lethality in gentleness.

His thoughts were brief.

“...This is good...”

He meant it.

A transcendent sword art without a single flaw.

Its grade was among the highest even within the Heavenly-Earth tier.

Perhaps it could even reach the level of Musin.

He wanted to keep it for himself.

“Let me see the other two.”

“Yes.”

As Unhwi handed him the second manuscript, he said,

“The second is the Blue String Shadowless Sword Technique (Cheonghyeon Muyeong Geombeop).”

The second manuscript described a technique that shattered the boundary between illusion and reality. Real blades and false ones mingled to fracture the enemy’s mind and spirit. Like the note of a blue string, it pierced the ear—and the shadowless sword forms left no trace as they flowed like ghosts.

It matched Namgung Wonyang’s precise swordsmanship perfectly.

“...And the last one?”

“Finally, the Demonic Flame Sky-Piercing Sword Technique (Mwahwa Geukcheon Geombeop).”

Just as the name suggested, this sword technique contained the overwhelming destructive power of demonic fire that pierced the heavens like a spear.

The moment the blade was drawn, demonic flames surged forth to engulf the heavens and earth. Each strike shook the land with thunderous force—and the hidden, irregular sword paths felt like blue flames rising from hell, defying the very heavens with forbidden arts.

“...This one’s different.”

No Cheonmyeong’s expression grew more serious.

It made sense.

In the current martial world, the dominant Daos were two:

The Righteous Path (Jeongdo), exemplified by the Murim Alliance, and

The Path of Conquest (Paedo), represented by the Sichuan Alliance.

The reason the Samaa Foreign Lineage was so infamous was because they followed neither—they trod the Path of Demons (Mado) and Path of Heresy (Sado), standing above all others on those paths.

The first two sword techniques Unhwi had created lay somewhere between righteousness and conquest—but this third one? It was something else entirely.

A flawless, pure Demonic sword art.

“...Hey... are you sure this is okay?”

“It’s fine.”

“...Well, yeah. You’ll figure it out.”

At that, No Cheonmyeong fell silent for a long while. His gaze was filled with awe.

He was stunned.

“You... are you a genius?”

The words were short, especially after such a long pause—but they carried a tremendous weight.

Unhwi seemed to consider the question, then replied.

“You said excessive humility becomes deceit—but unfortunately, I’m not a genius, Senior.”

“...If you’re not a genius, then who is?”

“Maybe the Celestial Daoist of the Original Blood Sect. He’d qualify.”

“...To me, you seem even more terrifying than him.”

Unhwi let out a soft chuckle.

“You must not know the Celestial Daoist well. He’d take these three sword arts I created, add a few hidden subtleties, and even weave in auxiliary chants so those with lower cultivation could master them step by step.”

No Cheonmyeong scratched his head.

“That’s something only freaks could do... And you’re telling me the Celestial Daoist can really pull that off?”

“Yes. At the very least. Maybe more.”

“...Tch. Freak bastard...”

With that, No Cheonmyeong handed the three manuscripts back to Unhwi.

“So—are you really going to Cheonimeng?”

“It’s a direct order. What choice do I have?”

“Tsk, tsk... You really do go out of your way to suffer, don’t you.”

Seolgung was currently reorganizing its power structure around the Young Palace Lord, Seol Horyeong.

“They’re boosting the Young Palace Lord’s influence and trimming the rest... Is that the idea? Not surprising. The place was never run like a typical sect. What about the others?”

“My second brother will remain in Binghae Province. As for my third sister—she’ll be staying at our maternal sect for the time being.”

“And the fourth, the one who caused trouble?”

“He was sent to Pungbyeok.”

At that, No Cheonmyeong let out a short laugh.

“Pungbyeok? Isn’t that the place where the chill of the snow peaks hits its absolute limit—and they’re constantly at war with the northern barbarians? Sending him there... might as well be telling him to die in battle.”

“That’s about right.”

No Cheonmyeong studied Unhwi’s expression.

“You’re not angry?”

“Should I be?”

“He stabbed you and your eldest brother in the back, didn’t he?”

Unhwi looked out the window with an odd expression.

“It happened so long ago I’d forgotten... but I owed a debt.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“To who?”

“To the Third Madam.”

“......”

“Back when she was branch lord of Seolap’s outpost—whether it was Hanbing Gate, the Third Madam, or even Seol Unhae—if any of them stood in the way of what I had to do, I was ready to kill them without hesitation...”

Unhwi trailed off, then turned to face No Cheonmyeong.

No Cheonmyeong held his breath, staring into those shining eyes.

Indeed, there was no one of their age who could compare.

Unhwi continued, slowly.

“The day to repay that debt came sooner than expected. In the martial world, they say: once the sword is drawn, blood must be spilled; once a bond is formed, it must be concluded. My sword returned to its sheath because of the Third Madam’s debt—but now, I must block the Palace Lord’s blade.”

Unhwi rose from his seat, calmly.

“Unfortunately, I have no intention of stopping it. That’s where my debt ends.”

“So... the result is exile?”

“Better to die as a martial artist than a traitor, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

Unhwi gathered the letter and three manuscripts on the desk into his satchel.

“I won’t be back for at least a year. Please take care of Yangryeong Province in the meantime.”

“Does that request include guiding those three?”

“You have a real talent for feigning ignorance, Senior.”

“Says the snake in front of me.”

No Cheonmyeong waved his hand with a grin.

“Go on. I had Im Chiwun wait outside—you two can talk freely.”

“Thank you for everything, Senior.”

“Forget it. Off with you. And—”

Unhwi turned his head, and there he saw—

No Cheonmyeong’s face, dead serious.

He spoke.

“If you die out there... at least leave behind the name of the bastard who killed you. I’ll make sure he joins you soon.”

A smile formed on Unhwi’s lips.

“Thank you, Senior.”