Chapter 211

"Master, as the disciple who created this secret realm, I wished to record the truth... and yet, part of me wanted to bury it. Senior Brother Baekhwa Jin-in tried to correct your mistake, but in the end, he fell by your sword. As a martial artist, I record the truth—but as your disciple, I do not wish for this disgrace to be known by the world. I do not understand what you meant by ‘the final fragment of the Great Work.’ I handed that over to him and buried the secret. That is all I can do, as my final show of loyalty. — Cheongmun.”

The moment the inscription ended—

Rumble.

The entire stone chamber began to tremble.

Plum blossoms suddenly began to fall from all directions. Then, they converged, forming the shape of a man.

It was the exact image of Cheongmun they had seen on the mural.

Most likely, just like in the secret realm of Shaolin, it was a remnant thought—a sanyeomche.

The problem was, this one...

Was exuding a killing aura strong enough to be clearly visible even now.

Realm: Heaven-Man Stage.

Records said Cheongmun’s cultivation exceeded the level of Taehyeo Musang, but clearly some form of difficulty-scaling had been implemented.

Unhwi silently stared at the sanyeomche.

The sanyeomche stared back. Neither said a word. A long silence hung between them.

The one to break it was Sim Munryong.

“We are the successors of Mount Hua. We've now come to know the story of the Plum Blossom Sword God and your predecessor, Cheongmun.”

The sanyeomche remained silent. Its eyes only grew colder.

Sim Munryong let out a sigh.

“Haah... This is pissing me off. I wanted to treat you with respect as a predecessor, but if you’re going to act like this, I can’t keep being polite. You hear me?”

Without another word, Sim Munryong floated ten swords into the air.

“To think Mount Hua was hiding a secret like this. Makes me feel filthy. Got something to say? Say it. If not, get lost and let me think. And quit glaring.”

There was no way Sim Munryong hadn't sensed the killing aura coming off that sanyeomche.

“Can’t you tell friend from foe? I’m the last martial artist trying to carry on Mount Hua’s legacy in this era—”

He didn’t get to finish.

In an instant, Cheongmun’s blade was thrust at Sim Munryong’s face.

Clang—!

Sim Munryong twisted his head aside and unleashed the ten swords, channeling his internal force.

Blood trickled down his cheek, but he didn’t care.

Anyone could see Sim Munryong was thoroughly pissed off.

Tsk.

Just as Unhwi was about to draw the Heavenshaking Spiritblade, «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» Cheongmun’s sword—etched with the pattern of plum blossoms—knocked aside five of Sim Munryong’s airborne swords and closed in.

The sanyeomche’s shoulder slammed into Sim Munryong, who skidded back as plum petals scattered in the air.

“...What, is he mute? Can’t talk?”

Unhwi gave a short laugh.

What happened in Shaolin’s secret realm had been unusual—sanyeomche usually didn’t speak.

Conversations? If that were possible, the thousand years of lost history since the Millennial Cataclysm wouldn’t matter.

Unhwi stared at the sanyeomche again, eyes tinged with understanding and sympathy.

And he understood the situation with clarity.

“So there were four trials, not three.”

As Cheongmun’s gaze sharpened, the rear wall of the chamber split open, revealing a new space.

Bright light poured in—it was clearly the exit.

The sanyeomche raised its hand. The entire chamber shook violently as waves of plum blossom-shaped qi burst from the mural and began to move like living entities.

From its sword, a violet aura poured forth.

Then, the energy rained down upon Unhwi’s group.

Unhwi moved instantly, swinging the Heavenshaking Spiritblade.

His sword clashed against Cheongmun’s sword qi, scattering energy in all directions. The collision between Huhyeonjigi and the sanyeomche’s Heaven-Man level aura shook the entire chamber.

“...Whoa. You’re not getting pushed back? Just how strong are y—”

Sim Munryong couldn’t finish.

Blood dripped from Unhwi’s lips, proof that he had just swung his sword at full force.

Sim Munryong stepped forward, blocking in front of Unhwi with his blade.

“So even you’re struggling against a Heaven-Man level opponent. So what now?”

“I’m thinking.”

“...You’re too calm, damn it.”

Sim Munryong unleashed his sword formation.

Ten swords flew toward Cheongmun, who knocked them aside one by one while steadily advancing.

Even if it was just a thought-form, this was no ordinary opponent.

Unhwi hesitated for a moment.

What to do?

In his past life, the sole survivor of this place had been a martial artist at the Heaven-Man Stage.

Not only that—Seolgung had also sent several Heaven-Man and even Mythic Stage warriors, yet only that one man had survived.

That had always struck Unhwi as strange.

Which could only mean one thing.

The sanyeomche’s level adjusts to match the intruders.

That was the only explanation.

When he built this realm, Cheongmun must have wrestled with the choice:

Should the truth of Mount Hua be revealed—or not?

The result of that conflict between the heart of a martial artist and the loyalty of a disciple was this very moment.

Unhwi’s mind raced.

Escaping wasn’t the problem.

He could leave right now if he wanted.

But—if they defeated or suppressed the sanyeomche...

He was certain something greater would be revealed.

The hesitation was brief. The decision, even shorter.

“Commander Seong.”

“...Yes, young master.”

“Take the four brothers and get out.”

Commander Seong looked at Unhwi with wide eyes.

“...What?”

“I said: get out.”

“...I cannot leave you behind!”

“I’m sending you because I trust you.”

Unhwi’s voice was firm. Commander Seong clenched his jaw.

Unhwi’s orders had never been wrong.

Following them was the right thing to do.

He led the four brothers toward the exit. Cheongmun, in the midst of deflecting Sim Munryong’s swords, noticed them and his eyes flared.

He surged forward, swinging his sword—

And a blade pierced the air.

Cheongmun frowned, turning his body and swinging in response.

Boom—!!

The Heavenshaking Spiritblade ricocheted off and embedded itself in the wall. The power packed into it was larger than expected, and the sanyeomche was momentarily stunned.

But before he could react, Commander Seong dashed in like lightning, slashing a dagger at the sanyeomche’s head.

Whoosh—!

The sanyeomche tilted his head to dodge, but before he could recover—

Slash—!

Sim Munryong’s blade tore across the side of the sanyeomche’s face.

“If you’re struck, you strike back. That’s Mount Hua’s way.”

The sanyeomche said nothing, but Sim Munryong looked satisfied.

He pointed his blade at the sanyeomche, and nine more swords hovered around him.

“Hey, Cheongmun. How’d you manage to hide that the Plum Blossom Sword God joined the Thousand-Year Demonic Sect?”

A blue energy, scented faintly of plum blossoms, radiated from Sim Munryong’s body. He didn’t stop speaking.

“Must’ve been rough right before you croaked, huh? What, did you make a deal? Keep the secret and in exchange, let them wipe Mount Hua out?”

Still no answer from the sanyeomche.

“No answer, huh, you bastard?”

Sim Munryong hurled one of his swords. The sanyeomche deflected it easily.

Meanwhile, Commander Seong and the four brothers reached the exit. They looked back at Unhwi.

He nodded wordlessly.

The five slipped out naturally.

Now, only Unhwi, Sim Munryong, and the sanyeomche remained.

The sanyeomche of Cheongmun radiated violet energy as he slowly advanced.

Around him, plum blossom-shaped sword qi swirled—beautiful, yet lethally dangerous. Sim Munryong flinched slightly, but Unhwi didn’t budge.

Unhwi turned briefly toward Sim Munryong.

“Have you ever unleashed the most perfect sword strike of your entire life?”

Sim Munryong blinked.

“The most perfect strike...? Of course not. Why?”

“Today, you’ll have to.”

Sim Munryong’s expression twisted with disbelief.

“Now? In this situation?”

Unhwi nodded. His eyes were dead serious, filled with conviction.

“I’ll make the opening. Prepare your best strike—and cut that sanyeomche down. Can you do it?”

Sim Munryong hesitated, then nodded. He didn’t ask why they weren’t retreating.

Why such a dangerous plan was being made.

Because Unhwi never did anything without a reason.

“...You ask a tough question. A once-in-a-lifetime sword... Fine. I’ll give it a go.”

***

Unhwi slowly turned to face the sanyeomche of Cheongmun.

Fighting against a Heaven-Man Realm martial artist wasn’t something you could do easily.

To be precise—it wasn’t something you could win. No matter how much effort you exerted, if it was impossible, it was impossible.

But you could buy time. And you could create an opening.

He gripped the Heavenshaking Spiritblade tightly in his right hand.

He took in everything—Cheongmun’s shoulders, his legs, his torso, even his fingers.

Not a single movement could be missed.

And in that instant, he saw it.

Cheongmun’s right leg twitched. Then, his right shoulder.

Immediately, Unhwi twisted his head to the side.

Screech—!

The sanyeomche’s blade sliced down, grazing his temple.

It was incredibly fast. As silent as a shadow. The distance had closed. The swing had come. All of it happened in an instant.

Thunk—the sanyeomche’s blade embedded into the ground.

Knowing that the next strike would target his neck without hesitation, Unhwi swung the Heavenshaking Spiritblade with all his might.

CRASH—!!

His body lifted into the air from the recoil. The moment his feet touched the ground again, he moved.

He threw a heavy punch with his left fist—one enhanced by Bul Su Injang.

Cheongmun’s eyes gleamed.

His sword was aimed at Unhwi’s right shoulder. If he didn’t evade in that split second, he would land the punch—but take the sword strike.

The sanyeomche didn’t seem to care.

Slash—!

Unhwi’s right shoulder was carved open.

WHAM—!

His left fist slammed into the sanyeomche’s side.

Internal Snow Heart-Shattering Fist.

Chapter Two: Cold Spirit Single Fist.

With a shattering sound, the sanyeomche’s body froze over—only to fracture and break faster than the ice could spread.

Unhwi kept moving without pause.

He braced his legs, raising the Heavenshaking Spiritblade horizontally.

BOOM—!!

Though he blocked Cheongmun’s sword flat-on, his body screamed in agony. He gritted his teeth.

The cracking sound from his legs told him his joints had dislocated. He barely held his balance together by sheer will.

His eyes darted.

Right, left.

The sword’s angle. The shoulders’ motion.

Then—Cheongmun’s right shoulder twitched again.

But instinct screamed at him: Feint.

He turned his body the opposite way.

From an unexpected blind spot, Cheongmun’s sword slashed across his side.

He could clearly feel the Five Elements qi. His skin ripped open in chunks. The pain twisted his brow.

Immediately, he raised the Heavenshaking Spiritblade and swung upward.

Whoosh—!

It missed.

He pushed his Huhyeonjigi to its limit and struck again.

Absolute Ice Returning Void Sword.

Whoosh—!