Chapter 232

A red line was drawn across the neck of the bandit posted on the western ridge.

Moments later, with a dull thud, his head dropped to the ground.

Pung Muhwi sheathed his sword without a single drop of blood having splashed and looked around.

Right then, a burly man swung a massive iron polearm and smashed in a bandit’s skull. Brain matter sprayed in all directions.

That was the last of them.

All twelve bandits guarding this ridge were dead. Not a single one spared.

“Section Chief.”

Jin Museong—one of the warriors Pung Muhwi had personally selected from Wind Sword Pavilion—approached. Blood dripped from the iron polearm in his hand, but his face held a troubled expression.

“Is this... truly the right thing to do?”

Pung Muhwi looked at Jin Museong. What he saw in the man’s eyes was closer to doubt than conviction.

It wasn’t incomprehensible.

It wasn’t about the lofty pretexts of the Heavenly Righteous Alliance that Ye Wonje had preached.

It was a more fundamental concern.

The Green Forest.

That was the problem. The Green King who ruled the Green Forest strongholds was a master of the Mythic Realm. If not just one or two bandits were struck but the lords of the Eighteen Green Forest Strongholds began to be killed, he would have no choice but to move.

This was all but war with the Green Forest.

Jin Museong feared that, yet Pung Muhwi, unexpectedly, looked resolute.

“A martial artist is not one to speak twice.”

His voice was cold.

“We have already chosen our path. We chose to follow the strong man named Seol Unhwi and to walk the road he showed.”

“But...”

“There is no ‘but.’”

Pung Muhwi’s tone was firm.

“I was defeated by him. Completely. Thoroughly. I fell with no excuse—and even received instruction from him. To be helped by the strong and then refuse his word? That is to go against the law of our world. In the martial world, following the strong is how one survives, Museong.”

“...Yes, Section Chief.”

“Do not worry. From what I have seen, he is not a man who moves thoughtlessly.”

Jin Museong bowed his head.

“And furthermore...”

Pung Muhwi looked toward the main compound of Yellow Dragon Stronghold.

“Think of what they have done to innocent commoners. They deserve to die.”

It could not be denied that they had once received help from the Heavenly Righteous Alliance. Nor could they deny that they turned their backs the moment its lord died; on that point, there was no excuse.

Let them be blamed—so be it. If called to account, he would bear it.

But this, at least, he wanted clear.

Pung Muhwi did not venerate Ye Wonje’s ideals. No—“venerate” was too kind; he loathed them.

Supremacy of martial artists or not, there were limits.

Ye Wonje regarded commoners as no different from livestock.

Such was the man Ye Wonje was.

Before long, Pung Muhwi’s unit arrived at the main compound of Yellow Dragon Stronghold, where Unit Two—Commander Seong’s group—was even then finishing off the bandits.

Pung Muhwi’s gaze stopped on Commander Seong.

Slowly, Pung Muhwi’s mouth fell open.

He was taken aback.

...That’s Ipshin Realm?

He could scarcely believe it.

With a single small dagger, Commander Seong was butchering bandits. His movements were razor-sharp, his exploitation of openings exact, and he missed nothing.

It was worthy of admiration.

Above all, it was swift, concise—deadly.

A man of Pung Muhwi’s caliber could see it.

What kind of acuity the other possessed, what kind of talent.

In Pung Muhwi’s eyes, Commander Seong was an assassin incarnate.

And yet—

Even for Ipshin Realm, are such movements possible?

The last bandit collapsed with Commander Seong’s dagger driven through his heart.

Expressionless, Commander Seong wiped the blood from the blade.

In that brief span, no fewer than twenty bandits had died to his dagger.

More than those slain by the rest of Unit Two combined.

I had wondered why he brought only one man from the Alliance. Now I see.

“One man as good as a hundred” was not an idle saying; to Pung Muhwi’s eyes, Commander Seong embodied it.

Just then, Unhwi walked out of the main compound of Yellow Dragon Stronghold.

Pung Muhwi glanced inside.

It was nearly razed to the ground. Cracks split the walls, the floor was soaked in blood, and the furniture lay in splinters.

And Hwang Daryong, lord of Yellow Dragon Stronghold, had been reduced to a lump of meat, scarcely human in shape.

Pung Muhwi himself, a Mythic Realm master, had known defeat—but Seol Unhwi was certainly no ordinary man.

When purging the bandits of Seongrim Mountain, the most important thing was to seize their leaders.

In this case, the stronghold lords had to be beaten to death, and that duty rightly belonged to the commander.

Unhwi had taken the lord’s head.

Whether or not he was a man to follow was secondary. In the martial world, the ability to “bring back results” could not be dismissed.

Many martial artists boasted and blustered, but how many delivered?

The difference between those who only had mouths and those whose deeds matched their words was decided by results.

At that moment, Jin Museong approached.

“Section Chief, what are your orders now?”

It was a question that required no thought. As stated earlier, “every bandit in Seongrim Mountain” would die today.

There were no fewer than four strongholds of the Eighteen Green Forest Strongholds here. Excluding the one Unhwi had crushed a short while ago, three remained. With one more broken now, two were left.

Black Wind Stronghold, and Iron Armor Stronghold.

Both their lords were Harmonization Realm.

“Wait. Master Cheonsusa will speak.”

At Pung Muhwi’s words, Jin Museong nodded.

Soon, Unhwi stood before them.

“Well done, all of you.”

It was a simple sentence, but it carried genuine encouragement.

“Pavilion Chief Pung.”

“Yes, Master Cheonsusa.”

“The wounded?”

“None.”

Unhwi nodded, then swept his eyes over the members of the Heavenfall Unit.

“As you’ve already heard from Pavilion Chief Pung, we will finish clearing every Green Forest stronghold in Seongrim Mountain today.”

At his words, the members of the Heavenfall Unit nodded in unison.

Watching them, Pung Muhwi thought,

He’s a man accustomed to taking the lead.

To speak plainly, not every member of the Heavenfall Unit had given their hearts to Unhwi yet.

But Unhwi seemed very used to such situations.

In the end, it was only a matter of time.

Seol Unhwi’s bearing and skill—and above all, his concrete results—

Because of those, all of them would eventually come to him.

He was a little curious.

Was that something inborn, or forged?

When one watched Unhwi, it felt inborn.

“Pung Muhwi.”

Answering the call, Pung Muhwi lifted his head.

“Yes.”

“The two remaining strongholds in Seongrim Mountain are smaller than Yellow Dragon. You take Black Dragon Stronghold. I’ll take Iron Armor.”

Truthfully, that was right.

There was no point in sending all these forces to crush them one by one.

The Heavenfall Unit was a corps of the very best.

Pung Muhwi found himself thinking,

Just how high will this man climb?

Will he command the world—or collapse before he can, and bid it farewell?

He did not know, but he wanted to witness it.

“I accept the order.”

Pung Muhwi bowed deeply. Unhwi nodded, turned, and spoke.

“Only Unit Two will follow me.”

That day,

Every Green Forest stronghold in Seongrim Mountain was purged, and the nearby cities reeled in shock.

***

Deep in the mountains—far from Seongrim and well outside the Heavenly Righteous Alliance’s domain—a carrier hawk swooped down onto an unnamed hill.

A man drew out the message with a leisurely hand, scanned it, then sprang up from his seat, eyes wide.

“Wh-what is this?”

Shock was appropriate.

The letter said that no fewer than four of the Eighteen Green Forest Strongholds had been smashed.

And that wasn’t the end.

A bandit with a green headscarf bounded up the slope using a lightbody technique and fell to his knees before the man.

“Green King! The four strongholds in Seongrim Mountain have all been destroyed!”

The Green King, Im Cheongsan, looked down at the messenger with a twisted face.

“I just heard.”

“Forgive me! We were too lowly to stop—”

“Cheongbong Stronghold was already wiped out before, and today Yellow Dragon, Black Wind, and Iron Armor Strongholds were annihilated?”

“...Yes!”

“That brat from the Snowy Peaks did all this.”

“...He did.”

The letter held only the broad strokes. But a messenger who had run this far would know more.

“Speak in detail.”

“Y-yes! From what I saw, that fellow is as heinous as they come. Propped up by the central plains, he’s gone mad as if he were something special—that much is laughable—but it’s undeniable that, after becoming Cheonsusa, he cleaned up Seongjak’s powers in one sweep.”

“Seongjak... that’s where Pung Muhwi is, isn’t it?”

“Yes. The Seongjak Coalition, with Pung Muhwi of Wind Sword Pavilion at its core, all bent the knee to that Seol Unhwi.”

“They must have cowered before the might of the Everlasting Snow Palace.”

Hooo.

Swallowing his rage, Im Cheongsan asked quietly,

“Are you certain they were all wiped out?”

“...Yes. He led something called the Heavenfall Unit and slaughtered them to the last.”

“Heavenfall Unit?”

“A new strike force formed by selecting the very best among the warriors affiliated with the Seongjak Coalition. They currently serve as the practical armed power of the Heavenly Righteous Alliance sub-bureau established in Seongjak... and its commander is said to be Pung Muhwi.”

CRACK—!

The Green King’s fist smashed into a boulder. Hard granite split like a spiderweb and crumbled.

“How dare they... how dare they!”

Murderous light flashed in Im Cheongsan’s eyes.

“Whelps who don’t know their place are crawling up now. Heavenfall Unit? Seongjak Coalition? Dogs not even fit for the name—!”

His fist clenched.

When Ye Wonje lived, the lands near the Heavenly Righteous Alliance were little different from a paradise for bandits.

The government troops were incompetent, orthodox warriors chased only their own interests, and the imperial court couldn’t be bothered with far-off borderlands—if anything, it cooperated.

In that gap, the Eighteen Green Forest Strongholds flourished.

They took tolls from merchants, plundered rich caravans to amass wealth, colluded with venal officials to divert supplies, and paid bribes.

Why do no fewer than ten of the Eighteen Strongholds lie within the Alliance’s sphere?

Because that was the law of this land.

The strong ruled the weak; those with power made the rules.

And now they would break that law?

Ye Wonje—

No.

The law the Great Ye himself made?

“The one who breaks the /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ law he made deserves to die.”

Im Cheongsan ground his teeth.

“Everlasting Snow Palace or whatever—one can always run. I will butcher that maggot this instant! Muster all our people at once!”

Just then, footsteps sounded at the mouth of the cave.