The Wonhu Sect
Baekri-wan gave a concise account of everything that had happened so far—from their attempt to sell off the belongings of the dead Cheongrim-do cultivators and getting caught, all the way through to Han Yuhyeon’s one-on-one duel with Geom Jung-gun.
The cultivators of the Baekun Sect were, naturally, stunned. Not one of them had ever imagined that it was Han Yuhyeon, rather than Baekri-wan, who had crossed blades with Geom Jung-gun.
“Can a Qi Condensation eighth-star really defeat someone at Completion?”
“In all my years of cultivation I’ve never even heard of such a marvel.”
Inner disciples Jeong Cheon-o and Im Su-weol clicked their tongues in disbelief, while Geum Wi-hyeong and Un Song-byeok looked as though they could scarcely credit the tale at all.
“That ugly woman’s words are true. I lost—shamefully.”
Their skepticism was so blatant that even Geom Jung-gun noticed and added his own testimony. Only after the bandit chief himself confirmed it did Un Song-byeok and Geum Wi-hyeong finally accept the story.
“Ex-extraordinary, Yuhyeon.”
Un Song-byeok stammered as he addressed Han Yuhyeon. The words themselves sounded like praise, yet in that fleeting instant Yuhyeon caught a flash of fear in the Sect Master’s eyes.
Un Song-byeok had realized it, no doubt—that Han Yuhyeon possessed talent far too vast for a vessel as small as the Baekun Sect to contain.
“It was only because the Baekun Sect’s teachings were so excellent.”
Yuhyeon offered the polite dodge, but both of them knew the truth. He had received almost nothing from the Baekun Sect—aside, perhaps, from the free use of a cultivation cave. Every art and spiritual root he now possessed had been purchased from the Mongan Hyeolseo, not granted by the sect.
“Ha, haha. Yes. I’m grateful you say so.”
The exchange ended on that awkward note. Sensing the strain, Un Song-byeok forced a change of subject.
“In any case, since the Chief of Socheong-chae has declared he will not make an enemy of our Baekun Sect, we shall treat Socheong-chae as a friend from this day forward.”
“Very well. I have already sent a messenger bird back to my stronghold, ordering them not to oppose the Baekun Sect.”
“We are grateful for the Chief’s magnanimity.”
Just as Baekri-wan had predicted, Un Song-byeok seemed wholly unconcerned that Geom Jung-gun led a bandit force. What truly mattered was securing a foothold in So-ui-ju.
“Yuhyeon truly is the Baekun Sect’s great blessing. He has even brought about the alliance with a So-ui-ju power that our sect has so long desired.”
“Indeed, indeed.”
“Having rendered such meritorious service, he deserves a fitting reward.”
“Ah, of course. This Sect Master was already of the same mind.”
At Geum Wi-hyeong’s prompting, Un Song-byeok nodded with excessive vigor—clearly a thought that had only just occurred to him, whatever he claimed.
“I wonder if there is anything Yuhyeon desires from this Sect Master?”
“Hmm.”
Han Yuhyeon considered. He had not particularly expected any reward from the Baekun Sect, yet he saw no reason to refuse one when it was offered.
He briefly entertained asking for a usable combat artifact, since he currently had none, but discarded the idea. If the best thing in the Baekun treasury was something on the level of a Fire Sword, he was better off without it.
In the end, the most suitable reward for him was obvious.
“This disciple is somewhat short on spirit stones. I would be grateful to receive some.”
“Is that so? That I can provide at once.”
Un Song-byeok nodded and reached into his storage pouch. A moment later he produced a silk pouch that looked distinctly heavy.
“Take it. Two hundred low-grade spirit stones.”
“Huh.”
Yuhyeon accepted the pouch and nearly choked at the number. He had never expected quite so much. A sidelong glance told him Geum Wi-hyeong’s eyes had also gone wide; even he thought the sum generous. Perhaps a Sect Master really did have that kind of largesse. Yuhyeon offered a suitably humble protest while carefully keeping his true feelings hidden.
“Isn’t this rather too much?”
“Forging friendly ties with a power of So-ui-ju has been our sect’s long-cherished wish. You alone brought that wish to fruition—how could that not be a great service? Giving less than this would leave this Sect Master without face.”
“Th-thank you.”
In a tone of proper awe, Han Yuhyeon received the two hundred low-grade spirit stones and tucked them into his storage pouch. Considering he had bought Geom Jung-gun’s information for a hundred and fifty, he had come out ahead.
“Well then, let us be on our way.”
The impromptu distribution of rewards concluded, and they mounted their flying vessel once more.
Geom Jung-gun seemed unbothered by the company of so many unfamiliar cultivators; he inserted himself into the group quite naturally. In truth he paid the other Baekun Sect members no mind at all, immediately claiming the seat beside Han Yuhyeon so he could fix his gaze on Biyong.
“There, there, little one. I’m not a bad cultivator, you know.”
“Kyaaaaaaaaaak!”
Sure enough, Geom Jung-gun kept pestering the dragon clinging to Yuhyeon’s body, while Biyong hissed and spat in pure revulsion.
“Quiet. You’re distracting me from piloting.”
Only Baekri-wan’s frost-edged warning finally put an end to their skirmish. Biyong was unmistakably a spirit beast; its ability to read the emotion woven into a human voice was uncanny.
After Baekri-wan’s rebuke, the flight to the Wonhu Sect proceeded in quiet comfort. Three full days of flying later, a rather imposing mountain gate came into view.
A few cultivators already waited before the gate, notable for how they stood in small, scattered clusters. Each group kept a wary distance, never knowing which madman might be among the others.
Un Song-byeok, leading the Baekun party, was no less cautious. He kept the vessel hovering in the air nearby rather than approaching the main gate, and only drew closer once the crowd had thinned.
“Have you come in answer to our sect’s invitation?”
“We have.”
“State your affiliation.”
“The Baekun Sect of Yeongil-ju. Ah—and the Chief of Socheong-chae travels with us.”
Geom Jung-gun was still too absorbed in Biyong to speak, so Un Song-byeok answered in his place. The gatekeeper eyed the group with open curiosity. A Yeongil-ju sect standing beside a So-ui-ju Cheongrim force was an odd combination indeed.
After flipping through a sheaf of papers, the gatekeeper finally located the Baekun Sect and Cheongrim entries and nodded.
“Your invitations, if you please.”
“Here they are.”
Un Song-byeok produced a bamboo-slip invitation from his storage pouch. Geom Jung-gun also stepped forward and presented his own.
The Wonhu Sect cultivator on gate duty lifted both slips and poured spiritual energy into them. Some verification formation had clearly been inscribed to distinguish genuine invitations; the two slips glowed faintly, then burned away into nothing in midair.
“Confirmed.”
“Excellent.”
“Enter. We are honored by your visit. The Baekun Sect will lodge at Gyeongha Pavilion; Socheong-chae at Munwon Pavilion. Once inside the mountain gate you will find maps and signposts.”
Un Song-byeok nodded, dismissed the flying vessel, and proceeded on foot.
The inner disciples who followed him gawked about like country bumpkins, taking in the Wonhu Sect. What struck Han Yuhyeon most was how vast the difference between So-ui-ju and Yeongil-ju truly was.
In the game, a sect’s appearance and grounds were never heavily detailed—only disciple count and reputation were shown. He had therefore assumed the Wonhu Sect would not look so different from the Baekun Sect.
The reality was another matter entirely. Architecture, scale, the density of spiritual energy hanging in the air, the sheer grandeur of the mountains themselves—everything set the Wonhu Sect apart. Stepping into a So-ui-ju sect for the first time, Yuhyeon felt almost overwhelmed.
“Impressive.”
“Indeed.”
Baekri-wan’s reply to his comment was lukewarm. Elders of her rank had visited So-ui-ju often enough that the sight no longer astonished them.
He had no desire to look like a provincial, yet who could first behold such majestic natural scenery and not feel a surge of awe? Im Su-weol and Jeong Cheon-o were staring with equally slack jaws.
The Wonhu Sect nestled among seven peaks that thrust through the clouds like an honor guard. Thunder and lightning endlessly circled the cloud banks clinging to the mountain slopes, creating the impression of a realm set apart from the mortal world.
Nor was that all. Past the mountain gate, neatly paved roads and jade stairways stretched in every direction, as though the halls were residences of the celestial gods themselves.
“Ah—here we must part ways.”
As they walked, a signpost appeared where the paths to Gyeongha Pavilion (for the Baekun Sect) and Munwon Pavilion (for Socheong-chae) diverged.
“So it is. I expect things will be no easier for your side than for mine. Take care.”
“I appreciate the counsel.”
Before turning toward Munwon Pavilion, Geom Jung-gun cast one last longing look at Biyong, as though pained that he would see no more of the little dragon. Biyong, for its part, pointedly faced the opposite direction.
After parting from Geom Jung-gun and following the signs, a building that could only be Gyeongha Pavilion gradually revealed itself.
“Gyeongha Pavilion… this must be the place. One can tell even without a plaque.”
Just as Un Song-byeok said, the pavilion was bathed in the thin light of evening clouds, true to its name.
“What imposing majesty.”
Jeong Cheon-o marveled at the structure. Gyeongha Pavilion was so vast and ornate that even the Baekun Sect’s most splendid main hall looked shabby by comparison.
Cultivators in a variety of robes milled about the pavilion—each set of colors marking a different affiliation. It seemed every invited sect was lodging here. The building was certainly large enough to house them all.
“Is there a sect that wears those colors?”
“Hmm? White? The Baekseung Sect, perhaps?”
“The Baekseung Sect doesn’t wear that shade.”
Whispers from nearby cultivators reached them. The newly arrived Baekun Sect was immediately an object of appraisal and wariness. Among the watchers was at least one who recognized a Yeongil-ju origin.
“Ah, that will be the Baekun Sect from Yeongil-ju. I heard from a Wonhu Sect elder that even a Yeongil-ju sect would be attending.”
“Yeongil-ju? They’re inviting every scrap of rabble these days.”
The speakers knew full well their voices carried. Un Song-byeok and the elders kept their expressions carefully blank, as though they had expected precisely this degree of contempt.
Han Yuhyeon likewise thought it would be fortunate if the scorn ended here. At least no one was picking a direct fight.
No sooner had the thought formed than several cultivators streaked through the air and blocked their path.
“We are inner disciples of the Uisong Sect. We have never met your sect before and wished to exchange friendly greetings.”
Their words were polite; their tone dripped with mockery and disdain. They had clearly approached only after learning the newcomers were from Yeongil-ju. Eyes from every surrounding group swung toward them.
Even faced with such blatant provocation, Un Song-byeok remained calm.
“I am Un Song-byeok, Sect Master of the Baekun Sect.”
“Oh? A full Sect Master. We have been most discourteous without realizing. Still, we have never heard the name Baekun Sect—might your founding have been recent?”
“Our sect has a history of several centuries. Being located in Yeongil-ju, the name has simply never reached your ears.”
“Ah, Yeongil-ju. Then it is little wonder we were ignorant.”
The Uisong Sect disciples laughed heartily, and the watching cultivators joined in loudly enough to be heard. Farther off, a group dressed in the same colors as the Uisong disciples laughed loudest of all—clearly the ones who had sent the juniors. That higher-ranking figures had stayed back and dispatched mere inner disciples made their intent to humiliate unmistakable.
“We, too, are guests invited by the Wonhu Sect. Raising a disturbance as guests would only damage the host’s face.”
“Ah, of course. We are well aware. We merely came to suggest we all get along.”
When Un Song-byeok invoked the host sect, the Uisong disciples took a single step back. Yet every member of the Baekun party knew the truth: words alone would never hold them off. Han Yuhyeon could feel the snake-like gazes of the Uisong cultivators and others sliding over them.
“Somehow I feel we shouldn’t have come,” Im Su-weol whispered at his side. After so much time spent with Baekri-wan, speaking with Im Su-weol felt almost novel.
“Do you think so?”
“You don’t, Junior Brother?”
“No.”
Im Su-weol tilted her head at his answer. Han Yuhyeon smiled. As far as he was concerned, there was nowhere better for making money than right here.