The Emergence of a Chivalrous Hero
“T-This is impossible! Four jiangshi should have been more than enough to subdue a martial artist at the entry stage of the First-Rate realm!”
The manual left behind by Yoma had stated as much in plain, undeniable words. Yet the reality unfolding before Seo Won-gil’s eyes told an entirely different story.
Another jiangshi was cleaved through. This one was split vertically in two, collapsing to the floor in symmetrical halves. It was a grotesque, undeniable testament to the chasm in strength separating Namgung Yun from the reanimated dead.
“Target Namgung Geol! Kill that little bastard!”
Seo Won-gil no longer possessed the luxury of worrying about preserving intact corpses for refinement. Survival was the only priority left. And so he shifted his target. After all, protecting dead weight while fighting was bound to be infinitely more difficult.
A frenzied barrage of poisoned claws and iron limbs lunged toward Namgung Geol.
Yet Geol did not scream as he had before. His gaze remained pinned to the silver arc of Namgung Yun’s moving sword. In that singular breath, the instincts of a martial artist had completely eclipsed his instinct for self-preservation. Or perhaps it was something deeper—absolute, unwavering faith. A profound certainty that Yun’s breathtaking blade would never permit harm to reach him.
Claaang!
His faith was rewarded.
The corpses’ vicious lunges never touched Geol. They couldn't even breach his periphery. And as a mere afterthought in the midst of that defense, another jiangshi’s severed head tumbled through the air, trailing black blood.
“This makes no sense!”
Incredulity and horror gave way to a creeping, suffocating dread.
“How can six jiangshi fail to suppress a brat who only just crossed into the First-Rate realm?!”
Could there have been a flaw in my refining process?
No, impossible. Corpse refinement was his specialty. To be fair, compounding poisons had never been his strong suit; seeing Yun standing entirely unhindered, the Seven-Fold Traceless Poison had likely been a botch. But refining jiangshi was another matter entirely. He was confident he had mastered the secret techniques bequeathed by Elder Yoma to the letter.
Had Yoma recorded falsehoods, then? That seemed just as unlikely.
Why would someone of Yoma’s stature bother to lie in his own research journal?
Which meant the fault did not lie with the corpses.
Then why...?
A single, chilling thought suddenly flickered across Seo Won-gil’s mind.
Could it be...?!
It defied reason. How could such a thing even be possible? Yet if there truly was no defect in his creations, only one unthinkable conclusion remained.
“Don’t tell me... you're not at the entry stage?!”
“What?”
Even Namgung Geol, who had been lost in admiration of Yun’s swordplay amidst the chaos, blurted out in shock. That was how completely absurd the physician’s deduction sounded.
Yun did not deign to answer. He simply severed another corpse at the waist. Yet that calm, utterly casual demeanor served as the most definitive answer Seo Won-gil could have received.
Still, it was hard to fathom.
He broke past the entry stage already?
As far as Geol knew, Yun had only just stepped into the First-Rate realm. And that was after miraculously vaulting past both Third-Rate and Second-Rate in an eye-blink. To think that on top of such a monstrous leap, he had already left the entry stage behind?
Namgung Geol nodded unconsciously, struck dumb with awe.
Yun glanced back and scowled.
“What are you nodding for? Want me to rearrange your cervical vertebrae so you stop bobbing your head like a broken doll?”
“……”
Geol hastily straightened his neck. Yet his burning curiosity proved impossible to suppress, and the words tumbled out before he could stop them.
“H-Hyung-nim, have you truly advanced past the entry stage already?”
“Did you think I planned on loitering there forever?”
“B-But it's barely been any time since you reached the First-Rate realm!”
“Seeing as your brain is severely deficient, your Hyung-nim will tell you just once more. But if I ever have to repeat myself again, you'd better prepare yourself.”
Yun paused, then stated flatly,
“It's because I'm a genius.”
“……”
A genius.
A single word that cleanly, brutally accounted for Namgung Yun’s terrifying achievements.
Geol had no choice but to swallow it. However preposterous it sounded, he wasn't foolish enough to deny reality when it stood right in front of him. In place of doubt, sheer reverence took root in his heart.
Just how boundless is his talent?!
Could Namgung Yun possess the potential to become the peerless grandmaster of an entire era?
Thump!
“Move on your own two feet now.”
With the number of jiangshi drastically reduced, there was no longer any need to haul Geol around by the collar. Yun released his grip on the scruff of the boy's robes. True to his martial foundations, Geol immediately caught his balance and stood upright.
Clang! Claaang!
Unburdened by dead weight, Yun dismantled the remaining corpses with effortless fluidity. Another monster crashed to the floor, chopped into ruined meat.
“F-Fuck!”
Patter, patter!
Seo Won-gil turned on his heel and sprinted toward an escape passage directly opposite the entrance Yun had used.
“That bastard!”
Geol moved to give chase, but Yun held up a hand.
“Stop.”
“What? B-But Hyung-nim! Are you just going to let him get away?”
“Who said anything about letting him go?”
Limitless Divine Art — Subordinated: Hyocheon Sword Art
Moving with the supple grace of clouds drifting across an azure firmament, Yun’s blade swept in a sweeping crescent, severing the remaining jiangshi in a single, fluid stroke.
“You stay here. I’ll run him down.”
There was no telling what traps lined the escape route; sending Geol ahead was out of the question.
“Look after the children while I'm gone.” Yun pointed toward the rows of wooden boxes lining the chamber.
“T-The children?”
Geol’s nervous gaze flicked across the coffins. Seeing more than a dozen of them laid out in neat, chilling symmetry sent a cold shiver down his spine. But Yun had no intention of indulging his squeamishness.
“Pathetic excuse for a martial artist. They’re just kids in suspended animation. What is there to be scared of?”
Finding no argument against that, Geol nodded sheepishly. Yun spun on his heel and darted into the dark tunnel after Seo Won-gil.
Thwack! Thump!
Traps, just as I thought.
An emergency escape route would naturally feature mechanisms to delay pursuers. But as he had reflected before, Yun had seen more than enough arrays and hidden mechanisms during his past invasion of the Central Plains to last several lifetimes. Weaving effortlessly past pressure plates, tripwires, and poison darts, he closed the distance in mere moments.
“H-Hiiiek!”
A shrill, panicked shriek echoed ahead as Seo Won-gil’s trembling back came into view. Yun stepped forward and planted the sole of his boot squarely between the man’s shoulder blades.
“Guaahk!”
With a pitiful squeal, Seo Won-gil tumbled head over heels, swallowing mouthfuls of dust. Yun closed the remaining distance with slow, rhythmic strides as the physician scrambled to his knees.
“W-Wait! Please, just wait a moment!”
The arrogant swagger from earlier was completely gone. Seo Won-gil pressed his forehead flat against the filth of the tunnel floor, trembling violently.
“Spare my life! I beg of you! Please!”
Had this been an ordinary man pleading before someone without a blood debt, the sheer wretchedness of the display might have provoked a sliver of sympathy. But Yun’s gaze remained colder than mountain ice.
“Where is Yoma’s hideout?”
“Mount Huang! It’s in Mount Huang!”
Mount Huang was also located within Anhui Province—literally on the far side of the continent from the Hundred Thousand Mountains where the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult resided.
That bastard Yoma. He fled remarkably far.
“Give me the exact location.”
Seo Won-gil fumbled frantically inside his robes and produced a crumpled sheet of parchment.
“H-Here! A map marking the way!”
Drawn by Seo Won-gil’s own hand, it was crude and rough, but detailed enough to navigate by.
“What else was inside the hideout?”
“Secret manuals! There were some everyday furnishings—a desk, a bed, oil lamps—but everything was rotted and useless!”
“Where is the manual now?”
Seo Won-gil’s hands hitched for a fraction of a second. Yun immediately lashed out with a kick to his ribs.
“Gaaagh!”
“I can practically hear your eyes rolling around in your skull from here. If you're that eager to show them off, shall I gouge them out and turn them into mantle ornaments?”
“H-Here! It's right here!”
Terrified out of his wits, Seo Won-gil yanked a thin booklet from his breast pocket and held it out with both shaking hands. Yun flipped through the pages with a flick of his thumb. It was the genuine article.
“N-Now, please, spare my l—”
Slash!
Yun severed the man's throat in a single, crisp motion.
A spray of dark crimson spattered the stone walls as Seo Won-gil collapsed into the dirt. Looking down at the wide, indignant eyes of the dying physician, Yun muttered coldly,
“I never said I’d spare you, dumbass.”
There's no way in hell I'd leave someone who knows how to refine jiangshi breathing.
That would run completely counter to the path of chivalry. Besides, Yun found the very concept of jiangshi utterly contemptible.
If you want to become strong, temper your own flesh and bone. Resorting to such pathetic sorcery...
No matter which way he looked at it, sparing Seo Won-gil was never an option.
It might be one thing if he were the kind of man who would seal away this craft and never use it again.
But this rat had already brewed corpses from scratch, kidnapped dozens of innocent children, and plotted to turn both Yun and Geol into high-grade puppets. A creature like that would never change.
I’ll burn this manual to ashes later.
Yun knelt and searched Seo Won-gil’s corpse. Aside from a single money pouch, there was nothing of value on him.
Well, figures.
It was entirely expected. He had only checked as a matter of thoroughness.
Although he had maintained caution over suspicions that the physician might be a true vanguard of the Demon Cult or Yoma's designated successor, Seo Won-gil had ultimately turned out to be nothing more than an opportunistic coward who stumbled upon a dead elder's notes. A man of that caliber lacked both the cunning to bargain with intelligence for his life and the foresight to prepare contingencies for his own ruin.
That was precisely why Yun had simply pressed a blade to his throat and threatened him into compliance. Had Seo Won-gil possessed even half a functioning brain, the interrogation would have required a far more delicate touch.
Then all that remains is to inspect Mount Huang.
Yun doubted Seo Won-gil had truly inherited everything Yoma left behind.
If he had, there's no way he wouldn't have learned any martial arts.
Yoma was only dismissed as weak within the context of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult's upper echelon, judged against monstrous elders and grandmasters. Placed in the Central Plains, his personal martial prowess would have easily earned him the renown of a formidable master.
Which means Seo Won-gil either failed to find the martial manuals in the hideout, or...
Mount Huang wasn't Yoma’s only bolt-hole.
Still, this incident was wrapped up cleanly.
He had slain a wicked villain who kidnapped children to turn them into reanimated monsters. And as an added bonus, he had rescued an annoying fool of a cousin who had managed to get himself captured.
Mm. This easily qualifies as a chivalric act.
A truly splendid one at that. A faint, satisfied smile touched Yun’s lips.
The missing children had returned.
That miraculous fact alone was enough to turn the entire city upside down.
The parents of the abducted children wept with overwhelming relief, while families who had locked their little ones indoors in terror could finally throw open their shutters and breathe easy. Naturally, people gathered in clusters across every alleyway, market stall, and teahouse, buzzing with fervor.
“Seo Won-gil, you say?”
“Aye. Seo Won-gil of Won'am Clinic. They say that very physician was the culprit who snatched the children.”
“A physician? What could a respected healer possibly lack to kidnap children? And over a dozen of them at that!”
“Word is, he was trying to refine jiangshi.”
“What? Jiangshi? Those legendary walking corpses from the ghost stories?”
“The very same.”
“Good heavens... are we supposed to believe such madness?”
The news was so bizarre and appalling that many remained skeptical about the existence of actual moving corpses. While some swallowed the rumors whole, others simply scoffed.
“Likely just a madman lost in delusions trying to pull off an impossible stunt.”
Yet on one point, every single person was in complete agreement.
“If those children had been left in his clutches any longer, disaster would have been inevitable.”
Naturally, the townsfolk's curiosity turned toward the righteous benefactor who had shattered the conspiracy and brought the children back alive.
“I heard he’s a young master from the Namgung Clan?”
“Aye, the very same man who was wandering through the streets a few days ago, asking questions about the missing children.”
“I thought the Orthodox sects weren't worth a copper coin these days, but it seems there's still someone with a decent head on his shoulders.”
“What was his name again?”
“It was definitely Namgung... Yun? Something like that.”
“A true chivalrous hero has emerged from the Namgung Clan.”
And so, the name of Namgung Yun began to ripple through the populace—quietly at first, but spreading with undeniable certainty.
The common folk were not the only ones shaken by Seo Won-gil’s crimes.
The Namgung Clan was equally in an uproar. In fact, the clan elders and leadership took the situation far more gravely than the commoners did.
Not out of concern for the victims, of course.
“To think such an outrage transpired right under our noses, in the very heart of our Namgung Clan’s territory!”
“It is an utter disgrace! How will the other great families look upon us now?!”
“How can we claim to be the pillar of the Orthodox faction when we cannot even police our own backyard?!”
“This alone is enough to make us the laughingstock of the martial world! If we handle this poorly, there may even be bastards bold enough to look down on our might!”
What they truly feared was nothing more than a stain upon their pride.