A Gathering of Sparks
The mobilization order from the Sichuan Righteous Alliance arrived sooner than expected.
A young man and woman clad in the martial robes of the Tang family knocked on the gates of the Heavenly Sword Academy.
"It has been a long time," Dang So-ryung greeted them warmly.
"It is good to see you again, Aunt," replied the young woman.
"Have you been keeping well, Aunt?" the young man added, bowing politely.
Dang Joong-myung's granddaughter and grandson presented two Fiery Heat Pills with deep respect.
"Please convey my deepest gratitude to my father-in-law," Do Sang-woon said, stepping forward to receive them.
"He would likely say that gratitude is unnecessary when it concerns his own granddaughter," Dang Joong-myung's granddaughter, Dang Hwa-young, replied with a bright smile.
Though she hailed from a branch family, Dang Hwa-young was a highly renowned rising star in Sichuan. She had reached the Peak Realm in her late teens, and now, in her mid-twenties, she stood at the very pinnacle of the Transcendental Realm. Countless demonic practitioners had fallen by her hand, and she showed absolutely no mercy to the wicked.
She was known as the Iron Flower of Sichuan.
It was an epithet that perfectly suited her unyielding, upright convictions. Yet she was not merely rigid; she possessed the flexibility to bend when necessary. She was the pride of Dang Joong-myung and the hope of the branch family.
The young man beside her was no different.
"Hwa-soo, you have changed quite a bit since I last saw you as well," Do Sang-woon remarked.
"I still have a long way to go, Uncle," Dang Hwa-soo replied, bowing his head respectfully.
At Do Sang-woon's praise, Dang Hwa-soo nodded with a modest smile. Because his older sister's talent was so overwhelming, Dang Hwa-soo had lived his entire life in her shadow, constantly compared to her. Every single action he took, every breakthrough he achieved, was inevitably measured against Dang Hwa-young.
A lesser man might have broken under such pressure. But as the younger brother of the Iron Flower, Dang Hwa-soo possessed an exceptionally resilient mind. Despite being a martial artist of the Tang family, he was more famous for his swordsmanship than his poison, earning him the title of the Iron Sword.
Together, the Iron Flower and the Iron Sword of Sichuan were the pride and hope of the branch families. This was especially true because the children of the current Tang family patriarch all fell short in one way or another, making the contrast even more stark.
"How is the situation within the Tang family?" Do Sang-woon asked.
"Well, it is not good, as you might expect," Dang Hwa-young replied, her tone turning somber.
Do Sang-woon offered a bitter smile at her words. "I am afraid we cannot offer much help this time."
"Grandfather does not expect much either. You only need to provide a token presence to satisfy the alliance's mandate."
"I plan to send Yoo-sung and Ho-sung."
"...Yoo-sung?"
The completely unexpected name caught both Dang Hwa-young and Dang Hwa-soo off guard. But they quickly understood the reasoning. It would not look good for Do Yoo-chan, the future successor of the academy, to risk his life on a dangerous battlefield. Nor did it make sense for the master himself, Do Sang-woon, to deploy. Thus, Yoo-sung was the only logical choice.
Furthermore, sending Ho-sung—who was considered the next strongest expert in the Heavenly Sword Academy after Do Sang-woon and Do Yoo-chan—was more than enough to satisfy the alliance's requirements.
"That will be more than sufficient," Dang Hwa-young said.
Since they had not expected much from the Heavenly Sword Academy in the first place, both of them bowed respectfully to Do Sang-woon, accepting his decision.
Pant...
Pant...
Ho-sung gasped heavily for air, but the fierce light in his eyes had not faded in the slightest. His body was covered in a map of minor cuts and bruises.
"Your eyes are as fierce as ever, just like in the old days," Yoo-sung remarked.
Yoo-sung grinned and flicked his wrist. Terrified, Ho-sung threw himself to the side.
Boom!
Yoo-sung's sword knew no mercy. Biting his lip, Ho-sung scrambled desperately to evade the relentless onslaught.
Damn it! What on earth did he do during those ten years away?
Even before his departure, Yoo-sung had possessed extraordinary talent, but since his return, he had reached a realm that felt light-years away. Did he really recover some of the lost insights of the Changcheon Geomje?
Do Sang-woon was currently entirely absorbed in mastering the latter half of the Changcheon Ten Swords and the Hyeonmu Gong that Yoo-sung had brought back. Do Yoo-chan was equally busy, and Ho-sung had also been granted permission to learn the Changcheon Ten Swords.
Since both the master and the young master were occupied, Yoo-sung had taken it upon himself to personally train Ho-sung. From that moment on, Ho-sung's days became a living hell. Yoo-sung was by no means a gentle instructor; he taught through brutal, physical experience. Though Ho-sung had eagerly accepted the challenge at first, it was rapidly becoming more than he could bear.
Of course, he could feel himself growing stronger by the day.
But I cannot afford to remain stagnant forever.
Others might have been content with reaching the Transcendental Realm. But in this day and age, Transcendental masters were no longer the rare commodities they once were. The Great War of Matian had not brought only ruin to the martial world. To combat the overwhelming power of Matian's demonic practitioners, both the Orthodox and Unorthodox sects had been forced to rapidly evolve.
In that crucible, the overall standard of martial artists had risen dramatically, and opportunities for miraculous breakthroughs had multiplied. As a result, masters of the Transformation Realm—once considered absolute rulers of entire regions—had become surprisingly common. It was hard to deny that Do Sang-woon's own breakthrough into the Transformation Realm had been influenced by the chaotic era of the Matian War.
Of course, opinions differed on whether a modern Transformation Realm master truly possessed the same depth of power as those of the past.
"Do you need a break?" Yoo-sung asked.
Ho-sung shook his head fiercely. "I can still keep going!"
"Very well."
At Yoo-sung's nonchalant reply, a torrential downpour of Sword Qi erupted. The sharp energy pressing down on Ho-sung multiplied into a thousand droplets, forming a deadly storm.
Changcheon Rain.
It was the advanced form of the Changcheon Ten Swords that Ho-sung needed to master. Among the defensive-oriented Changcheon Ten Swords, this particular form boasted the greatest destructive power, which consequently demanded an immense amount of internal energy. Furthermore, without precise control, the technique could easily injure one's own allies. Thus, real combat experience was absolutely vital to mastering Changcheon Rain.
"You can come out now. How long do you plan on watching?"
Yoo-sung's voice was cold, and as his aura shifted, the surrounding air fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.
"Impressive," Dang Hwa-young murmured in genuine admiration. "It seems you didn't survive the last ten years on mere luck."
Dang Hwa-young readily acknowledged the weight of Yoo-sung's missing decade. Dang Hwa-soo, however, observed Yoo-sung with a deeply skeptical gaze.
"Which faction do you think he belonged to?"
"He certainly doesn't belong to Matian. He lacks their distinct energy."
The demonic energy of Matian, while corrupt, was fundamentally different from that of Cheon-san. Cheon-san was home to the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, the sacred land of demonic practitioners that had birthed the legendary Heavenly Demon. The demonic martial artists of Cheon-san possessed a fierce, competitive spirit and constantly coveted the Central Plains. They sought to conquer the Central Plains to prove their absolute strength.
In contrast, the practitioners of Matian were driven purely by primal instincts. They would stop at nothing to gain power, completely devoid of any moral boundaries. To them, destroying their own minds and bodies was a cheap price to pay for absolute strength. Indeed, the Maryeong used by Matian was referred to as the seed of demons, operating on an entirely different plane from the arts of Cheon-san.
"A Maryeong always leaves a trace."
"True."
The signs of a Maryeong were diverse. They varied wildly depending on how long the practitioner had harbored it and their level of mastery. Yet, they all shared one undeniable trait: because of the Maryeong rooted in their hearts, their blood turned pitch-black.
Until one actually saw their blood flow, it was incredibly difficult to distinguish a practitioner of Matian from one of Cheon-san.
Though, there is hardly any reason to distinguish them anyway.
The emergence of Matian had shattered the traditional values of the martial world. The boundaries between the Orthodox and Unorthodox paths had crumbled, leaving behind only a desperate obsession to overcome the threat of Matian. The established powerhouses fought out of pride to protect what was theirs, while the rising figures fought to seize even more. At some point, Matian had simply become a tool—a convenient excuse to realize their own ambitions.
"No matter how I look at him, he doesn't have a Maryeong," Dang Hwa-young said with certainty.
Dang Hwa-soo immediately countered his sister's confidence. "Let us observe him a bit longer."
Dang Hwa-young clicked her tongue but nodded in agreement. "You are far too cautious."
"And you are far too simple-minded, Sister."
Of course, Dang Hwa-young's simplicity stemmed from her absolute confidence in her own abilities. Just as their conversation was drawing to a close—
"You can come out now. How long do you plan on watching?"
Yoo-sung's voice rang out, causing both of their expressions to stiffen.
"Oh? Is that the Iron Flower and the Iron Sword?" Ho-sung, still gasping for breath, looked up in surprise at their sudden appearance.
"Please, rest. There is no need for such formal pleasantries," Dang Hwa-young said, gently waving him down. Her eyes then drifted toward Yoo-sung. "It has been a long time, Yoo-sung."
"Indeed."
Unlike Dang Hwa-young, who was clearly pleased to see him, Dang Hwa-soo remained thoroughly unimpressed. Dang Hwa-soo had never liked Yoo-sung, even in the past. Since Yoo-sung had no interest in playing nice with someone who disliked him, an awkward tension immediately settled between them.
"Tsk. Are you still trying to pick a fight with him? No matter how old you get, you always turn into a child in front of Yoo-sung," Dang Hwa-young teased.
She thoroughly enjoyed these rare moments when her brother, usually the very epitome of gravity and caution, actually showed raw emotion. Of course, that amusement only extended as long as he didn't cross the line.
"From this moment on, we are comrades fighting side by side. If you ruin things because of some petty grudge, I won't forgive you, even if you are my brother. Understand?"
At her casual yet firm warning, Dang Hwa-soo nodded stiffly. "I am fully capable of separating personal feelings from duty."
"Good. Then let's get along." Having effortlessly cleared the air, Dang Hwa-young offered a bright grin. "Since we haven't seen each other in ages, how about we go grab a drink?"
"Drinks? At a time like this?" Predictably, Dang Hwa-soo was the first to object.
Ho-sung also looked rather hesitant. But trying to sway Dang Hwa-young once her mind was made up was an exercise in futility.
"As the saying goes, camaraderie is forged over shared cups. Besides, I want to hear the stories of our prodigal son who has finally returned after ten long years. Think about it—aren't you even a little curious about where he went and what he did?"
Pressuring them with a knowing smile, Dang Hwa-young proved to be an even more formidable woman than the rumors suggested.
Amusing.
Yoo-sung instantly saw right through her intentions. The talk of drinks and camaraderie was merely a convenient facade. Dang Hwa-young had only one true motive: to determine if Yoo-sung had aligned himself with any wicked factions, and to probe whether his past was entangled with Matian or other demonic practitioners. Her intention to subtly interrogate him under the guise of a casual drink was transparent.
Yet, her sheer confidence—not even bothering to hide her motives—did not offend him. In fact, had she accepted him too easily without question, he would have been thoroughly disappointed in both her and her brother. Regardless, they were destined to be comrades working together to resolve the crisis plaguing Sichuan for the foreseeable future.
"Sure, why not? Though I must warn you, my story is rather dull and ordinary."
Seeing Yoo-sung comply so readily, Dang Hwa-young's smile widened. "I knew I liked you, Yoo-sung! You're always so straightforward. Hey, Ho-sung! Is there a decent tavern nearby?"
"...Follow me," Ho-sung muttered with a heavy sigh, picking himself up.
"We will stop here for today. We depart the day after tomorrow, so make sure to get plenty of rest until then."
"Understood."
With that, Yoo-sung and Ho-sung made their way back to the Heavenly Sword Academy. Watching their retreating figures, Dang Hwa-young spoke.
"Well? What did you think?"
"About what?"
"Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?"
At her calm inquiry, Dang Hwa-soo furrowed his brow. "Are you actually doubting Yoo-sung?"
"Weren't you the one doubting him just a moment ago?"
When Dang Hwa-young shot him a look of mild disbelief, Dang Hwa-soo let out a weary sigh. "I had my suspicions initially. But those doubts vanished the moment I heard he had a private audience with Grandfather."
To Dang Hwa-soo, Dang Joong-myung was practically a deity. If a master of the Transformation Realm like Dang Joong-myung had detected even a trace of corrupt energy within Yoo-sung, he would never have let it slide. Dang Joong-myung was a man who drew a sharp line between public duty and private affection, and he was notoriously strict even with his own flesh and blood. The fact that such a man had willingly handed over the Fiery Heat Pills and sent Yoo-sung on his way was proof enough that his past was clean.
"Is that so? I fully expected you to be the one harboring doubts."
"And what about you, Sister?"
At his counter-question, Dang Hwa-young chewed her lip and smiled. "I am still fifty-fifty."
"...!"
Dang Hwa-soo's gaze sharpened instantly at her response. Any lingering warmth from the alcohol evaporated, replaced by his usual solemn intensity.
"Oh, come now. I don't mean anything malicious by it. It is clear that Yoo-sung is hiding something, but..." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I don't think it has anything to do with demonic practitioners. Rather, there is simply a slight discrepancy in his account of his past travels."
"A discrepancy?"
"If I recall correctly, the Great War of the Northern Sea ended with the downfall of the Ice Palace."
The Great War of the Northern Sea had concluded with the Northern Sea Ice Palace sealing its gates after being branded as puppets of Matian. The current Lord of the Northern Sea Ice Palace was the half-brother of the former Lord. By exposing his brother's treachery, subduing him, and sealing the palace gates, the current Lord had successfully severed all ties between the Northern Sea Ice Palace and Matian. However, unlike the exceptionally gifted former Lord, the current Lord's martial talent was somewhat lacking.
"I remembered that the entire affair had been kept under strict wraps... Yet, Yoo-sung possessed a surprisingly detailed knowledge of those events."
"Well, even if he was just a low-ranking fighter, anyone who was at the heart of the Northern Sea War would have picked up on the rumors. And if he was active as a rogue martial artist, it is only natural that he would know."
It was a well-known tale that the current Lord of the Northern Sea Ice Palace had ousted his predecessor with the assistance of rogue martial artists.
"I suppose so... Well, we will see."
"Indeed. After all, we have the Iron Flower with us."
Putting their minor doubts aside, Dang Hwa-young and Dang Hwa-soo finished their preparations. As the appointed time arrived, the four of them finally set out toward the Tang family estate to join the hunt for the demonic practitioners.