The Price of Greed (5)
Dae Byeol Mountain, straddling the borders of Henan, Hubei, and Anhui provinces, boasted diverse scenery year-round. Spring brought blooming flowers, summer lush greenery. Autumn unveiled fiery foliage, and winter's snowscapes were spectacles among spectacles. With such distinct seasonal beauty, it was no wonder the peak was hailed as a renowned mountain.
And now, in this winter season, the snow blanketed every corner of Dae Byeol Mountain where the Mu Rim Meng stood. After two days of relentless blizzard, the storm had finally eased, making the views truly worth savoring.
The young martial artists gathered at the alliance scaled the hills within or ventured beyond to circle the entire mountain. As seasoned cultivators, the cold posed no issue. Yet many still skipped the winter vistas unique to Dae Byeol Mountain.
Yun Ho was one such soul.
Bam!
Shock etched across Yun Ho's face. The flashy sword forms of Hwasan Sect's signature art, Plum Blossom Thirty-Six Swords, crumbled under a single fist. The crisp, rapid strikes that typically overwhelmed foes shattered against sheer overwhelming power.
Thud!
"Gahhh!"
He'd truly tried not to end up like this time. But the pain was excruciating. His focus during combat wasn't so shallow as to falter from agony, yet every punch and kick from this man inflicted nightmarish torment.
"Hurts, huh?"
Yun Ho, kneeling and trembling, looked up. A blue-eyed demon silhouetted against the sun stared down at him.
"It hurts me too. My sanity."
"Cough! Huff... huff!"
"Enough already."
"J-just one more..."
"No."
Thwack!
Yun Ho soared through the air, slamming into the wall at Pa Gun Pavilion's entrance before crumpling to the frozen ground. Splayed out like a starfish, he passed out cold.
Yeon Hojeong bellowed at Ok Cheong.
"Hey! Flatnose!"
"Y-yes?"
"Toss this bastard outside."
"In this weather? Even a master like him, unconscious..."
"Damn it, if he didn't come ready to die, why show up? Get rid of him!"
"Yes, sir."
Ok Cheong hurriedly hoisted Yun Ho. Strangely, the body felt unusually light. They'd met a few times, but he'd never realized Yun Ho was this featherweight.
'He's not dead, is he?'
Thankfully, vital energy pulsed strong. Despite the lethal kicks, it seemed calibrated to just knock him out. Rough mouth, but a hidden soft spot.
"Um..."
"What."
"C-can I drop him off at the Hwasan Sect quarters?"
"Do what you want."
"Thank you! I'll be right back!"
"Don't bother."
Ok Cheong unleashed his movement technique. It was Wudang Sect's pinnacle lightness skill, Cloud Ladder Step.
Yeon Hojeong whistled unwittingly.
"That scrawny sword nerd's got killer footwork. Or wait—is the whole package just lightweight?"
Muk Bi remarked with a sour expression.
"Unique lightness skill. Not flashy, but he's already way over there."
"That's Namjon Wudang's Cloud Ladder Step. Wudang arts all embody profound martial principles. This one's no exception."
"I heard from Father once that Wudang swords are incredibly soft."
"Looks that way on the surface."
"They're not?"
Yeon Hojeong shook his head.
"Soft and seamless—that's Wudang's essence. But I wouldn't stop there. Strength and softness are one. Wudang excels at Twisting Silk Energy in the martial world. It seems yielding, but channeling circular force into a single point unleashes devastating power rivaling the world's best."
"Oh..."
"Pure softness can't reach the Dao. That's why Wudang's called the Southern Sovereign. Entry's easy, mastery rare."
"How do you know all that?"
"Overheard it somewhere."
No way. He didn't spout 'overheard' tales with such conviction.
"But anyway."
"Yeah?"
"Must be a real hassle, huh?"
"Try grabbing and fighting them yourself. See if it's not."
"Can't you view it as training? They're heirs of famed sects, versed in secret arts. Use them as stepping stones for growth?"
"Growth? Swarms of posers who can't even graze their sects' profundities. Bullshit growth."
"Mm, fair point."
Yeon Hojeong scowled.
"Next punk who pokes around for a spar, shoot 'em. One hole and they'll think twice about fighting."
"You're joking, right?"
"I held back from saying blow their heads off."
"Punching holes turns this into a huge incident, no?"
"Not my problem. You shot 'em."
Irresponsible much?
Thud.
Yeon Hojeong set down Gwang Yong Bu and slumped onto the bench, rubbing his neck. Even if they hadn't mastered their sects' secrets, he'd sparred over fifteen juniors today alone.
"Exhausting."
A deathmatch would've been less tiring. Holding back to match them was pure agony. Irritation flared with each swing; he'd wind up for a finisher only to pull back mid-way, lest he pulverize them and invite headaches.
Yeon Hojeong's eyes gleamed.
'Well... growth might be a stretch.'
Still, endless frustrating bouts yielded insight.
'I'm not the Black Dark Emperor anymore. Can't live by black path rules.'
From outsider to black path overlord—countless foes slain, comrades lost. His arts knew no mercy. Fights ended in death; half-measures didn't exist for the Black Dark Emperor.
But regressed, navigating white path Murim? Different story. Unleashing killing intent freely spelled disaster. Even unscathed himself, his clan could suffer backlash.
'I control power fine. But making foes back off without killing? No clue.'
Self-retreat enlightenment arts. That was Yeon Hojeong's gap. Annihilation-honed techniques brimmed with dominance and killing aura.
'Father's different.'
Middle path arts. True swordsman embracing myriad martial ways. Reason for the Judge Sword moniker. Judgment blade for villains; for non-lethal foes, force withdrawal.
Perfect for Yeon Hojeong's current white path life.
"Knowing what to learn is half the battle."
"What?"
"Nothing."
Yeon Hojeong stood.
"Heading in to rest."
"Sure."
Then—
Both froze. Tension creased Muk Bi's face.
"This one's... different?"
"Understatement."
Yeon Hojeong's expression turned grave. He glanced toward Pa Gun Pavilion's entrance.
Hummm.
Snow on the ground beyond the wall scattered in the wind. Not natural gusts. Intense aura from a martial artist blasted accumulated drifts with each step.
'This energy...'
Familiar yet alien. Presence of a great family patriarch.
Moments later, a figure emerged.
"Here to see Young Master Yeon."
Yeon Hojeong's eyes flashed. Average build, unremarkable height. Airy demeanor like drifting clouds—reminiscent of a mountain hermit, but laced with worldly edge. More scholar than warrior.
Yet his cultivation screamed transcendent master.
The middle-aged man's gaze on Yeon Hojeong sparkled with deep wisdom and unyielding resolve like bamboo.
"Impressive arts. That whirlwind aura disregarding all—few in my house could match you."
The man smiled.
"Perfect timing. You must be Yeon Hojeong?"
Yeon Hojeong finally recognized him. He cupped his fists crisply.
"Yeon Hojeong at your service. Honored to meet the Jegal family patriarch."
Muk Bi gaped at the man. Jegal Munho smiled faintly.
"If time permits, might I trouble you for a cup of tea?"
* * *
"Huuu."
His exhaled breath was murkier than ever. But it wasn't bad. The destined trial every martial artist faced when dismantling the old to build anew.
Hummmm.
Azure energy surged from Moyong Woo's body. Similar hue to his prior Small Yellow Pure Qi, but far purer and clearer.
Heaven and earth, man between—only humans wielded power to toy with them. The Moyong family patriarch's art, Geon Gon Martial Solution's supreme method Geon Gon Eight Extremes Heart Method, filled his frame.
"Remarkable."
Moyong Woo turned. Moyong Gun approached, admiration undisguised.
"In just two days, you've folded your entire inner energy into the Eight Extremes framework?"
"Yes."
"Truly prodigious talent. Your insight rivals the best, yet even accounting for that, astonishing speed."
Moyong Woo shook his head.
"Just the beginning. Haven't swung my sword yet—I'm actually late."
"Anyone else saying that, I'd roar at a crawler dreaming of running."
Moyong Gun chuckled fondly.
"Not much time left."
"Pardon?"
"The Mu Rim Meng founding conference."
Studying Moyong Gun, Moyong Woo sensed a task coming.
"What must I do?"
"Hahaha."
Prodigal son returned after a decade of rebellion. No tension in his shoulders—just quiet confidence promising flawless execution.
"The Mu Rim Meng will form. Minor sects' reps must be consulted, but with near-unanimous support from Nine Great Sects and Six Great Families, opposition's futile."
"..."
"Post-founding, one organization needs you."
Moyong Woo's eyes lit.
"What is it?"
"Independent Reserve Force."
"...?!"
"Two independent reserves in the alliance. I'd like you for one. If not possible, no matter."
"Reserve force..."
"Won't last long. Combat command's the lowest rung on your ladder of posts. Call it experience."
"Understood."
"But as reserve head, rack up more merits than the other. Enough to absorb or disband it. Can you?"
Moyong Woo nodded.
"No worries."
"Haha! I trust you."
"Who for the other reserve?"
Moyong Gun's eyes chilled.
"Yeon family's eldest son."
"...!!"