Alliance (3)
That night.
Yeon Hojeong sat alone on his bed, reviewing plans for the next operation, when he sensed an aura of extreme secrecy directed toward him.
The aura’s stealth was comparable to that of a master assassin, yet the clarity it carried ran deeper than any orthodox divine art in the world. How can this be? It was an aura Yeon Hojeong knew well. That familiarity made the moment even more astonishing.
The person he knew would never move with such furtive grace.
With a soft rustle, Yeon Hojeong slipped through the window and descended into the courtyard. He turned his gaze westward.
The clear aura was slowly receding, as if inviting him to follow. Why not send a voice transmission? He could not guess the reason, yet he moved all the same. Qi revealed not only emotion but character, and from this aura he sensed no malice.
Like a shadow, Yeon Hojeong trailed the presence in silence. A summons at this late hour meant the matter could not be known to others.
He traveled for what felt like an eternity until, after a full twenty li, a modest training ground emerged from the darkness. It was one he had never seen before.
The Martial Alliance contained many such hidden places. Its grounds were vast beyond measure.
And at the center of that training ground stood a solitary figure.
“You’ve come.”
Yeon Hojeong offered a precise, respectful fist salute.
“I have been remiss in not visiting sooner.”
“Hoho.”
The one who had summoned him was none other than Seunghyeon Jinin, leader of the Wudang Sect.
“As commander of the Myeolsa Army, you must be far busier than us idle old men. I meant to stop by, to offer a pat on the shoulder at least, but these heavy bones of mine kept me away. Forgive me.”
“How can you speak such words?”
“They are sincere.”
Of course Yeon Hojeong knew they were. Seunghyeon Jinin was not a man who spoke empty pleasantries.
The Wudang leader clasped his hands behind his back and gazed up at the night sky.
“You are truly a remarkable man.”
Yeon Hojeong remained silent, simply watching him.
Seunghyeon Jinin slowly closed his eyes.
“The first time I saw you was after you returned from sweeping the Central Plains with the Myeolsa Army, cutting down countless villains.”
“……”
“At the time I questioned you without restraint. Hoho, I say ‘questioned,’ but the truth is I intended to scold you. Shameful, isn’t it?”
“Not at all.”
“Yet you possessed your own clear convictions. You cared for the soldiers more than anyone else. Though we exchanged few words, it was enough for me to understand your heart.”
Seunghyeon Jinin opened his eyes once more and looked directly at Yeon Hojeong.
In that instant, a strange emptiness bloomed in Yeon Hojeong’s chest.
The gaze that met his was pure—untouched by the rot of blood-soaked battlefields. It reminded him of the innocence every soul is born with, before the world stains it.
Seunghyeon Jinin’s eyes were that clear, that deep. They belonged to a true Daoist who had not only grasped the Dao of immortal martial arts but had also mastered the Dao of the mortal world. It was a gaze entirely different from Yeon Hojeong’s own.
“Finding salvation in a life steeped in killing karma is nearly impossible. At least, that has always been my belief.”
“……”
“But you were different. You wielded a killing blade, yet your heart remained unshaken, filled with genuine concern for the world. The line you walked was razor-thin, but I saw how thick and sturdy that line truly was.”
“You honor me too greatly.”
“It is no exaggeration. I speak only what I have seen and felt.”
Seunghyeon Jinin smiled gently.
“I like you.”
The words carried profound weight.
Yeon Hojeong had never lived for the approval of others, yet he felt an unexpected surge of emotion. The leader of the Wudang Sect—a genuine Daoist unlike the glittering but hollow experts of the mundane world—had said he liked him. Even though he was a killer whose life had been drenched in blood from beginning to end.
The admission filled him with both gratitude and shame. He did not believe himself worthy of recognition from such an exalted figure.
“However, no matter how thick the vein of goodness one carries, the turbid waters of killing karma are always fearsome. You will likely manage well on your own, but this worry-prone old mule cannot help but fear for your future.”
“Even hearing such concern is a gift.”
“Therefore, I wish to offer you a small measure of help.”
“Help?”
Yeon Hojeong tilted his head.
Seunghyeon Jinin suddenly let out a hearty laugh.
“Around noon today, the Abbot Grandmaster came to see me.”
“……!”
“He did not reveal the full circumstances. He simply asked whether there was anything I could do for you, as you were engaged in a most difficult struggle.”
“The Abbot Grandmaster…”
“I heard you have several companions moving alongside you. Yet they are the heads of the Six Families—individuals already standing at the threshold of completion, whether in martial arts, personal conviction, or the purpose of their lives.”
The biting wind of late winter faded, replaced by the warm breeze of early spring.
As that breeze brushed across the training ground, Seunghyeon Jinin’s eyes grew even deeper.
“I know you are the equal of those family heads, and even the leaders of the Nine Great Sects.”
“Such words are too heavy for me to bear.”
“I do not speak of martial prowess. I speak of your will and your steadfast character.”
“There is still much I lack.”
Seunghyeon Jinin shook his head.
“You are still young. And youth makes such things even more terrifying. I suspect that in the next generation of the gangho, few will cast a shadow as brilliant as your name.”
“……”
“Those who possess power cannot escape the responsibility that power demands. The moment they forget that duty, the world falls into chaos. Some may doubt whether one person’s madness could truly bring such ruin, but it can. That is the nature of the murim, and of the world itself.”
I know.
Yeon Hojeong nearly spoke the words aloud.
Whether in martial or civil affairs, those with great influence over the world are not easily restrained. A single word from them can shake the hearts of the masses, and when the masses are shaken, the very foundation of the nation trembles.
Those seated in high places. Those who have earned peerless fame.
That is why they must carry a sense of responsibility. Even if the life is not one they chose, they must display the dignity it demands.
Only then can the world avoid falling into disorder. If one lacks the confidence to do so, the wisest path is to abandon the mundane world and retreat into the mountains.
It was a cold truth, but a truth nonetheless.
“Those in power, or the great merchants, have always been the same. They dispense authority freely, yet few are willing to bear the corresponding responsibility.”
Seunghyeon Jinin waved his hand in a natural gesture.
Hwoooong.
Warm wind swirled around his aged fingertips, gently heating the air above the training ground.
“Come up.”
Yeon Hojeong stepped onto the training platform.
Seunghyeon Jinin slowly lowered his stance.
“Watch carefully. At your level, once will be enough.”
His steps were impossibly light, as though his body carried no weight at all. Both hands moved with clear, profound true qi. The voluminous sleeves swept through the air without a sound, yet the wind that followed their path tickled the ears. Infinitely soft. More beautiful than any dancer, the lines drawn by those hands gradually sharpened. Perfect circles flattened and accelerated until a single fist tore through the empty air with a resounding burst. The control of qi was flawless. Each circular gathering of power was delivered in a single strike—enough to shatter any peak-level martial art head-on.
Seunghyeon Jinin straightened his posture and smiled with slight embarrassment.
“What do you think?”
“……”
“It is magnificent.”
“There is no need for such praise. This priest’s cultivation is still lacking. You must have noticed the places where I applied too much force.”
Yeon Hojeong’s admiration was genuine.
“You should not speak so humbly. Who else in the world could display such power through the infinitely soft Wudang Taiji Fist?”
Indeed. What Seunghyeon Jinin had demonstrated was the Taiji Fist Yeon Hojeong already knew.
Yet similar movements did not make it the same art.
Seunghyeon Jinin’s Taiji Fist contained indescribable enlightenment, perfect control and release of power. It was not a technique one could wield simply by copying the forms. The shape was easy to imitate, but the realization held within was nearly impossible to replicate even one part in a hundred.
That was the true essence of Seunghyeon Jinin’s martial arts. Despite having experienced few real battles, he had forged his own solitary path through pure insight and the teachings of his predecessors. This was the depth of the Wudang Sect Leader.
The moment he witnessed it, Yeon Hojeong understood one thing with absolute certainty.
I would lose.
With the power of the Black Dark Emperor, he might win. Even without reaching that previous realm, advancing just one more step and relying on his honed combat instincts might allow him to fight on equal footing.
But he would still lose. There was no avoiding it.
I already lost in my heart.
Martial arts could not be expressed through fists, feet, and weapons alone.
In Seunghyeon Jinin’s Taiji Fist, Yeon Hojeong sensed a depth he could scarcely reach. He felt reverence for that depth.
Even if he regained the full power of his past life as the Black Dark Emperor, he would not be able to defeat Seunghyeon Jinin.
Why? Because he would never even attempt to fight him.
If Seunghyeon Jinin ever turned his blade against him, Yeon Hojeong would immediately set down his axe and declare defeat.
That was the ultimate realization of immortal martial learning—the pinnacle that those who cultivated both Dao and Buddha were meant to reach.
Seunghyeon Jinin burst into warm laughter.
“Truly like you. The moment you see my Taiji Fist, you already calculate victory and defeat.”
“Ah…”
“As expected, you are a born warrior. Ten years from now, those capable of defeating you with mundane martial arts will be few indeed.”
“I am ashamed.”
“You looked at my Taiji Fist and thought first of winning and losing, then saw your own defeat. That is the difference between us. Still, I wish to narrow that gap, even if only slightly.”
“Pardon?”
“I heard that you and several of the Six Family heads are undertaking grueling work for the sake of the gangho. I did not ask for details, but seeing the Abbot’s expression, I knew it was no ordinary matter.”
“……”
“I cannot know what manner of killing karma will dye your future red, but I wish to plant at least one ray of warmth in your weary heart. That is all.”
Immediately after speaking, Seunghyeon Jinin began to recite an unfamiliar formula.
Yeon Hojeong knelt at once and repeated every word exactly as he heard it.
It was not a martial art belonging to the Wudang Sect. It was Seunghyeon Jinin’s own enlightenment, melted into the Taiji Fist.
His voice was remarkably calm, carrying a strange rhythm that felt like listening to a song. It possessed such resonance that anyone who heard it once would be able to memorize it.
And so, before marching to war, Yeon Hojeong received a priceless gift.
It was the supreme enlightenment of the Primordial Martial God of Wudang Immortal Mountain—something that might protect his heart for the rest of his life.