The Groundwork
Ziing. Ziiing.
With his eyes closed and sword drawn, Moyong Gun’s body blazed with threatening lightning. Azure thunder qi writhed across his frame. The fact that the qi was visible to the naked eye spoke volumes about its overwhelming power.
Yet, remarkably, the usual oppressive aura unique to thunder qi was nowhere to be felt.
This was as difficult a feat as slicing through an object with sword qi without actually splitting it. ‘Noejeonggong. He’s on the verge of grand completion.’
His control over the density of qi had reached the absolute pinnacle. It meant that Moyong Gun’s mastery of the ancient supreme art, Noejeonggong, was on the cusp of its final stage.
Noejeonggong was an unparalleled divine technique. Those who witnessed its ultimate form could claim power worthy of being called a Martial God, capable of unleashing strength akin to a Thunder God. ‘The pinnacle of Noejeonggong, when viewed through the lens of martial enlightenment, is not climbing a mountain peak but ascending into the heavens themselves.’
Moyong Gun opened his eyes. His pupils, filled with crackling azure lightning, held a depth like those of an enlightened monk who had attained profound realization. ‘Mugeuk. So that’s it.’
The realm entered by the strongest under heaven was called the Mugeuk Realm by the world. Mugeuk signified the origin of the Taiji, the source of all things in the universe—the primordial cosmos, the extreme of chaos, the very domain of contradiction where truth and illusion endlessly clashed and reconciled.
Moyong Gun now stood at the threshold of a realm that defied even imagination.
The problem was… ‘I can’t get a grasp on it at all.’
The path to Mugeuk was visible. But there were far too many paths. Countless branches stretched out like the limbs of a tree, each one a potential route to Mugeuk. A single misstep on any of them would mean failure. And failure here wasn’t simple—it carried the risk of losing even the power he currently possessed. That made taking the first step terrifyingly difficult.
“……Huu.”
After calming his thunder qi with a steady breath, Moyong Gun spoke.
“Do you see it the same way?”
He turned his head toward the wall. There sat Yeon Hojeong, arms crossed, lounging in a relaxed posture.
Yeon Hojeong tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“You’re also a cultivator standing at the threshold of the Mugeuk Realm. Doesn’t it look to you like there are countless paths as well?”
Yeon Hojeong understood Moyong Gun’s words immediately. It was somewhat surprising—Moyong Gun asking him about martial arts was unexpected.
“It looks different to me.”
“How so?”
“I see only one path. But I can’t predict how winding it is or what dangers lie along the way.”
Moyong Gun smiled. “So it seems each person sees something different.”
Yeon Hojeong shrugged. “Of course. Just as the path you walked to reach your current realm differs from the one I took to arrive at mine.”
“It’s always easier to navigate someone else’s crisis than your own. Hearing you speak, it feels like you might reach Mugeuk before I do.”
Yeon Hojeong grinned. “Probably.”
“You won’t even pretend otherwise, will you?”
“Wouldn’t someone willing to risk losing everything they’ve built be faster than someone too afraid to even take a step? Wouldn’t you agree?”
“……!”
Moyong Gun’s face hardened. “Have you already started?”
“Why wouldn’t I have taken the step if there was no problem?”
“As you said, one wrong move and you could lose everything you’ve accumulated. That’s not a metaphor—it’s literal.”
“I know.”
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“If I weren’t afraid, would I even be human? But it’s a path I must walk, so I walk it.”
“……”
“What about you?”
Moyong Gun stared at Yeon Hojeong for a long moment before letting out a sigh. “Now I understand how someone your age could possess such strength.”
Just from listening to him, it was clear. This boy had never once hesitated to challenge the unknown. Was that insignificant? It was anything but. From childhood—memories of which had long faded—he had built his martial arts, and now he risked it all evaporating in an instant. For a martial artist, that was far more horrifying than death itself.
And if it ended there, it would almost be fortunate.
Moyong Gun was a ruler who wielded immense power. In the martial world, losing one’s martial arts meant losing one’s authority. That was why success in the martial world was so difficult. Even with the greatest martial prowess, without a foundation one could never become a true powerholder. And even with power, one had to constantly prove their strength was unmatched.
In other words, Moyong Gun’s desire to become the Martial Alliance Lord wasn’t merely about seeking greater authority. He wanted supremacy in both power and martial might—the strongest authority and the strongest body. ‘Hah.’ Suddenly, Moyong Gun found himself laughing at his own foolishness. ‘To possess everything, one must also know how to let go of everything…… Had I forgotten that truth?’
Striving to achieve a dream was no different from fighting a life-and-death battle. Wanting to kill your opponent while guaranteeing your own safety? In a fight where one must live and the other must die, that was only natural. But the process could never be so safe.
To kill your opponent, you had to fight with the resolve that you yourself might die. Without that level of determination, how could one ever claim victory? Those who truly obtained what they desired were the ones who challenged even the possibility of their own destruction.
Success would grant everything. Defeat would strip it all away. Life, politics, power—they were all like that. ‘Just like……’ Moyong Gun’s eyes gleamed with lightning once more as he looked at Yeon Hojeong. ‘That bastard.’
Yeon Hojeong was constantly challenging the unknown. From the way he spoke, it seemed he hadn’t even considered the risks. His talent and ability were far too exceptional to dismiss as mere youthful vigor or bravado.
A smile formed on Moyong Gun’s lips—an uncharacteristically bitter one. ‘I’ve lost again.’ He had been defeated—not in power, but in the very attitude of a martial artist. Yet defeat was always the beginning of another realization.
Crackle-crackle-crackle!
The azure lightning that had filled Moyong Gun’s body began to take on a golden hue. Yeon Hojeong’s eyes flashed. Moyong Gun spoke calmly.
“You’ve given me a fine realization. You’re right—there’s no point fearing the first step. If I’m that afraid, I might as well retire.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“You and I are both reckless fools walking a razor’s edge. I had forgotten that.”
Whoosh!
The threatening golden lightning vanished in an instant. Moyong Gun nodded.
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to repay this debt.”
It was a sincere expression of gratitude. Yeon Hojeong smiled as he climbed down from the wall.
“I wonder if I’ve given too much instruction to someone who might become my enemy.”
Moyong Gun chuckled. “I’ll gift you a glorious defeat.”
“I already knew your calculations defied common sense. Really now—gifting a defeat? Is that something you say to your benefactor?”
“It’s the greatest gift I can give.”
Yeon Hojeong let out a short laugh. “I’ll pass on that gift. Just do me one favor instead.”
“I figured you came looking for me in broad daylight because you needed something. What is it?”
“There’s someone I need to see in the prison. Can you come with me?”
It was phrased as a request to accompany him, but it ultimately meant asking for Moyong Gun’s influence. Moyong Gun’s eyes gleamed.
“Why ask me for that?”
“I heard two of the Alliance Lords are involved with the prison. And I know one of them is you.”
“You only know half of it. Even an Alliance Lord can’t bring an unqualified person into the prison without orders from above.”
“Isn’t that ‘above’ the Alliance Lords themselves?”
“Of course. But you’d still need to explain why you want to enter and obtain majority approval.”
It wasn’t that they didn’t want to let him in. It was genuinely that dangerous. The Martial Alliance prison was filled with extremely dangerous inmates. There were experts from the once-great families of the Nine Provinces that had been wiped out years ago, as well as many demonic leaders captured from the frontier. While the Myeolsa Army had been active, other combat units of the Martial Alliance had also been dispatched across the land on operations.
Among them were individuals so dangerous that even the commanders of combat units didn’t know about them—only the highest leadership did. Naturally, they couldn’t let just anyone inside.
“If I wanted to get permission from the Alliance Lords, I would’ve asked my father or the strategist, not come to you.”
“I suppose so.”
Moyong Gun’s expression grew serious. “I don’t know if you realize this, but if word of this gets out, the damage won’t be small. Not just for me—for you as well.”
“If we don’t get caught, it won’t matter…… I suppose I can’t say that.”
“You can’t.”
“And I’ll need to bring one of the prisoners out for a while.”
“It just keeps getting worse. If we’re caught, it won’t end with a mere warning. We could both lose our positions and end up in the prison ourselves.”
“Don’t worry. It’s best if we don’t get caught, but even if we do, neither you nor I will be destroyed.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’m going to investigate the Three Sects.”
For a moment, Moyong Gun’s eyes flashed. Yeon Hojeong smiled.
“Are you interested now?”
“Very much so.”
Moyong Gun crossed his arms. “Explain.”
* * *
The prison door opened. This was the lowest level of the prison. A guard walked down the corridor. Though it was called a prison, it wasn’t the dark, damp, unlivable environment people usually imagined. Treatment of prisoners varied depending on the severity of their crimes, but the prison environment itself was better than anywhere else. The Martial Alliance’s attitude toward criminals wasn’t as inhumane as other organizations. Of course, that depended on one’s perspective.
Click!
The guard opened the door to one of the solitary cells. The prisoner leaning against the cold wall looked up. Even though he had lost his inner energy, flames seemed ready to burst from his eyes. One glance was enough to tell he had once reached an extremely high level.
The guard spoke in a stiff voice. “Prisoner number two thousand three hundred seventy-six.”
“……”
“Get up.”
“……Kuk.”
The prisoner laughed, his shoulders shaking. “I won’t get up unless you kneel and beg. Go ahead—try begging while crying.”
Without a word, the guard pulled a club from his waist.
Crack!
“Gah!”
The prisoner’s body toppled sideways. He looked completely powerless. Blood streamed from his cracked head. The guard spoke again.
“Don’t throw away the chance to be released.”
“……What?!”
“That’s what the people who want to meet you asked me to tell you.”
The prisoner’s eyes wavered. The guard stepped outside the open door and stood with his hands behind his back.
“Come out, prisoner two thousand three hundred seventy-six.”
“……Damn it!”
The prisoner staggered to his feet, wiping the blood from his forehead. “My name is Cheon Gang. Not some number like two thousand three hundred seventy-six.”