The Four Hegemons of the Central Plains

"Why do you not properly apply yourself to martial arts?"

To his father's blunt question, Dokgo Jin had given a simple reply:

"I prefer the brush to the blade."

It was a lie.

Dokgo Jin had been born a prodigy, carrying the proud bloodline of a preeminent martial house. How could he not yearn to master the martial arts of the Dokgo Clan, a lineage revered as the greatest under heaven?

Dokgo Gang had merely frowned, asking once more:

"Are you speaking truthfully?"

"Yes, Father."

From that day forward, Dokgo Gang never spoke of martial arts to him again.

Yet, upon his return from the brutal Jeong-Ma War, Dokgo Gang stood before him and said:

"I want you to learn martial arts. Earnestly."

Dokgo Jin had been profoundly shaken by his father's sudden, candid confession. But back then, he had failed to comprehend the desperate urgency weighing on Dokgo Gang's soul.

Years later, when the man hailed as the World's Greatest Swordsman collapsed, Dokgo Jin tasted bone-deep regret for the first time in his life.

It was nothing more than shallow, childish conceit.

Dokgo Jin's mother had once remarked of him, 'Though he is my own flesh and blood, I can never fathom what lies within his heart.' True to her words, he had always been a youth of few words, seldom displaying his emotions.

In contrast, his younger brother, Dokgo Hyeon, had been a radiant, lovable child. What was more, his martial talent was nothing short of miraculous. Watching him grow, Dokgo Jin had formed a quiet conviction: Dokgo Hyeon was the one truly suited to shoulder the clan as its future patriarch.

He himself had harbored no desire for the patriarch's seat from the very beginning.

That was why I resolved never to delve deeply into martial arts.

It had been his way of preventing needless factional strife within the family. In peaceful times, it would have been a fine choice. He could have lived a tranquil life reading books, never having to contend with his brother for succession.

Yet the world refused to leave the Dokgo Clan in peace.

On the final day of their annihilation, Baek Hye-ran—Dokgo Jin's mother and the mistress of the clan—had pulled him close and spoken in a hurried, trembling voice:

"The Patriarch told me... The ones who brought our house to ruin are the Cheonhahoe."

"The Cheonhahoe?"

It was an organization he had never heard of.

"There is no time to explain. I leave our clan's vengeance and blood debts in your hands."

"Mother...!"

"Forgive me. Forgive me for forcing this entire burden onto your shoulders."

His eyes bloodshot and stinging with grief, Dokgo Jin choked out:

"I will... I will avenge us without fail."

Surprisingly, Baek Hye-ran's demeanor turned razor-sharp and cold.

"The moment you leave these gates, you must become colder than anyone alive. They are unfathomably powerful and conceal themselves in the deepest shadows. No amount of caution will ever suffice. Until you fully grasp who they are, you must never act rashly. Do you understand what I am telling you?"

"I will keep it... carved into my bones."

Dokgo Jin could never forget the desperate resolve burning in the eyes of the clan's martial masters that day.

'If it is Dokgo Jin, he can be trusted!'

'You are the one who will surely claim our vengeance.'

'We will gladly throw our lives away so that you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠may escape!'

Even though his younger brother, Dokgo Hyeon, possessed superior martial prowess and was objectively the stronger warrior, the clan's experts threw themselves into fatal, bloody sacrifices solely to ensure Dokgo Jin's survival. Thanks to their desperate stand, Dokgo Jin became the last living soul of the fallen Dokgo Clan.

Of course, there was a limit to what a lone youth could accomplish.

At first, he sought out allies to clear the clan of the false treason pinned upon them. Given the sterling reputation the Dokgo Clan had maintained for generations, he had held onto a sliver of hope. Yet not a single soul was willing to aid a house branded public enemies for supposedly colluding with the Demonic Cult.

In that hour of sheer despair, Honghyeopgae—his father's sworn brother—reached out a hand. Exhausted and cornered, Dokgo Jin believed him to be trustworthy and took it without hesitation. Yet it had ended in betrayal, and Dokgo Jin found himself encircled upon the frozen heights of the Great Snow Mountain.

In that dire moment, he realized that the only sanctuary left for him was the forbidden ground known as the Death Forest.

For hundreds of years, it had been shunned as an absolute forbidden zone. By now, virtually nothing was known about its interior save for one grim truth: no one who entered ever returned alive.

I hadn't been inside the Death Forest for even half a quarter-hour before I understood why it was forbidden.

Plunging headlong into the suffocating wilderness to shake off his pursuers, he soon felt a crushing weight bearing down on his body, as if the forest itself were a living abyss pressing down upon him. An insidious, freezing yin energy penetrated his flesh and marrow. Had he possessed any remaining internal energy, or had his cultivation been rigid and strong, his meridians would have violently ruptured on the spot. But having exhausted every scrap of qi in his flight, Dokgo Jin merely absorbed the downpour of dark energy directly into his empty vessel, barely clinging to life.

Yet continuing to take in an endless torrent of abyssal energy could only lead to death. If he wanted to survive, he should have fled the forest immediately, but Dokgo Jin had no retreat.

Instead, he pressed deeper into the void—and there, through what could only be called divine providence, he stumbled upon a miracle.

To think that the Cheonamje slept within the Death Forest...

The Heavenly Dark Emperor.

He was a mythical hegemon from centuries past who had once conquered the world under heaven. Almost nothing had been recorded regarding his final days, yet he had met his end deep within the Death Forest. Cheonamje's martial legacy was far removed from any orthodox discipline, but Dokgo Jin had no choice. Without those forbidden arts, surviving the Death Forest was an absolute impossibility.

Having originally cultivated pure orthodox arts, Dokgo Jin crossed the precipice between life and death countless times as he forged Cheonamje's teachings, eventually mastering the profound essence of that ancient conqueror.

It was the most yin-soft martial art under heaven, an art that was nothing less than the abyss itself.

The Nine Nether Dark Sky Scripture.

Even to Dokgo Jin, who had grown up studying the supreme martial secrets of the Dokgo Clan, the Nine Nether Dark Sky Scripture was an incomprehensible art whose limits could not be measured. The world it encompassed was so monstrously vast and overwhelming that all the arts he had previously known seemed weightless in comparison—so terrifying that it evoked a chilling dread at whether a mortal vessel could ever truly contain such primordial darkness.

Descending from the Great Snow Mountain, Dokgo Jin sensed that the world had shifted dramatically.

I wonder how much the balance of power in the murim has changed.

After a brief pause, Dokgo Jin turned toward his destination.

The main clan was destroyed... but it has not vanished entirely.

The Golden Frog Money House.

Tucked away on the outskirts of Lanzhou in Gansu Province, this modest money house was largely unknown to ordinary folk, yet major and minor merchant caravans frequently sought ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it out to secure massive loans. Despite its unassuming scale, its capital reserves were immense, leading prominent merchant groups to rely on it whenever vast sums were required. Though it possessed a long history, how the Golden Frog Money House came to amass such immense financial power remained shrouded in mystery. Its guards were seasoned martial masters; many were the rowdy thugs who had vanished without a trace after daring to cause a scene. Since then, no one dared underestimate the establishment.

Its proprietor, Wi Geum-seong, had remained vigorously active well past sixty, until one day he abruptly secluded himself and ceased appearing in public. Some assumed he had retired from business, but he still oversaw every affair of the money house from behind closed doors.

On a pitch-black night devoid of moonlight, Wi Geum-seong finished his daily duties and headed toward his study. Recording the day's events in his private quarters before retiring was a lifelong habit.

Stepping through the darkness of his study, he struck a spark to light the oil lamp.

Fwip!

What?!

As the room brightened, his body stiffened instinctively. Sitting in the chair where he always sat was an unfamiliar figure.

Wi Geum-seong froze in shock. Unknown to the outside world, he was an accomplished martial master. For someone to approach this close without him sensing the slightest presence was virtually unheard of. Furthermore, the Golden Frog Money House was guarded by multiple layers of vigilant security. For an intruder to sit here unannounced meant he had slipped past every sentinel and defensive perimeter without raising a single whisper of alarm.

Yet Wi Geum-seong was far too seasoned to let his inner turmoil show.

Silently, he carefully scrutinized the uninvited guest.

He was a handsome young man with a well-defined nose, a resolute jawline, and razor-sharp eyes. But what drew Wi Geum-seong's attention was something else entirely.

This is no ordinary youth!

Even while making direct eye contact, the young man's presence felt eerily imperceptible. What was more, his pitch-black eyes were so unfathomably deep that one felt as if they were being drawn into an endless abyss.

Just who is he?

Before Wi Geum-seong could speak, the figure broke the silence:

"It has been a long time, Old Man Wi."

"Pardon...?"

"Have you already forgotten my face?"

Wi Geum-seong's gaze froze in midair.

It was alien. Those pitch-black eyes, holding not a single speck of light, were a terrifying abyss the likes of which he had never witnessed in his entire life. Yet beneath that chilling strangeness, an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unforgettable countenance emerged—features etched so deeply into his memory that they were carved into his very bones.

C-Could it be...?!

The instant his fleeting suspicion crystallized into absolute certainty, Wi Geum-seong's entire body trembled uncontrollably. This young man was the very person he had sought so desperately.

He is alive... The heavens have not abandoned the Dokgo Clan!

Overcome with surging emotion, Wi Geum-seong dropped to his knees and prostrated himself before the youth.

"This old servant, Wi... pays homage to the Clan Head!"

The proprietor of the Golden Frog Money House, Wi Geum-seong, had once been a devoted retainer of the Dokgo Clan.

The youth, Dokgo ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Jin, reached down and helped him to his feet.

"Calling me the Clan Head of a destroyed family is far too grand a title."

"How can you say such a thing! Even if you stand alone, the Clan Head is still the Clan Head."

A bitter smile touched Dokgo Jin's lips.

"Besides, Old Man Wi, you are no longer our retainer."

"That cannot be! Never once have I thought of myself as anything less."

During Dokgo Gang's reign as patriarch, he had formally released Wi Geum-seong from his retainer's oath, granting him complete independence. It had been an act of profound respect and gratitude toward the Wi family, who had loyally served the Dokgo Clan for centuries.

Wi Geum-seong raised his head, tears welling in his eyes.

"I searched for you so desperately, Clan Head."

"As I said, the title of 'Clan Head' is excessive."

"Understood, Young Master. I shall address you as such only until our clan is restored."

Dokgo Jin did not argue further.

The two men took their seats across from each other at the wooden table.

"I heard news that you managed to escape the calamity that befell our house. Why did you not seek me out at once?"

Dokgo Jin shook his head.

"I could not drag you into danger as well, Old Man Wi."

"Even so... I scoured every corner searching for you, Young Master. Though I spent every waking moment terrified that tragedy had found you, I held onto the faith that you were still alive."

Wi Geum-seong paused, his voice trembling slightly.

"Where have you been, Young Master? What have you endured all this time?"

Dokgo Jin's eyes turned deathly cold.

"I struggled to survive. And I accumulated the strength to do so."

"Ah..."

A shift passed over Wi Geum-seong's expression.

"Does your appearance before me today mean... that you are finally ready to seek vengeance?"

"It does."

"I knew it."

Nodding gravely, Wi Geum-seong continued:

"Then you will require intelligence regarding the culprits."

"Indeed."

"I always knew... that this day would come."

Rising from his seat, Wi Geum-seong pulled aside a hanging scroll on the wall and engaged a hidden mechanism concealed behind it. The wall revolved like a turnstile, revealing a yawning black entrance. It was a secret chamber untouched by the slightest glimmer of light.

Normally, anyone would hesitate before such impenetrable darkness, but Dokgo Jin stepped forward without a second thought.

Watching Dokgo Jin walk straight into the gloom without lighting a candle, Wi Geum-seong felt a strange chill run down his spine. It did not look as though the darkness was swallowing Dokgo Jin. Rather, it seemed as if Dokgo Jin was stepping in to command the shadows himself.

He seems... so intimately familiar with the dark.

Feeling a cold weight settle in his chest, Wi Geum-seong hurried in after him.

Passing through a short corridor, Dokgo Jin reached a rectangular hidden room. The scent of mildew and aged parchment pricked his nose. Though the room was engulfed in utter blackness without a sliver of light, he quietly surveyed his surroundings as if he could see clearly.

Behind him, Wi Geum-seong felt along the wall and lit a lantern. The flickering flame illuminated towering stacks of documents and a massive map occupying an entire wall: the Complete Map of the Central Plains. The locations of every major sect and clan were meticulously recorded across its surface, but four massive crimson marks stood out above all else.

"Have you been searching for the culprits?"

"Of course, Young Master. How could I ever forget the Dokgo Clan?"

"It must have been dangerous."

A faint smile touched Wi Geum-seong's lips.

"Which is precisely why I investigated with the utmost discretion."

Wi Geum-seong was well aware that while numerous martial masters had spearheaded the extermination of the Dokgo Clan, an unseen mastermind pulled the strings from behind the curtain.

"Allow me to brief you on the current state of the realm. It is no exaggeration to say that the murim today belongs to the Four Hegemons of the Central Plains."

"The Four Hegemons of the Central Plains?"

"Indeed. They are powers that rapidly swelled their forces in the vacuum left by our clan's fall."

The Northern Hegemon, the Northern Heaven Alliance.

The Southern Hegemon, the Red Blood Gang.

The Eastern Hegemon, the Holy Sword Heaven.

The Western Hegemon, the Kunlun Demon Palace.

These four titan factions ruled over the Central Plains, boasting influence and military might that eclipsed even the traditional Nine Sects and Eight Great Clans.

"Four such massive factions arose?"

"Coincidentally, yes."

"..."

"After years of investigation... this old servant reached a firm conclusion. At least one of these four was undoubtedly involved in the destruction of our house."

It was a natural deduction. Otherwise, the timing of their sudden rise was far too convenient.

"However, I have yet to uncover which among them is responsible. It is entirely possible that two or more conspired together."

Wi Geum-seong bowed his head deeply.

"Please forgive my incompetence, Young Master."

Dokgo Jin shook his head.

"They are bastards who orchestrated our clan's slaughter from the shadows. Gathering information strictly from the outside has its limits."

"Then, you mean..."

Staring intently at the Complete Map of the Central Plains, Dokgo Jin's eyes flashed with a razor-sharp glint.

"If we cannot uncover the truth from the outside, we must step inside."

He turned his gaze back to Wi Geum-seong.

"Is there a way for me to approach them naturally?"

Wi Geum-seong held Dokgo Jin's gaze for a long moment before answering:

"There is one method I have prepared."

"What is it?"

"Sword Selling Street."

Wi Geum-seong's eyes gleamed in the lantern light.

"It is the testing ground where the Northern Heaven Alliance and the Red Blood Gang scout and procure capable swordsmen."