Murim Alliance
At Jeok Hanseong’s words, everyone in the room held their breath and looked at him.
“Because he forcibly stirred up his true source qi, his pressure points and blood vessels have suffered severe damage. He may look fine on the outside, but the same goes for his sinews and meridians.”
Setting aside righteous and unorthodox alike, Seomun Hwi was only a young martial artist who had just begun walking his own path.
And yet he had fallen before he had even gone far, leaving Jeok Hanseong, who had to be the one to tell him, unable to easily part his lips.
Still, as a physician, he lifted his head and met Seomun Hwi’s eyes.
Even that last flicker of hope, burning so precariously, would soon lose strength and gutter out.
“If you recover properly and take care of your body, you should be able to preserve the level of internal energy you have now. But anything beyond that...”
A heavy sigh slipped from Jeok Hanseong’s mouth.
“That will be difficult. I’m sorry I can only tell you this much.”
Seomun Hwi closed his eyes, and a vicious despair washed over him.
For the child of a martial family to be unable to live as a martial artist was no different from being forced to wander in darkness for the rest of his life.
Of course, there were rare people who, despite being in similar circumstances, found their way again—but he knew he would not be one of them.
His entire world had been nothing but the life of Seomun Clan’s young clan leader.
“...Thank you for telling me something so difficult.”
Even in such a situation, Seomun Hwi still bowed with courtesy, and Jeok Hanseong felt his heart grow even heavier.
“Is that all?”
Just as he was searching for words of comfort, Im Cheongwol spoke first.
“What is?”
“You’re called a Divine Doctor, aren’t you? Then I’m asking if that’s the end of it.”
Cheongwol’s voice was unnervingly calm, but within her eyes, a tangle of emotions seethed as if ready to burst at any moment.
Rage. Despair. Sorrow.
Emotions he had encountered countless times while practicing medicine.
But the killing intent that seemed to freeze the whole body and squeeze the soul—that was something he had never felt before.
...So she really did cultivate the Sunflower Manual.
He glanced around, but everyone else seemed unaffected, as though the oppressive aura was pressing down on him alone.
Jeok Hanseong frowned and quietly drew up his internal energy, forcing his own presence outward.
“I understand how you feel, but don’t cross the line.”
Yet those words only seemed to fan the flames, and just as the pressure began to surge again—
-thud
Seomun Hwi seized Cheongwol’s wrist.
“Cheongwol.”
At once, he felt the sharp killing intent stabbing at his body grow thinner.
“...Hwi.”
Cheongwol could no longer bear to meet Seomun Hwi’s gaze; she lowered her head and tugged at the edge of her clothes.
“I’m sorry. Because of me... someone like me...”
Her vision blurred, and the words would not come properly.
What could she possibly say to him now that he had lost his martial arts?
But Seomun Hwi forced up the corners of his mouth and tugged her hand gently to the side.
“Don’t act like the world is ending just because you can’t use martial arts anymore.”
“...”
“I’m the young clan leader of the Seomun Clan. The treasury is full of wealth enough to spend ten lifetimes on. Besides, now I won’t have to lie awake worrying about getting stabbed in my sleep.”
When tears began to slide down her lovely cheeks, Seomun Hwi reached out and wiped them away.
“So there’s no need for you to feel guilty over something useless. Protecting you was entirely my choice. Even if I had to go back and do it all over again...”
His hand stroked Cheongwol’s face with exquisite gentleness.
“I’d make the same choice. Without question.”
In the end, Cheongwol collapsed into his arms.
“I told you not to cry.”
Seomun Hwi held her tightly as she wept like a child in his embrace.
With one hand he patted her back lightly, and with the other he smoothed her hair.
At the sight of them, everyone except Namgung Cheon was on the verge of tearing up when Jeok Hanseong clicked his tongue, the sound ringing through the room.
It was not loud, but it did not suit the atmosphere, and everyone’s gaze turned toward him.
“Young fools, making such a fuss without even knowing shame.”
Then he lifted his head and looked at the ceiling.
He had reached this conclusion after agonizing over it many times in his heart, but now that he was about to say it aloud, the words stuck in his throat.
Why wouldn’t they?
What he was about to say was something no physician should ever recommend.
And yet Jeok Hanseong intended to open another path for Seomun Hwi.
It was no different from a thousand-foot cliff; one wrong step, and he would tumble endlessly into the abyss.
“There isn’t absolutely no way. But if you make even the slightest mistake, then it truly will be irreversible.”
Hubei, Wuhan—the place where the banner of righteousness stood tallest anywhere in Jianghu.
And within it, in the Murim Alliance, whose gates were open to anyone who pursued righteousness and loyalty, a small disturbance quietly stirred the stillness.
“Tell no one and keep this silent. I’ll report it to the Alliance Leader myself.”
“Yes.”
As Je Galjin, the military strategist of the Murim Alliance, hardened his expression, the man in black bowed his head and vanished from sight.
Though every direction had been bright, the instant he disappeared it was such a miraculous movement that anyone unfamiliar with martial arts would have thought they had seen an illusion.
“Hah...”
Looking at the spot where the man had just stood, Je Galjin let out a thin sigh.
Once he had already turned his back and fled, he should at least have tried to preserve his miserable life.
What had possessed him to set foot back in Zhongyuan?
Memories he had desperately tried to forget rose in his mind, and he bit his lip hard.
The specter from more than twenty years ago had never forgotten its grudge and had finally returned alive.
Is this the law of cause and effect, the inevitable turning of heaven’s justice? Are you finally going to hold us accountable for our sins?
Je Galjin rose from his seat and stepped outside.
The summer sun blazed down from above, yet the back of his neck felt cold.
He had not approved of every part of the Alliance Leader’s newly proclaimed banner of righteousness, but what human undertaking was ever without flaws?
However, twenty years ago...
The annihilation of the Im Clan was not something that could be swept away with pretty words about sacrificing the lesser for the greater.
If the Je Gal Clan had suffered such a fate, he would have been so wronged that he, too, might have joined the demonic cult or the unorthodox sects without a moment’s hesitation.
Even so, why now of all times...
The orthodox martial world of the present was like a scale with both sides perfectly balanced.
If weight were added or removed from either side, the next result would be obvious to anyone with eyes.
So, as the military strategist of the Murim Alliance, his duty was clear.
I will beg forgiveness in the underworld a thousand times over.
The last surviving descendant of the Im Clan, appearing alongside the ghosts of twenty years ago.
Before that person could open his mouth, he had to be silenced.
The only question was how the Alliance Leader would take it.
Yu Baekheon was the very image of an ideal ruler and martial artist, as if drawn by a painter’s hand—but whenever matters involving the Im Clan were concerned, his clear judgment grew clouded.
Should he turn back now?
Even if he concealed it, there was no way he could keep it from the Alliance Leader’s ears forever.
While he wrestled with useless doubts, his feet had already rounded the wall and carried him into the Alliance Leader’s hall.
There was not a breath of wind, yet the blue leaves drifted down as if dancing.
One. Two. Three. Four...
There were too many to count on two hands, but Yu Baekheon did not move an inch, simply exhaling in perfect calm.
-slice!
A moment later, the leaf that had fallen at Yu Baekheon’s feet split cleanly along its grain and rolled across the floor.
To cut something so precisely with nothing but qi, without moving a hand, was no easy feat even for one of the greatest masters in Zhongyuan.
And yet, even more astonishingly, the severed leaf lost neither its shape nor its speed as it fell to the ground.
By now it was impossible to guess just how far the Alliance Leader’s cultivation had reached.
“Have you come? Without saying a word.”
“Would I dare disturb the Alliance Leader’s training?”
“If it’s urgent, then it must be done. I’m sure you know to judge such things for yourself.”
Je Galjin smiled faintly and handed over the letter tied with gold thread.
Yu Baekheon did not take it at once; instead, he looked at Je Galjin with an even, unreadable gaze.
“I heard the Namgung Clan Leader has moved. Is this about that?”
“No.”
When his intuition missed, a sliver of interest stirred in Yu Baekheon’s eyes.
“...I thought surely it would be. I suppose I’m getting old.”
“At least from where I’m standing, you still look vigorous.”
“Thank you.”
With a smile, Yu Baekheon took the letter and opened it, but Je Galjin felt as though his insides were burning away.
Please, let there not be another disaster that ruins everything this time.
“Hmm.”
As if the wind itself had reached the heavens, Yu Baekheon’s expression remained much the same when he handed the letter back to Je Galjin.
Je Galjin let out a faint breath of relief and asked, “What should we do? Perhaps this should be entrusted to the Shadow Hall master after all...”
“Leave it alone.”
Yu Baekheon’s words came so unexpectedly that Je Galjin’s face stiffened.
“...What?”
“I said there’s no need to concern yourself with it.”
Yu Baekheon gave Je Galjin’s shoulder two light pats and passed by him.
“There’s no need to make that face. What you fear will not happen.”