The Sunflower Manual

The Peerless Under Heaven. It was a title that anyone who stepped into the Jianghu with grand ambitions of storming the winds and clouds would dream of at least once.

For that single name, how many martial artists had staked their lives on the edge of a blade, only to lose them?

Yet, that supreme glory was like a mirage; no one could easily grasp what they so desperately desired.

In a way, it was only natural. The world was teeming with eccentric masters and hidden experts as numerous as grains of sand. How could one possibly designate a single person as the absolute best among them?

Though idle gossips and storytellers loved to debate who the strongest under heaven was, they never reached a conclusion. After all, one could not gather every master in the land and force them to fight to the death. Ultimately, everyone championed a different name, and depending on the era and region, the peak experts were grouped under titles like the Two Sovereigns, the Ten Great Swordsmen, or the Three Kings and Seven Demons.

But three hundred years ago, an event occurred where the greatest masters of every sect—whether Orthodox, Unorthodox, or Demonic—knelt before a single expert who emerged from the Imperial Court.

An appearance so breathtakingly beautiful that one could not tell if they were male or female. An overwhelming martial art of completely unknown origin.

When the people demanded to know the identity of this martial art, the imperial expert left behind only a single phrase before returning to the palace.

Persistent bastards.

They had no intention of letting go, even after she had run almost a full circle around Hangzhou. They were truly like hunting dogs.

The woman, the Divine Doctor, shuddered with disgust as she repeatedly kicked off the ground.

I hope that child is alright.

The Sword Demon, a legendary elder master of the Demonic Cult. And the nameless young master who had crossed swords with him, holding his own even if only for a brief moment.

Considering his age, his martial prowess was nothing short of astonishing.

But if that were all, the Divine Doctor would not have intervened.

It was Cheonru.

The sword the boy held was a name even the Divine Doctor, who kept her distance from the affairs of the Murim, knew all too well. Cheonru—Heaven's Tears. The divine sword forged from thousand-year cold iron was famous for slicing through steel as if it were paper, and its beauty was said to be peerless. Just like its owner.

That sword was the token of the Covenant of the Northern Sword, and the cherished blade of the Sword Empress.

Why is the Sword Empress's blade in that child's hands?

She could not be certain. But the Sword Empress, who cherished Cheonru like her own flesh and blood, would never have handed her beloved sword to just anyone. There was a high probability that he was her disciple, or someone of equal significance.

That was why the Divine Doctor had exposed herself, rendering all her previous efforts to hide utterly useless. It was all to save that boy.

Though it was a nightmare trying to persuade my stubborn senior sister.

Since the person who had caused the Divine Doctor to be hunted in the first place was none other than her senior sister, the woman had no choice but to yield to the Divine Doctor's wishes in the end. By now, she was likely performing the secret technique she claimed to have acquired.

Her skills as the one once feared as the Poison Fairy couldn't have rusted.

Once, her senior sister had competed with her to become the next leader of Hyemyeongdang. However, she had fallen obsessed with a forbidden sorcery she stumbled upon, and upon being discovered researching it, she was excommunicated. Thus, the position of leader naturally fell to the Divine Doctor.

In other words, before she lost herself to sorcery, her medical skills were in no way inferior to the Divine Doctor's.

I told her to keep him alive, even if she had to use that secret technique. But rather than him, I am the one in greater danger right now.

With constant conflicts, injuries were a daily occurrence for the Murim sects. Naturally, the demand for physicians was always high, and exceptionally skilled doctors were constantly targeted by greedy factions.

To protect themselves from the avarice of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Murim, Hyemyeongdang had never neglected their martial arts training and research. As a result, Hyemyeongdang's self-defense footwork, the Bosingyeong, had naturally evolved. Though inferior to the Beggar Sect's footwork, it was still highly regarded as a top-tier lightness skill in the Jianghu.

Combined with the Divine Doctor's internal energy, she had somehow managed to slip through the dragnet until now, but...

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Divine Doctor was old. The problem was that her physical stamina was failing her long before her internal energy would. Already, the sweet, metallic taste of exhaustion was rising in her throat.

And if that old monster, the Sword Demon, starts moving...

She wouldn't even be able to run like this. The Divine Doctor's heart grew anxious. She had to put as much distance between them as possible before the Sword Demon could suppress his internal injuries...

"Hah!"

"What?"

Dismay flashed across the Divine Doctor's face. A crowd suddenly burst out from the alleyway. With their mismatched clothes and weapons, they looked exactly like back-alley thugs.

At first, she suspected the Demonic Cult had mobilized the Hyeoljeonmun. But as she hesitated, spotting a few familiar faces among them and wondering if she should strike—

Hwayeolluju. Hearing that name through the sound transmission made the Divine Doctor's eyes widen.

It's Haomun!

If so, their intention in appearing here was obvious. They were going to buy time for her. For someone being hunted, it was an offer to be welcomed with open arms.

"It is impossible! Those men are martial artists of the Demonic Cult!"

The Divine Doctor could not allow it. Though these men seemed to outnumber the pursuers twofold, no matter how many sheep there were, they could never defeat a pack of wolves. As a physician dedicated to saving lives, sending innocent people to their deaths for her own sake was something she could never bring herself to do.

But.

"My younger brother's life was saved thanks to you, Divine Doctor."

"My mother's too."

"Every single bastard gathered here owes their life to you."

"Don't worry too much. We have our own ways of surviving."

Pushing the back of the hesitating Divine Doctor, the Haomun members formed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a human wall behind her. Looking at their slouching postures yet eyes filled with unwavering determination, she realized she could not stop them.

"I understand. But if it gets dangerous, you must run. The ones wearing cloaks with red patterns are Peak Experts. Be extremely careful."

"Just hurry up and get to Hwayeollu!"

Biting her lip hard, the Divine Doctor took off once more. A brief moment later—

Boom! Clang!

Leaving behind the sounds of explosions and clashing steel, she sprinted toward Hwayeollu. And when she finally reached the top floor of Hwayeollu, what welcomed her was...

"Liar! Jeong-ah isn't dead!"

A silver-haired girl with a strangely familiar face, her jewel-like eyes wide as fat tears streamed down her cheeks.

"…Sword Empress?"

"Is this the place?"

"Yes, Elder."

"Hmm. A courtesan house... It must belong to Haomun."

"…That is correct."

The Sword Demon swept a displeased gaze over his subordinates. Under his frosty glare, several martial artists lowered their heads, unable to meet his eyes. The clicking of his tongue echoed in their ears like a clap of thunder.

"That young swordsman was strong."

The boy clad in black martial robes who had driven the Sword Demon back like a lightning strike. Though he was at most only a few years older than the young master the Sword Demon served, his martial prowess was beyond impressive—it was terrifying.

And what of his internal energy? It was so potent and stubborn that even after a brief period of meditation, the Sword Demon had not been able to fully expel it. His wounds still throbbed with pain. It was an internal cultivation method that fully deserved to be called a divine art.

"To die at the hands of such a martial artist is something even the Heavens would rejoice in. Thus, I did not blame you."

How could his subordinates possibly stand against a monster who had pushed even the Sword Demon to the brink of life and death?

"And yet, you allowed yourselves to be wounded by the rabble of Haomun? I cannot hold this old face of mine high."

At his words, the martial artists, who bore minor cuts and bruises all over, bowed their heads even lower.

"We deeply apologize, Elder."

"Please command us to atone with our deaths, Elder."

"How could you embrace the Heavens with such shameful faces? Wash away your sins by dedicating your lives to serving our young master."

"We obey your command!"

"Good. It seems they have set some sort of trap, but this old man will clear the path. Focus your efforts on finding the Divine Doctor."

"Yes, Elder!"

The Sword Demon—the man known as the Sword Slave back in the Tianshan Mountains—slowly drew his cherished blade. A sword that had been like his own limb, accompanying him throughout his entire life.

As the old man stroked the flat of the blade, his wrinkled brow furrowed deeply.

"Hah."

The straight, black blade. A masterfully forged sword capable of slicing through solid rock. Yet, its edge was chipped.

Did he pierce my Sword Qi?

The boy's blade had clearly been wrapped in mere Sword Qi. Yet, it had pierced through his own defensive Qi and damaged his sword. While that was indeed astonishing, what truly displeased the old man was not his opponent's skill.

I was far too slow to notice.

I have grown old. Truly old. No matter how much one underwent rejuvenation and accumulated internal energy, the physical body could never fully conquer the flow of time. How cruel the passing years were!

An old master who could not even properly sense a wound inflicted upon a sword that was like his own flesh. Blaming himself, he chose to vent his anger on his enemies.

CRASH!

Toward Hwayeollu, which stood in darkness, devoid of any signs of life like an abandoned building, the Sword Demon unleashed a single strike. A whip-like arc of Sword Qi shattered the closed doors, kicking up a thick cloud of dust.

As the Sword Demon walked with measured steps into the dark building, his gaze suddenly drifted upward.

Immortal Qi?

It was an incredibly pure, transcendent energy. Yet, when he extended his senses once more, he felt nothing. Then again, there was no way a Daoist on the verge of ascension would be residing in a courtesan house. The Sword Demon dismissed it as a trick of his mind.

I really am getting old.

The first floor of Hwayeollu. Normally, this place would be bustling with patrons enjoying food and wine like a tavern, stealing glances at the courtesans on the upper floors. But now, it was dead silent. Of course, that did not mean it was empty.

"You have gathered quite a crowd of Haomun rabble."

Martial artists emerged from the shadows. From standard weapons like swords and spears to eccentric armaments like chains, scythes, and poles. Looking at the warriors holding their various weapons, the Sword Demon smiled arrogantly.

"If any of you can inflict even a single scratch on me, I shall withdraw."

The moment he finished speaking, chains were hurled from all directions. The synchronized throw resembled constables subduing a criminal.

Clatter!

Even as the chains flying from different directions bound his wrists and ankles, the Sword Demon did not budge. Seeing this, the Haomun martial artists actually hesitated. Though they were the ones who had set the trap and waited, seeing an absolute master calmly accept their attack made them wonder if they were the ones being lured into a trap.

But there was no turning back now. They were already riding the tiger. Gritting their teeth, the Haomun members pressed their assault.

They threw small pouches, followed closely by flying hidden weapons. As the projectiles tore through the pouches, a cloud of poison powder erupted, enveloping the Sword Demon like a thick fog.

However.

"How crude."

Just as the Sword Demon said, the poison prepared by Haomun was embarrassingly weak. Though he had not achieved the legendary state of being completely immune to all poisons, a master of his caliber possessed such vast internal energy that ordinary toxins were instantly incinerated upon contact. The poison powder could not even begin to penetrate his protective Qi.

The Sword Demon's disappointment was only natural.

"Is this all?"

This is not even amusing. With a deep sigh, the Sword Demon's aura shifted. His internal energy erupted like a tempest, blowing away the poison powder in a swirling vortex.

At the same time, the Sword Demon swung his arms and legs. As if they were not even worth drawing his sword for, he used the martial artists holding the other ends of the chains as human flails, swinging them wildly.

"Argh!"

"Ugh!"

"We can't go on like this! Close in on him!"

"Where do you think you are going?"

The Haomun martial artists who barely managed to penetrate the storm of chains lunged forward, inhaling their own poison powder in their desperation, but—

THUD!

With a single step, the sheer force of his foot stomp sent shockwaves through the floor, causing them to stumble. Instantly, they fell victim to the very chains they had thrown.

Without even using his Sword Qi, the Sword Demon had ruthlessly demolished his surroundings using the enemy's own chains. By the time he finally let go of the metal links, everything was over.

"Where did the Divine Doctor go?"

Walking leisurely through the ruined remains of Hwayeollu and the fallen Haomun warriors, the Sword Demon asked. He lightly nudged a man with his toe. It was the strongest man among the Haomun group. Assuming he would know something, the Sword Demon tossed out the question casually.

"Cough, wheeze... If you're so curious, I'll tell you."

When the man answered far more readily than expected, a spark of interest flickered in the Sword Demon's eyes.

"Oh? Speak, then. If you do, I shall spare the lives of the men here."

"The Divine Doctor... was taken by our Mistress."

"The Mistress? Do you mean the branch leader of this place?"

"Yes... A truly beautiful woman."

Looking at the Haomun member whose eyes had turned somewhat vacant, as if he were dreaming, the old man stroked his beard.

"Then where did she go?"

"Our Mistress went..."

As his voice trailed off, the warrior's hand slipped into his robes.

"Impudent fool."

Watching him closely, the Sword Demon snatched his wrist. At such close range, no matter what trick the man tried to pull, it could never succeed against a master of the Sword Demon's caliber.

Yet, what was held in the man's hand was...

"A fire striker?"

A small bamboo tube. No larger than a thumb, it was unmistakably a fire striker used to light tinder.

"Heheh... Are you going to stop me from having a smoke ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠too?"

Even with his wrist gripped tightly enough to shatter bone, the Haomun member laughed without his expression shifting in the slightest. Looking at him, the Sword Demon felt a sudden chill of unease. But what could he possibly do with a mere fire striker? That split second of hesitation froze the Sword Demon.

"I'll tell you the Mistress's location... in the afterlife."

"You bastard...!"

Whoosh. The moment the Haomun member blew on the paper of the fire striker, the tiny spark at the tip of the striker erupted into a raging inferno.

Hearing the distant roar of the explosion, Hwayeolluju spoke calmly.

"It seems the plan was a success."

"…Are you alright?"

"It was a mission they volunteered for. Since they succeeded, they must have departed in peace."

Hwayeolluju appeared steadfast. Yet, Namgung Sua could sense the deep sorrow hidden beneath her usual composed expression.

"I am sorry."

The middle-aged, beautiful woman following behind, the Divine Doctor, spoke. Perhaps due to the accumulated fatigue, constant overexertion, and heavy emotional burden, her face was deathly pale.

At her apology, Hwayeolluju shook her head.

"They did not die simply to save you, Divine Doctor. They were enacting vengeance. Vengeance for their families, and for their friends."

The Demonic Cult. Many Haomun members had perished in their recent operations. Gritting their teeth in fury, the members had personally volunteered for this plan to seek revenge.

"This is our way. So, let us move quickly. We must not let their sacrifices be in vain."

Yet, in the end, it was Hwayeolluju herself who had devised the plan. Burying their deaths deep within her heart, she urged the group forward.

"Where are we heading?"

Asked Namgung Sua, who had put her cat mask back on at some point and was now carrying her Sago on her back. At her question, Hwayeolluju's gaze drifted toward a spot not too far away.

"One of our safehouses is over there."

That place was West Lake.