Even a Broken Clock Is Right Twice a Day
To the ordinary folk of the Central Plains, the relationship among the Five Great Families was known to be downright cutthroat.
Five ravenous tigers, each clawing and snapping in their eagerness to devour the rest—or so the story went. Rumor painted them as bitter rivals, quietly keeping their talons sheathed only until another showed the faintest opening.
The reality, however, was quite different.
That bloodthirsty reputation was, in truth, a deliberate joint production orchestrated by the five clans themselves. After all, if they appeared perpetually divided and consumed by endless squabbling, outside factions would hesitate to wedge themselves into the fray and meddle in their affairs.
It was an era where the prominent Daoist sects like Mount Hua and Wudang had allied with celebrated Buddhist orders like the Shaolin Temple and Mount Emei to form the Nine Sects. When the Beggars' Gang—unrivaled in sniffing out intelligence—added its weight, the Nine Sects and One Gang was born.
Though united today under the grand banner of the Murim Alliance, mere generations ago, relations between the aristocratic martial clans and the monastic Daoist sects had been frosty at best. So when the Daoists joined hands with the Buddhists, and the Beggars' Gang chimed in to claim their share of influence, the noble clans—who had long kept strictly to their own territories—banded together in response.
The five most formidable among them were the Five Great Families of today. Having cast aside the archaic tradition of strictly guarding their own borders and minding their own business, they had undergone a sweeping transformation.
"Mugyeol, shouldn't we call off the tail here?"
"I agree with Brother Jegal. You all saw it just now, didn't you? Pretending to turn back, only to close the distance in the blink of an eye."
"Mmm, indeed. That speed was unmistakably the prowess of the Peak Realm."
When Jegal Jahyeok offered his cautious suggestion, Dang Hayeong seized the moment to persuade the rest. Faced with their seamless consensus, Namgung Mugyeol, who had masterminded this little tailing operation, sank into contemplation.
According to the world's perception, these young prodigies of the Five Great Families ought to have drawn their blades the moment they crossed paths, dueling fiercely to uphold their respective clan honors. Reality, however, was another story entirely.
The prodigies of the Five Great Families were practically family. From their early childhood, the clan elders had actively encouraged close ties, allowing them to grow up side by side. This effortless camaraderie was the proud fruit of the Grand Reform Project that the five clans had set in motion decades prior.
"Be that as it may... it is truly astonishing."
"What is? You mean the way he turned around and closed in on us while pretending to head back?"
As Paeng Jongcheon struck a brooding pose and adopted a solemn tone, Moyong Gaye retorted with a blunt scoff. The boy had always possessed an irritating habit of acting profound for no reason, and just when everyone thought he was finally outgrowing it, reading Nangahyeopjeon had caused a full-blown relapse. Having grown up viewing one another as siblings rather than members of the opposite sex, his brooding aura didn't register as enigmatic charm—it just looked like an absolute eyesore.
Still, Paeng Jongcheon was endowed with unshakeable fortitude. Treating Moyong Gaye's grumbling like the nagging of an older sister, he brushed it aside and pressed on steadfastly.
"Consider this. All of us have passed the capping age of twenty, and our eldest, Brother Jegal, is fast approaching thirty."
"Do not pick a fight with an innocent bystander."
Having stayed quiet only to take an unprovoked blow right to his pride, Jegal Jahyeok bristled. He couldn't exactly call it a lie, either; while everyone else was in their early to mid-twenties, he alone stood at twenty-eight. Jegal Jahyeok was right at that sorrowful age where being called an 'old man' cut deeply.
"Regardless, within the martial world, we are still young martial artists. The fact that we are hailed as the rising generation proves it."
"Isn't that obvious? We've only just stepped into the Jianghu as full-fledged martial artists."
"That is precisely my point. You all saw the Grand Master Painter Dokgo. How old did he appear to be?"
At Paeng Jongcheon's sharp question, silence fell over the group.
After all, the young man they had just witnessed with their own eyes could not have been older than eighteen, even by the most generous estimate.
"So the rumors were true..."
"Whoa, whoa, hold on. Does that even make any sense?!"
"Having seen it for ourselves, we have no choice but to believe it, whether we want to or not."
Dokgo Sanwol—the author behind Nangahyeopjeon and celebrated as the Grand Master Painter of their generation—was an expert of the Peak Realm. Though whispers of this had spread far and wide through the streets, most had dismissed it as wild exaggeration, scoffing that there was no way an unknown boy could attain the Peak Realm without shaking heaven and earth.
"Then why hasn't his name been known until now?"
Dang Hayeong voiced the innocent yet inevitable question. It was a puzzle that resonated with every single person present.
Not only within the Nine Sects and One Gang or the Five Great Families, but scouring the entirety of the Central Plains would not yield a single Peak Realm master under the age of twenty. It wasn't merely rare; since the dawn of codified martial arts, such a phenomenon had never once occurred.
An unprecedented anomaly. A generational prodigy of the highest order.
"Must he not have had his own circumstances?"
"And I'm asking what those circumstances are!"
Exasperated by Namgung Mugyeol's vague response, Dang Hayeong glared at him. In the first place, the five prodigies had tailed Sanwol specifically to verify whether the rumors held water. Yet now that their own eyes had confirmed the truth, a far deeper riddle confronted them.
Just why?
What possible circumstances could have kept such a talent lingering as an obscure, nameless martial artist? Talent of that caliber would have thrown open the gates of any sect under heaven. Even had he marched brazenly into the Murim Alliance demanding an exalted master and royal treatment, every elder would have bent over backward to grant it. No—they would have torn each other apart in an all-out frenzy just for the privilege of taking him in.
"...It seems standing here arguing amongst ourselves will yield no answers," Jegal Jahyeok sighed.
"Brother Jegal speaks the truth. Let us return first and gather intelligence."
The five prodigies parted ways. Yet while their bodies dispersed, their minds remained fixed on the same goal. Each mobilized their clan's distinct resources and intelligence networks to unearth Sanwol's past—proceeding with utmost secrecy and caution, lest the Murim Alliance or the core disciples of the Nine Sects catch wind and meddle.
And when they finally pooled their findings into a single mosaic, a rough outline of his past came to light.
"Th-this can't be..."
"So that was why he kept his name hidden!"
Synthesizing the scattered pieces into a cohesive timeline, the five prodigies covered their mouths in utter horror.
Prior to the age of ten, records did not exist at all. Even the scraps remaining after ten were riddled with glaring omissions and severe damage, as though deliberately scrubbed by an unseen hand. The meager details they managed to piece together pointed to the most mundane background imaginable: raised in a remote rural village by tenant farmers.
Yet what followed was nothing short of harrowing.
At age thirteen, young Sanwol and his family had suddenly rushed toward Hubei Province, where the Murim Alliance was headquartered. Then came the ambush—a sudden strike by a band of 'bandits' whose individual martial prowess was suspiciously lethal, leaving traces of Sword Qi and Sword Gang etched deep into the surrounding trees and boulders.
Narrowly escaping death, Dokgo Sanwol had emerged as the sole survivor.
From then on, the trail led to him mastering the Three Talents Art, laboring as an escort warrior for the Mukhwi Escort Agency, and eventually publishing Nangahyeopjeon as an undercover Peak Realm master.
"Wait...?"
"Hayeong, what is it?"
Lost in thought, Dang Hayeong let out a faint gasp, her eyes widening saucer-round. Then, as if struck by a revelation of earth-shattering magnitude, her shoulders began to tremble.
"This... this story... I kept feeling like I'd seen it somewhere before..."
Kin slaughtered by bandits. Martial arts chanced upon by coincidence. A boy who surged through martial realms at staggering speed to enact vengeance.
As Dang Hayeong's words settled into their minds, two figures sharing the exact same tragic path quietly materialized in their imaginations. One was a fictional protagonist in a storybook. The other was the most famous person in Wuhan right now.
The protagonist of Nangahyeopjeon—and the creator who drew him, Dokgo Sanwol.
The footprints of their two lives were eerily, chillingly identical. Almost as if the story had been modeled directly after reality, crying out in secret for someone to notice.
Believing they had stumbled upon forbidden truth, the five prodigies turned deathly pale. The disjointed cogs of intelligence suddenly clicked together and began to turn in perfect unison.
"...This has become grave indeed," Jegal Jahyeok murmured, cupping his chin with a grim countenance.
One could not say Dang Hayeong's hypothesis was a hundred percent certain. Yet to claim Nangahyeopjeon and Dokgo Sanwol's past bore no connection stretched credibility even further. The puzzle pieces fit far too neatly. If this was mere coincidence, that in itself was miraculous.
"What should we do? Should we report this to the Murim Alliance?" Moyong Gaye asked in a hushed, steady tone, seeking a path forward.
As she said, the most decisive course was through the Murim Alliance. With the absolute masters of the Nine Sects and One Gang and the Five Great Families gathered in one place, resolving a matter like this might be child's play.
Yet there was no formal justification.
Dokgo Sanwol and his Nangahyeopjeon were household names across Wuhan, but whether they held any official connection to the Alliance was another matter entirely. Looking at it objectively, would the Alliance deploy its senior masters and mobilize the Beggars' Gang for an extensive investigation, hunting down the culprits and masterminds for an unaffiliated rogue...?
"...The Murim Alliance will likely refuse to move," Jegal Jahyeok muttered, his voice heavy with sorrow.
Dokgo Sanwol was a wandering rogue martial artist. He was merely a boy who happened to be immensely popular and outrageously gifted. In the cold calculus of the Murim Alliance, that was not reason enough to act.
"Then what do we do?"
"We make them move."
If he had no backing, they would become his backing. They would forge a situation where the Murim Alliance had no choice but to step in.
These wicked wretches dared target a literary titan of their generation—the man who conceived Nangahyeopjeon! They were a vile cabal seeking to murder a young genius destined to lead the future of the Orthodox faction!
A handful of rising stars had no sway over the Alliance's decisions. But if the Young Patriarch of the Namgung Clan and heirs of equal standing across the Five Great Families united their voices, that was another story entirely.
"We shall protect him. If our Five Great Families intervene directly, the Murim Alliance will have no choice but to follow."
Since ancient times, the Jegal Clan had won renown across the realm for its unmatched brilliance in strategy and stratagem. And Jegal Jahyeok, carrying the sacred name and blood of Jegal, was no exception.
Once more, the might of the Five Great Families converged as one.