The Murim Alliance
The Leader of the Murim Alliance.
In the world of martial arts, that title was never taken lightly. The Murim Alliance was a grand coalition forged by the orthodox sects, uniting the venerable Nine Sects and One Gang with the Five Great Families. And as the head of such a titan, the Alliance Leader reigned as the supreme symbol of the righteous path. It went without saying that their martial prowess stood at the absolute zenith of the orthodox factions, placing them firmly among the strongest beings under heaven.
“It is an honor to meet you. I am Dokgo Sanwol.”
Facing Geuk Cheonrang in the reception hall, Sanwol offered a bow of the utmost propriety. First impressions were everything in human relationships, and more often than not, they hinged entirely upon one's greeting and manners.
Just as Sanwol anticipated, a look of quiet satisfaction crossed the Alliance Leader's face.
“I am Geuk Cheonrang,” the man replied, gesturing toward the chair opposite him. “Though I come bearing the mantle of the Alliance Leader, today's visit is entirely unofficial. There is no need for such stiff formality.”
As Sanwol took the offered seat, Geuk Cheonrang's gaze swept over him from head to toe.
The sensation was chilling—as though he were being stripped bare under an all-seeing eye. An involuntary shiver crawled down Sanwol's spine, and his brow furrowed despite himself.
“Ah, forgive me,” Geuk Cheonrang said smoothly. “I was merely probing your cultivation realm. If I caused you discomfort, you have my apologies.”
“Not at all. It was simply a sensation I have never experienced before, so it caught me off guard.”
Do all masters of a certain caliber gauge a person's realm just by looking at them? Sanwol was genuinely intrigued by the technique, but this was hardly the time or place to ask.
Little did he know, he wasn't the only one concealing shock.
Without a shadow of a doubt, he has reached the Peak Realm, Geuk Cheonrang thought, swallowing his own amazement. And for his senses to be sharp enough to detect my gaze...
The Murim Alliance leadership had dismissed the reports as wild rumors, but here sat a mere boy who had truly stepped into the Peak Realm. His innate acuity was astonishing; very few people in the world possessed senses keen enough to physically feel the weight of Geuk Cheonrang's discerning gaze, let alone react to it so instantaneously.
“First, let me apologize for the intrusion,” Geuk Cheonrang continued. “Given the delicacy of the matter, my visit has turned out rather abrupt.”
“All I do with my days is write, draw, and practice martial arts. How could my petty routine ever take precedence over Alliance affairs?”
“Haha! Even if you are merely being courteous, I appreciate the sentiment.”
Sanwol put his past life's corporate flattery to magnificent use. Honed through years of modern workplace survival, his smooth deference gently dissolved the formidable guard surrounding the Alliance Leader's heart. Unaware that his favorable impression of the boy was ticking upward by the second, Geuk Cheonrang chuckled heartily, the corners of his lips curving into an open grin.
“In truth, the Alliance has been troubled by a rather significant headache lately.”
“A trouble, you say? Might there be anything I could do to assist?”
Rule Number One of Sanwol's Survival Flattery: When an opening presents itself, step forward immediately.
Navigating society was a high-stakes psychological war of wits and tact. When an elder or superior voiced a grievance, one could never just nod and say, 'Ah, is that so?' Even if the matter had nothing to do with you, you had to display a proactive, cooperative willingness to help. That wasn't just basic courtesy; it was tactical knowledge. It did not change across borders, eras, or worlds. Wherever human beings lived, it remained an immutable truth.
And since Geuk Cheonrang was ultimately a human being, he fell hook, line, and sinker for Sanwol's masterclass in diplomacy.
“It is an embarrassing request to make of you, Young Hero,” Geuk Cheonrang confessed, “but I must ask that you postpone the publication of Nangahyeopjeon for the time being.”
“May I ask the reason?”
“It is because of the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering.”
Ah. Sanwol felt a drop of cold sweat trace down the back of his neck.
Uncle On Yu hadn't been exaggerating when he warned that the Murim Alliance was gnashing their teeth.
Now that I think about it, the Gathering should be right around the corner. But why haven't I heard a single peep about it on the streets?
Sanwol was, by nature, an extrovert. Even without any set plans, he made a point of strolling through the city every single day just to take in the air. Yet over the past few weeks, he hadn't seen a single soul in Wuhan discussing the tournament. In fact, it had slipped his mind so thoroughly that he had only just remembered it existed.
The reason was brutally simple: public interest in the event had plummeted straight into the abyss.
“Your comic has grown so vastly renowned,” Geuk Cheonrang explained with a sigh, “that the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering hosted by our Alliance has been completely overshadowed and forgotten.”
To make matters worse, this was the tournament's inaugural year. Had there been previous iterations, veterans and spectators might have reminisced about past glory, hyping up the competition through word of mouth. But because this was the very first Dragon and Phoenix Gathering, no one had ever witnessed it.
Having never seen it, they had no idea how thrilling or grand it might be.
Unlike the abstract promises trumpeted by the Murim Alliance, Nangahyeopjeon was tangible. Copies had already saturated the streets of Wuhan. Faced with vague future spectacles versus instant, gripping entertainment right in their hands, the public naturally gravitated toward the comic.
“The Alliance tried every measure to drum up excitement,” Geuk Cheonrang admitted wryly, “yet because your work is so utterly exceptional, none of our efforts yielded any meaningful result.”
“So you are asking me to halt publication temporarily, until the fervor dies down enough for people to notice the Gathering.”
“...Regrettably, yes. That is the long and short of it.”
Even Geuk Cheonrang felt uneasy delivering such an unreasonable request. Once a creative work caught fire, the creator had to strike while the iron was hot to maintain momentum. Demanding that an author freeze their publication right at the height of its explosive success was practically begging for a slap in the face. If not for the overwhelming authority of the Murim Alliance backing him, he would have deserved to be thrown out on his ear.
Besides, I'm dying to read Volume 2 and Volume 3 myself...
Adding a heavy dash of personal bias to the scales, Geuk Cheonrang was an avid fan. He had managed to discreetly buy Volume 1 by bribing a waiter at the Muban Inn while dining there. But from Volume 2 onward, distribution fell exclusively to Muho Bookstore.
And because he was the Murim Alliance Leader, an entire retinue of guards tailed him wherever he went. Why anyone felt the need to assign bodyguards to the Number One Under Heaven was entirely beyond him, but whenever he questioned the elders, they merely parroted that it was 'for the prestige and tranquility of the Alliance.'
Consequently, he couldn't even slip into the bookstore to read the very comic his leadership was fiercely guarding against.
Wait. If I ask him right here, couldn't I read Volume 2 on the spot?
A sudden wave of selfish desire wormed through the cracks of his official duty, whispering seductively in his ear.
There are no prying eyes here anyway, and it's not like you're the kind of man who cares about stiff protocol! The creator of Nangahyeopjeon is sitting right across from you. How could any real man pass up a golden opportunity like this? Squeeze your eyes shut and just ask!
Normally, a situation like this would summon an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other to wage an internal debate. Alas, the minds of the Central Plains harbored neither angels nor devils. The Buddhas and Daoist immortals who might play the angel were all off dwelling in the Western Paradise or the celestial realms, while the underworld fiends who might play the devil were far too busy being tortured in the depths of hell.
Left utterly alone in the cavern of his mind, Geuk Cheonrang's base desires had free rein to tempt him.
“Young Hero Dokgo, I have a personal favor to ask...”
“What might that be?”
In the end, Geuk Cheonrang decided to throw caution to the wind. If things went south, he could always resign as Alliance Leader and return to the carefree life of a wandering ronin. It was precisely this brazen, unbothered mindset that gave the Alliance elders chronic migraines.
“Truth be told, I have been thoroughly enjoying your comic myself.”
“You have, Alliance Leader?”
“Indeed. Am I any different from the common folk in the streets? When you get down to it, my roots lie with the vagabonds and rogues; there is nothing noble about my blood. When I come across a good story, I simply laugh and revel in it.”
Beneath the lofty mantle of the Murim Alliance Leader, the unpretentious wanderer within Geuk Cheonrang was peeking out.
Just as Sanwol tilted his head at the subtle shift in the man's demeanor, Geuk Cheonrang finally let his hidden desire slip past his lips.
“The trouble is, I have yet to read Volume 2. If it is not an imposition, might I read it here for a moment?”
“Pardon? Well... that wouldn't be a problem at all, but...”
Sanwol blinked, caught completely flat-footed by the request. But then, a sharp gleam of brilliance sparked within his eyes.
Wait a minute. Could this be my chance to forge a direct connection with the Murim Alliance?
There was an ancient idiom: Turning calamity into a blessing.
It meant transforming misfortune into an opportunity for greater fortune. Though not a phrase tossed around lightly in casual conversation, at this exact moment, Sanwol and the Murim Alliance were standing right before the threshold of that very proverb.
Could this actually work...?
The corner of Sanwol's mouth twitched upward as his razor-sharp comprehension kicked into overdrive.
Sanwol had no desire to make an enemy of the Murim Alliance.
And the Murim Alliance desperately wanted the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering to succeed.
At first glance, it appeared to be a zero-sum game where Sanwol had to concede and take a step back. But that was the narrow viewpoint of fools. Sanwol's agile mind swiftly calculated a brilliant solution—a path where both he and the Alliance could clasp hands and march two paces forward together.
“Alliance Leader, you mentioned that the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering is in trouble because it's been drowned out by the popularity of Nangahyeopjeon, correct?”
“Mmm, indeed. As an avid reader myself, I feel terrible asking this of you, but my position leaves me little choice.”
“I have a splendid idea.”
The fundamental reason the Gathering lacked hype was that people simply didn't understand what it was. The Alliance had released text and verbal descriptions, but mere words paled in comparison to visceral imagery. Ultimately, this crisis arose because the public had no frame of reference for the tournament just as an unprecedented cultural phenomenon like Nangahyeopjeon swept the nation.
In that case, the remedy was simple: show them what the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering was all about.
“Let us draw the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering into the comic.”
“Wait, do you mean...!”
“If the Gathering appears directly within Nangahyeopjeon, depicting fierce clashes of martial might in vivid illustration, public interest will ignite on its own.”
Geuk Cheonrang burst into thunderous laughter, his eyes widening in admiration.
It was a masterstroke where no one lost. Sanwol could continue his serial publication uninterrupted, while the comic served as a promotional juggernaut for the tournament, washing away the Alliance's woes in one fell swoop.
There could be no wiser move. A foolish question met with an enlightened answer—was that not the very definition of this moment? Geuk Cheonrang marveled, unable to contain his mirth.
Volume 3 of Nangahyeopjeon was already seventy percent complete. All Sanwol had to do was utilize the remaining thirty percent to introduce the Gathering and give his protagonist a compelling reason to enter the tournament.
“Wait a moment,” Geuk Cheonrang asked, his brow furrowing thoughtfully as he listened to the outline. “If you cut it off there, won't people lose interest? It feels rather frustrating to end on such a cliffhanger.”
Sanwol merely offered a sly, devilish chuckle.
“That is precisely the point.”
In serial fiction, you could never give the audience complete satisfaction. You had to end the volume on the precipice of the climax, tantalizing them so intensely that they had no choice but to clamor for what came next. By doing so, public obsession would naturally transfer onto the real-world Dragon and Phoenix Gathering.
Humans were creatures who remembered the latest revelations most vividly. The Murim Alliance could then ride that surging wave of hype to promote the tournament anew.
“And if that still isn't enough, I can sweeten the pot myself,” Sanwol added with a grin. “How about offering special author-signed collector's editions as tournament prizes?”
“...Young Hero Dokgo, you truly have every single detail mapped out, don't you?”
A few days later, Volume 3 of Nangahyeopjeon hit the shelves. Printed upon its final page was a brief promotional announcement for the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering, alongside details of the exclusive bonus prizes prepared by Dokgo Sanwol.
And just like that, the leadership of the Murim Alliance was turned completely upside down once again.
Only this time, the chaos was not confined to the executive chambers.
A tsunami of paperwork unleashed by Nangahyeopjeon swept ruthlessly across the entire Alliance headquarters. It had long surpassed what could politely be described as a 'heavy workload.' Staff members ran about like headless chickens, screeching in panic as if their feet were on fire.
“We need more hands over here! If anyone has a free moment, come help review the applicant rosters!”
“We're swamped over here too! Tickets are selling out ten times faster than we can stamp the seat registration forms!”
Applications for the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering poured in like an unceasing waterfall, while spectator tickets vanished into thin air as quickly as they were printed. For the working-level staff, it was nothing short of a living nightmare—yet despite the backbreaking labor, the upper echelons rejoiced in an atmosphere practically bursting with celebration.
And right around that time, an urgent dispatch arrived at the elders' council chamber.
“Hoh! So this is how you conduct your reference research?”
“I can hardly afford to draw the tournament matches half-heartedly, can I? An artist must truly know his subject to capture it on paper.”
“Hahaha! Well said! In that case, I shall gladly match moves with Artist Dokgo!”
It was a report announcing that, out on the main training grounds of the Murim Alliance, a sparring match between Geuk Cheonrang and Sanwol had just begun.