The Height of Shamelessness
Yeop Pung was at a complete loss. His path in the martial arts had never been a smooth one to begin with.
After eight grinding years of hardship, he had only just begun to feel as though he was finally walking the proper road—and now this. A seventh profound meridian?
They had clearly said six meridians. So why was he the only one sprouting an extra?
The memory of those eight bitter, unjust years sent a chill racing down his spine. A dark premonition settled over him, cold and unshakable.
He wanted to demand answers from Geumban then and there, but that arrogant bastard, true to form, offered not the slightest response. Yeop Pung was left to stew in silence.
So what the hell am I supposed to do now?
Should he nurture the newly sprouted meridian? Or press on with training the fifth primary meridian?
It wasn't as if he could ask anyone else. If Old Man Meng ever caught wind of it, Geumban's existence might come to light—and Geumban was a secret Yeop Pung guarded with his life.
Damn it...!
Yeop Pung clenched his teeth. For now, he decided to ignore the newly formed meridian. No ancient text he knew of had ever recorded a seventh profound meridian. How was he even supposed to train the thing? Opening the familiar primary meridians first was the proper order.
Besides, once he opened the fifth primary meridian, he would be able to train Star Cloud Eight Desolations, the strongest killing form of the Falling Star Sword Technique. Among all Profound Sword Arts, it was a move of unmatched power. Combined with the Saint Spirit Physique, it was a technique capable of overwhelming even experts of the Profound Realm.
Right now, Yeop Pung's most urgent goals were the opening of his fifth meridian and the mastery of Star Cloud Eight Desolations. If he could achieve both, he would be able to stand against most experts of the 6th Meridian Mysterious Realm—even without the Black Frost Sword.
A minor setback was not enough to break his will to train. He gathered his focus, drew his energy together, and condensed it like a star. And so the night deepened.
The next morning, Yeop Pung was jolted awake by a frantic voice.
"Yeop Pung! Yeop Pung!"
It was Wang Maeng.
Yeop Pung rubbed his eyes and stepped outside. Wang Maeng stood waiting with Mo Soo-mi and that fool Yo Yeong-chun, all three of them wearing faces tight with anxiety.
"What's going on?"
Yeop Pung already sensed that something had gone badly wrong. The Cheonbong Army had been disbanded—so why did everyone look more uneasy than before?
"Yeop Pung, we're in deep trouble!"
Wang Maeng grabbed his hand and dragged him toward Cloud Dragon Terrace as he spoke.
"They're erasing the Cheonun Sect!"
"That's right, Yeop Pung! They're turning the Cheonun Sect into the Cheonwoon Martial Academy!"
Anger trembled through Mo Soo-mi's thin, high voice.
Even Yo Yeong-chun was stumbling over his words.
"H-Han Buri s-sold us all out! Y-you too..."
Wang Maeng, too impatient to wait, finished for him.
"Yeop Pung, Sa Cheonseong challenged you to a duel at the renaming ceremony in fifteen days! He wants the Black Frost Sword back!"
What?
The flood of news left Yeop Pung's head spinning.
The group arrived at Cheonun Square. A vast crowd had already gathered before the Cheonun Stele of Inquiring Qi, and every face that read the notice posted there went slack with disbelief. Not one of them had dreamed the Cheonun Sect would meet its end so swiftly.
The Cheonbong Army's occupation had merely oppressed the sect and kept it on edge. This renaming—this conversion into a martial academy—was a declaration of war, a promise to tear the Cheonun Sect out by the roots.
A change of name meant the severing of a thousand-year lineage. The surrender of every last asset meant the sect would never rise again. The disciples of the Cheonun Sect would become students of the Cheonwoon Martial Academy, and from there, in due course, reserve soldiers of the Cheonbong Army. In fifteen days, the title of Cheonun Sect disciple would vanish from the world forever.
"This is insane!"
The crowd boiled with rage.
"The Cheonun Sect is the Cheonun Sect! How does it just become the Cheonwoon Martial Academy? Sect Master Han has lost his mind!"
"He's right! I've lived in the Cheonun Sect for ten years—how can it all change overnight? Why should we become lackeys of the Military Supply Bureau? I am never joining the Cheonbong Army!"
"Damn them all! I will never be some academy student!"
Some spat their fury into the open air. Others, however, stood by with faces utterly unchanged. Not every disciple of the Cheonun Sect held the place in their heart. To them, Cheonun Sect or Cheonwoon Martial Academy made little difference.
"It's just a name change—what's the big deal? It's not like it affects whether we eat. Why all the fuss?"
"What's so bad about joining the Heavenly Phoenix Legion? Beats rotting in this barren mountain valley a hundred times over!"
"Shut your mouth! What kind of garbage is that?!"
The enraged disciples roared back.
"How does the Cheonun Sect even have an ungrateful wretch like you? Our ancestral heritage is about to disappear, and you're clapping?"
"Pfft. Ancestral heritage? I just came here to learn martial arts. Nobody sold me to the Cheonun Sect. All I'm saying is it's a blessing the Military Supply Bureau is taking over! Am I wrong?"
"He's right!"
"Go say that to your grandfather!"
"What, you wanna fight? Who's scared of who?!"
A single notice had split the Cheonun Sect clean in two. Like oil poured over boiling water, Cheonun Square erupted into chaos.
"Silence!"
A thunderous shout rolled in from the distance. In the next breath, white-armored soldiers of imposing bearing came striding through the crowd.
At the head of the procession, Sa Cheonseong came into view. It had been some time since anyone had seen him, and the man who approached now carried an entirely different air. The cold, arrogant gaze of before had given way to eyes steeped in savage killing intent. People could scarcely bring themselves to look at him.
Sa Cheonseong had changed. If the old Sa Cheonseong had been a proud, icy lion, the man before them now was a blood-starved, savage wolf. A madness rolled off him, as though he meant to devour everything in his path.
"Who dares raise a ruckus in the Cheonwoon Martial Academy?!"
Sa Cheonseong strode forward with lordly composure, and the crowd parted before him of its own accord.
Before anyone quite realized it, the square had divided into two camps.
To the east stood the hardline disciples determined to defend the Cheonun Sect, fury burning in their eyes. At Sa Cheonseong's words, several of them shouted back.
"What Cheonwoon Martial Academy? This is the Cheonun Sect! We will never accept Han Buri selling out the sect! We're going to the elders to protest!"
"That's right—let's go protest! We'll make Han Buri retract the order!"
"Insolent!"
Sa Cheonseong raised a hand and launched his Profound Qi. It became a wind of terrifying force and smashed across the faces of the disciples who had just cried out.
An attack from one who had reached the 6th Meridian Mysterious Realm was nothing short of devastating.
A series of wet, crushing impacts rang out. Four disciples coughed blood as they were hurled into the air, then crashed down far back among the crowd.
"He actually hit people?!"
The hardline disciples stared in shock, then in rage. To answer a perfectly reasonable question with such brutal violence!
Sa Cheonseong swept a cold look over the furious disciples, letting his killing intent bleed into the air.
"N-no, sir!"
The moderate disciples on the opposite side bowed their heads at once, plastering on servile smiles. Some even went so far as to fawn over Sa Cheonseong.
"Well done! Those people aren't in their right minds! They needed a proper beating to snap them out of it!"
"I can't believe this...!"
The hardline disciples flushed scarlet with rage. They were still young, still hot-blooded, and they could not endure Sa Cheonseong's shameless display.
"The Cheonun Sect is OUR Cheonun Sect! This is not some martial academy!"
"You villain! Our masters won't stand for your tyranny!"
Those words poured oil on Sa Cheonseong's fury. Without a moment's hesitation, he drew the Blood Phoenix Spear and leveled it at the disciple who had shouted the loudest.
"How dare you! Die!"
"Stop!"
In that instant, Yeop Pung, Wang Maeng, and the others could hold back no longer and surged forward. They would not stand by and let Sa Cheonseong commit murder.
But a shadow moved faster than they did. A figure swept his sword across Sa Cheonseong's spear, knocking it aside, and planted himself in front of Yeop Pung's group.
"Commandant Sa! Please restrain yourself!"
It was Han Un! The hardline disciples seized on Elder Han's appearance as if it were a last hope.
"Elder Han! That man dared to assault people in broad daylight and injure disciples! Please, right this injustice for us!"
Elder Han turned to look at them. Grief and anger filled his eyes as well, but he only clenched his jaw and shook his head. The other elders who had come with him began tending to the fallen disciples.
From the crowd, Yeop Pung caught sight of Han Un, and his heart twisted. In the time since they had last met, gray had spread further through the elder's hair. Under the Cheonbong Army's relentless pressure, every day had been a torment. The Nawoon Peak he led hung by a thread, a candle flickering in the wind.
And yet even in this desperate hour, Han Un did what he had once done for Yeop Pung: he was the first to step forward and put himself between everyone and the danger.
Han Un, too, spotted Yeop Pung among the crowd. The moment he offered a bitter smile and a slight nod, Yeop Pung's eyes flew wide.
"Elder Han, look out!"
Yeop Pung was not alone. Everyone standing before Han Un loosed the same cry at the same instant.
"Elder Han, you're in danger!"
What?
Han Un's eyes snapped open. A chill killing intent raced up his spine, and the fine hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end.
Sa Cheonseong had been waiting for that opening. The instant Han Un turned his back, he flashed the blood-red spear in his hand and launched a despicable sneak attack.
"You dare stand in my way? Who gave you the right to interfere while I discipline these people?!"
"Sa Cheonseong, you cowardly bastard!"
Fury flooding through him, Han Un drew his sword in a flash. He had reached the early Spirit Realm; he was certain he could turn aside a surprise attack.
Then the unthinkable happened. With an earsplitting crash, the Profound Iron Sword in his hand shattered to pieces against Sa Cheonseong's spear.
Sa Cheonseong did not stop. The blood-red spearhead, carrying that same force, drove straight through Han Un's body without the slightest pause.
"Elder Han!"
It had happened in a heartbeat. Everyone stood frozen in horror.
"Sa Cheonseong, you dog! To stoop to something this despicable!"
A wet, tearing thrust. Han Un, run through the chest, coughed blood and staggered. He stared in disbelief, looking from the broken sword to the spear buried in his own chest.
But Sa Cheonseong's cruelty was not finished. He stepped forward and, with deliberate brutality, wrenched the spear free.
A nauseating rip of tearing flesh made every set of teeth in the square chatter. Han Un's vivid crimson blood fountained toward the sky.
