Chapter 88 - Crossing the Wall
Girls born in Okhwa Palace endure grueling training from a young age.
Vicious, merciless training.
As long as they draw breath, the training never stops.
Step by step, stage by stage.
Through these trials, they select the one worthy of mastering the palace's supreme art.
Until she becomes the final victor and claims the title of palace lord, no proper name is bestowed upon her.
Thus, they are known not by names, but as Hong and Cheong.
"Cheong-a! What are you doing?!"
Jin Hayeon jumped to her feet, rushing to stop Cheong-a.
Crack. Crackle.
But as Cheong-a took a step forward, thin ice formed beneath her feet.
"Ice Art!"
Cheongpung and Jegal Yunmyeong's eyes widened in shock.
They had been so unassuming that their presence had faded into the background—the two disciples of the Okhwa Palace lord. Yet one of them was now unleashing the notoriously difficult Ice Art.
"It's coming!"
Hong-a kicked Moyong Yeon aside and turned to shout at Cheong-a.
"What? What?"
"What's coming?!"
The later-generation experts atop the pavilion were dumbfounded by the sudden chaos.
Even then, Cheong-a strode toward the railing, raising her arms forward.
Crackle-crack!
Suddenly, an ice wall erupted along the railing.
"Gasp!"
"Ice Art!"
"Is that the Beihai Ice Palace?!"
The wall wasn't large.
Just big enough to shield two or three people.
But its effect was undeniable.
Kagagagang!!
A harsh screech exploded from the ice wall.
Something surging up from below the water surface had slammed into it.
"Hayeon! Over here!"
Hong-a, who had ducked behind Cheong-a, called out to Jin Hayeon.
Jin Hayeon instinctively grabbed Cheongpung's wrist and ran.
Pfbt-pfbt-pfbt!!
"Kyaaak!"
"Uwaaak!"
"Hidden weapons! Dodge!"
Shwaaaaa—
The pavilion, moments ago filled with laughter and the aroma of fine liquor, turned into a hellscape in an instant.
At least a dozen later-generation experts struck by unidentified hidden weapons.
No fatalities, thankfully, but the fragrant liquor scent vanished, replaced by the thick stench of blood spreading everywhere.
"W-what is this...?"
Jegal Yunmyeong looked around in horror.
Cheongpung's eyes gleamed as he glanced at the floor.
Steel marbles the size of fingernails lay scattered, stained with blood.
"Hidden weapons."
"What? Cheongpung-hyung! What do you mean? Hidden weapons?! This is a family estate!"
Cheongpung lifted his head, his voice grave.
"Someone's targeting us."
"Who would dare target us... Wait."
Something clicked for Jegal Yunmyeong, and he frantically scanned the crowd.
Among the huddled later-generation experts, he spotted the face he sought.
"Nangong Seonu!"
The delicately handsome second young master of the Nangong family flinched and looked at Jegal Yunmyeong.
"Where's your eldest brother?!"
"...What?"
At the urging of his peer and friend, Nangong Seonu blinked in confusion and looked around.
Come to think of it, the eldest young master—who had been laughing and enjoying himself just moments ago—was nowhere to be seen.
"Huh? Where did brother go—"
Kugugugugu—!!
At that moment, a heavy impact rocked the pavilion violently.
"Kyaaak!"
"What, what is this?!"
Kwaaaaaang!!!!
"Kyaaaaaak!!"
"Uwaaaaa!!!"
Incredibly, the massive pavilion plunged entirely into the pond below.
Only the screams of the later-generation experts echoed, scattering across the water's surface.
Kuooooong!!
"Hm?"
Jin Muhon halted in the narrow, pitch-black corridor and glanced back.
The floor trembled faintly, dust sifting from the ceiling.
Not an earthquake—some massive mechanism had activated somewhere.
"They've prepared quite thoroughly."
The thought crossed his mind.
A trap long in the making.
Too grand and intricate to be mere shelter.
"So the entire Murim Conference was the bait."
Nangong Yeong wasn't targeting just Jin Muhon.
He'd adjusted his grander scheme upon Jin Muhon's arrival.
The Nangong estate now hosted most of the righteous Murim's leadership.
Each a master, so not easy—but success would crumble the righteous Murim in one blow.
"Worse than the Demonic Cult."
A chuckle escaped him.
The Demonic Cult's strategist, Ma-noe, so full of himself—couldn't even devise a plot like this.
Step. Step. Step.
Jin Muhon resumed walking.
The distant vibrations soon faded.
In the dark corridor, only his heavy footfalls echoed rhythmically.
"Hm?"
After about a quarter-hour, faint light appeared ahead.
In the utter blackness, even dim lamplight felt welcoming.
Jin Muhon kicked off the floor, closing the distance in a flash.
Whoosh—
"......"
The corridor ended in a small, sealed room.
At its center sat a low desk for reading, a flickering oil lamp atop it casting feeble light.
Jin Muhon approached and examined the desk.
A crumpled cushion and lit lamp suggested someone had been here recently.
Rustle.
He picked up the paper on the desk.
A neatly folded letter.
Unfolding it revealed elegant script filling the page.
If you are reading this, you must be the successor of the Four Emperors.
You couldn't have found this place otherwise.
The writer, likely Nangong Yeong, was convinced Jin Muhon was the Four Emperors' successor.
Why Ma-seon and his minions obsessed over the Four Emperors was baffling.
Jin Muhon continued reading.
He said never to confront you if you are the successor.
Humiliating, but not entirely wrong.
Yet no matter how much you are our natural predator, you are alone.
You can't fend off ten with one hand, so your options are gone.
Even writing this, I've steadied my heart several times.
I ache to rip your throat out like that author of the Four Emperors did to me.
But for the greater cause, I endure.
Not out of fear of you.
So you,
Stay alone in this gloom.
No ghosts for company—you'll find it quite lonely.
Kuooooong—!
Another massive impact resounded from somewhere.
The lamp flickered wildly, on the verge of extinguishing.
Jin Muhon glanced at the dusting ceiling, then back to the letter.
The grand undertaking begins soon.
Linger here, savor your powerlessness, and die quietly.
The Soul-Sealing Charm binds this place—you won't leave even in death.
—Your old friend, Illyeong
"Friend?"
Jin Muhon frowned slightly, flipping and shaking the letter.
Nothing else—just these words.
He understood the trap, the impending scheme.
But "friend"? No clue.
"Everyone tangled with the Four Emperors is mad."
Jin Muhon crumpled the letter dismissively and picked up the lamp, approaching the wall.
Crude drawings covered the walls.
"Hm. A map."
It depicted the Central Plains and beyond, meticulously marking major sects, families, and outer powers.
Some sects bore red slashes.
"Demonic Cult, Sichuan Tang Clan, Nangong, Shaolin, Wudang..."
All infiltrated by Ma-seon in some way.
Like termites gnawing pillars, he'd rooted himself everywhere.
"So, sweep away the obstacles at once."
Nangong Yeong seemed to fear him intensely.
With him trapped, the real move begins.
Perhaps those earlier shockwaves were proof.
Kuwoong—!
Then, a massive stone door descended, sealing the entrance.
"......"
Perfectly trapped, as Nangong Yeong boasted.
Kang! Kwaang! Pfbt! Thud!
Jin Muhon slashed walls and door with the Sword of the Four Emperors, blasting palm strikes everywhere.
But the walls didn't budge, true to the boast.
Kaaaang!
Chipping stone revealed metal sparks.
"......?"
He touched the gap.
Black, cold material.
"Dark Iron."
Stepping back, he surveyed.
If it was renowned Dark Iron, brute force was near impossible.
No reaction from his soul senses to the Soul-Sealing Charm either.
A kill-trap might have gaps, but this was for perfect isolation.
The sole entrance collapsed fully—digging through would take ages.
"Well played."
Jin Muhon sheathed the sword and plopped onto the cushion.
Air grew stale. The lamp flickered unstably.
He sat cross-legged, eyes closed calmly.
Tsss—
Testing, he summoned Blood Mist.
No souls, not even mist.
"Soul-Sealing Charm..."
Ma-seon's soul-trapping spell encircled the Dark Iron prison.
No mist meant no new ghosts via sword.
Of course—no ghosts thanks to the charm.
"Interesting."
A faint smile tugged his lips.
This trap felt like a seal crafted by one who pierced the Fate Soul Heaven Sacrificing Scripture.
That art couldn't escape it.
Normal martial arts couldn't breach Dark Iron—trapped as Nangong Yeong willed.
Yet Jin Muhon remained unshaken.
"Perfect timing."
He'd expected a trap upon entry.
Nothing could hold him—that certainty held.
No hard proof, but perhaps from rising soul pressure post-Ma-seon clash.
Eyes closed.
Fate Soul Heaven Sacrificing Scripture blocked, lower dantian useless.
One path remained.
'Cloud Peak Mist Sea.'
The Jin family's secret that restored power after dantian loss.
More akin to immortal arts than martial—impossible to master, yet divine.
'Let's do it.'
No other way.
Concentrating, he recalled the pure Cloud Peak Mist Sea formula—not fused with Fate Soul Heaven Sacrificing Scripture.
Gaps aplenty, but he'd grown enough to fill them.
Goooooo—
Inner energy circulated from upper dantian.
Not confined to meridians.
Soon, it spilled from his body, filling the sealed space.
Woooong—
As if the whole space became his dantian.
Energy flowed endlessly, filling, amplifying.
Woooong—woooong—
How much time passed?
Fleeting instant or eons.
Still cross-legged, eyes shut—yet he saw around him.
Flickering lamp devouring its last life, dust swirling like insects.
Cold Dark Iron touch, ink scent from letter invading nostrils.
'......'
He even looked down at his seated self.
Eyes closed, yet overlooking all.
Shedding human limits one step, beyond divine eyes—he peered past the Dark Iron prison.
'...I see.'
And finally,
Transcending the halted fifth stage,
Jin Muhon took his first step into the Cloud Peak Mist Sea sixth stage: Heaven Earth Infinite.