Shadows of the Crouching Dragon
As promised, Cheon Ok-jin-in and the Hwasan swordsmen collected the bodies of the Bing Palace warriors and returned to Hwasan.
The battle that followed had badly damaged the corpses, making recovery difficult, but they gathered the limbs with utmost care and reverence.
Disciples who had hurried down from Hwasan upon hearing the news joined in, lending their hands, and in the end, they successfully recovered the Bing Palace warriors' remains.
Cheon Hwa-jin-in's face hardened as he listened to the full account from the returned Cheon Ok-jin-in.
Cheon Ok-jin-in glanced cautiously at Cheon Hwa-jin-in's expression.
He had been told to relay every word exactly, but he couldn't bring himself to do it verbatim and had softened Sword King's words as best he could.
Still, given Cheon Hwa-jin-in's temperament, there was plenty of room for offense.
He worried needlessly that sparks might fly his way, but it was all for naught.
Cheon Hwa-jin-in's stiffened expression wasn't from wounded pride—it stemmed from another reason entirely.
'Bokryong Valley?'
Cheon Hwa-jin-in patted his chest inwardly, murmuring to himself in shock.
The mere three words "Bokryong Valley" carried such a jolt that his face had no choice but to harden.
Bokryong Valley—those who had appeared out of nowhere with unfamiliar, overwhelming martial arts, pushing the Central Plains murim to the brink of annihilation.
Hwasan was one of the sects that suffered the greatest losses in that ordeal.
True to its reputation, Hwasan had fought Bokryong Valley without retreat or compromise.
It clashed with them the most, fought the fiercest battles, and as a result, took damage so severe that annihilation wouldn't have been surprising.
Many had declared Hwasan's fate sealed.
Just as suddenly as they appeared, Bokryong Valley vanished, but Hwasan never gave up.
Even when everyone shook their heads, countless people poured blood and sweat into reviving the sect.
Aid came from outside as well.
Despite other sects and families suffering comparable devastation, helping hands extended to Hwasan.
Everyone in the murim had witnessed—and knew well—the resolute stance Hwasan had taken in those battles.
Thanks to that, Hwasan rose again, not quite to its former glory, but enough to claim its place among the Nine Great Sects once more.
To Hwasan, Bokryong Valley was thus something far more profound.
"First, hold proper funerals for the Bing Palace warriors. Leave nothing wanting—perform the rites with full ceremony."
"Understood."
The deaths of the Bing Palace warriors felt personal to Cheon Hwa-jin-in, stirring old pains.
He hadn't been there himself, but as a member of Hwasan—and its leader—the scars ran bone-deep.
Hwasan conducted the funerals for the Bing Palace warriors according to Daoist rites.
In a solemn atmosphere, after the rites, they preserved the bodies as best they could against decay and handed them over to the waiting Bing Palace warriors at the base of Hwasan.
Even as the Bing Palace warriors received the remains and departed, the Hwasan folk observed every propriety.
In that moment, at least, they weren't the murim's Nine Great Sect sword faction, Hwasan Sword Sect—but Hwasan as the sacred ground of the Daoist tradition.
The battle in Shaanxi Province naturally reached the Murim Alliance's ears as well.
They had anticipated at least one more raid, but it came far sooner than expected.
And this time, unlike before, the attackers wore masks—the symbol of Bokryong Valley.
'Is Bokryong Valley truly reviving? If so, does that mean they kidnapped Flame King? What connection do Bokryong Valley and Flame King's sect have?'
Sa Ma-gang's mind grew tangled.
Clues about the long-sought enemy were surfacing bit by bit, yet nothing fell into place.
If anything, his thoughts knotted like a snarled thread, jumbling everything.
Moreover, sects reacting to "Bokryong Valley" kept sending letters to the Alliance for confirmation.
It was a perfect example of how deeply etched Bokryong Valley remained in the Central Plains murim.
"Hoo…."
Sa Ma-gang took a deep breath.
As Sword King had said, now was the time for him to keep a clear head.
He had accomplished much so far, but this was arguably his first true war.
The Central Plains murim had enjoyed peace until now.
'This is my trial by fire.'
No matter how well he'd performed before, failing at this critical juncture would render all prior efforts meaningless.
Sa Ma-gang reviewed all the information from the start once more.
He cleared out the cluttering thoughts, then rebuilt them methodically.
'Once they impersonated Ak So-cheon. Next, Shaolin. No further impersonations. Means they needed deception—fights where hiding their identity was key to victory.'
Sa Ma-gang jotted his conclusions on paper.
'First battle showed Bokryong Valley traces, but too weak to be them. The second… with Yeom Woo-gang, Han Seo-yeon, and Sword King—absolute masters—they won handily, but the foes were formidable. Wore masks too.'
Sa Ma-gang frowned as he wrote the follow-up.
'If they're truly Bokryong Valley… they're building strength gradually. They need opponents to test how far they've come—self-assessment alone isn't precise enough.'
In that instant, Sa Ma-gang's eyes gleamed.
"Bokryong Valley is just bait on a hook."
Conviction laced his voice.
Bokryong Valley's revival.
It was reviving, yes.
But regaining past might in the short term? Practically impossible, regardless of prep time.
Thus, Bokryong Valley wasn't the core.
They were the vanguard—to gauge foes and measure the main force's level accordingly.
"If Bokryong Valley sows chaos and exceeds expectations in strength, reaping gains? Ideal for them."
Bokryong Valley was a disposable pawn.
Gather the hidden remnants, lure them out with words.
Use them to achieve goals, prepare thoroughly.
What a perfect card.
Compared to any foe—Demonic Cult, Blood Cult, Poison Valley Palace—that Bokryong Valley had inflicted incomparable psychological shock on the Central Plains murim.
Their mere appearance would deliver massive impact, strength irrelevant.
Proof? The flurry of letters flooding the Alliance even now.
"Once in Shaolin's front yard, once in Hwasan's. Right under the noses of two pivotal Nine Great Sects. The shock will be immense."
Sa Ma-gang muttered, scribbling more on the paper.
"It'll seem like bravado. 'We can strike you anytime, like before.' Yet the damage they've inflicted is nil. Hidden behind the Bokryong Valley name, we overlook it."
With cold, calm analysis, the unseen became clear.
And he realized he'd overreacted with tension and shock.
"The tests aren't over. Next, a stronger Bokryong Valley will hit somewhere else. They know they're not ready for Woo-gang, Han Seo-yeon, and Sword King yet."
Sa Ma-gang eyed the Central Plains map pinned to the wall.
It marked major sects and families across the region.
"So, where's a fitting target at their current level…."
His mind spun rapidly once more.
The genius tactician everyone knew had returned.
Han Seo-yeon's mood hung heavy after losing subordinates in the last fight.
She spoke little, her face shadowed.
She spent much time lost in thought, radiating an aura that kept others at bay.
Woo-gang watched her now and then with pitying eyes.
He too had lost the precious Yeom Si-woo, but not witnessed death right before him.
Moreover, Yeom Si-woo was missing, not confirmed dead.
He couldn't fathom the texture or scale of her shock and grief.
Experienced Sword King seemed to grasp it somewhat but said nothing.
The future Bing Palace Young Lord needed to overcome this pain and rise on her own.
No one could do it for her, so Sword King silently waited for her recovery.
The journey continued in that somewhat oppressive atmosphere until they safely passed Shaanxi Province and entered Sichuan soil.
Upon reaching Sichuan, the brightest face belonged to Dang Cheon-yong and the Dang Family warriors.
Dangga-ta was still far off, but stepping on home soil eased their hearts.
Yet peace of mind was fleeting.
In Hubei Province, then Shaanxi.
Enemies struck near Song Mountain and Hwasan.
Approaching Dang Family heightened worries instead.
But after two incidents, Dang Family was surely prepared.
Unlike other sects, Dangga-ta encircled it—a fortress wall guarding Dang Family, nearly impenetrable.
That both reassured and concerned them.
"We made it somehow. To Sichuan."
"The roads are treacherous. Even breathing feels harder."
"Sichuan's terrain is like that—high and rugged. That's why it's safe too. Outsiders can't traverse it easily."
Woo-gang nodded at Sword King's explanation.
No matter one's prowess, navigating such harsh paths wasn't simple.
"But flip it: if enemies enter Sichuan safely, they're thoroughly isolated. Sichuan murim in peril? Hard for outsiders to notice quickly."
"True enough."
"Everything has two sides. Key is leveraging the advantageous one."
Woo-gang nodded again, glancing at Han Seo-yeon.
Her dark mood made him want to speak, but he clamped his mouth shut once more.
Clumsy words might only burden her further.
"Hoo…."
Woo-gang let out a quiet sigh of frustration.