Participating in the Black Heaven Assembly (3)
“……!”
Unlike the deafening toll that threatened to shatter eardrums, the numerous spectators watching—and even Bong Ilwol of the Dark Smoke Fist, who was overseeing the preliminary judgments—could only fall silent.
And for good reason. The result was utterly unforeseen.
“No way!”
Bong Ilwol belatedly gaped, letting out a groan-like mutter.
To bluntly strike the great dark bell hard enough to produce such a resounding peal required internal energy on par with a First-rate master.
In other words, this preliminary round was a test to separate the First-rate experts from the rest.
But... this level of thunderous boom demands at least Super Peak prowess—perhaps even beyond!
Bong Ilwol's assessment was spot on.
Hyeon Yucheon's current martial realm was upper Super Peak, and his internal energy surpassed that—making the outcome inevitable.
Woooaaah!
The crowd's stunned freeze shattered in an instant.
They erupted in unison at the colossal toll Hyeon Yucheon had unleashed.
No one before him had managed to ring the bell at all.
Yet this heir of the much-mocked Demon Sword Sect? Not a feeble chime, but a roar that threatened to crack the bell itself.
And this would remain the unmatched pinnacle toll—no one else would come close before the preliminaries ended.
As expected of the Sect Leader.
Meanwhile, Cheonu, the eldest of the Black Wolf Three Swords and a loyal follower of Hyeon Yucheon, nodded with a pleased smile.
He felt gratified, but not surprised in the least.
Hyeon Yucheon's prowess had long surpassed his own, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the Ten Great Unorthodox Masters—what was there to fear?
“That's a pass, right?”
Hyeon Yucheon, by contrast, gazed at Bong Ilwol with utter serenity.
A subtle prod: Why the delay in judgment?
“P-Pass!”
The dazed Bong Ilwol finally called it out.
At minimum, his internal energy is monstrous!
A thought dawned on him simultaneously.
Hyeon Yucheon of the Demon Sword Sect—scorned and dismissed.
Yet he might well become the eye of the storm sweeping through this Black Heaven Assembly.
Mugeom Sword Young Master Hyeon Yucheon, was it?
Bong Ilwol, affiliated with Great Dark Valley, recalled his own sect's promising junior.
A rare talent, yes—but in internal energy, a mere drop compared to this Hyeon Yucheon.
“The second preliminary will commence this afternoon, so take lunch and prepare.”
He masked his fluster and spoke steadily.
Bong Ilwol would report Hyeon Yucheon's feat in detail to his sect's insiders.
And Hyeon Yucheon's rampage through the Black Heaven Assembly began right then.
As Bong Ilwol had said, the first preliminary weeded out all who fell short of First-rate, leaving just over fifty qualifiers.
His goal now: whittle them down to ten or fewer.
During the break, he reported Hyeon Yucheon's performance upward—but the reply was cold.
—He'll at best scrape into the main tournament.
—The Demon Sword Sect has lost all of the Demon Sword Ghost Lord's signature techniques; it's barely Second-rate now.
Bong Ilwol gave up persuading the stubborn elders.
Why bother? A true gem proved itself, as the saying went: a phoenix among hens.
“The second preliminary will begin shortly. All first-round passers, assemble in the training ground.”
Lunch barely ended when Bong Ilwol announced the next round.
With the main event tomorrow, spectators' eyes locked on the second prelim—some among them were tomorrow's participants or their associates, analyzing intently.
“To be direct: only ten advance to the main tournament! Thus...”
Swish!
Bong Ilwol paused, drawing something from his robe.
The distant crowd peered: small flags. About ten black ones, symbols of Great Dark Valley.
“Among the second-prelim participants, only the ten who seize these flags advance. Any means allowed to claim them.”
He smirked meaningfully.
A task befitting the unorthodox martial world.
Had this been the orthodox Dragon-Phoenix Assembly, no such audacious prelim.
Typically one-on-one duels or other tests—not tossing ten flags and saying, Grab 'em.
“Now, we'll place these ten black flags on the training ground. You fifty participants: seize them by any means necessary.”
With that, Bong Ilwol set the flags down and exited.
His departure froze the mood amid the unexpected challenge.
Thud, thud.
One figure strode unflinchingly toward the ground.
No need to say who: the Mugeom Sword Young Master, Hyeon Yucheon.
His reason? Singular.
“I'll claim all ten black flags myself.”
Bong Ilwol had said only flag-holders advanced.
Meaning: monopolize all ten, and only one reaches the main tournament—shortening the competition drastically.
Swipe!
Hyeon Yucheon glanced at Bong Ilwol after declaring.
“......”
Bong Ilwol's face flickered with shock at the ambition, but he composed himself, silent.
No objection. Per Black Heaven Assembly rules: no issue.
This guy's... born for it.
He was impressed, rather.
When Great Dark Valley devised this test, it aimed to select exactly ten finalists.
But this? Only one: Mugeom Sword Young Master Hyeon Yucheon.
Bong Ilwol had another reason to marvel.
The epitome of an unorthodox overlord.
Even in the Central Plains' winner-takes-all, this was brutally unorthodox—tyrannical.
“Crazy bastard!”
“Thought you shone in the first round? Still blind to reality!”
“Demon Sword Sect's outdated—grandstanding now?”
His solo blockade at the entrance, claiming all ten flags, ignited frenzied rage among the rest.
Especially galling: a Demon Sword Sect entrant, long undervalued, coveting every flag.
“Die!”
True to unorthodox tempers, one charged straight at Hyeon Yucheon.
He replied.
Not in words—but silent sword qi.
One flash, one kill—the pinnacle of instant-kill swordsmanship.
An invisible, formless sword qi streaked like an arrow, piercing the charger's shoulder.
“Gaaahhh!”
He collapsed, gravely wounded.
An ultra-swift strike invisible and unfelt—sparing his life was mercy.
“Hit him together!”
“We're nearly fifty—he's alone!”
Finally sensing his power, they schemed: overwhelm with numbers.
“A warning: those who value life or limb, withdraw from the training ground now.”
Hyeon Yucheon assumed stance and declared.
“Puhaha!”
“Madman!”
“Swordless, yet pretending to grip one.”
“Threw a hidden weapon? Who'd fall for it?”
Fools still babbled, ignorant of his arts or sect.
Not one second-prelim participant heeded his warning or quit.
“No choice, then.”
Kindly warned, ignored—time for force.
Swipe!
Hyeon Yucheon unleashed the invisible formless sword-qi shards they mocked—in unison.
Perfect for one against many—the salvo roared to life.
No more mockery.
Krunch! Kra-krunch!
They cowered like battlefield cowards, trembling on the ground from unseen Formless Linked Bullets shards.
Those who ducked were fortunate.
“Gack! Kheuk!”
“Grk!”
“D-Dodge!”
Nearly fifty participants were mercilessly shredded.
To Hyeon Yucheon, they were mere meat shields—nothing more, nothing less.
He was an artist gesturing in air; his invisible formless blades carved through like beautiful melody.
Whoosh!
Even Bong Ilwol, spectating from afar, shot to his feet at the carnage.
This isn't peer-level. He's leagues beyond.
Spot on.
Among prelim rabble, the Mugeom Sword Young Master was a tiger amid sheep.
Dimensions apart—far eclipsing junior talent norms.
“Damn it!”
Bong Ilwol groaned deeper as Hyeon Yucheon's dominance grew.
Acknowledge and reclassify him? It'd expose Great Dark Valley's oversight as hosts.
Forcing a Demon Sword Sect entry without gauging their strength? Admitting that was taboo.
Thus, Bong Ilwol and Great Dark Valley could only watch the madness in silence.
Splatter!
Soon, blood soaked the ground around Hyeon Yucheon.
Yet he remained pristine—no blood, no sweat.
Weaponless, he seemed a refined young master savoring elegance.
In under a tea's brewing—mere moments—Hyeon Yucheon felled thirty-odd First-rate-equivalent foes alone.
Shiver!
The remaining ten-odd huddled at the rear, battle-will shattered, trembling in daze.
No more flag-grabbers.
“That's... the Demon Sword Ghost Lord's arts!”
“The supreme unorthodox master, once world's greatest—Cheon Baeksang's techniques!”
“His successor!”
Late realization dawned; unorthodox martial artists cried out.
Anyone could see: the arts he wielded were those of the Demon Sword Ghost Lord, revered and followed by all unorthodox.
Honestly, I meant to keep it hidden longer.
Hyeon Yucheon reflected.
Reason: Murim Alliance and Heaven's Five Venerables still too formidable.
But reconsidering: this was a festival for unorthodox alone.
Not even Murim Alliance or Heaven's Five Venerables could meddle lightly.
Besides, his martial activities would eventually expose him.
Demon Sword Ghost Lord's arts could reunify unorthodox martial world.
Thus: win Black Heaven Assembly, unify unorthodox—Murim Alliance and Heaven's Five Venerables held no terror.
“Anyone still covet these black flags?”
Hyeon Yucheon, having swept all ten, roared like a beast.
The young unorthodox overlord had arrived.