Chapter 371
Swish!
As Bu Eun-seol swiftly exited the pavilion using his Movement Technique, his gaze landed on No Bong, who was strolling leisurely ahead.
"Heh heh heh."
No Bong, as if he had been waiting for Bu Eun-seol's pursuit, extended his hand with a smirk.
"That Namgung boy won't last long against the Soulless Ones alone."
Swish!
No words were necessary.
Bu Eun-seol immediately unleashed his Formless Heavenly Flow, cutting off No Bong's retreat.
"Fine swordplay."
With a casual wave of No Bong's hand, the cascading cross-shaped Sword Qi melted away like snow.
"Such petty Sword Qi is nothing but child's play before the Eternal Flow Warm Current."
As No Bong thrust out his right hand again, an invisible force surged forth, crashing toward Bu Eun-seol's face.
Bu Eun-seol attempted to disperse the force with his Waning Moon Morning Star.
But the Sword Qi of Waning Moon Morning Star was insufficient to neutralize the swirling power. He twisted his body at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the attack.
Hiss!
As the Palm Energy grazed him, a sound like evaporating liquid accompanied the sudden pallor of Bu Eun-seol's complexion.
Even a mere brush of that Palm Energy had caused the blood within his body to vaporize.
'This is the Martial Arts of the Blood Emperor.'
The Blood Emperor had been a master who stood between the Orthodox and Unorthodox, a demonic martial artist who never hesitated to kill.
Moreover, his signature technique—the Eternal Flow Warm Current, executed through his exclusive internal method, the Yang Hoe Art—was invisible to the eye. Its power alone could evaporate blood upon the slightest contact.
'He's refined it.'
In the past, the Blood Emperor's Ultimate Art was said to require a direct hit to unleash its full effect.
But now, even a glancing touch was enough to vaporize blood.
'Perhaps it's only natural.'
The Eight Emperors and Three Stars were masters from four hundred years ago.
If their descendants had inherited and passed down their Martial Arts through the generations, they would have continuously refined those Ultimate Arts.
Hadn't So Ok-rim, descendant of the Star Emperor, also modified the Galaxy Severance technique?
Hiss! Hiss!
With each graze of No Bong's Palm Energy, a pale mist rose from Bu Eun-seol's body.
'This won't do.'
Zzzing—
As Bu Eun-seol channeled his Internal Power, his eyes gleamed blue.
He unleashed the North Sea Ice Palace's Ultimate Art—the Glacier Thousand Streams Art.
Whoooosh!
Expelling Cold Ice True Qi from his left hand, Bu Eun-seol spread frigid energy outward, beginning to freeze the area around No Bong.
"So you've even learned the Glacier Great Emperor's Ultimate Art."
No Bong let out a low exclamation before suddenly displaying ghostly footwork.
Fwip. Fwip.
His body flickered like a phantom materializing in midair—appearing and vanishing in turns—effortlessly evading the cascading cold energy.
"Your training in the Ice Art is still shallow. The speed of your emission is far too slow."
No Bong, having casually assessed the level of Bu Eun-seol's Ice Art, unleashed another wave of the Eternal Flow Warm Current.
Hiiisss!
In the end, Bu Eun-seol, unleashing the Glacier Thousand Streams Art, was forced back two steps, white vapor rising from his body.
He couldn't measure the exact amount of blood lost, but it felt roughly equivalent to a handful.
"Heh heh heh."
No Bong sneered as he observed Bu Eun-seol's stiffened expression.
"Now do you see that you're nothing but a frog in a well?"
Bu Eun-seol had no choice but to acknowledge it.
The descendants of the Eight Emperors and Three Stars all wielded Martial Arts that defied common sense, each possessing unique and extraordinary abilities.
And these techniques displayed overwhelming might—so much so that they disregarded the usual gaps in martial prowess.
A technique that could not be blocked by any means, capable of vaporizing blood in an instant within its range.
That was the Martial Arts of the Blood Emperor.
—The murim still holds many Superlative Martial Experts you know nothing of. There are also Martial Arts that transcend the very stages one is meant to pass through.
Suddenly, the words Cheon Un-gwang had shared during Bu Eun-seol's visit to the Fire Rain Sword Sect flashed through his mind.
Had Cheon Un-gwang been referring to the Martial Arts of the Eight Emperors and Three Stars when he spoke of techniques that surpassed stages?
If so, did that mean Cheon Un-gwang had also clashed with a descendant of the Eight Emperors and Three Stars?
"The power of the Warm Current cannot be blocked by anything."
While Bu Eun-seol was lost in thought, No Bong raised both palms.
Though invisible to the eye, swirling lightning had gathered within the centers of his palms.
That fearsome lightning was what vaporized blood in an instant with every graze.
"Try enduring it again."
No Bong unleashed another wave of the Eternal Flow Warm Current at Bu Eun-seol.
Bu Eun-seol dared not face it head-on and instead relied on his Movement Technique, continuously dodging.
Huff. Huff.
As the battle dragged on, Bu Eun-seol's breathing grew ragged.
The range of the Eternal Flow Warm Current's offensive was too vast, forcing him to push his Movement Technique to its limits just to widen the distance.
As a result, Bu Eun-seol couldn't counterattack even once—left utterly helpless against No Bong's assault.
Tzzzt—
By now, an immeasurable amount of blood had already evaporated from his body.
Clack.
Breathing had become so difficult that Bu Eun-seol sheathed the Ink Sword back into its scabbard.
"So, this is all the famed Heir of the Demon Hall amounts to."
No Bong curled his lips into a sinister smile as he observed Bu Eun-seol's disheveled state.
"The martial world holds techniques that transcend mere martial prowess. May you realize—and regret—that such things exist even in the Underworld."
Whoooosh!
As No Bong stretched out both arms again, Bu Eun-seol's hair stood on end.
He was spreading the overwhelming force of the Eternal Flow Warm Current in all directions, intending to make Bu Eun-seol's blood boil and evaporate in an instant.
Swoosh—
But then, something strange happened.
The moment Bu Eun-seol drew his sword again, the surging power of the Eternal Flow Warm Current—which had been cascading toward him—suddenly reversed direction.
'I've been waiting for this moment.'
Bu Eun-seol knew full well that against No Bong, who had inherited the Blood Emperor's legacy, victory couldn't be achieved in a short time.
But there was a gap to exploit.
No Bong's arrogance—his blind confidence that Bu Eun-seol could never evade the Eternal Flow Warm Current.
From the very beginning of the battle, Bu Eun-seol had pretended to be helpless.
If he played the part long enough, No Bong would inevitably unleash a decisive strike meant to evaporate his blood in one blow.
And the moment No Bong finally unleashed that fatal technique—
Bu Eun-seol employed the Move Heaven Exchange Force, a principle he had deliberately withheld until now.
In an instant, he reversed the unstoppable, invisible force of the Eternal Flow Warm Current and sent it hurtling back.
"Futile!"
No Bong wasn't particularly shaken even as his own power was turned against him.
With ease, he unleashed another wave of the Eternal Flow Warm Current, intending to cancel out the reversed force with an equal surge of his own.
'Now!'
But in doing so, an infinitesimal opening appeared.
And Bu Eun-seol didn't miss it.
Flash!
A single point of light shot upward into the heavens.
The eighth form of the Formless Heavenly Flow—the ultimate counterattack, the Lament by the River—unleashed.
"Futile!"
No Bong crossed his arms frantically.
Astonishingly, he attempted to block even the Ink Sword's light-speed thrust with the Eternal Flow Warm Current.
Zzzzing!
The overwhelming force of the technique bent the blade as if it would shatter.
"Hmph. So this is your trump card—"
No Bong's scoffing words never reached their end.
Shiiing!
A sharp whistling sound echoed through the air—
And the frozen Ink Sword twisted like a living creature, bending unnaturally.
A sword form that adapted to the enemy's movements—Cheon Un-gwang's ultimate killing technique.
The Nine Dragons Flashing Thunder unfolded.
Shiik! Shiiik!
Once, twice, thrice—
By the fourth twist of the Ink Sword's trajectory, No Bong finally lost track of its path.
And the consequence of losing sight of the blade was death.
Thud!
As the Ink Sword grazed his neck, a fountain of blood erupted from No Bong's throat.
"A formidable sword technique!"
No Bong's eyes bulged as he clutched his spurting neck.
"To blend the sword forms of the Righteous Faction with those of the Demonic Path!"
He had discerned that Bu Eun-seol's strike fused the highest principles of both orthodox and demonic sword studies.
Myriad Forms One Style.
Lament by the River.
Nine Dragons Flashing Thunder.
These were sword forms worthy of the pinnacle of both paths. And in a single move, Bu Eun-seol had displayed the essence of both.
"Had you not been so confident in your Eternal Flow Warm Current... you might not have lost."
At Bu Eun-seol's words, No Bong smiled faintly.
"At this level of mastery, pride is inevitable. After all... I've cut down countless formidable foes."
Splurt!
Another spurt of blood gushed from his neck.
"Perhaps... you could surpass even him—"
But he never finished.
Thud.
His head toppled from his shoulders, rolling across the ground.
The living sword art—Nine Dragons Flashing Thunder—had not just severed his carotid artery but cleaved clean through his neck.
"Hah... hah..."
Gasping for breath, Bu Eun-seol didn't even have time to steady himself before launching toward the opposite side.
If his calculations were correct, Namgung Un had only a sliver of time left.
And now, that sliver had already passed—
Namgung Un's life was in grave danger.
Shhht!
Bu Eun-seol activated Swift Shadowless in an instant, darting toward the pavilion.
BOOM! CRASH!
There, surrounded by Soulless Ones, Namgung Un was unleashing a relentless barrage of sword strikes.
His entire body was covered in wounds, his blue robes dyed crimson.
Yet he roared continuously, blending the first three forms of the Emperor's Sword with the Azure Sky Flying Swallow Sword, fighting desperately.
The Death Threshold.
Before he knew it, Namgung Un's spirit and body had merged into one.
This was neither a fight for victory nor a desperate struggle for survival.
It was simply a sword dance—performed at the boundary between life and death, a single blade in hand.
"He's advanced yet another step."
In truth, the descendants of great clans had no need to stake their lives on dangerous journeys through the martial world.
From childhood, they received elite training, and they believed that such education could substitute for real experience.
Moreover, as direct descendants and candidates for the position of Family Head, they never ventured into the martial world with their lives on the line.
But Namgung Un was different.
Beneath his gentle demeanor lay an unyielding willpower, and within him burned the indomitable soul of a warrior—one that did not fear death.
That was why, for this journey, he had set out alone, without any martial retainers.
And that choice had allowed him to vault over a wall that would have taken an ordinary clan warrior over ten years of grueling training to surpass.
"Brother Bu!"
Namgung Un, who had been swinging his sword like a madman in the State of Selflessness, finally noticed Bu Eun-seol standing at a distance, watching him.
"Did you deal with Sect Chief No?"
"Yes."
Namgung Un grinned brightly.
I'm saved!
There was no longer any need to fight with his life on the line!
But then, from Bu Eun-seol's lips came words he hadn't expected.
"You're doing well."
"Huh?"
"Keep going."
Bu Eun-seol gave a slight nod.
"It seems you haven't reached your limit yet."
At that, Namgung Un, who had been mid-swing, nearly jumped out of his skin.
"What kind of nonsense is that, Brother Bu?! I'm one step away from death here!"
"If you were truly one step from death, you wouldn't even be able to answer me."
Bu Eun-seol swept his gaze over their surroundings before delivering one final, icy remark.
"I'll come when you're actually on the verge of death, as you said."
And with that, he vanished in an instant.
Namgung Un's face paled as he watched him disappear.
Bu Eun-seol was not the type to joke around. And when it came to martial arts, he was a man who staked his very life on it.
If he said that, then he truly wouldn't intervene unless Namgung Un was actually moments from death.
"B-Brother Bu?! Brother Bu!"
Namgung Un frantically scanned the area, but Bu Eun-seol's presence had completely vanished.
Meanwhile, the Soulless Ones, sensing Bu Eun-seol's departure, sharpened their killing intent and closed in on him.
"Damn it all!"
A curse he had never uttered before burst from his lips unbidden.
"Tch. So what if I die once? What's dying twice?!"
Ptui.
He spat on his hand, gripped the Golden Needle Sword tighter, and snarled at the Soulless Ones with gritted teeth.
"You bastards! Come at me, all of you!"
The Beggars' Sect had been sealed.
One of the pillars of the Nine Great Sects and One Gang had declared that it was sealing its gates.
But the reason was so absurd it was hard to believe.
Hae-pung and Mak Goeng, who had been fighting over the position of Sect Chief, had clashed in open warfare.
As a result, over eighty percent of the Beggar Corps—the sect's elite force—had perished.
In other words, the sect's finest warriors had been wiped out due to a meaningless battle between two men.
But if that had been all, the martial world wouldn't have been so shocked.
—Sect Chief No Bong, had used Beggars' Sect disciples and Human Blossoms to create a forbidden drug.
—Worse, he had used it to mass-produce Soulless Ones!
Then, suddenly, a massive force from the Namgung Clan stormed the Heavenly Flower Mountain Villa, where No Bong had been hiding.
They meticulously exposed No Bong's atrocities and corruption, submitting the evidence to the Murim Top Gang.
Not only that—during the investigation, it was also revealed that Hae-pung had been complicit in creating Soulless Ones.
—"The Beggars' Sect is finished."
Those were the words of Hae-pung as he was dragged away to the Martial Alliance's prison.
What had once bound the Beggars' Sect's countless disciples together was their unwavering commitment to righteousness, integrity, and strict adherence to their principles.
Yet now, they had committed atrocities that even the Demonic Path would hesitate to attempt.
To cleanse this tainted name and rise again... the Beggars' Sect would need an unfathomably long time.
In stark contrast, the Namgung Clan had cause for celebration.
Namgung Un, long dismissed as a reckless brat, had single-handedly crushed the Beggars' Sect's conspiracy and recovered over three hundred of the bizarre drugs hidden in the Heavenly Flower Mountain Villa.
Thanks to his deeds, the Namgung Clan received vast treasures from the Martial Alliance and reaffirmed its dominance over all other factions.
Furthermore, this incident proved once again that the Namgung Clan stood as the head of the Eight Great Clans and a force surpassing even the Nine Great Sects and One Gang.
Namgung Clan, Hall of Gathering Worthies.
The office was lined with towering bookshelves, each packed with scrolls.
By the window, a refined middle-aged man sat at a desk, brush in hand, composing a letter.
His features were as noble as jade, and a dignified beard graced his chin.
Yet his gaze remained frozen like glacial ice, and an overwhelming energy that brooked no approach radiated from his entire being.
This was none other than the current Family Head of the Namgung Clan—Namgung Jeong.
Knock knock.
The sound of rapping on the door was followed by the low voice of an attendant.
"Youngest Young Master has arrived."
"Let him in."
The door opened, and Namgung Un, clad in blue robes, stepped inside with a tense expression.
Though he was normally a reckless troublemaker who feared nothing in the world, in front of his father, Namgung Jeong, he shrank like a mouse before a cat.
"Family Head."
Namgung Un bowed deeply in greeting, but Namgung Jeong did not even spare him a glance.
Scritch, scritch.
The room was so silent that the sound of a needle dropping could be heard, broken only by the occasional scratch of brushstrokes on paper.
Family Head...
Namgung Un, standing as still as a stone statue, bit his lip.
Though they were father and son, Namgung Jeong treated him with an especially harsh and merciless severity.
Does love so deep turn even a child into an object of resentment?
Namgung Un knew.
He knew that his father, Namgung Jeong, hated him.
Because his mother had died in childbirth while bringing him into the world.
They say his personality changed after that day.
After losing his wife, Namgung Jeong had been deeply shaken, withdrawing from all external affairs and refusing to leave the estate.
The problem was that, unlike his siblings, he treated Namgung Un with terrifying strictness—never once bestowing upon him even a single warm glance.
Namgung Un's unruly behavior as a child had been nothing but rebellion against his cold, indifferent father.
You lost your wife, but I lost the mother who should have held me in her warm embrace!
Crack.
Namgung Un clenched his fists.
If he didn't, he feared he might scream aloud the words echoing in his heart.
"Ha-ha."
Instead, he scratched his head and clasped his hands together.
Just like always—with the empty, foolish grin of a reckless ruffian.
"If you have no further orders, I shall take my leave."
Just as he turned to go—
"It seems your skills have improved somewhat."
The voice of the Namgung Family Head, who had mastered the Heavy Sword Technique to the state of Grand Perfection, was unexpectedly deep and commanding, belying his lean frame.
"You single-handedly faced over a hundred Soulless Ones."
"Ah, that was just luck."
Namgung Un scratched his head again, and Namgung Jeong's gaze sharpened.
"Advancing to the next level comes from new experiences and realizations."
A flash like a blade's edge gleamed in Namgung Jeong's eyes.
"Speak. Tell me of the new things you encountered on this journey through the martial world."
Namgung Un scratched his head once more.
New experiences? What else was there besides trailing after Bu Eun-seol and playing the part of a destitute beggar?
"I, uh... fished food scraps out and ate them from the waterway."
Thud!
"To infiltrate the Beggars' Sect, I had no choice. I even wore clothes smeared with excrement. The smell was awful, though. Haha."
In truth, the most valuable experiences he'd gained were the truths of the world that Bu Eun-seol had imparted to him—and the realizations that had come from them.
Had anyone else asked, Namgung Un might have explained it all calmly.
But under the stern gaze of his father, Namgung Jeong, his mind went blank... leaving him only able to force out empty laughter and nonsense.
Namgung Jeong let out a dissatisfied hum, and sweat trickled down Namgung Un's forehead.
To him, the Hall of Gathering Worthies was a place of terror.
As a child, whenever he committed a grave mistake, he was dragged here and punished severely by Namgung Jeong.
A place filled with nothing but bad memories could never inspire good words.
Click.
Then, Namgung Jeong retrieved something from his robes and placed it on the table.
Upon closer inspection, it was an ancient copper coin engraved with strange markings.
"The Divine Calculator's Gratitude Coin."
Namgung Jeong spoke in a low voice as he gazed at the worn coin.
"The Divine Calculator secretly sent this to our main house. Likely in recognition of your success in resolving this matter."
"Is that so? How fortunate."
Namgung Un laughed carelessly, and Namgung Jeong spoke again, his voice quiet.
"I will give this Gratitude Coin to you."
Namgung Un's eyes widened instantly.
The Gratitude Coin was more priceless than any treasure. And yet, he was being given it?
If he used this coin to seek an answer from the Divine Calculator—the foremost sage of the murim, who knew all things—
Becoming the next Family Head of the Namgung Clan would no longer be just a dream.
"Will you accept it?"
Originally, Namgung Un had no intention of taking it.
He had no desire to become Family Head, nor did he wish to use the Gratitude Coin to fulfill any ambitions.
Ah.
But then, the face of a certain striking young man flashed through his mind.
Unlike himself, that man would surely have need of the Gratitude Coin.
"You truly intend to give this to me?"
"I do."
"Then... may I use it as I see fit?"
Namgung Jeong nodded, and Namgung Un mirrored the gesture.
"I accept."
"What do you plan to do with it?"
A faint glimmer of expectation rose in Namgung Jeong's eyes. But what came out of Namgung Un's mouth was utterly unexpected.
"I'll give it to my sworn brother."