Chapter 725
While Bu Eun-seol was parting ways with Gongson Dan-gyeong at Mudan Fortress,
a man stood gazing at the sky hundreds of li away.
From his shoes to his clothes and overcoat—everything he wore was white as snow.
His features were handsome, his eyes profound.
Yet there was something strange.
Despite his childlike, unblemished purity, an inexplicably sinister energy radiated from him.
[How troublesome.]
The man muttered under his breath as he stared at the night sky, where countless stars shimmered endlessly.
[With the Heavenly Favor Star in motion, the flow of Heaven's Will grows ever more chaotic...]
His voice was as peculiar as his mysteriously gleaming gaze.
Though clearly a single voice, it carried multiple hues—
as if dozens of people were reciting in unison.
[And something else has changed.]
After fixing his gaze on the heavens for a long while, the man shook his head and spoke to himself.
[There's been a shift in his state of mind, you say.]
Lowering his voice, he withdrew his gaze from the sky.
[Best to intervene once more, just in case.]
As the man turned away from the pavilion, his body—
transformed into a translucent form before vanishing into thin air.
At the same moment, far in the distant sky...
the most secretively hidden star flickered with a brilliant light.
Bu Eun-seol had an excellent memory.
He never forgot anything he had seen or heard.
So if someone made a request of him, he would fulfill it without fail.
And perhaps that was why Bu Eun-seol dreamed of revenge.
Because if he achieved vengeance, the vivid memory of that day etched into his mind might finally fade.
But if he failed to take revenge...
For as long as he lived, for as long as he drew breath...
he would be forced to relive that memory endlessly.
Martial Alliance, Pinnacle Pavilion. Bu Eun-seol's office.
"Now... it's done."
Bu Eun-seol set down his brush with a weary face, though his expression carried a hint of relief.
Despite the exhaustion etched across his features from expending immense mental power, a satisfied smile curled at the corners of his lips.
"The Mount Heng Sect's Sword Studies pursue grandeur to the point of solemnity, yet within that lies a pursuit of practicality."
Myeong-un, once a member of the Ghostly Return Sect.
Before meeting his end beneath Bu Eun-seol's blade, he had pleaded—
to find a prodigy capable of rebuilding the Mount Heng Sect.
And to pass on the secret manual he had written.
Bu Eun-seol had promised to do so, but the sect's restoration could not happen immediately.
Because he later realized that the manual Myeong-un had entrusted to him was nearly incomplete.
Through the Ghostly Return Sect's Great Art,
Myeong-un had instantly mastered the martial arts the Mount Heng Sect had lost.
But since he had not undergone the proper training process,
he had ultimately failed to create a complete martial doctrine.
What if this flawed manual had been passed on as it was?
It would be no different than handing an eighty-geun guandao to a child and telling them to train with it.
They would ruin their body and never achieve Great Completion in sword mastery.
But Myeong-un had been fortunate.
Because he had entrusted the manual to none other than Bu Eun-seol—
the foremost martial fanatic in the world, who had since gained deep insight into orthodox sword studies.
—Before finding a prodigy, the manual itself must be revised.
And so, Bu Eun-seol began refining the manual Myeong-un had left him.
Fortunately, having recently studied various orthodox martial arts from the Martial Emperor's Secret Vault,
he could grasp at a glance—
the underlying principles the Mount Heng Sect's martial arts had sought to embody.
"In the end, the Mount Heng Sect's martial arts can only reach Great Completion in the hands of those with strong fingers and keen sensitivity at their fingertips."
Once he grasped the essence of the sect's sword studies, Bu Eun-seol issued an order to the Death Soul Squad:
—Find the child matching the conditions I described. Preferably no older than ten.
He commanded them to seek a prodigy capable of properly mastering the Mount Heng Sect's martial arts.
The ultimate art of the sect's techniques was Turning the Enemy's Reversal Against Them—exploiting an opponent's techniques against them,
including methods to manipulate surrounding objects.
The problem lay with the Lute Sword.
Because the Lute Sword required continuously executing intricate sword techniques by suspending the blade on one's fingers,
only those with unique physical traits could master it.
Thus, even while busy with his duties across the martial world, Bu Eun-seol revised the sword manual and searched for a prodigy to rebuild the sect.
Yet the right candidate remained elusive.
—Find them. No matter what.
By then, the Pinnacle Unit and intelligence network had merged, and Bu Eun-seol issued the command once more.
Even if he completed the manual, without someone capable of mastering it,
the Mount Heng Sect's restoration would remain nothing but a dream.
—Understood.
From then on, the Death Soul Squad and Pinnacle Unit began searching for a child matching Bu Eun-seol's criteria.
And whenever he found time, Bu Eun-seol steadily worked toward completing the manual Myeong-un had left him.
Finally, today, he had completed the secret manuals for the Mount Heng Sect's Lute Sword and Flower Line Secret.
Yet despite all this time that had passed, they still hadn't found a child with the talent to master the Mount Heng Sect's martial arts.
'It was never going to be easy.'
Since ancient times, masters who created unique martial arts had wandered the martial world early in search of disciples capable of inheriting their legacy.
They knew better than anyone—
Finding an exceptional disciple to inherit one's martial arts was far more difficult than creating brilliant techniques in the first place.
'And I can't even go searching myself.'
Bu Eun-seol was always pressed for time, frantically shuttling between the Demon Hall and the Martial Alliance.
On top of that, he now had to oversee the Martial Soul Society's affairs. The idea of leisurely traveling the martial world or scouring villages had become nothing more than an impossible dream.
'Perhaps it simply can't be helped.'
Hadn't the Buddhist Order once said that a master-disciple bond required the accumulation of virtuous roots over six thousand kalpas?
Moreover, finding a prodigy capable of rebuilding the Mount Heng Sect—now dismissed as the "Vanished Sect"—was no small task.
Expecting to find such a person in a short time was nothing short of greed.
'It's possible the Mount Heng Sect may not be restored in my lifetime.'
Unless a prodigy capable of cultivating the sect's unique and profound martial arts appeared... its revival would remain a mere dream.
Knock knock.
Just then, Tae Mu-ryong entered the office.
"Unit Leader."
"What is it?"
When Bu Eun-seol asked, Tae Mu-ryong's expression turned slightly aggrieved.
"Have you forgotten?"
"Forgotten what?"
"Didn't we agree that once we fully grasped the Secret Intelligence Bureau's operations, we'd all go drinking together?"
Only then did Bu Eun-seol let out an Ah of realization.
Some time ago, during a meeting with his unit members, Bu Eun-seol had promised them a great reward once they fully took over the Bureau's duties.
Considering how much they had suffered, he had privately resolved to grant them generous rewards and even Demon Leave.
But upon hearing his words, the unit members had thrown themselves into mastering the Bureau's operations—and in return, they had all voiced the same wish:
"We want to drink with the Unit Leader all night."
Bu Eun-seol had been dumbfounded.
After all their hardships, was their only reward really just a drinking session with him?
And then he had felt guilty.
The Peak Realm Members had endured brutal training and completed every mission he assigned.
Yet what they desired wasn't peerless martial arts or treasures—just a single joyful moment with him.
"My apologies."
Collecting himself, Bu Eun-seol spoke.
No matter what, he had to keep this promise.
"Gather all the unit members."
Then, solemnly, he declared:
"Let's drink until our noses go crooked."
Bu Eun-seol led the Peak Realm Members to the Drunken Cloud Pavilion, renowned in the Bu Estate for serving the finest liquor.
Until now, his unit members had never rested—processing intelligence, enduring harsh training.
In that time, they had risen from lowly martial artists to Second-grade Commanders of the Martial Alliance, a meteoric ascent.
Yet not a single one had grown arrogant. Their loyalty remained solely for Bu Eun-seol.
'I'm fortunate.'
A faint smile touched Bu Eun-seol's lips as he drank.
Where else in the world could one find such devoted subordinates?
He realized anew just how blessed he was in his bonds with others.
—We're fortunate.
Meanwhile, the unit members also smiled warmly as they watched Bu Eun-seol.
The most brilliant young Grandmaster in the world, a Divine Being rewriting the history of the martial world—
This man had personally trained them, mere orphans and ordinary martial artists, and risked his life to protect them in danger.
He shared life-or-death secrets without hesitation, prioritizing their safety above all else.
Even when new recruits could have bolstered their ranks, he kept the unit small and elite, fearing leaks that might endanger them.
How could they not pledge their lives in loyalty?
—Gwah!
Bu Eun-seol and his unit drank heavily through the night.
And instead of returning immediately, they spent three days traveling the martial world together.
Once their journey ended, Bu Eun-seol generously supplied them with funds and split the Peak Realm Unit into two groups, granting each a fortnight of Demon Leave.
—Unit Leader, we've had enough leave. We've rested plenty.
But the unit members postponed their leave.
Bu Eun-seol's time was worth a thousand pieces of gold.
That he had set aside all duties for three days to drink and wander the martial world with them—
They knew better than anyone how much he had sacrificed for that alone.
Clatter clatter.
As the unit members departed by carriage, Bu Eun-seol remained alone in Chengdu.
Having settled all outstanding affairs for Seon-u Jin in the Martial Alliance, it was time to return to the Demon Hall.
Just as he was about to activate his Lightness Skill and leave—
The sight of a distant marketplace stirred an inexplicable emotion in him.
Only once before had he ever done this.
There had been a time when he drank recklessly, doing nothing else.
'If Grandfather were here, he would have strolled through the marketplace like this, taking in the sights.'
Bu Eun-seol, suddenly overcome by a nostalgic impulse, wandered the bustling streets of Chengdu for a while.
'I miss those days.'
Grandfather Bu Jan-yang would often take Bu Eun-seol's hand and lead him to the marketplace.
They always walked the long distance there.
It wasn't that they had no occasion to ride in a carriage—
but because Grandfather simply enjoyed observing the lively scenes and people of the familiar marketplace.
Life.
It was a lonely path that each person walked alone,
but if one turned their head, they could see others walking the same road.
Holding his grandfather's hand, Bu Eun-seol would watch the people entering the guest inns,
the peddlers hawking their wares, the sightseers, the third-rate martial artists and strongmen selling their skills in the market—
countless people of all kinds.
—There is something to learn even from ordinary people's actions.
For example, the woman making dumplings—
because she had spent her whole life doing it,
she kneaded the dough faster than anyone and shaped them with ghostly precision.
The waiter wiped the tables hundreds of times a day with his rag,
so he cleaned them far more efficiently and thoroughly than an ordinary person could.
Everyone, through their own work, possessed the skill of a master artisan.
'I see.'
As Bu Eun-seol reminisced about his grandfather, a sudden realization struck him like a blow to the back of the head.
'They weren't masters from the start.'
They were all just ordinary people.
But by repeating one task endlessly, humans naturally find faster, more efficient movements.
And after countless repetitions, they eventually become adepts in their field.
'The martial arts of the Nine Great Sects and One Gang are the same.'
The reason the Nine Great Sects and One Gang had taken such deep root in the murim wasn't
because their martial arts were peerless or because they constantly recruited disciples of unrivaled talent.
Rather, they chose techniques that were somewhat easier to learn and more straightforward,
then drilled their disciples in repetition until they reached a certain level.
'I was mistaken.'
The martial arts of Langya Pavilion could only be described by the word enlightenment.
Even if two people learned the same martial art, their power would differ vastly depending on their realizations.
The principle was to grasp the essence of the art as quickly as possible through extreme combat.
This training method allowed individuals to reach boundless realms depending on their talent,
but conversely, the gap in martial prowess between those with and without aptitude became enormous.
'I, too, was tainted by the same thinking as the Ghostly Revenant Sect.'
Bu Eun-seol had believed that to revive the Mount Heng Sect, he needed disciples with talent equal to Neung-ryeong's.
But that wasn't necessary.
There was no need to master world-shaking martial arts in his youth.
The Nine Great Sects and One Gang
was not a sect sustained by a handful of superhumans with extraordinary abilities.
He didn't need disciples who could suddenly elevate the Mount Heng Sect to the ranks of the prestigious major sects.
Even if they were somewhat ordinary, as long as they had perseverance, he could select them and move forward—slowly, step by step.
"Grandfather."
Bu Eun-seol gazed at the distant sky.
Grandfather Bu Jan-yang had not only given him a new life
but also left him the wisdom to solve any problem with insight.
"You keep failing because you always do it like that!"
But then, as Bu Eun-seol walked through the marketplace, a strange voice reached his ears.
It was faint, nearly drowned out by the surrounding noise,
but to Bu Eun-seol's keen hearing, it rang out like thunder.
'Is someone threatening a child?'
Stepping into the alley where the sound came from,
he saw a bald, rough-looking man berating a boy of about fifteen.
"Try again!"
At the man's command, the boy's trembling fingers spread open.
Dangling from his fingertips was a puppet, connected by a thin string.
It seemed the boy and the bald man were itinerant performers, making a living by putting on puppet shows in the marketplace.
Swish, swish.
As the bald man moved his fingers with precision along the strings, the boy clumsily followed suit, manipulating his own puppet.
The two puppets were dressed in black and white—
they were reenacting the duel of the Twin Celestial Emperors of Righteousness and Demon.
["You are no match for me."]
The bald man deepened his voice and swiftly moved the black-clad puppet—the Demonic Heavenly Emperor—
but the boy's control over the Righteous Heavenly Emperor puppet was unrefined,
his sword swings awkward and clumsy.
Whoosh!
Then, the two puppets spun through the air in unison, their swords flashing.
This was meant to be the highlight of the puppet show—a spectacle where the puppets should move as though celestial immortals were performing swordplay in midair.
Yet the Orthodox Heavenly Emperor puppet's movements were so clumsy and out of sync that it ended up constantly being struck by the Demonic Heavenly Emperor puppet's sword.
"You want to quit earning your keep?!"
Thud!
Once again, the bald man kicked the boy with his foot.
"You have to show a perfectly balanced draw! If the Demonic Path disciples see this shoddy performance, our heads will roll on the spot!"
"Ugh..."
The boy, struck in the stomach, let out a pained groan.
The legendary duel between the Twin Heavenly Emperors at Mudan Fortress—where the two supreme masters of the Orthodox and Demonic Paths, having reached the same pinnacle of martial arts, fought to an indecisive conclusion—was one of the most hotly debated and fascinating events in the martial world.
—When the Demonic Heavenly Emperor gathered his Internal Power, the sky itself changed color. When the Orthodox Heavenly Emperor stomped the ground, every mountain within three thousand feet crumbled.
Such outlandish tales were all that remained, for no one had actually witnessed the battle between these two peerless masters.
And precisely because the only known outcome was a draw, curiosity burned even fiercer.
This was why, in Beijing operas and storytellers' tales, dramatized versions of the Twin Heavenly Emperors' duel were so wildly popular.
"Again, you idiot!"
The bald man, Shim Heung, barked at the boy as they resumed practicing the puppet show.
Shim Heung was a puppeteer who wandered from street to street with his disciple, performing puppet shows to scrape by. But his painstakingly trained disciple had suddenly fallen ill and died.
Heartbroken, he had stumbled upon a beggar boy wandering the streets—one whose hands were perfectly suited for manipulating puppets.
For five silver taels, he took the boy from the Beggar's Den, taught him puppetry, and began performing in the marketplace once more.
But the boy, whom he had believed to be born with flawless hands, couldn't manipulate the puppets with the finesse he expected.
Disappointed, Shim Heung drilled the boy relentlessly—because without this skill, they would starve.
And when the boy still failed to improve, Shim Heung turned violent.
"Tch!"
Shim Heung flung the puppet strings aside in irritation and turned away.
Then he grabbed the cheap baijiu from the table and gulped it down in loud, angry swallows.
"If you don't perfect this part by tomorrow, you're not eating!"
Whack!
After smacking the boy's head once more, he tossed the puppet aside and stormed off.
The boy struggled to his feet and tried manipulating the puppet again.
His fingers moved with exquisite precision, yet the puppet spun wildly in the air before losing balance and collapsing.
"Maybe I'm just not good at anything..."
The boy lowered his head, his expression despondent.
He was following the instructions exactly—so why did the puppet keep moving so erratically?
"It's not your fault."
A low voice spoke.
The boy turned his head and saw a tall man in gray robes approaching slowly.
Bu Eun-seol.
"The strings on the puppet aren't fine enough to match your delicate movements."
Bu Eun-seol had been watching from a distance—and instantly grasped why the boy was failing.
In truth, the boy possessed astonishingly long, dexterous fingers—and was manipulating the puppet more precisely than Shim Heung.
But because his movements were too refined, the puppet couldn't keep up.
"I—I..."
The boy tried to speak, but his voice faltered.
He had wandered countless marketplaces in his life, yet he had never seen someone with such an otherworldly presence.
"Do it like this."
Bu Eun-seol picked up the puppet the boy had been holding.
Four strings were attached to each of its limbs.
Snick.
Drawing a dagger from his sleeve, Bu Eun-seol carved additional joints into the wooden puppet.
Then he threaded new, nearly invisible strings through each one.
What had once been one string on each limb now became sixteen.
"Try it now."
When Bu Eun-seol handed the puppet back, the boy took it as if entranced.
And as he moved it slightly—
The marionette moved as naturally as a living person.
"H-how...?"
The boy stared in awe.
"Was it just a matter of adding more strings?"
Bu Eun-seol allowed a faint smile.
In truth, the wooden puppet the boy now held was practically a new creation.
Bu Eun-seol was not only deeply knowledgeable about human anatomy but also highly skilled with his hands.
So he had modified the puppet—adding new joints and strings to allow for lifelike movement.
"Heh..."
When their eyes met, the boy gave a shy laugh.
He didn't realize it then.
But in this very moment...
His fate had veered off course—turning his world upside down in an instant.