Chapter 73
Seomun Gyeong's eyes, consumed by fury, were bloodshot, the whites now crimson.
"You—how dare you see through every one of my Sword Strokes! You must have stolen a glimpse of our main house's Nine Palaces Eight Trigrams Formation!"
"I know nothing of battle formations. Never learned them."
"What?"
"You've honed your sword, yet you've never once fought a proper battle."
Bu Eun-seol's gaze was laced with disdain.
"You were quick to master the sword techniques taught to you, so they called you a prodigy, didn't they? A descendant of a great clan, avoiding real danger, spending your days in training halls instead."
A flicker of shock passed over Seomun Gyeong's face.
How could this bastard know his past so intimately?
"Otherwise, why would you mix a sword technique that should be performed with all your heart and strength—with clumsy footwork?"
"I didn't mix sword techniques with footwork! I unified the strengths of two distinct martial arts!"
At Seomun Gyeong's outburst, Bu Eun-seol's lips curled.
"That's the kind of talk reserved for those who've survived countless real battles. Not some greenhorn who can't even unleash his sword's full power in combat."
"Greenhorn?"
"Mastering Sword Strokes and Sword Formulas doesn't mean you've perfected your sword technique. Only when you flawlessly execute your forms in life-or-death battles can you claim to have truly learned it."
Seomun Gyeong's body trembled violently at Bu Eun-seol's words.
Since childhood, hailed as the Sword Prodigy, he had carried the weight of his clan's expectations.
But perhaps those expectations had been too great?
Instead of gaining real combat experience, Seomun Gyeong had focused on summoning renowned masters to learn diverse sword techniques.
—"Learning techniques is well and good, but why not venture into the Martial World?"
At the clan head's advice, Seomun Gyeong had replied with confidence:
—"Once I complete my Advanced Sword Studies—so that I may never lose to anyone—then I will go."
The clan head had always laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.
—"Gyeong-a, if you become a master swordsman, the Murim will hail our clan as the Twin Peerless Arts of Letters and Arms!"
Seomun Gyeong lowered his head, lost in the memory.
'Was I just a frog in a well?'
Had he experienced real battles, he would never have combined the Nine Palaces Eight Trigrams Formation with the Meteor Thirteen Sword Forms.
"But..."
Seomun Gyeong raised his Odd-shaped Sword high and roared like thunder.
"I won't lose to you!"
Whoosh!
In that instant, dozens of sword shadows erupted from the ground beneath Bu Eun-seol.
The final stroke of Seomun Gyeong's Meteor Thirteen Forms—Bright Moon Sparse Stars—unleashed its might.
Flash!
A radiant light burst from Bu Eun-seol's hand.
Crackle—!
The light shattered into countless points of brilliance, obliterating Seomun Gyeong's sword shadows before surging relentlessly toward him.
Fzzzt—!
Seomun Gyeong strained to block the light, sparks flying as it deflected—
Clatter.
—only for his Odd-shaped Sword to explode into dozens of fragments, scattering across the floor.
"Bright Moon Sparse Stars... A fitting technique for defeat."
Bright Moon Sparse Stars. When the moon shines bright, the starlight fades.
Just as when a true hero appears, all others must quietly vanish.
"I... have lost."
Seomun Gyeong discarded the shattered remains of his sword, bowed his head, and left the martial stage.
—"Seomun Gyeong, a favorite to win... utterly crushed..."
The crowd was stunned.
Seomun Gyeong had long been hailed as the Sword Prodigy, his reputation towering.
Though the rumors had originated from the Seomun Clan, countless renowned masters who had taught him had affirmed they were no exaggeration.
—"Seomun Gyeong wasn't weak."
His performance in the tournament had proven him a swordsman surpassing even the Martial World's finest. It was simply that Bu Eun-seol was stronger.
"..."
The outcome was decided, yet the grand plaza was deathly silent.
"The winner is Bu Eun-seol, the Young Hero Bu!"
Cho Mun-cheon's announcement rang out, but not a single cheer rose from the stands.
Within the Wandering Drifters' compound stood numerous halls.
Golden Flower Pavilion.
Inside the guest chamber of the gold-plaque-adorned building sat a boy clad in black.
He was none other than Heuk-pyo, bound to Bu Eun-seol by a three-year contract.
Facing him was a middle-aged man in ornate robes.
His features were sharp, but his frame was plump, his face slick with oil.
This was the Money Ghost, Ok Ho-bang, who managed all finances of the Wandering Drifters.
"You've made a contract with Bu Eun-seol, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"Three years, you say..."
Ok Ho-bang shook his head as he examined the contract placed on the table.
"I cannot permit this."
"It doesn't matter. I'll be going regardless."
Something about the atmosphere felt off.
The warmth in Ok Ho-bang's gaze as he looked at Heuk-pyo wasn't that of a superior observing a subordinate—it was more like a blood relative regarding kin.
"Do you resent me?"
Heuk-pyo remained silent.
Ok Ho-bang was well aware that Yeop Hwa had long been committing depraved acts.
Yet he had been unable to stop him—because of the Eastern Drifters, Western Wanderers' rules.
So long as the job was done, nothing else mattered. They had no right to interfere with the personal circumstances or secrets of the ronin under their employ.
"The Wolf Lord's organization is merely a gathering of ronin. We are not one of the Righteous Sects. Ronin are, by nature, those with unsavory pasts to begin with."
"That's just an excuse."
Heuk-pyo bit his lip.
"There are many ronin who left their dark histories behind and sought new lives within the Wolf Lord's ranks. But to turn a blind eye to those still committing crimes now—"
"Most of our ronin come from the Heterodox Side Path. Yeop Hwa was no exception."
"Are you confusing that with the Evil Demonic Heresies?"
Heuk-pyo's voice turned icy.
"You accepted even those scorned by the Murim—all for the sake of expanding the Eastern Drifters, Western Wanderers' influence."
"The majority of ronin have lived under that scorn. Those who've walked the straight path are the rare ones."
Ok Ho-bang exhaled.
"Especially Bu Eun-seol. His identity and motives remain unknown. It's strange enough for someone so young to possess such high martial prowess, but to enter the Martial Arts Tournament the moment he debuted in the Murim? Suspicious."
After a pause, he continued.
"I'll personally nullify your contract with him. If we compensate him double, even he should be satisfied."
"No need."
Heuk-pyo's refusal was absolute.
"I will follow him."
"Ha-aya—"
"Don't call me by that name! I am Heuk-pyo of the Eastern Drifters, Western Wanderers."
The truth was, Heuk-pyo was Ok Ho-bang's illegitimate child.
In his youth, Ok Ho-bang had abandoned his lover and their son, only to later regret it after finding success within the organization.
When his son became a ronin and joined the organization, he had been overjoyed.
But Heuk-pyo had forsaken even his name to become a wanderer—and he despised Ok Ho-bang.
For abandoning him? That was part of it. But the greater reason was that Ok Ho-bang had turned the Eastern Drifters, Western Wanderers into a den of evil spirits.
Originally, the Wolf Lord had been a man of formidable skill and righteousness.
But four years ago, just before he entered closed-door training, he had entrusted full authority of the organization to Ok Ho-bang.
That had been a mistake.
Since then, Ok Ho-bang had aggressively recruited ruthless ronin who cared only for profit—all to expand his own influence.
Men like Yeop Hwa.
"How long will you keep baring your fangs at your own father?!"
Ok Ho-bang gritted his teeth.
"If you insist on this, I can always unleash the organization's Masters to deal with him!"
"Who are you referring to? Young Master Bu?"
"Exactly."
"Heh. Heh heh heh."
Heuk-pyo smirked.
"Go ahead and try."
"What did you say?"
"If you want to see the Eastern Drifters, Western Wanderers obliterated in one stroke, by all means, proceed."
"Ha-aya—!"
"The only one who could stop him would be the Wolf Lord himself—if he ever returns from seclusion."
With that, Heuk-pyo turned sharply on his heel and strode out, footsteps heavy.
Ok Ho-bang stared after him before barking a command.
"Ma Yeong!"
A young warrior standing guard outside bowed deeply.
"Your orders?"
"Have you still not finished investigating that Bu Eun-seol?"
"Well..."
"Which sect does he belong to? What is his purpose in joining the tournament? Do you still have nothing?!"
Ma Yeong lowered his head.
"My apologies. It seems someone is deliberately blocking the information."
"What?"
"It's as if he fell from the sky—there's no trace of his past at all."
"There must be something!"
Ma Yeong hesitated before answering.
"The only record of someone named Bu Eun-seol around his age was a young undertaker formerly employed by the Hwangju Prefecture Constabulary."
"An undertaker?"
"Yes. But it can't be him."
Ma Yeong shook his head.
"Bu Eun-seol possesses not only exceptional martial skill but profound internal energy. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to sever Yeong Ji-wi's treasured sword with a mere iron blade."
"True. Internal energy isn't something one cultivates overnight."
Ok Ho-bang nodded reluctantly.
"Fine. No helping it."
After a measured breath, he gave his order.
"Send Mu Sam-rang to face him."
"Mu Sam-rang... you mean that man?"
Mu Sam-rang was one of the martial artists who had made a secret deal with Ok Ho-bang for this Martial Refinement Tournament.
The Spiritual Subtlety Divine Sword was merely bait to revive the tournament he was hosting for the first time. His plan was to reclaim the grand prize through the martial artists he had struck deals with.
"Are you sure about this? If things go wrong... not only will that person be furious, but the Wandering Drifters won't escape unscathed either."
"You don't understand."
Ok Ho-bang let out a low chuckle.
"Mu Sam-rang is a master personally sent by the Lord."
Ok Ho-bang narrowed his eyes and snorted.
"No matter how impressive that bastard is, there's no way he can defeat Mu Sam-rang."
"The Martial Refinement Tournament semifinals shall now begin!"
Cho Mun-cheon's shout was met with cheers from the crowd.
Now, the real tournament had begun.
The remaining masters possessed martial arts so exquisite they were rarely seen even in Murim.
It was no exaggeration to say that many had traveled all the way to the distant land of Guizhou just to witness the duels from the semifinals onward.
"This match will be between Bu Eun-seol, Young Hero Bu, and Mu Sam-rang, Young Hero Mu!"
Whoosh.
At that moment, a dark shadow stepped onto the stage first—Mu Sam-rang.
His imposing physique was clad in a glossy black robe and an ink-dark Wind-breaking Robe.
His face was also concealed behind a black mask, making him look like a black specter standing in the distance.
"That Mu Sam-rang has been defeating his opponents with nothing but basic martial forms so far."
Heuk-pyo, standing beside Bu Eun-seol, spoke in a hushed voice.
"His signature martial arts must be beyond imagination. You must be careful, Young Master."
"Understood."
Whoosh.
Bu Eun-seol stepped onto the stage.
And the moment his gaze met Mu Sam-rang's, a strange expression flickered across his face.
Having deeply mastered Langya Pavilion's Practical Combat Martial Arts, he could gauge the depth of one's martial prowess just by their stance.
'A master.'
Only after locking eyes with Mu Sam-rang did he immediately realize that this man was a master capable of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him.
'Not unfamiliar—familiar.'
Having worked as an undertaker for so long, he could remember the skeletal structure hidden beneath clothing as clearly as a person's face.
Mu Sam-rang's bone structure, posture, and even the glint in his eyes felt eerily familiar.
"Begin!"
At Cho Mun-cheon's shout, Bu Eun-seol drew his sword.
Shhhhk.
This was the first time Bu Eun-seol had drawn his sword first since the tournament began.
That alone spoke volumes about Mu Sam-rang's strength.
"Hm."
But Mu Sam-rang's attitude was strange.
He stood with his arms crossed, silently watching Bu Eun-seol as if he had no intention of fighting at all.
"If you won't come, then I'll go first."
Bu Eun-seol tightened his grip on the hilt.
'I must unleash my True Power.'
Until now, Bu Eun-seol had secured victory using only basic martial forms and martial techniques.
But the time had come to reveal all the strength he had been concealing and clash head-on.
The moment Bu Eun-seol raised his sword to mid-stance and prepared to unleash his technique—
"I forfeit."
Mu Sam-rang, still standing with his arms crossed, spoke in a low voice.
"I concede."
For a moment, the martial artists in the plaza couldn't hide their bewildered expressions.
Mu Sam-rang had been a strong contender for victory, on a par with Bu Eun-seol. So why had he suddenly forfeited?
"Young Hero Mu. Are you truly forfeiting?"
At Cho Mun-cheon's question, Mu Sam-rang nodded without hesitation and turned away.
Tap.
As Mu Sam-rang activated his Movement Technique and vanished, Cho Mun-cheon had no choice but to point at Bu Eun-seol.
"Due to Young Hero Mu's forfeit, the winner is Bu Eun-seol, Young Hero Bu!"
Murmur, murmur.
The martial artists in the crowd couldn't hide their confusion at this incomprehensible turn of events, loudly discussing among themselves.
The same was true for Ok Ho-bang, who had encountered Mu Sam-rang in the Golden Flower Pavilion.
"What the hell was that?!"
"What do you mean?"
"You broke the agreement!"
Mu Sam-rang, still masked, looked down at Ok Ho-bang and replied,
"What you promised was that I would forfeit in the tournament so that he could claim the Spiritual Subtlety Divine Sword, wasn't it?"
"That's right."
"Then why did you abandon the match midway? Doesn't that mean you broke the agreement?"
"I didn't break it."
As Ok Ho-bang opened his mouth to argue, Mu Sam-rang narrowed his eyes.
"As long as he wins the tournament as planned, nothing changes. Whether I'm there or not makes no difference."
"That may be so, but... why did you suddenly give up the fight?"
"Because that man... once belonged to the same place as me."
Ok Ho-bang flinched for a moment before shaking his head.
"H-he was... a master from that place?"
"I said once."
At his cryptic words, Ok Ho-bang furrowed his brows.
"What does that mean? Are you saying he was some kind of Hall Leader of the Demon Hall?"
"The Ten Demonic Heir."
Mu Sam-rang's chilling gaze bore into Ok Ho-bang as he spoke in a sinister voice.
"He is Langya Pavilion's Ten Demonic Heir."