Back to the Alliance (1)
Grand Strategist Je-gal Hyeon was, as always, in the strategic command center, analyzing the reports that flew in moment by moment.
Most concerned the movements of the Black Heaven Alliance, and the daily influx painted a grim picture.
It's just like back then.
The telltale signs before war erupted.
Troops were deploying across the front lines, swelling the ranks of Black Heaven Alliance warriors. Training intensity for their strike teams had skyrocketed, and production of weapons and stockpiled grain in their controlled territories was surging. Unmistakable harbingers of war.
The Murim Alliance wasn't sitting idle, of course. They ramped up training, reinforced their forces, and boosted weapon output in kind.
That's when Strategist Sa-ma Il-jung burst in, breathless.
"A falcon dispatch from Jeol-gang Province."
There was good reason for his uncharacteristic urgency.
"From Baek So-cheon at the Po-gang branch."
"Lord Baek—no, Warrior Baek?"
Je-gal Hyeon still slipped into calling him "Lord" now and then; the title had stuck on his tongue from the old days.
He snatched the message and scanned it urgently.
It detailed recent events with the Shin-hwa-bang. Their backers were the Black Heaven Alliance, and Baek So-cheon had gone to meet their leader only to encounter the Black Heaven Alliance Lord himself. Naturally, anything involving Cheon-geuk was omitted.
Je-gal Hyeon jolted at the revelation of the Alliance Lord's personal involvement.
"My god!"
Hyun-cheon Pavilion had been investigating Shin-hwa-bang too.
With eyes on Baek So-cheon, it was only natural they'd probe his surroundings. But they hadn't yet uncovered the Black Heaven Alliance connection.
Hyun-cheon Pavilion oversaw hundreds of sects—from major Central Plains groups to those under Black Heaven's thumb.
Managing them all meant a deep dive into Shin-hwa-bang hadn't happened yet.
Even if they had looked, they likely wouldn't have found it. No one could imagine the Black Heaven Alliance plotting to build a fortress in the remote corner of Jeol-gang Province, the rearmost of the rear lines, right in Mun-seong.
If Baek So-cheon had been posted anywhere else, this would have stayed buried.
"This won't do."
Je-gal Hyeon shot to his feet.
"I'm off to the Alliance Lord's quarters."
"Understood."
He strode out of the command center with purpose.
Sa-ma Il-jung could tell: Je-gal Hyeon was about to press the Alliance Lord on something big.
I don't know what you're planning, but make it happen, Lord Baek.
Baek So-cheon and the Murim Alliance warriors returned to the Mun-seong branch.
He'd been lost in thought the whole way back.
War loomed palpably now, unsettling his mind. Having endured its horrors on the front lines, he desperately hoped never to face it again—not like some other ordeal.
Back at the branch, he met with Jeong-pung right away.
"You're one who needs to know, even if others don't."
Jeong-pung drew a deep breath. He sensed heavy news coming, but not this heavy.
"Shin-hwa-bang was backed by the Black Heaven Alliance."
"……!"
Jeong-pung couldn't even gasp. Utterly unimaginable. Now, Baek So-cheon's actions at their main hall made sense.
"And the enemy warrior there?"
"Better you don't know. But if you insist, I'll tell you."
"No. That's fine."
No need for that broad, blazing back to turn his way.
"Shouldn't we report to headquarters?"
"I sent a dispatch to Hyun-cheon Pavilion on the way down."
"What now?"
"Shin-hwa-bang is gone, so back to business as usual."
To Jeong-pung, it all felt like a dream. Would his life ever demand such courage again? He was grateful to Baek So-cheon for the chance.
"I'll head back to the branch."
"Safe travels."
Jeong-pung turned to leave, then paused and looked back. Words piled up in his mind, yet none came. They'd surface later, too late as always with age.
"Even if you return to headquarters… drop by sometime."
"Didn't you say only when I'm dying?"
"Come."
He walked off without waiting for a reply.
Baek So-cheon watched his retreating figure.
"We will."
With Jeong-pung and his branch warriors gone, the branch settled into routine.
Tae-jeong-pa might have revived otherwise, but with Shin-hwa-bang erased, Im Choong uprooted them entirely.
Overjoyed, old man Go and the market merchants brought food to the branch.
"Truly grateful. You did something huge."
"Just our duty."
Im Choong and Beon Saeng felt profound fulfillment.
Yes, this was their purpose. As Baek So-cheon said, ignoring these lives would mean quitting the Murim Alliance for another path.
After duties, they feasted and drank with the merchants, merry times.
Baek So-cheon threw himself into training.
Lately, it was repeating the first three forms of Beon-cheon Gu-gwon. Over and over, until they were etched into his body—that was his method for mastering it.
He knew enlightenment came in many forms.
Sometimes a sudden gift from the heavens, sometimes through unique experiences. And like this, from sheer repetition.
Repeat enough, and one day you realize: you've already grasped it. Enlightenment so seamless even the "aha" moment skips by.
That was repetition's gift, something he'd felt long ago in sword training.
Thankfully, the first three forms clicked solidly, so practice flowed smoothly.
Mid-session, Im Choong and Beon Saeng arrived. Noticing the unusual art, Im Choong started to leave.
"We'll come back."
"No, watch. It's wrapping up."
"Yes, sir."
They stood behind the pavilion, reverently observing Baek So-cheon's training.
He moved like a dojo master demonstrating to students—slowly repeating forms, tweaking angles high then low, feet narrowing then widening.
Used to rigid, prescribed techniques, the pair were deeply moved.
Martial arts demanded exact replication of manuals or masters' teachings.
They'd never questioned that rule.
Yet Baek So-cheon seemed to mold the art to himself. A manual might say "kick the jaw," but he adapted to chest or gut.
Of course, they knew half-baked tweaks ruined everything.
Session over, Beon Saeng, who'd held back, spoke up.
"Practicing fist arts, sir?"
"Yeah."
"I heard the sword is king of weapons. That's why I learned it too. So why fists over sword?"
"I trained sword too."
"Knew it!"
Beon Saeng had assumed from first sight—Baek So-cheon carried that indefinable swordmaster aura. He'd mistaken something for a sheathed blade.
"To me now, this is swordsmanship. Fists to reclaim it."
Every practice—fists, spear, lightness skill—was a step back to his former self. Grasping martial extremes to restore his inner power.
Im Choong and Beon Saeng didn't get it.
"What do you mean…?"
"Doesn't matter."
Chatting martial ways stirred a desire in Beon Saeng.
"Just checking… any chance you'd teach me?"
"No."
Blunt as a slap, against his tentative hope.
"Figured."
Yet the lingering wish trailed naturally.
"Still… a stronger little brother would ease your worries."
"Why?"
"Why? So you wouldn't fret if we got hurt or killed."
"So what if you die?"
Beon Saeng's lip jutted.
"Right. Warriors die across the Central Plains even now. What's one more cart on the pile? Hell, you don't even see me as a brother."
Im Choong interjected.
"Beon squad leader, martial transmission is cautious, even among kin."
"I know."
Baek So-cheon cut in.
"Not that."
"What then?"
"Not about closeness. I'm not handing down my secret arts—just basics suited to you. No big deal."
"So why not teach us?"
An unexpected reply.
"You'd die young."
Beon Saeng blinked blankly.
"What?"
"You overlook injustice now, right? Imagine you're stronger. Could you still?"
"…No."
"All that bottled rage explodes at once."
Beon Saeng couldn't deny it. He might even hang a "Master Born" banner in Mun-seong market.
"Step up once, twice. Eventually, bad luck catches you."
"Just judge when to advance or retreat. I'm an orphan, unmarried—no one to grieve if I die early."
He was whining, knowing better but desperate. Pitiful, maybe, but he yearned to grow stronger now, to truly roam the jianghu. Baek So-cheon had infected him with this fever.
"I'm sly. Won't charge in like an idiot. Promise."
"Even if you don't, you'll die for other reasons."
"Like what?"
"Resentment. Someone bent on revenge."
"Train harder then."
"They won't fight fair. Bribe an inn boy to poison your food? Sneak in while you sleep, slit your throat? Dart from behind? How'll you block that?"
Chilling examples tightened their chests.
"Endure and live. That's the long road."
Beon Saeng pondered, then spoke.
"I was wrong."
"Good."
"No—my mindset's rotten. Shouldn't beg you outright. Show change through self-training first. Make you think, 'That guy's worth teaching.'"
He'd sought shortcuts atop mountains of solo work.
Yeah, I wouldn't teach me either.
He bowed and dashed off.
"Thanks for the enlightenment, bro."
Life's resolutions weren't self-scoldings—they signaled new chances.
Beon Saeng resolved to train hard, see if he could change. Effort to remake his life.
Not just buying from the herb guy—become one.
Im Choong, watching him go, smiled.
"I've already started training."
"You have?"
"Yes."
Massaging Baek So-cheon's shoulders, feeling that blazing heat—he'd burned with the urge.
Baek So-cheon had said: at his age, couldn't even stand. Im Choong believed him—no liar in that moment.
Quiet solo practice since.
"Not like Beon squad leader, but I'll try."
Not grand reinvention—he was content. Just protect family. No repeat of Black Water's near-massacre.
"I'll head out too."
Alone now, Baek So-cheon eyed the building's rear.
"Done eavesdropping? Come out."
A figure emerged.
"Feels hotter than the command center here."
It was Grand Strategist Je-gal Hyeon.