Outbreak of War
The Southern Barbarian Beast Palace, which had come to the brink of annihilation, had spent the past half year in a flurry of activity—rebuilding its halls and striving to reclaim its former prosperity.
In the Central Plains, winter would have made it difficult to keep people moving. But the southern wilds where the Beast Palace stood retained a warm climate even in the coldest months, so work never truly stalled.
It was into this recovering stronghold that news from the Central Plains arrived. When Gakhyeon finished reading the dispatch from the main mountain, he let out a long sigh.
“Spiritual beasts corrupted by demonic qi are running wild?”
Through the Martial Alliance he received regular reports from the Central Plains, yet with every passing season the proportion of grim tidings only grew. Trouble was not confined to a single region; it was erupting all across the land. Remaining so far from the heart of the chaos left him increasingly uneasy.
Of course, this place has its own hardships.
Just as the spread of demonic arts had thrown the martial world of the Central Plains into turmoil, so too had the weakening of the Beast Palace invited opportunistic heretical factions to rise in the south. Their scale, however, was nowhere near as vast, and they had been suppressed without great difficulty.
With elites gathered from every corner of the Central Plains here, it would have been stranger if we failed to hold them back.
The absence of those same elites was surely one reason the chaos back home refused to settle. They had at least sent half the expeditionary force home after the campaign; had they not, the disorder might have grown far worse.
So this is the inner core obtained by subduing a spiritual beast tainted with demonic qi?
Gakhyeon examined the crimson core that had arrived with the letter. He could clearly sense the pure vitality of a spiritual beast tangled with the foul, alien energy of demonic qi.
If it concerns spiritual beasts, the Beast Palace may know something.
The Zhongnan Sect must have reached the same conclusion; that was why they had enclosed the core with the missive.
And to think Cheonhwa himself brought this back after slaying the beast… Has he already become a full-fledged Peak Expert?
When Gakhyeon first heard that Cheonhwa had stepped into the Peak realm, he half-suspected the report was mistaken. The boy had not even passed the age of twenty. How could someone born with only ordinary talent achieve something so absurd?
When I return to the main mountain, I must discover how it was possible.
Gakhyeon was a Taoist and a martial artist, but he was also a scholar of martial theory. That dual nature made him hunger to understand Cheonhwa’s growth. Countless first-class masters and young geniuses across the rivers and lakes battered themselves against the wall of Peak and never crossed it. How had Cheonhwa broken through?
To think the third-generation disciple Jinhyun asked me to look after would become such a singularity…
Was this, too, connected to the “following of fate” Jinhyun had once spoken of? What did Heaven want, that it would raise an ordinary-talented third-generation disciple so rapidly? For a moment Gakhyeon even wondered whether the boy might reach Super Expert before his twentieth year—then he snorted and shook his head.
Surely not even that.
To set foot in the realm of a Super Expert required that essence, energy, and spirit all reach mature perfection, and that none of the three be allowed to outpace the others. Cheonhwa’s rapid growth through various fortuitous encounters had, if anything, risked creating imbalance. He still had a long road ahead before Super Expert.
While Gakhyeon was lost in thought, a visitor arrived. A young woman in elegant, archaic attire stepped into the room; he rose and greeted her with full courtesy.
“Welcome, Palace Master.”
She was Sohang—the sole surviving direct-blood descendant of the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace, and half-sibling of the former palace lord who had fled in betrayal.
Sohang offered a bitter smile.
“There’s really no need for such formality.”
“Considering the dignity of the Beast Palace, is it not necessary?”
“That may be true, but…”
Her expression darkened. The dignity of the Beast Palace had long since been trampled into the dirt—by none other than her half-brother. Beom Rang had been born of a dalliance with a servant girl and had never even inherited the clan surname; still, he was her blood. She had accepted the seat of palace master only so that she might atone, however slightly, for the crimes her own kin had committed. Without that burden she would never have taken the position, no matter how insistently it was offered.
I will have to grow used to this as well.
Having chosen to drink the bitter cup, she would have to accept it someday. Yet even so, there were moments when she needed to breathe. Coming to see Gakhyeon was one such small respite. He never tired of reminding her that he was a man who would eventually leave, that deepening ties would only bring sorrow—yet for all his prickliness he still fretted over others in his own grumbling way. That was why she sometimes sought him out simply to share tea during quiet hours.
Then the crimson sphere caught her eye. Its familiar shape and aura told her at once what it was.
“Is that… an inner core?”
“You recognized it at a glance. Yes—a spiritual beast’s inner core. It was sent from the Central Plains with a request for investigation. Would you care to examine it?”
“Then I won’t refuse.”
As she studied the core, Sohang’s face twisted once more. Beneath the beast’s vitality she felt the same loathsome demonic qi she had come to despise. Yet the manner in which that demonic energy had soaked into the core stirred a sense of recognition.
“This… looks as though it was done with our Beast Palace arts. The traces of how the demonic qi was forced in are similar.”
“Which would mean that the Heavenly Demon Cult somehow obtained the secret arts of the Beast Palace.”
“It isn’t strange. My brother—no, the traitor Beom Rang—trusted the demonic cult completely. It would not be surprising if he secretly passed them our secret techniques.”
Among the Beast Palace’s forbidden arts was one called Rampage Frenzy, which forced internal energy into an animal and drove it into a berserk state. Because it guaranteed neither the creature’s survival nor any distinction between friend and foe, the technique was strictly banned. Yet the residual demonic traces on the core closely matched the energy circulation of that very art. To think someone would twist it further and use it to inject demonic qi into spiritual beasts… For a palace that treated beasts as companions, the idea was enough to make the blood run cold.
“It seems we have one more reason to regard the demonic cult as an enemy.”
The cult had already driven the Beast Palace to the edge of extinction; now they had stolen its secret arts and put them to such use. It was enough to leave one speechless with rage.
“If Beast Palace techniques were used to corrupt them, is there any way to reverse the corruption or calm the rampaging spiritual beasts?”
“That will be difficult. Rampage Frenzy was always a mutual-destruction technique—a final measure used only when no other path remained. No one ever bothered to invent a way to reverse it.”
Even so, they could not simply stand idle.
“Still, we will research it. We refuse to be used any longer without lifting a finger. I expect the remaining warriors of the palace will agree.”
“We are grateful for your aid.”
“We are the ones who have received grace beyond measure. Having even a small chance to repay it is a joy.”
From that day forward the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace informed every remaining warrior that the Heavenly Demon Cult had stolen their secret arts. They named the cult the Demonic Cult and declared it an eternal enemy of the palace. To confront that enemy, they vowed to cooperate with the Martial Alliance more actively than ever before. The cult’s own sins had simply handed the Alliance another ally.
The bitter winter had passed; spring was nearly upon them.
In the Zhongnan Sect’s training grounds, Cheonhwa and Yeobhwa faced each other with bare hands alone.
A heavy thud rang out.
Yeobhwa advanced with the true-step of the Diamond Strength Step and unleashed a form of the Qiankun Mountain-Water Arts. For a man of his massive frame, the movement was startlingly swift—the predatory momentum of a tiger lunging for the kill.
Cheonhwa chose not to evade. He met the attack head-on. Drawing power through the same true-step, he drove a fist forward—the Wood-Collapsing Fist of the Five Elements Fist, saturated with four-colored energy.
A dull boom rolled across the training ground as the two fists collided. The aftershock of jin release whipped their robes and battered the internal barriers each man wore.
Yeobhwa, as always, was clad in the layered Long Heaven Single Armor of Balanced Heaven Qi and Vast Heaven Qi. Cheonhwa wore only a single layer—the hexagonal barrier of Profound Heaven True Qi known as the Icebound Tortoise Shell.
Deciding that pure force would not settle the match, Yeobhwa opened his fist and shot his hand out to seize Cheonhwa’s wrist—the binding technique of Qinna. Cheonhwa immediately unfurled the Nine Palaces Footwork and slipped free. The motion lacked the characteristic softness of the Wind-Cloud Divine Form; it was the more fundamental body art that branched from the Nine Palaces Footwork—the Nine Palaces Body Movement. The abrupt shift from retreat to advance carried no tremor, and both the jin release and the internal energy within his fist techniques remained unbroken and stable.
What followed was a pure brawl of fists: strike, block, dodge, and strike again, each man hunting the other’s vital points. Shockwaves of colliding force stirred the air. In the end it was Yeobhwa who first reached his limit. His stamina remained, but his internal energy had run dry.
“This humble one has lost.”
Yeobhwa accepted defeat without protest. Continuing any longer would have meant more than a simple loss.
“To think I would fall behind even in physical prowess… Every time I witness it, your growth is simply outrageous.”
He clicked his tongue in wonder. He knew Cheonhwa had perfected the Balanced Heaven Qi Accumulation Art and had tempered his body through countless fortuitous encounters and hard training. Even so, when pure muscular power was compared, Yeobhwa—born with a massive frame and further trained in outer arts until steel and blade could not cut him—should still have held the edge. Yet the Cheonhwa standing before him had reached the realm of blade-and-steel imperviousness without learning any specialized outer art. He had attained mastery of both outer and inner cultivation.
“Even among Peak Experts, few balance outer and inner arts as evenly as Junior Brother Cheonhwa.”
“Is that so?”
“From your tone, it seems the truth has not quite settled in.”
“Yes. Having faced spiritual beasts so often this winter, I find myself feeling that even this is still not enough.”
“Mm. This humble one feels the same.”
Yeobhwa recalled the winter hunts. Peak Experts had taken the lead, yet a number of outstanding first-class martial artists had been brought along as support. He had been one of them.
“Ordinarily a man needs martial arts simply to stand equal to a great beast. When that beast itself gains miraculous powers akin to martial arts, it is only natural that a man struggles to face it.”
“No wonder spiritual beasts are placed on the same level as Peak Experts.”
“Is the new set of arts you have been learning an extension of that same sense of insufficiency?”
Yeobhwa thought of the techniques Cheonhwa had displayed during the spar: the Icebound Tortoise Shell that harnessed the yin-cold of Profound Heaven True Qi, and the foundational body art known as Nine Palaces Body Movement. Both already had superior substitutes—the Long Heaven Single Armor and the Wind-Cloud Divine Form—yet Cheonhwa had deliberately chosen to learn them.
“Yes. I wanted to confirm the link between arts matched to the nature of a mind method and the root arts from which they spring.”
Cheonhwa nodded. Just as the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven formed the root of every Zhongnan sword art, so every other discipline possessed its own origin. The Diamond Strength Step sprang from the Nine Palaces Footwork; the Wind-Cloud Divine Form from the Nine Palaces Body Movement; the Icebound Tortoise Shell from the Long Heaven Single Armor. Mastery of one elevated the other. The root arts themselves also influenced one another—the Nine Palaces Footwork, the Nine Palaces Body Movement, and the Cloud-Gathering Free-Wandering Sutra being prime examples.
“Linking arts to cover weaknesses is nothing unusual, yet with Junior Brother Cheonhwa it feels as though something more is at work.”
Yeobhwa stroked his chin. Compatible techniques reinforcing one another was only natural; yet the mutual elevation Cheonhwa displayed raised his very foundation. The proof was that a basic Five Elements Fist had matched the power of the higher Qiankun Mountain-Water Arts.
“We trained side by side, yet the gap is this vast. It is so extreme that jealousy does not even arise—only a kind of despair.”
Yeobhwa gave a quiet laugh. This was hardly the first or second time. Having watched from the side how much labor underlay that growth, he understood: Cheonhwa’s rise was the miracle born of fortuitous chance fused with relentless effort.
Cheonhwa, who had been observing him in silence, finally spoke.
“Senior Brother Yeobhwa has also thrown himself into training with unusual intensity of late. Is there a reason?”
“…You noticed after all.”
“The excess of zeal was plain to see.”
“If even Junior Brother Cheonhwa can tell, then everyone else must know as well.”
Yeobhwa offered a wry smile, chose his words carefully, and continued.
“When I think of the coming clash with the Paegeommun, I find I simply cannot remain still.”
Through spiritual awareness Cheonhwa read the emotion beneath the words—the same fear of the sword Yeobhwa had once confessed. In that instant he understood: Yeobhwa’s blood feud with the Paegeommun ran deep.
The heretical martial artist who murdered his family belonged to the Paegeommun.
If the guess was correct, war with that sect would give Yeobhwa the chance for vengeance. That he had never spoken of it meant he wished to settle the matter with his own hands. Cheonhwa respected that will and kept silent.
The two were about to return to their quarters when Myeonghwa came sprinting toward them, shouting.
“Emergency assembly!”
The urgent cry carried a scent of blood utterly at odds with the budding life of spring.