The Hidden Dragon and the Shadow of the Demon Cult

A quiet guest room in the Self-Recommendation Pavilion.

A modest table of wine had been laid out there for the four young men.

By rights, this should have been a gathering that included the second young master, Namgung Jin, as well.

But he had excused himself, claiming he was feeling unwell.

Gazing at the empty seat, Ak Soyu thought to himself:

...Still as calculating as ever, young master Namgung Jin.

He might have had no desire to celebrate his younger brother's achievement, but what would be far crueler than that was being measured against that glory from the seat right beside it. He had surely weighed his options and decided that avoiding the table altogether was the wiser course.

And so an awkward yet strangely compelling drinking party of four began.

The first to break the silence was Hwangbo Gun.

Booming with laughter, he lifted the wine bottle before him and filled Namgung Cheon's cup.

"Young master Namgung Cheon! In martial arts, I lost to you, and I admit it cleanly. But when it comes to holding my liquor, I must prove that our Hwangbo Clan is the finest under heaven! Drink up!"

Namgung Cheon frowned as though the whole affair were a nuisance, but reluctantly raised his cup.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

With the crisp clink of the two cups meeting, the stiff atmosphere began to thaw.

After the wine had gone around several times, Ak Soyu—who until now had been quietly tending to his younger sister—spoke to Hwangbo Gun with a wry smile.

"Hwangbo Gun, so this is why you brought it up at the training grounds after all?"

His words carried a veiled rebuke—that Hwangbo Gun had engineered this gathering purely to escape the weighty mood of the elders.

But Hwangbo Gun waved his hand with the look of a man genuinely wronged.

"No, no, that's not it at all! I simply wanted to match cups with young master Namgung Cheon, just the two of us... but it seems everyone keeps misunderstanding."

He smacked his lips in disappointment.

"Besides, I never even got a proper look at young master Namgung Jin's face. It's been ages since I last saw him."

Faced with such artless candor, Ak Soyu could say no more and shook his head.

No malice, no hidden agenda behind anything he did—a pure, unvarnished martial artist.

That was Hwangbo Gun, through and through.

Just then, Ak Seollan gazed at Namgung Cheon with gleaming eyes and asked:

"Young master, if it isn't too rude to ask—the fist art you displayed at the training grounds earlier... it was unlike any martial discipline I have ever known."

At her question, Hwangbo Gun stopped chattering and pricked up his ears as well.

Every gaze in the room converged on Namgung Cheon.

He studied his wine cup for a moment, then answered quietly.

"It is the martial art of Namgung."

Hwangbo Gun shot back a puzzled look.

"The martial art of Namgung? The Namgung Clan has a fist technique like that? Last I knew, Namgung had nothing of the sort beyond their swordsmanship."

Namgung Cheon set down his empty cup and answered offhandedly.

"I merely unfolded the martial art of Namgung in the form of a fist."

Silence.

Hwangbo Gun, failing to grasp the meaning, wore a bewildered expression.

But Ak Soyu was different.

His eyes flooded with disbelief.

"...You mean to say you abandoned the confines of form and unfolded fist technique built upon the inner principles of swordsmanship?"

At the tremor in Ak Soyu's voice, Namgung Cheon looked at him properly for the first time.

So he can be reasoned with.

To understand in a single stroke, no less.

Namgung Cheon gave a silent nod.

At that affirmation, Ak Soyu's breath caught in his throat.

The form of one's weapon does not matter.

What matters is the fundamental principle it carries.

It was a truth of the martial way so obvious that even a child of three knew it.

And yet.

Knowing and doing are two different things.

Countless martial artists devote their entire lives to putting that truth into practice, and most of them die still trapped in the shape of whatever weapon they first took up.

But that man—

A man barely older ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠than himself was already wandering that realm as freely as his own courtyard.

This was not something the word genius could merely explain away.

While Ak Soyu watched Namgung Cheon with awe-struck eyes, Ak Seollan asked once more.

"Then casting aside your sword was also to demonstrate that realm, I take it."

Namgung Cheon's gaze turned to her.

He shook his head.

"No. I was simply extending proper courtesy to my opponent's martial art."

This time it was Hwangbo Gun whose eyes went wide.

It meant he had not dismissed the fists of Hwangbo or his own clan—rather, he had honored them by meeting them in kind.

Not an insult, but the most lavish of tributes.

Understanding surged through him as a rising thrill.

"HWAHAHAHA!"

Hwangbo Gun slapped his thigh and roared with laughter.

"Truly worthy of the young master! In all my life, I have never met a man like you. Losing to you brings me no shame whatsoever!"

He felt not a shred of humiliation.

On the contrary, his defeat felt all the more precious for it.

Laughing heartily, he poured Namgung Cheon's cup to the brim.

Watching him, Ak Soyu swallowed a wry smile.

"For the renowned Fist Dragon of the age to admit defeat so readily—that is unexpected."

Hwangbo Gun bristled at that.

"A loss is a loss! Besides, the young master of Namgung didn't even use a sword, did he? That's more than enough reason for me to concede cleanly!"

He downed his cup in one gulp and went on.

"Truth be told, among our Seven Dragons, the only one who could push me this far without a weapon would be the Monk Dragon."

The Seven Dragons and Two Phoenixes.

It was the title given to the nine young prodigies standing at the very summit of the current generation's martial talents.

Ak Seollan's eyes sparkled as she asked:

"Then does young master Namgung belong among those Seven Dragons as well?"

"Hmm, that might be difficult for the moment."

It was Hwangbo Gun who answered.

"The Seven Dragons and Two Phoenixes have already been decided. And in Namgung's case..."

Ak Soyu picked up the thread.

"The eldest young master, Namgung Hwi, is known as the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Sword Dragon."

Ak Soyu paused, then looked at Namgung Cheon with meaningful eyes.

"But having seen the duel today... it seems that old order may soon be due for a change."

Hwangbo Gun did not dispute it.

He nodded in agreement instead.

"With skill like yours, young master, you could more than claim a seat among the Seven Dragons. Why have you never made your name in the murim until now?"

At Hwangbo Gun's question, every gaze turned to Namgung Cheon once more.

Tipping back his cup, he answered flatly.

"I have no interest."

"...?"

Hwangbo Gun and Ak Seollan—and even Ak Soyu—failed to grasp the meaning of the answer and found themselves momentarily at a loss for words.

Honor, rank, supremacy under heaven.

Were these not the things every martial artist hungered for without cease?

And to claim no interest in the Seven Dragons, the foremost of all young prodigies?

The first to recover was Ak Soyu.

With a bitter smile, he murmured half to himself.

"...You mean it."

Before that overwhelming indifference, the glittering title of Seven Dragons and Two Phoenixes seemed little more than a child's game.

While Ak Soyu emptied his cup with tangled feelings, Hwangbo Gun threw his head back in great laughter.

He drained his wine in one swallow and smacked his lips in disappointment.

"What a shame! If my heart had its way, we'd spar and duel for nights on end, but I must depart for Shandong tomorrow."

The two clans had come to celebrate the patriarch's return.

That duty fulfilled, it was time to make their way home.

Then Ak Soyu glanced sidelong at Namgung Cheon and asked:

"That reminds me—will you be attending the River-Along Martial Assembly?"

"The River-Along Martial Assembly?"

When Hwangbo Gun echoed the name, Ak Soyu answered.

"He means the gathering of young prodigies from the sects along the Yangtze. Held once every five years."

Only then did Hwangbo Gun slap his knee and nod.

"Ah! The one where the women smitten with the Sword Dragon reportedly lined up in queues!"

Ak Soyu shot him a sidelong glare, but Namgung Cheon merely toyed with his wine cup.

Then Ak Soyu spoke again.

"You will not be attending?"

"Brother, that's why they have the eldest young master, no?"

At that, Ak Soyu nodded as though the answer satisfied him.

The Sword Dragon, Namgung Hwi.

The eldest young master of the Namgung Clan, and at present the most likely candidate for young clan head.

He had represented Namgung at the last assembly five years ago, so this time, too, that seat would naturally fall to him.

Hwangbo Gun clicked his tongue in disappointment.

"Country folk like us from Shandong can't so much as glimpse an invitation, and yet they could send another and simply choose not to."

"Hwangbo Gun."

Ak Soyu warned him quietly, but his own eyes, too, held a peculiar regret as they turned toward Namgung Cheon.

It pained him that a man of such ability remained sidelined by the hierarchy of his own family.

"In any case, we leave tomorrow. Should you ever wander the murim and pass through Shandong, young master, be sure to visit our Ak Clan or the Hwangbo Clan."

At Ak Soyu's courteous offer, Namgung Cheon nodded.

"Ha, splendid! Now, one more cup—!"

Hwangbo Gun, by now well into his cups, boldly brandished the wine bottle.

But his body was already swaying against his will.

"Whoa—?"

CRASH!

Hwangbo Gun's head pitched forward and planted itself squarely on the table.

Ak Soyu pressed a hand to his forehead and heaved a deep sigh.

"...Beaten in fists, beaten in drink. You lose at everything today, Hwangbo Gun."

At those words, Namgung Cheon couldn't help but let a dry chuckle escape.

And so the first drinking party of the three young ones waned away amid Hwangbo Gun's resounding snores.

The Family Head Hall.

Only four remained, tilting their cups in quiet company: Namgung Mugang, Jegal Hwa, Hwangbo U, and Ak Paesan.

The lingering aftershock of the duel at the training grounds still hung in the air of the hall.

The first to break the silence was Hwangbo U.

With a wry smile, he filled Namgung Mugang's cup.

"You've raised one hell of a son. I've never once seen my boy concede a defeat so cleanly."

Ak Paesan added his voice in a grave tone.

"The rumors were no idle thing, it seems. And yet—one question remains."

Ak Paesan's gaze turned toward Namgung Mugang.

"That fist art the boy unfolded... those were forms none of us had ever laid eyes on. Just where did he come upon such a fortuitous encounter?"

At the question, Hwangbo U leaned in as well.

It was the very thing both of them most wanted to know.

Not merely that he was strong, but where the root of that martial art lay.

As every gaze converged upon him, Namgung Mugang—who had held his silence until now—finally spoke.

"It was no fortuitous encounter. It differs somewhat, but its roots are planted firmly in the martial arts of our Namgung."

Namgung Mugang gazed out at the darkness beyond the window as he continued.

"Which is to say, that boy forged the path himself. He merely needs a little guidance."

"...!"

Shock flashed across the faces of Hwangbo U and Ak Paesan.

Not strengthened by some stroke of fortune, but the discoverer of an entirely new path of his own making?

"...Your tongue has grown slippery, old friend. You mean to tell me that boy who shut himself away all these years devised a new martial discipline entirely on his own?"

Hwangbo U spoke with an uncharacteristic gravity.

Ak Paesan nodded.

"If that is so... then Namgung Cheon possesses the makings of a Grand Master whose name will be written into the annals of the murim. Do you mean that in earnest?"

Grand Master.

In the murim, that word was never spoken lightly.

A title even the great masters who had devoted decades of their lives to the martial way might utter but once before they died.

It signified far more than a lofty realm—it was a designation granted only to those who had reached the very apex of the martial way, those capable of bending the current of an entire era.

Namgung Mugang silently tipped back his cup.

At the sight, the eyes of the two patriarchs went wider still.

They had always known Namgung Mugang was not a man to bandy about empty words.

And yet they could not bring themselves to believe it.

That such a genius should exist in the same era their own children had to live in.

A heavy silence settled over the hall.

After a long while, Hwangbo U shifted the subject, as if to clear the air.

"Hm. Truth be told, we came today with more on our minds than congratulating your return. There is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠another matter we wished to discuss."

His voice dropped low.

Hwangbo U's gaze settled on Namgung Mugang.

"This is a matter of an entirely different order from the North Sea Ice Palace or the Green Forest we spoke of before."

At those words, Ak Paesan's face hardened as well.

Something graver than the North Sea Ice Palace or the Green Forest.

Those words could mean only one thing.

"The Demonic Cult."

At Ak Paesan's words, Hwangbo U nodded.

"That's right. And you, Sword Emperor, know it better than any man alive."

At Hwangbo U's words, the eyes of Namgung Mugang—motionless until that very moment—trembled, ever so slightly.

Ak Paesan, who had not missed that flicker, spoke with a set expression.

"...The recent events in Gansu are said to be very likely the work of those bastards as well."

The once-tranquil air of the hall turned as cold as a sheet of ice.

Hwangbo U went on.

"In the old days, our generation swept across the Central Plains and held their rampages in check. But we are old now, my friend. We cannot stand on the front lines forever."

His gaze turned toward the wing where the guest rooms stood.

"The time has come for our children's generation to join forces."

Ak Paesan nodded in agreement.

"Quite right. Scattered as they are, they will simply be picked off one by one. They need a rallying point."

At last, Hwangbo U came to the heart of the matter.

"Which is why this River-Along Martial Assembly matters so much. It may be another household's feast that we ourselves are not invited to—but Namgung, effectively the overlord of the Yangtze, must anchor its center without fail."

The River-Along Martial Assembly.

A gathering, held once every five years, of the young prodigies of the sects along the Yangtze basin.

Exchange was its stated pretext, but everyone knew the truth.

So numerous were the orthodox sects along the Yangtze that the phrase 'Yangtze Alliance' had become a common turn of speech.

The assembly existed to read the omens in advance—to divine which young prodigy would one day lead them all.

Hwangbo U continued.

"Since it comes but once in five years, none of them will sit quietly sipping wine and go home peaceably."

Ak Paesan nodded gravely.

"True. They are young blood at its hottest—they will surely move to sort out the rankings."

At their words, Jegal Hwa answered with a gentle smile.

"Please, don't worry. As it happens, Hwi has returned from the Wulin Alliance and will be attending the assembly."

The Sword Dragon of the Seven Dragons and Two Phoenixes, the eldest young master closest to becoming the next clan head—Namgung Hwi.

That he would represent Namgung at the River-Along Martial Assembly was simply the natural order of things.

And yet.

"..."

"..."

A subtle disappointment flickered across the faces of Hwangbo U and Ak Paesan.

The two patriarchs exchanged glances laced with unease.

The man they wished to hear named was not the proven Sword Dragon.

Hwangbo U forced a hearty laugh.

"Heh heh, of course, the Sword Dragon's renown is known to all the world. But..."

His gaze turned to Namgung Mugang.

"Having seen what we saw today—does Namgung not harbor one more hidden dragon besides?"

Ak Paesan picked up where he left off.

"Indeed. In a crucible where the finest prodigies of the age gather... might that unpredictable boy not stir up an even greater storm?"

The veiled expectations of the two patriarchs.

But Namgung Mugang, heedless of their gazes, only silently tilted his cup.

It was Jegal Hwa who broke that silence.

With a knowing smile, she opened her mouth.

"I believe Cheon's martial accomplishments have already been proven beyond any doubt."

Puzzlement crossed the faces of Hwangbo U and Ak Paesan.

If his prowess was proven, why put forward only the Sword Dragon?

As though she had read the question in their eyes, Jegal Hwa's gaze turned cool and sharp.

"But for him to stand beneath Namgung's name at the River-Along Martial Assembly, he must know how to resolve the problems that cannot be cut down with a sword."

She paused, then cast a quiet glance at Namgung Mugang, who had been listening to it all.

"And if he untangles that problem as well, without fail..."

The smile on Jegal Hwa's lips deepened beyond any it had worn before.

"Then there will be no reason left why that boy cannot represent Namgung."