Two Warnings
Geom Wi-hyeon had not been defeated.
A single blow had folded him at the waist in shock—and even so, the sword hilt remained firmly in his grip. The point still aimed at Sun Wukong. His knees had not touched the ground.
That did not matter. Every master who had witnessed that sudden, explosive strike had no choice but to rise with a grim face.
Transcendental Realm.
The very edge of the Peak Realm. One look at the punch that Geom Wi-hyeon—who had been knocking on the door of the Transcendental Realm—had taken without blocking or dodging was all the proof they needed.
So the rumors were true.
Transcendental Realm. Beyond Peak.
I shouldn't have come. The Sect Leader should have come himself.
The Gang Leader—or at the very least the retired Grand Elders—should have been here.
The Sect Leaders and Gang Leaders of the Nine Sects and One Gang did not leave their seats lightly. Their importance would not allow it. Every representative who had come as an envoy to this Grand Assembly of Murim was a deputy—and like Geom Wi-hyeon, each was among the most critical figures in his sect's leadership.
Paradoxically, that did not mean they were the strongest martial artists in their sects after the leaders themselves. Of course they needed the ability to stand in for the head of an institution. But the range of that "ability" was vast. Martial arts alone were not enough. Political skill, reputation, a dozen other qualities all counted. And because they already carried so many duties as deputies of their Sect Leaders, their training inevitably suffered by comparison.
So it was certain that the envoy representatives who had come in their leaders' place were not the foremost masters of the Nine Sects and One Gang.
It was equally certain that their martial arts were anything but weak.
Geom Wi-hyeon stood at the outermost edge of the Peak Realm. The other five whose names had been called were, without a doubt, absolute masters who had crossed the threshold of Peak decades ago. Warriors whose strength could be put forward anywhere under heaven.
And yet a grave light had settled on every one of their faces.
If he can put Lord Geom Wi-hyeon in that kind of predicament, the rumors must be true.
One of the Ten Great Masters. The man whom the Heavenly Edge Sword Star, Patriarch of the Namgung Clan, honored as his sworn elder brother. That was why the rumor had spread that the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven was himself a martial artist of the Transcendental Realm.
Wang Ju-dae swallowed a low groan and stepped up onto the training grounds.
Is he truly a martial artist of the Transcendental Realm?
Peak Realm and Transcendental Realm. A distinction with only a single wall between them. But that was merely a difference of words. The gap between Peak and Transcendental was a difference of dimensions. Was it for nothing that the people of the martial world said you had to reach the Transcendental Realm before you could even challenge for a seat among the Ten Great Masters?
Of course, there were times when a lesser martial artist of a lower realm cut down a master of a higher one. The usual case was a First-class martial artist prevailing against a Peak Realm expert—a seasoned First-class who had never quite broken through to Peak, but who had piled up decades of shrewd experience, set against a Peak martial artist who had only just entered the realm, someone who had punched through quickly on the strength of a gifted environment, meticulous meridian-cleansing from childhood, and a generous supply of spiritual medicines. In a fight between those two, it was not uncommon for the veteran First-class to reverse the realms and win.
A world of blades, where even a lesser martial artist could always cut down a greater one. That was the martial world.
Unfortunately, that saying did not hold for the divide between Peak and Transcendental. Anyone who had reached the Transcendental Realm had, as a matter of course, already acquired that seasoned experience as a baseline.
This is not someone we can face one at a time.
Heh heh... Who would have thought we'd be launching a joint assault here.
To think things would come to this.
They could not refuse it. They could not ignore it. Not after the last remark Sun Wukong had thrown at them.
"A martial artist has his pride. How is anyone supposed to hear something like that and turn tail?"
"A slacker trainee, he called us. Heh heh. If the elders of each sect heard that and ran, that would be a problem of its own."
"The one they call the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven is certainly a formidable master—but a martial artist still has pride and honor he is bound to uphold, does he not?"
Whispers rose from every side. That single last remark Sun Wukong had thrown had turned their footsteps toward the training grounds. And as their eyes met one another's, their throats bobbed, faintly.
"Every one of us here is an outstanding master and a senior, so I will speak frankly. That one is inferred to be Transcendental Realm. Do you all agree?"
"He is Transcendental Realm."
"...He is indeed a Transcendental Realm master."
It was Geom Wi-hyeon, who had just taken the punch, who confirmed it. With Geom Wi-hyeon—already so close to the Transcendental Realm himself—personally testifying, the matter was settled.
"Let us honestly acknowledge that a gap exists. We will have to attack together."
"Mm."
"We cannot tuck our tails and withdraw, after all."
"I agree to a joint assault."
"We've never coordinated before, but if we each simply hold our sectors, I believe our intent will come through."
"All six of us will occupy every direction and attack."
It was a rare sight. The representatives of each sect were holding a serious discussion for the sole purpose of facing a single man. Those with sharp eyes gaped at what was unfolding on the training grounds.
"What—those prideful elders of the Nine Sects and One Gang are actually going to attack together?"
"Has anything like this ever happened in the martial world?"
"No, it hasn't. How often do those sects even gather in one place?"
"And when they do gather, it's at the Wulin Alliance, which is their own feast. Is there even anyone who fights them?"
"The Great Sage, Equal to Heaven is trying to stir up a storm in this Murim!"
"Masters of that caliber are joining forces to take down one man—just how strong is the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven?"
The training grounds buzzed. They were already packed with people, and yet more kept pouring in, the rumor having spread who knew when. Before long the crowd had more than doubled, packed so tight that some had even climbed the surrounding trees and buildings to watch. The throng had swollen so much it seemed as if every orthodox martial artist attending the Grand Assembly of Murim had gathered in this one place.
And in the midst of that crowd, Sun Wukong casually took hold of his steel staff.
"Well then. Shall we begin?"
The instant the words left his mouth, Geom Wi-hyeon's sword flashed. At a glance it was a somewhat underhanded surprise strike of the kind rarely seen in a formal bout.
But the moment the steel staff swung, Sun Wukong was smiling—white and bright.
"How..."
Muhwa lost her words. The corners of her eyes trembled.
Muhwa herself was an absolute master racing toward the very edge of the Peak Realm, having recently gained enlightenment. Because of that, she could take in every last detail of the spectacle unfolding on the training grounds without missing a thing.
The more you know, the more you see. Paradoxically, that also meant the more you knew, the more daunting it felt. If only she hadn't known. If she had been an ordinary rising talent. Or even a martial artist who had barely scraped into the Peak Realm—she would not have been able to see through the fight on the training grounds with such precision.
But she saw it all. What the golden currents Sun Wukong unfurled meant—she felt it, viscerally.
"Teacher Sun's skill... was at this level."
Her lips had gone bone-dry. Was this what it felt like to look up at a mountain peak so high it was lost in cloud? At the greatness of Sun Wukong, visible in a single glance, Muhwa felt, however faintly, the frustration of a martial artist.
But her will was firm.
There are plenty of distant, towering masters in this world. Teacher Sun is one of them. What matters more is that Teacher Sun now looks like a complete member of the Namgung Clan.
That was enough. What mattered to Muhwa was the Namgung Clan. She herself was a martial artist who constantly refined her art—but a greater value still was this Namgung Clan, which had saved her, taken her in, and raised her.
To fight like that against six masters of the Nine Sects and One Gang!
The battle on the training grounds was shocking.
"Khuhk!"
"Kuk!"
Swords, sabers, fists and kicks coming from every direction—every last one of them stopped by Sun Wukong's steel staff.
The Plum Blossom Sword that Geom Wi-hyeon prided himself on was shredded before it could even bloom. The Dog-Beating Staff of Wang Ju-dae, Elder of the Beggars' Sect, was half-shattered and broken by the ferocious might of that steel staff. Pyeong Ji-dal of the Jongnam Sect found his sword's power broken as it was caught in the vortex of energy Sun Wukong sent out with a sweep of the staff. The supreme martial art that Baek Ri-il-jae of the Jeomchang Sect prided himself on—the Four-One Sword Art, famed for piercing vital points at blinding speed and killing in a single stroke—mostly just grazed Sun Wukong's body. Even the attacks that landed were absurdly far from any vital point or weak spot.
And even that would not have succeeded if it hadn't been a six-man joint assault. Those were attacks Sun Wukong had deliberately allowed.
And that was not all. The practical, vicious sword of Wu Lao—one of the Three Elders, the absolute masters the Kongtong Sect prided itself on—became as meek as a lamb the instant it entered the vacuum of the energy currents Sun Wukong created. The wind-like sword-strikes of Baek Won-jeong, who had made a name for himself under the epithet Qingcheng Divine Dragon and was relatively young, became nothing more than a faint breeze. To Sun Wukong, who had fought Baekgwiwang, the one who commanded the wind, it was a wind that could not even cool his sweat.
Offense and defense flowed like water. Because they were all at the very peak of the Peak Realm, representatives of their respective sects, they were not rendered helpless in a single exchange. Sword, saber, and steel staff poured out explosions, roars, and the scream of metal without pause as the fight went on.
A rare spectacle. A fierce battle you could not see even if you paid in gold. The sight of six absolute masters launching a joint assault against a single man, going far beyond a simple bout, was something you would not easily witness even if you spent a lifetime touring the martial world.
"Hah... Truly, there is no gauging Brother Sun's limits."
At Namgung Jinbaek's hollow voice, Muhwa turned her head. The hollowness showing through a set face. Muhwa knew well that Namgung Jinbaek had broken through to another realm once more. And yet even one who had reached such a realm could not hide that hollowness.
Muhwa turned her gaze back.
"I never imagined Master's skill was at this level...!"
Muyoung, a faint heat even showing in him, marveled again and again.
"Master is amazing."
Seowol, whose expressions had grown considerably more varied, watched with sparkling eyes and never once looked away from the training grounds.
Muhwa found herself smiling.
Teacher Sun is influencing the Namgung Clan, one way or another.
The vast distance she had felt watching Sun Wukong's martial prowess seemed to dilute, just a little.
Muhwa quietly swept her gaze around the training grounds. The grounds that had been hot with cheers and shouts when the first clash came had gradually fallen quiet, until now even the sound of dry swallows could be heard. A crushing silence. Only eyes of shock and astonishment were turned that way. The more accomplished the master, the deeper the silence, and the more violently their pupils trembled.
A warning, he said.
Muyoung had said it. That the reason Sun Wukong had suddenly started all this was a warning. At first she hadn't understood what that meant.
Everyone standing there is, in effect, an enemy of the Namgung Clan.
Mount Hua. The Beggars' Sect. Jeomchang. Qingcheng. Kongtong. Jongnam. All of them were on bad terms with the Namgung Clan. Weren't they throwing up every obstacle they could to reduce the Namgung Clan's influence in the formation of the Pan-Orthodox Alliance taking place beneath the surface? If the stirring of the unorthodox and demonic paths had not been anticipated, the Namgung Clan would not have sat at the same table with them. People even joked that it was sleeping with the enemy.
It's a warning. A warning to those who refuse to unite, who pursue only their own interests and treat the Namgung Clan as an enemy.
The leaders of the Nine Sects and One Gang were, for the most part, absolute masters who had reached the Transcendental Realm. The majority belonged to the Ten Great Masters, and even those who did not were evaluated as absolute masters approaching that level. Even in the Nine Sects and One Gang, famed throughout the land, there was only one such person per sect. That was the gap between Peak and Transcendental.
And as things stood now, the Namgung Clan had, as the world knew, an absolute master of the Transcendental Realm in the Heavenly Edge Sword Star. On top of that, the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, Sun Wukong, had shown that he was unmistakably a man of the Namgung Clan and revealed his martial prowess.
A warning. To those who opposed the Namgung Clan.
Muhwa was moved when she saw that true intent.
He is a man of the Namgung Clan... Teacher Sun...
But what Muhwa did not know was that that was not the whole of it.
A warning. Sun Wukong had taken this stage for a warning. He had openly drawn every last person's attention. So that not a single one would look away. So that that one would be sure to watch.
And he had shown them.
KAAAANG!
"Keok!"
The instant Geom Wi-hyeon's knees—the last to hold out to the end—were forced to the ground, it was a pity for the six martial artists who had fought with everything they had. Sun Wukong's gaze had never been on them at all.
Beneath brows drawn in a crescent, a frigid gaze turned toward the very center of the spectator stands.
In that instant, black eyes met his.
The corner of Sun Wukong's mouth curled up, faintly.
A warning. Against every last scheme he cooked up, every last overreach of a man who did not know his place. Whatever you plot, whatever you think, whatever you do.
Even so.
A warning wrought of a brilliant white smile settled upon Dongbang Sak's retinas.