The Dragon-Phoenix Assembly (3)
As everyone sank into deep contemplation at Seomun Hwan’s answer, someone approached with light, graceful steps and offered a greeting.
It was Dang Mi-ju.
“It’s been a while, Young Master.”
Dang Mi-ju carried an entirely different aura from when she had been at the Tang Clan.
Back then, for her grandfather’s seventieth birthday, she had worn heavy makeup, extravagant jewelry, and magnificent formal robes.
A radiant beauty who made the phrase “nation-toppling beauty” feel inevitable.
Now, however, she wore plain martial attire with only the most minimal makeup.
Yet her beauty had not faded in the slightest. If anything, the pure, refreshing charm that came from her modest appearance unsettled the composure of countless men.
Those who already knew her were startled by the fresh image; those who didn’t were simply enchanted by her innocent allure.
Even Namgung Cheon-hwi—the greatest genius of the younger generation—along with Hyeonjong and Yeongho Jun, had been left dazed by her looks, yet…
This girl knows exactly what she’s doing.
There was no chance it would work on Seomun Hwan.
He was someone who could see straight through the essence and concept of all things. No matter how exceptional a mere outer shell might be, it was no different from admiring a beautiful painting.
That alone could not make his heart race.
What Seomun Hwan valued highly was not her appearance, but Dang Mi-ju’s intentions and the methods she employed.
Most beautiful women wield their prettiness like a weapon. But this one understands that deliberately muting her beauty produces an even greater effect.
Seomun Hwan watched her closely, wine cup still held to his lips.
Simple martial robes, restrained makeup, modest posture. On the surface she merely looked neat and pure, but in truth every detail had been meticulously calculated.
Restrained beauty always left space for the imagination. That space granted the viewer fantasies.
Forced attention fades quickly, but interest born from curiosity lingers far longer.
She knew her own weapon perfectly and understood exactly how to wield it for maximum impact.
Her name tag might be silver, but on a real battlefield she would prove far more troublesome than the rigidly upright Namgung Cheon-hwi.
His evaluation of her rose naturally.
Having thought that far, he returned her greeting.
“Thank you for last time. Thanks to you, I was able to escape that crisis.”
He was referring to the sound transmission she had sent him during their first meeting at the Tang Clan, warning him to beware Dang Mun-yeong.
Dang Mi-ju smiled softly.
“In the end, it was unnecessary meddling on my part. You were already several moves ahead of my brother Mun-yeong, Young Master. As proof…”
Her gaze flicked briefly to the golden name tag on Seomun Hwan’s chest.
“You rose straight to the gold rank. And at an unprecedented speed, no less.”
“What does speed matter? Fast or slow, arriving is all that counts. From where I stand, you also… appear more than qualified.”
This was not mere flattery.
The fact that Dang Mi-ju held a silver tag meant she had failed to pass the fifth gate in the previous test, yet to Seomun Hwan she did not fall short of Namgung Cheon-hwi in any way.
Or perhaps… she failed on purpose?
Curious now, he tested the waters with a light probe.
“Did you know? Those who hide their deficiencies grow stronger, but those who hide their sufficiency learn to control the world.”
“……”
Dang Mi-ju merely smiled without answering.
Yet behind that smile, for the briefest instant, something sharp as a needle tip flashed—tension.
That single reaction was enough for Seomun Hwan to be certain.
She did fail on purpose.
Hiding her talent, restraining her beauty, diminishing her fame.
It was not simple humility. It was quiet ambition.
By removing the flashy elements, the eyes around her naturally turned toward the center. By lowering herself, others raised her up of their own accord.
What a clever approach.
There are many pretty girls, but few who can pretend they aren’t.
Dang Mi-ju understood how to swim against the current of the world’s expectations.
It was the way of the strong—one that transcended mere grace or wisdom.
Even in this moment, she was showing only half her hand.
Seomun Hwan didn’t dislike that fox-like worldly wisdom.
In his previous life he would have claimed her without hesitation; if that proved impossible, he would have discarded her just as cleanly.
But now…
The murim will soon plunge into chaos. Simply cutting down enemies won’t be enough to survive. It’s wise to keep a blade of this kind close at hand.
It was while Seomun Hwan and Dang Mi-ju were quietly weaving that subtle atmosphere between them.
Creak!
The sound of the door opening rang out.
Less than half an hour had passed since Seomun Hwan’s arrival, yet another person had reached this place.
“Already? So soon again?”
Even though they had only cleared the third gate, the timing was shockingly early.
What was even more astonishing was that the newcomer also wore a gleaming golden name tag on their chest.
Upon confirming it, Yeongho Jun actually cried out.
“Does this even make sense? How can there be two of them…?”
The one who opened the door and strode forward was a giant of a man who looked nearly seven feet tall, built like a massive boulder.
He had a sharply angled jaw, deeply tanned skin, and strikingly clear features.
Strapped across his back was a greatsword as long as he was tall.
His appearance alone made his origin easy to guess.
“The Moyong Clan…”
One of the Five Great Noble Families, a prestigious house.
They were not originally central plains people, but carried the bloodline of the Xianbei nomadic horsemen.
On average they possessed large frames, broad bones, and skin burned dark by wind and sun.
Their martial arts differed greatly from the splendid, elegant styles of the central plains.
There were no flashy movements or lofty martial etiquette. Only killing techniques tempered in real combat remained.
The swords of the Moyong Clan never returned to their sheaths without tasting blood, and their arrows could pierce an enemy’s heart even beneath the night sky.
To them, martial arts were not a path of cultivation but an instinct for survival.
True to his northern roots, the man spoke in a blunt, low voice.
“Nice to meet you. I am Moyong Gwang.”
With that, Moyong Gwang dropped heavily into one of the remaining seats as if the matter held no particular interest for him.
“……”
“……”
Yeongho Jun’s self-mocking laugh spoke for everyone present.
“Ah… haha. So I really was just a frog in a well.”
This time, exactly three people had safely passed the test.
Following Seomun Hwan and Moyong Gwang, the third to enter was Hwangbo Myeong-ju.
To borrow Yeongho Jun’s phrasing, a very “healthy-looking” woman—in other words, she was stout.
Her build seemed to rival even Moyong Gwang’s.
She arrived a full two hours after him, yet she wore a white name tag.
After seeing two golden tags in succession, the people in the room let out sighs of inexplicable relief.
The moment Hwangbo Myeong-ju stepped inside, she made straight for Namgung Cheon-hwi.
“Young Master!!”
Each time she ran, the floor thumped as though it might collapse.
Namgung Cheon-hwi flinched, but he hid it as best he could and greeted her with perfect politeness.
“Miss Hwangbo. It has been a long time.”
A trace of tension unusual for him.
Whether she noticed or not, Hwangbo Myeong-ju spoke with unrestrained delight.
“Young Master still shines so brightly! You are the hero who lives in my heart!”
The room fell into brief silence.
Namgung Cheon-hwi’s face flushed red. The others coughed or turned their heads, trying to conceal their awkwardness.
Gu Ja-yun whistled softly.
“If we’re talking courage, hers is definitely gold rank. I mean it.”
Hwangbo Myeong-ju, however, had no sense of tact whatsoever. Or rather, she was the type who simply never bothered with such things.
Yeongho Jun whispered quietly to Seomun Hwan.
“They say Miss Hwangbo took the wrong medicinal tonic as a child. It made her healthier than anyone else, but her mind is a bit…”
“Ah.”
Hwangbo Myeong-ju was twenty years old this year, yet her intellect remained at roughly the level of a seven-year-old.
She moved more by instinct than reason.
The story of how she had fallen for Namgung Cheon-hwi at first sight and continued chasing after him was already famous throughout the central plains.
It was unfortunate for Hwangbo Myeong-ju, but Namgung Cheon-hwi was all but certain to become the next head of the Namgung Clan.
Becoming his wife would mean becoming the clan matriarch.
What sane clan would want someone like Hwangbo Myeong-ju in that role?
“Truly an impossible love.”
“Exactly. And there’s one more impossible love.”
Yeongho Jun gave Dang Mi-ju a meaningful look.
“Our Heavenly Dragon has his heart set on the Poison Beauty, Miss Dang.”
Hwangbo Myeong-ju liked Namgung Cheon-hwi, and Namgung Cheon-hwi longed for Dang Mi-ju.
The arrows of affection had missed their marks entirely.
Seomun Hwan asked curiously.
“Why? Is there some issue with Miss Dang too?”
“Not at all. The problem is the family. To become a son-in-law of the Tang Clan, you must agree to be a live-in son-in-law without exception.”
“Ah, so that’s what you meant.”
Every clan valued its secret techniques, but the Tang Clan took it to extremes.
To protect their poison formulas and hidden weapon designs, they rarely allowed family members to leave.
Therefore every man who married a Tang daughter had to enter the clan himself.
But Namgung Cheon-hwi was the future head of the Namgung Clan. He could never become a live-in son-in-law.
Hence the term “impossible love.”
“Still, it isn’t only Young Master Namgung. Plenty of young masters across the central plains have fallen lovesick over Miss Dang. So you’d better watch yourself too.”
Despite his warning, flames seemed to flicker in Yeongho Jun’s eyes every time he looked at Dang Mi-ju.
The real purpose behind such remarks was probably to thin out the competition.
Interesting fellow.
Yeongho Jun was a genius of the Mount Hua Sect as well.
Beneath his light, casual manner surely lay a razor-sharp blade.
The murim truly is vast.
At the very least, the later-generation talents gathered for the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly all surpassed Seomun Hwan’s strict standards.
It was fortunate that thirty years of peace had not allowed their blades to rust completely.
But even so, it’s still not enough.
At that moment, Moyong Gwang—who had remained completely silent since entering—suddenly spoke to Seomun Hwan.
“You are Young Master Seomun Hwan, correct? The rumors say you received personal instruction from Taeheo Singeom.”
“That is correct.”
“Is Taeheo Singeom in good health?”
At the question, Seomun Hwan recalled the Taeheo Singeom from his memories.
The disheveled, demon-like figure who had clung on desperately until the very end.
The only martial artist he had ever acknowledged back when he believed no one under heaven could match him.
“…He is not well. The wounds he suffered in his battle against the Phantom Demon have yet to heal.”
“Is that so? How badly was he injured…?”
“He barely clung to life. He disregarded his own survival to launch a single decisive strike.”
“Hah!”
“Yet it was precisely because of that resolve that he survived at all.”
The secret behind how Taeheo Singeom had managed to pierce the Phantom Demon’s illusion arts and land that blow.
He had understood that his own skill could never overcome the Phantom Demon’s techniques.
At the time, the Phantom Demon’s illusions had reached a level capable of deceiving both heaven and earth.
Nothing seen, nothing heard, no sensation at all could be trusted.
Therefore Taeheo Singeom had…
Slashed his own eyes and shattered his eardrums with his sword.
Without sight, hearing, or any other sense, he had charged forward with the single pure intent of cutting down the Phantom Demon.
A will that transcended life and death.
Thanks to that, he had been able to inflict a serious wound.
So even if the rumors are true and he still lives, he would be little more than a cripple.
Eardrums could heal with time, but eyes and a severed arm could not.
After falling from a cliff in that condition, even Seomun Hwan had judged his survival nearly impossible.
Unless multiple strokes of heavenly fortune had aligned.