The Divine Condor Hero
Seomun Hwan’s provocative remark poured oil onto the already heated atmosphere of the clearing.
In an instant, murmurs erupted from all directions. The eyes of those who had failed the Dragon-Phoenix Conference test burned with furious flames.
Each of them, nursing deep wounds to their pride, glared at one another while breathing heavily.
“He’s saying he’ll fight all of us?”
Voices muttered in disbelief, and several clenched their fists, openly displaying their agitation.
Most of them were young martial artists of the gangho who clung fiercely to their pride. The current mood was cracking that pride wide open.
The first to step forward was a man whose gray robes bore a vivid Taiji symbol.
The emblem of the Wudang Sect.
“……Can you take responsibility for those words?”
His face was flushed with anger, yet his tone remained as restrained as a well-controlled martial art.
Seomun Hwan turned his head to look at him.
“Wudang Sect… So you’re a junior brother of Hyon-jong, I take it?”
“I am Hyon-hak. I acknowledge the mistake with the Strange Gate Formation. However, using that single error to dismiss all of us as ‘nothing special’ is nothing short of arrogance!”
Seomun Hwan raised one eyebrow slightly.
“Arrogance, you say… I merely spoke the truth.”
“You claim you can defeat all these people by yourself? Are you really going to spout such absurd nonsense?!”
Hyon-hak’s face twisted, but Seomun Hwan remained utterly calm.
“Of course. If you wish, I can prove it with my sword rather than words.”
“You—! I can endure no more! If you’re so confident, face me first! I am Hyon-hak of Wudang! I request a spar with you!”
At those words, Seomun Hwan turned his head slightly and glanced at Hyon-jong.
“He’s asking so nicely. Would it be all right if I take him on?”
Hyon-jong looked momentarily flustered before nodding.
“……I ask that you teach my unworthy junior brother a lesson.”
“Heh heh! Very well.”
Having received Hyon-jong’s reluctant permission, Seomun Hwan slowly stepped forward.
“This should be enough for a warm-up.”
“Ugh! You’ll regret those words!”
Hyon-hak slowly drew his sword and assumed a ready stance.
The Taiji Sword Art of Wudang.
Rather than relying on overwhelming power or speed, it was a renowned style that emphasized soft, flexible responses—countering the opponent’s attacks with the principle of striking second while moving first.
As Hyon-hak refined his posture and slowly swung his sword, circular trajectories traced through the air.
Seomun Hwan watched the movement for a moment, then untied the belt wrapped around his waist.
Clack.
From the end of the long, dangling sash, a pure white blade emerged.
Hyon-hak’s eyes narrowed.
“A soft sword?”
A soft sword was a weapon that could stretch like a whip yet ripple as smoothly as silk. Because the blade bent to an extreme degree, it could strike from countless angles, making it nearly impossible for an opponent to predict where the next attack would come from.
However, straight cuts and thrusts were difficult, and its unpredictable center of gravity and rotation required advanced training and keen senses.
It was a weapon rarely seen in the Central Plains.
“It’s called the Cheongryu Sword.”
Its original name was Taratom, but he couldn’t very well use a foreign name. So he had named it after the meaning “blue current.”
“Do you truly believe you can defeat me with nothing more than the advantage of an unusual weapon?!”
A cavalry weapon was one that caught the opponent off guard with its unpredictability. If one got caught in unfamiliar techniques early on, they might lose embarrassingly—but once the flow was understood, it could be countered.
Hyon-hak, who knew this well, showed no fear even when facing a soft sword for the first time.
Seomun Hwan smiled as if the sight was adorable.
“A commendable mindset.”
“We’ll see if your skill matches your tongue.”
The two men stood facing each other.
A taut silence fell over the center of the clearing. The tension was so thick one could hear people swallowing.
Hyon-hak moved first.
He slowly raised his sword and executed the opening form of Wudang’s Taiji Sword Art.
The tip of his blade drew elegant circles, gathering energy.
Oooong—!
A stance that sought to create a flexible yet flawless defense according to the principles of Taiji.
A faint aura swirled around Hyon-hak, stirring the dust on the ground.
His eyes tracked Seomun Hwan’s every movement, searching for an opening.
Now!
In that instant, Hyon-hak kicked off the ground and charged toward Seomun Hwan with explosive speed.
The momentum of the Taiji Sword Art’s direct, frontal assault—aiming to crush the opponent head-on.
The tip of his circling sword shot toward Seomun Hwan’s upper body like lightning.
A wave-like trajectory that approached in flowing circles.
Several onlookers held their breath at Hyon-hak’s sword, which sought to end the match in a single strike.
Normally, the right to strike first belonged to those wielding long weapons like spears.
Yet Seomun Hwan stood completely still. Only at the very last moment, just before the sword reached him, did he smoothly twist his body.
A single wrist-powered strike.
Whirrr!
The Cheongryu Sword flowed in like rippling water, piercing straight into the circular path of Hyon-hak’s blade.
An unpredictable trajectory that completely ignored the rotational orbit of Taiji.
BAAAANG!
The deafening clash of metal against metal exploded outward.
Hyon-hak’s vision flashed white as he felt his sword bend sharply to the side.
With a single collision, his Taiji sword form had been shattered.
Seomun Hwan’s soft sword didn’t stop at parrying—it pressed forward with even greater ferocity.
From a movement as natural as flowing water, the speed suddenly shifted like a storm.
The soft sword shot toward Hyon-hak’s wide-open chest like an arrow.
“Ugh!!”
In that moment, Hyon-hak sensed death.
The rapidly approaching Cheongryu Sword would pierce straight through his body.
Fortunately, Hyon-hak did not die.
The soft sword had stopped dead, just a single knuckle’s distance from his body.
It hovered there like a viper eyeing its prey.
Staring at the blade right before his eyes, Hyon-hak’s face went deathly pale with shock.
“……Impossible.”
He barely managed to widen his eyes, accepting the reality with a face drained of color.
All of it had happened in the blink of an eye.
A single exchange.
No matter how one looked at it, it had been only one move.
Hyon-hak stared blankly back and forth between his sword and Seomun Hwan, unable to believe it.
Seomun Hwan smiled faintly and withdrew the Cheongryu Sword.
“It was a good match.”
The spar had ended far too easily.
Just like the matches against Moyong Gwang and Geum Tae-myeong—one strike and it was over.
Although a high-level exchange had occurred, those who practiced martial arts couldn’t even begin to grasp what had happened in that split second.
But one thing was crystal clear.
“Whoa… that’s insane.”
“Who the hell is that guy? From the Seomun Clan? Never heard of them.”
All eyes remained fixed on Seomun Hwan, who stood at the center of the clearing.
The overwhelming victory that had crushed Hyon-hak in a single strike.
No one could accurately describe the exchange they had just witnessed.
The only thing that lingered heavily in the air was the fact that even Wudang’s Taiji Sword Art had crumbled without being able to properly meet the tip of his blade.
“Just… who is that guy?”
“Seomun Clan? First time I’ve heard of it.”
“I’ve never seen soft sword techniques like that before. What sect’s martial art is that?”
Even those who had been quietly watching from the edges of the clearing began whispering their doubts and speculations.
He was clearly no ordinary martial artist.
The man who had boldly stepped forward claiming he would fight dozens of people alone with nothing but his sword.
It was then that a clear, jade-like voice cut through the crowd.
“You’re asking who Young Master Seomun Hwan is?”
Everyone instinctively turned their heads.
A woman stepped forward, her jade-colored silk skirt embroidered with red accents fluttering in the wind.
With each graceful step, her dazzling figure emerged.
Her attire was both ornate and refined, her features striking, and her stride confident.
It was the flower of the Tang Clan—Dang Mi-ju.
“I shall now reveal the identity of the young master you are all so curious about.”
All eyes turned simultaneously toward Dang Mi-ju and Seomun Hwan.
“Some of you may remember the Poison Emperor’s seventieth birthday celebration not long ago. At that event, my older brother, Dang Mun-yeong, politely requested a duel. The result was an overwhelmingly easy victory for Young Master Seomun.”
Her tone was calm, but the weight behind her words was anything but light.
Dang Mun-yeong had been a brilliant rising star considered a candidate for the next head of the Tang Clan.
To have defeated him so easily…
Dang Mi-ju paused briefly before continuing.
“Furthermore, Young Master Seomun is the sole disciple of Taeheo Singeom, who once led the Kunlun Sect.”
“……What?”
“Taeheo Singeom?”
A stir instantly swept through the crowd.
Taeheo Singeom.
Even decades later, the story of the man who had single-handedly held back the Heavenly Demon Cult was passed down like a legend.
A figure respected by every martial artist in the gangho.
“The sword Young Master Seomun learned is the final essence that Kunlun had preserved. The path he walks is the last flickering flame of a broken orthodox lineage. The Kunlun Sect, once thought to have vanished from the history of the murim. The one who carries on its legacy. The one known as Gonbung. He is none other than the Divine Condor Hero, Young Hero Seomun Hwan.”
The moment Dang Mi-ju’s final words fell, a heavy silence descended over the clearing.
No one could speak. No one could even breathe. They simply stared at Seomun Hwan in stunned silence.
And then…
“Wooooow!!!”
The crowd’s murmurs exploded like a dam bursting.
“The successor of Kunlun?!”
“Wait, I thought the Kunlun Sect had been destroyed?”
“No, I definitely heard that Gonbung had risen again!”
“Divine Condor Hero? That’s such a cool title!”
Hyon-hak, still unable to shake off the shock, collapsed to the ground and stared blankly at his sword.
Only now did he seem to understand just how insurmountable that single exchange had been.
Seomun Hwan paid the gazes no mind. He slowly wrapped the soft sword around his waist again and spoke.
“There are far too many useless rumors. You can forget all of them.”
He then smiled lightly and nodded toward Dang Mi-ju.
“I made you say more than necessary. Thank you.”
Dang Mi-ju smiled in return.
“If the murim had forgotten Kunlun, isn’t it about time they remembered?”
Seomun Hwan stood tall at the center of the clearing.
Dozens of martial artists surrounded him.
The blazing anger that had burned only moments ago had completely vanished. All that remained was silence and hesitation.
“……”
No one dared step forward.
Dang Mi-ju’s words and the astonishing strike from earlier had completely flipped the atmosphere.
Even those who had been clenching their fists and glaring furiously earlier were now glancing around nervously, staring only at their own feet.
Watching the scene, Jegal So-dam suddenly realized something.
No way… He really suppressed everyone by himself.
Defeating Hyon-hak was simply a fact.
But turning that fact into a legend wasn’t done with words—it was done with atmosphere.
Leaving a stronger impression by overwhelming dozens with a single match rather than winning ten separate fights.
In the eyes of the spectators right now, Seomun Hwan was the one who had made everyone submit without lifting a finger against most of them.
He didn’t actually fight them all. But everyone here truly believes he won by himself.
Jegal So-dam was momentarily speechless.
Instead of fighting, Seomun Hwan had chosen to show them.
And he had succeeded perfectly.
Could something like this simply be called deception?
It seemed more accurate to say that everyone had fallen into the trap of the Strange Gate Formation.
Without using any illusion arts, he had planted a massive illusion in everyone’s minds.
Realizing this, Jegal So-dam felt goosebumps rise on her arms and muttered to herself.
“There was an even bigger con artist here than me.”
The eyes and hearts of the people were already completely focused on Seomun Hwan.
Those gathered here had unconsciously begun to accept him as the center.
And that center was now about to bear its final fruit.
Seomun Hwan turned his head and looked at Jongli Hyeok.
“Now the only one left is you, Young Hero Jongli.”
At those words, the tension in the clearing surged once again.
In an instant, all eyes whipped around and locked onto Jongli Hyeok.
Jongli Hyeok flinched, his expression hardening like stone.
He said nothing, but deep in his eyes, something trembled violently.
He knew better than anyone.
That Seomun Hwan had completely destroyed the plan he had so carefully crafted.
“Ugh! You bastard!!”
Jongli Hyeok had originally planned to defeat Namgung Cheon-hwi and draw the attention of the entire murim.
If he could topple the heir of the Namgung Clan—the central pillar of the Dragon-Phoenix Conference—the eyes of the gangho would naturally turn toward him.
But that plan had been thoroughly twisted the moment an unexpected figure named Seomun Hwan appeared.
Jongli Hyeok ground his teeth.
Fury surged up from his chest like it was piercing his brain.
On the stage he had designed, the protagonist who should shine the brightest was supposed to be him.
Yet right now, the center of the board was occupied by Seomun Hwan.
“I can’t allow that.”
Shing!
With the sound of a sword leaving its sheath, Jongli Hyeok stepped forward.
Each step made the ground tremble.
His aura was vicious, and murderous intent flashed in his eyes.
“Fine. Since you’re so desperate, I’ll make sure you end as nothing more than the successor of Kunlun.”
Jongli Hyeok quickly pulled out a small black object he had hidden in his sleeve and swallowed it.
Gulp.
In that instant, everyone could feel his aura change.
The energy he suddenly emitted had more than doubled.
Even before, he had been an outstanding rising star who didn’t fall far behind the other Dragon-Phoenix Conference participants. But now, his internal energy had been amplified to rival that of veteran masters.
Seeing this, Seomun Hwan let out a small chuckle.
So that’s what he was relying on…
Jongli Hyeok had meticulously prepared this stage.
If Seomun Hwan hadn’t appeared, things would have gone exactly as he intended—he would have fought Namgung Cheon-hwi.
The question was whether Jongli Hyeok could actually defeat Namgung Cheon-hwi in a spar.
Even in Seomun Hwan’s opinion, Namgung Cheon-hwi possessed skill worthy of being called the greatest rising star.
This wasn’t a chaotic battlefield full of variables. In a one-on-one duel on a training ground, Jongli Hyeok would have no chance.
Jongli Hyeok might be a coward, but he wasn’t a fool.
He must have known full well that his skill fell short of Namgung Cheon-hwi’s.
Yet he had still boldly requested a duel…
So he was hiding something like the Explosive Origin Pill?
What he had just swallowed was a demonic medicine that forcibly drew out innate qi, multiplying one’s energy several times over for a short period.