Divine Condor Hero (5)
There are medicines in this world that no one should ever dare to touch.
Among them, the most notorious is the Latent Explosion Pill.
It resembles a piece of red jade, but once swallowed, it awakens dormant blood vessels and grants an explosive surge of power, as if heaven and earth themselves were splitting open.
A miraculous drug that temporarily bestows speed, inner energy, and reaction time far beyond one’s normal limits.
Yet the miracle never lasts.
When the effects fade, the body collapses under the recoil of a force it was never meant to contain. Muscles tear, blood vessels burst, and meridians twist into knots.
In the best case, the victim suffers months of lost cultivation. More often, they collapse where they stand. In the worst cases, they are left crippled for life—or simply die.
This is why the martial world calls it the Defying Heaven Medicine.
A drug that defies the will of the heavens.
The final spark that consumes the one who ignites it.
Yet some see opportunity within that spark.
A life-staking strike.
A single blade capable of felling an overlord.
What Jongli Hyeok had swallowed was exactly that.
“Kugh! I was saving this to crush Namgung Cheon-hwi, yet I’ve been forced to waste it on the likes of you!”
His face, lips bitten bloody as he growled, was a twisted mask of humiliation and rage.
Even as he spoke, Jongli Hyeok knew the truth.
He could not win.
That was why he had taken the pill without hesitation.
“I will bring you down!”
Boom!
The moment his foot stamped the ground, the earth overturned. The surface exploded, sending shards flying in every direction. From the center of the blast, crimson energy surged upward.
This is it! This is real power!
Jongli Hyeok trembled with a strength he had never felt before. His heart thundered. The qi and blood throughout his body roared like flames. They churned like a savage river, raging through his meridians with mad abandon.
This was the power he had always craved. The path that let him cast everything aside and stand above all others.
His breathing grew ragged.
Yet instead of pain, he felt only ecstasy. Even as his body burned from within, the sensation was exhilarating.
I had reserved this power for Namgung Cheon-hwi, but against the successor of Kunlun it should be more than enough, Seomun Hwan!
Jongli Hyeok laughed with grotesque delight. Killing intent flooded the hand gripping his sword as memories of that day’s humiliation resurfaced in layers.
Eliminated at the third gate of the Dragon-Phoenix Conference.
From that moment, the eyes of the world had changed. Among the young masters of the Murim, his name no longer rose. Even those who once spoke of him in the same breath as Namgung Cheon-hwi turned their heads away.
From that day on, he had felt as though he had fallen into a bottomless abyss.
But right now, every last person who looked down on me will witness my true worth!
Jongli Hyeok lowered his stance like a beast and drew forth even more power. The devastating force gathered at his toes. The ground warped. Crimson energy rose from his feet, and then—
“Haaaaat!”
A charge like a storm. His sword cleaved the air as it hurtled forward. The razor-sharp momentum of the strike aimed at Seomun Hwan spread in all directions.
The more the sword light rampaged, the harsher Jongli Hyeok’s breathing became. With every step the ground exploded. His inner energy poured out like a waterfall.
The crowd held its breath.
What unfolded before them was no longer a simple spar. It looked like a duel to the death. Jongli Hyeok’s aura was murderous, his techniques brutally violent.
Everyone watching was stunned.
“Is that really Jongli Hyeok?”
“With skill like that, how did he get eliminated from the Dragon-Phoenix Conference?”
“Exactly. Honestly, I think he could give even Namgung Cheon-hwi a decent fight right now…”
Gasps of admiration and shock rippled outward.
No one knew about the Latent Explosion Pill. None realized the power he displayed was not his own.
Jongli Hyeok did not stop. His body felt impossibly light, his sword moved exactly as he willed it. Energy blazed from him, sending ripples through the air that made the atmosphere itself tremble.
Woooong—!
“Haha! What do you think, Seomun Hwan? Is that all the so-called divine talent of Kunlun is worth?!”
His sword poured down from every angle in a frenzied dance that had abandoned all fundamentals. Paradoxically, its very wildness made it even more dangerous.
Seomun Hwan remained silent. He had not drawn his sword. He simply dodged.
Whenever Jongli Hyeok’s blade flashed past like lightning, Seomun Hwan’s feet shifted only half a step, as though gently brushing aside a handful of sand. The straight thrust that should have pierced him met only empty air. The momentum yanked Jongli Hyeok’s own shoulder backward with a violent jerk.
“Huk! Huk! You damn rat!”
After more than ten exchanges, Jongli Hyeok’s breathing grew labored. Damp heat rose from his robes, clinging to his arms. His fingertips went numb and stiff.
The more it happened, the deeper he clawed for power. As his inner energy erupted upward, his sword path grew even more savage. Every time his footing faltered, his dantian boiled like molten iron, yet Seomun Hwan merely tilted his head, letting the killing intent slide harmlessly past.
Each straight strike that brushed by stirred only the wind against his collar. Not once did the tip of a sword or finger touch him.
Only then did Jongli Hyeok realize something was terribly wrong.
Why? Why won’t it hit? With this much power, even if it were Namgung Cheon-hwi…
He swung desperately, but the result remained the same. Dozens of exchanges. Hundreds. A completely one-sided assault. Yet Seomun Hwan never once looked threatened.
He had not drawn his sword at all.
He simply twisted, evaded, and flowed like water. One step ahead in retreat, one step ahead in claiming space.
This… is impossible.
The limits of the borrowed power drew near. The raging sensation in his qi veins began to cool. His fingertips trembled. His legs staggered.
No! It’s not over yet!
Jongli Hyeok ignited his final flame.
“Stop running! Fight me, Seomun Hwan!!”
He twisted his sword and unleashed lethal techniques. A straight thrust aimed at the heart. A flash meant to sever the neck. These were not moves for a spar—they carried genuine killing intent.
The surrounding martial artists stiffened.
“That was a killing move.”
“Using lethal techniques in a spar… He’s gone mad.”
“If it had gone wrong, Seomun Hwan could have died.”
Yet that ferocious sword never touched so much as the hem of Seomun Hwan’s robe.
Seomun Hwan did not fall. Jongli Hyeok, however, felt a burning thirst and dizzying vertigo.
Is my power… fading?
The energy that had burned so hot gradually dimmed. His body grew heavy. Strength drained from his legs. His hands shook. The sword began to tremble uncontrollably.
No, I can still do more. This is only temporary…
Then a voice spoke.
“What a fool, doing foolish things.”
It was a languid, unpleasantly relaxed voice.
At the sound of it, Jongli Hyeok’s steps halted. The world spun. His mind reeled. Breath caught in his throat.
When he looked up, Seomun Hwan was still looking down at him, sword undrawn.
“It was quite impressive. Those frenzied stances full of madness, those strikes laden with killing intent…”
Seomun Hwan chuckled as though genuinely entertained and clapped once.
Clap!
“You make an excellent clown.”
Jongli Hyeok’s knees buckled. The sword slipped from his fingers. The crimson energy vanished. His fingertips froze. His legs lost all sensation.
Seomun Hwan took one step closer. His eyes were as cold as glacial ice.
“The Latent Explosion Pill. A very dangerous substance, isn’t it?”
He raised his voice so the entire arena could hear.
“That you used it during a spar, and that you still could not defeat me even after using it—the entire Kangho has witnessed it.”
The arena stirred at once.
“It was the Latent Explosion Pill?”
“He’s insane! He actually used that?”
“Even staking his life, he still lost.”
“That’s supposed to be the next leader of the Jongnam Sect? How laughable.”
Countless gazes pierced Jongli Hyeok—cold, pitying, mocking, contemptuous.
“How… did this happen?”
Whether he could hear their voices or not, Jongli Hyeok struggled to force his unresponsive body upright.
“Why is my strength disappearing?”
“Kuhaha! What an idiot. Did you really swallow the Latent Explosion Pill without knowing its side effects?”
A medicine that granted such immense power could not possibly lack backlash. Whoever had given it to Jongli Hyeok must have hidden or greatly minimized the consequences.
“Tsk tsk. You won’t be able to move anymore. Your qi veins swelled until they nearly burst, and after a certain point they began to collapse.”
“Cough!”
Jongli Hyeok finally vomited blood. The damage might be so severe that he would never wield martial arts again.
Yet Seomun Hwan’s eyes held neither pity nor mercy.
After steadying his breath, he slowly turned and walked toward the spectators. The man who had not drawn his sword once during the entire spar captured every eye with a single step.
“Today’s match was not a simple personal grudge.”
Seomun Hwan spoke calmly.
“As one who carries the nameplate of the Dragon-Phoenix Conference, I merely wished to display an attitude befitting its weight.”
He deliberately avoided mentioning Jongli Hyeok’s name. The rhetoric emphasized that this fight had not been against a person, but a statement about something greater.
“Questions and challenges toward the Dragon-Phoenix Conference can arise at any time. No test can ever be perfect. However, today I believe I have proven one thing.”
Seomun Hwan raised a hand and tapped his scabbard lightly.
“Weapons do not shine only in the hands of the strong. Sometimes the one who refrains from drawing his sword speaks far more eloquently.”
The eyes of the crowd wavered. They were beginning to realize this had not been about victory or defeat, but about a far greater and wider difference in character.
“The Kangho is constantly changing. In the midst of that change, the true standard is not power itself, but the mindset of those who wield it.”
Seomun Hwan swept his gaze across the audience and concluded.
“The Dragon-Phoenix Conference exists to find that standard. And it will continue to fulfill that role in the future… so that people who lose their way, like this, do not appear again.”
Clap… Clap… Clap, clap, clap!
When someone began to applaud, the rest of the crowd followed. The sound soon filled the entire arena. In the center of that thunderous applause, Seomun Hwan stood quietly yet unmistakably tall.
Dang Mi-ju, watching from behind, smiled faintly.
Quite the impressive maneuver.
Had he tried to exalt only himself, the applause might eventually have turned to envy and ridicule. The Kangho was stingy with those who flaunted themselves but generous toward those who shone through others.
Seomun Hwan had seen through that perfectly. Rather than raising himself directly, he had lifted the entire stage of the Dragon-Phoenix Conference, naturally drawing all eyes to himself at its center.
The applause may be for the Dragon-Phoenix Conference, but every gaze is fixed on you.
Dang Mi-ju murmured the thought to herself and smiled softly.
There were many talents in the Kangho, but they fell into two categories: those who sought to dominate the world through martial prowess, and those who shook the board through understanding and timely intervention. The former were merely annoying as enemies. The latter were dangerous.
Seomun Hwan was clearly the latter.
He smiled now, but that smile could turn sharper than any blade at any moment.
That is why we must either make use of him… or draw a clear line.
Her eyes narrowed. Behind her admiration lay cold calculation, and behind that calculation, a certain intrigued wariness.
Funnily enough, Seomun Hwan and Dang Mi-ju had reached nearly identical conclusions about each other.
Clatter. Clatter.
By the time the Dragon-Phoenix Conference schedule had ended and they were on the road home, Seomun Hwan was, as always, lounging lazily inside the carriage.
Whether the world shook or chaos erupted across the Kangho, he remained perfectly at ease.
The silence was broken by an unexpected question from So-dam, who had been sitting quietly beside him.
“…By the way, Young Master.”
“Hm?”
Seomun Hwan didn’t even turn his head. He answered with his eyes only half-open.
“…Why am I here?”
The question was simple, yet it carried a tangle of emotions—curiosity, wariness, and the faintest thread of expectation.
So-dam kept her head lowered as she continued.
“I only happened to sell one waistband… I’m not anyone special.”
Seomun Hwan answered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Did you forget?”
“…Pardon?”
“I told you I would buy everything from you.”
So-dam’s face went blank for a moment. Then she lifted her head and stared at him.
“Was that… what you meant?”
“That’s why, when doing business, one must calculate accurately.”
Seomun Hwan grinned and rolled onto his side.
So-dam let out a deep sigh and clutched her head.
“Young Master… you really were born for this. You have the soul of a swindler.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I’m being serious.”
So-dam grumbled, but her tone was soft. If she had truly hated the situation, she would never have climbed into this carriage in the first place.
Seomun Hwan knew that perfectly well. So he smiled faintly and said,
“Don’t worry. I don’t intend to simply use you. In return, I’ll teach you something good.”
“Something good? What is it?”
“Those glasses of yours. I can help you use your eyes properly without them.”
So-dam touched the frame of her glasses, visibly startled. For once, neither bravado nor sarcasm came from her lips.
She remained silent for a moment, then asked carefully,
“Is that… really possible?”
“Do I look like someone who makes impossible promises?”
A short silence fell.
So-dam turned her gaze to the window. Her eyes held conflict and fear, yet also an indelible spark of hope.
Seomun Hwan watched her quietly, then spoke again.
“By the way…”
So-dam turned back to him.
“What is your surname?”
His tone was light, carrying no particular emotion. It sounded like nothing more than a bored, casual question.
Yet the moment the words left his mouth, the atmosphere inside the carriage changed completely.
So-dam’s pupils trembled subtly. Her fingertips twitched. She closed her mouth and lowered her gaze for a moment.
“…Why are you asking that?”
“We’re going to be family from now on. I should at least know your surname.”
So-dam gave no answer. But the sound of her quietly drawing a deep breath was audible.
“If you truly don’t want to say it, you don’t have to. There’s no need to reveal anything you wish to keep hidden.”
Seomun Hwan still hadn’t opened his eyes, yet his voice was impossibly gentle.
So-dam hesitated a little longer, then finally spoke.
“…It’s Jegal. Jegal So-dam.”
The name carried old scars, a destroyed clan, and roots that had long been buried in shadow.