Defying the Silver Tempest
The late-stage disciples trapped within the silver flash stood frozen like statues.
Any movement would surely invite a direct hit from the Jamochim Dang Jihwa had unleashed.
Her Mother-Child Needles curved around the disciples in an eerie dance.
Dang Jihwa repeatedly fired dozens of needles only to recall them again, her hidden weapons weaving an intricate pattern through the air.
Upon closer inspection, the formation she had traced in the void was a genuine array, complete with paths of life and paths of death.
Even as the disciples hesitated, the Jamochim continued to streak through the air without pause.
Whoosh. Whoosh!
As long as they remained still, the late-stage disciples appeared safe.
The real problem was fear.
Once that emotion crossed its limit, the thread of reason snapped instantly.
The same held true for them.
Several disciples, gripped by terror, instinctively stepped backward.
One who retreated only a few paces collapsed on the spot.
Thud!
At the sight of his fallen comrade, Mu Ilho shouted.
“Maintain formation, everyone!”
But that was only the beginning.
One by one, the disciples trying to retreat in fear dropped to the ground.
The examiners turned to Wang Jimak in panic, their lips twitching as rapidly as the number of hidden weapons Dang Jihwa launched.
They seemed to be silently asking whether they should intervene.
Yet Wang Jimak’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.
He watched Dang Jihwa handle the disciples as though observing a fire across the river.
“As expected of the Sichuan Tang Clan.”
“Are you just going to stand there and watch?” Gudo Mosang asked, unable to hold back.
Wang Jimak tilted his head.
“What can I do when everything follows the Murim Alliance’s rules?”
“If you keep clinging to principles like this—”
Mosang’s words cut off.
One of the disciples who had been hiding at the rear suddenly charged into the silver flash.
The sight resembled a pitiful rabbit leaping into a wolf pack.
More accurately, it was like a foolish moth hurling itself toward a flame.
Dang Jihwa’s hidden weapons already dominated every direction—yet someone was rushing straight into the heart of it!
While everyone stood stunned, the silver flash Dang Jihwa had created expanded its reach.
She had increased the number of hidden weapons.
Just as the examiners watched with worried eyes, a single streak of sword qi shone alone amid the accumulated silver light.
Swish!
The fleeting line resembled a beauty’s eyebrow.
More and more elegant lines appeared within the silver flash—Jang Muhwi’s sword paths.
His blade was not particularly fast.
Yet it subtly altered the trajectories of the silver flash.
Slide.
Jang Muhwi deflected the Jamochim Dang Jihwa had fired using his sword.
He continued advancing step by step.
Meanwhile, another disciple attempting to retreat collapsed.
Thud.
But Jang Muhwi did not falter.
He pressed forward at a steady, unhurried pace.
When he finally stopped, the remaining disciples looked around.
In that instant, their pupils dilated to their limits.
The silver flash of Jamochim Dang Jihwa had been firing had vanished without a trace.
What they saw instead was the back of a single man.
The sight of him holding a scabbard felt strangely familiar.
The most shocked among them was Mu Ilho, standing at the very front. His gaze trembled slightly.
He was genuinely surprised to learn there existed a late-stage disciple more skilled than himself.
“What in the world…”
He could not believe that someone else had stopped the Tang Clan’s Jamochim—a technique that had rendered even him immobile.
Yet the moment passed quickly. He swiftly gripped his sword.
The other disciples did the same.
Those who had been frozen in fear only moments ago now regained their composure and assumed defensive stances.
At that moment, the man holding the scabbard—Jang Muhwi—took another step forward.
Simultaneously, Dang Jihwa raised her hand.
After staring at Jang Muhwi for a brief moment, she released her aura and stepped forward.
“Not bad. I never expected to find someone capable of blocking my Jamochim.”
Her tone had shifted abruptly, her voice as cold as a blade.
All eyes turned to Jang Muhwi.
He spoke with a calm expression.
“It is thanks to Senior’s leniency. I was merely fortunate.”
“You blocked the Tang Clan’s Jamochim with luck alone? Just luck… Are you asking me to believe that? How audacious.”
“…”
Instead of answering, Jang Muhwi lowered his head slightly and examined the numerous Jamochim embedded in his scabbard.
Even the Jamochim, hailed by martial artists as the perfect hidden weapon, possessed a method of neutralization.
Jang Muhwi had heard of it in his previous life.
From a direct descendant of the Tang Clan, no less.
To ordinary eyes, all Jamochim appeared identical, yet in truth they were divided into two types: child needles and mother needles.
The mother needles possessed an attractive force toward the child needles, while identical needles repelled one another.
This was because Jamochim were crafted from a special lodestone.
They did not react to ordinary metal.
They only influenced other Jamochim of the same type.
Masters of the Tang Clan’s hidden weapons utilized these properties to execute their techniques.
The repulsive and attractive forces between the two types created the illusion of objects moving through empty space.
Who could possibly resist someone freely manipulating objects with inner energy?
Yet the neutralization method was surprisingly simple.
One merely needed to use either a mother or child needle to attract or repel the incoming projectiles.
Jang Muhwi had embedded deflected mother needles into his scabbard and let the rest slide past.
Of course, several child needles remained stuck in the scabbard.
Dang Jihwa’s brow furrowed as she regarded him.
She did not believe he knew the neutralization method.
She could only assume he had used some clever trick, blocking the sharp needles with a soft object.
But that was no longer the issue.
Her expression changed.
Whether by luck or skill, the fact that a young late-stage disciple had stopped the Tang Clan’s Jamochim had touched a nerve.
While the brief exchange between the two took place, everyone stood with mouths agape.
Even the examiners were astonished by Jang Muhwi’s swordsmanship.
They believed he had read the trajectory of the Tang Clan’s Jamochim through some mystical technique.
In contrast to Dang Jihwa’s fierce demeanor, Wang Jimak’s lips curved into a smile.
“Could we have blocked the Jamochim at that age? Isn’t that boy’s swordsmanship remarkable?”
“Hmm.”
Gudo Mosang quickly pressed his index finger to his lips.
It was a warning not to provoke Dang Jihwa further.
Wang Jimak shrugged and pointed at her.
“It seems we’re already too late.”
In that instant, the examiners’ eyes widened.
Dang Jihwa’s aura had shifted. Her expression had grown so menacing that it bordered on sinister.
Under everyone’s gaze, she casually lifted a bundle from the table.
The examiners swallowed dryly.
Dang Jihwa spread the white bundle across the table.
Inside lay the hidden weapons of the Sichuan Tang Clan.
Not only weapons, but also colorful bottles came into view.
The examiners’ jaws dropped.
They recognized at a glance the hidden weapons and poisons of the Sichuan Tang Clan that had been displayed days earlier.
The late-stage disciples recognized the Tang Clan’s poisons as well.
Most of them exchanged nervous glances, all wearing expressions of disbelief as they looked at Dang Jihwa.
They had heard rumors, but none had expected her to actually employ poison arts.
After observing the surrounding reactions, Dang Jihwa spoke.
“From now on, I shall test you in earnest. You all know my epithet, don’t you?”
“…”
No one answered.
Who did not know that her epithet was Poison Flower?
Dang Jihwa continued nonchalantly.
“Then you won’t mind if I add a little poison, will you?”
Her tone had returned to its usual self.
With an expressionless face, she opened the lid of a bottle.
Click!
At the same time, she unfurled the leather scroll embedded with hidden weapons.
Holding the scroll, she folded it once more.
In that brief moment, the bottle’s lid closed again.
Though it seemed as if nothing had happened, a great deal had transpired.
While unfurling the scroll, Dang Jihwa had deposited all the hidden weapons into the bottle.
Then, as she folded the scroll, she retrieved the weapons and sealed the bottle—all in a single breath.
The examiners smacked their lips at the sight.
It felt as though they were watching the practiced hands of a seasoned gambler.
One of the examiners spoke.
“The Tang Clan’s hidden weapon techniques are no empty reputation.”
“Indeed.”
While everyone stared at Dang Jihwa in astonishment, Jang Muhwi stepped forward.
“Senior, may we pass now?”
“They say a newborn puppy knows no fear of tigers… I never expected to see one here. If you wish, come at me, all of you!”
With those words, Dang Jihwa wrapped the leather scroll around her waist.
The pouch was a container for storing hidden weapons.
It was as good as a declaration that she would now employ poison arts.
At that moment, Jang Muhwi bowed his head slightly.
“I gratefully accept your guidance.”
The examiners’ eyes widened at his action.
It appeared as though he was deliberately provoking Dang Jihwa.
After speaking, Jang Muhwi began walking forward at a leisurely pace.
Step. Step.
His unhurried gait seemed to taunt her, as if inviting her to fire her hidden weapons.
Dang Jihwa’s lips curled upward at the sight.
Then it happened.
Her sleeve fluttered slightly.
At the same time, a gust of wind flowed from her cuff.
Witnessing the scene, Wang Jimak cried out in shock.
“Hajeobbi!”
What Dang Jihwa had just launched was the Hajeobbi—Butterfly Flying Daggers—an exclusive hidden weapon passed down only to select direct descendants of the Tang Clan.
The Hajeobbi possessed a single defining trait.
They would not stop until they struck their target.
It was a weapon perfectly suited to the Tang Clan’s nature—creatures that found satisfaction only after drawing blood.
Though shaped like butterflies, they concealed the fangs of wolves.
Even more terrifying was the fact that the Hajeobbi she had fired carried poison.
The butterfly-shaped weapon left her hand and drifted slowly toward Jang Muhwi.
Its movement was so natural that, had one seen it in a field, it would have been mistaken for an ordinary butterfly.
Only the disciples watching from behind tilted their heads in confusion.
While everyone stood stunned, Mu Ilho rushed forward urgently, extending his sword.
“I’ll handle it. Fall back.”
In an instant, he positioned himself in front of Jang Muhwi.
Mu Ilho was furious with himself.
It was not merely the humiliation of being bested by Dang Jihwa that angered him.
He knew himself well.
He was not foolish enough to misjudge the gap between himself and Dang Jihwa.
Yet the fact that someone he had never considered had stepped forward and stopped the Tang Clan’s Jamochim—a feat he himself could not accomplish—was something he could not accept.
And that person had not even shown fear before Dang Jihwa.
It was not a matter of martial prowess; even in presence, he had been outmatched.
Could he have done the same?
Mu Ilho could not be certain.
At that moment, the Hajeobbi reached Mu Ilho.
Its speed was not particularly fast.
He felt confident he could cut it down.
He swung his sword with the intent to cleave it in two.
Swish!
In that instant, the Hajeobbi trembled slightly and evaded his blade, abruptly changing direction.
It surged toward his face.
Precisely toward his eyes.
Mu Ilho quickly retreated.
But the Hajeobbi changed direction again.
If this continued, the poisoned weapon would strike his eye.
In the blink of an eye, the poisoned Hajeobbi closed in on Mu Ilho’s left eye.
It was a hair’s breadth from embedding itself!
A hand shot out and caught the Hajeobbi.
Startled, Mu Ilho turned to see the owner of the hand.
There stood Jang Muhwi, smiling faintly.