The Yellow Dragon Waterfall
Jang Muhwi sat alone in his room, legs crossed in meditation.
Exactly three days had passed since his return from Pajuk Seonsaeng's residence.
Though he had come back to the family estate, neither his father nor his uncle asked him a single question. That silence was their way of showing absolute trust.
Thanks to the family's consideration, Jang Muhwi had spent the past days organizing the insights he had gained. He refined the Muyoung Simbeop once more and mulled over the Giyan obtained during the Dragon Gate Assembly. Of course, he also sorted through the realizations from his duel with Ma Uiryong—insights that included the direction he needed to take moving forward.
Since regressing, he had secured a foundational heart method and internal energy, and the Dragon Gate Assembly had given him enough reputation to stand out. Yet it still wasn't enough.
What Jang Muhwi would eventually have to face wasn't just the Cheonma. He needed to prepare for war against the entire Heavenly Demon Cult that would turn the Central Plains into a wasteland. For that, he required far greater renown. Half-measured fame only created more enemies than allies. Ma Uiryong was living proof of that.
To ready himself for the coming conflict, he had to rise to a position where everyone would listen. He needed to spread his name beyond Qinghai as quickly as possible. In short, he needed absolute prestige.
Prestige, however, could not be earned through words alone. Strength had to come first. He needed to accelerate his progress.
Jang Muhwi quietly recalled his past-life memories. The reason he, who had never consumed a single spirit pill, had been able to lead the Murim Alliance's martial forces was a manual he had obtained by chance. Unfortunately, the manual had not survived intact. Only one-third of the scorched text remained. Even its cover had burned away, leaving the sword art nameless—yet that nameless art had granted him his greatest Giyan.
Had he been the scion of some prestigious clan, he would never have spared a glance at a charred manual. In his previous life, Jang Muhwi had named it the Mumyeonggeomgyeol. If he could obtain the complete version, he might reach the perfect sword path far sooner.
Jang Muhwi rose from his seat and walked silently to the weapon rack, picking up a training sword. Even if he was leaving soon, he could not neglect his training.
That afternoon, Jang Muhwi faced his father in the family head's hall. A steaming teacup sat between them, yet neither spoke. Jang Yujung merely gazed at his son with warm, satisfied eyes, asking nothing.
When the silence began to feel awkward, Jang Yujung finally spoke.
"Judging by your attire, it seems you're planning to travel outside."
"Yes, Father."
"Very well. Go safely."
"Are you not curious?"
"If I told you not to go, would you stay?"
"…"
Jang Muhwi looked at his father. The playful expression on Jang Yujung's face resembled that of a Buddha watching the Monkey King trapped in his palm.
Jang Yujung continued, "I have given you nothing, so I have no right to ask."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Exactly what I said. From now on, you may rely on the family a little. And this is travel money."
What Jang Yujung offered was a rather heavy leather pouch. Jang Muhwi stared at his father with suspicion. He knew the family treasury was empty.
"I still have the travel funds you gave me last time."
"Take it. Thanks to you, the treasury has been replenished. This is your share."
"Did you just say 'thanks to me'?"
"I placed a few bets during the recent duel. Consider it that."
"What?"
Jang Muhwi's eyes widened. His father's words meant he had wagered on the duel. The stakes had been considerable, and if the winnings were enough to refill the treasury, Jang Yujung must have bet everything. In other words, he had staked the entire family's future on Jang Muhwi's victory against Ma Uiryong.
Whether in his past life or this one, the man remained the same—yet his actions had changed. Jang Muhwi quietly accepted the pouch.
Swish.
Jang Yujung's smile deepened at the sight.
"I'll assign you an escort from the martial unit."
"It's unnecessary. The place isn't that dangerous."
"Understood. I'll trust your word."
With that, Jang Yujung lifted his cup. Jang Muhwi did the same, though he did not drink. A warrior walking the edge of a blade could not afford to be drunk.
Two days later, Jang Muhwi reached the foot of Kunlun Mountain. As he had told his father, he was alone. No one could be involved in this matter. His final destination was Kunlun itself.
In his past life, this was where he had discovered the Mumyeonggeomgyeol. Upon hearing that the Heavenly Demon Cult had swept through Kunlun, Jang Muhwi had come here to rescue the survivors. At the time, he had been nothing more than an ordinary warrior in the Murim Alliance's forces. Yet finding the Mumyeonggeomgyeol here had allowed him to rise to the rank of squad leader. All because of an incomplete manual.
The remnants of that manual had been hidden near the Yellow Dragon Waterfall, a forbidden area of Kunlun. During the Great Orthodox-Demonic War, there had been no need to obey Kunlun's rules about forbidden zones. Saving lives had taken priority over sacred grounds or restrictions. Moreover, every formation and mechanism Kunlun had set up had already been destroyed.
But the present was different. Kunlun was a massive sect, and he could not simply stroll into their forbidden area as if it were his own home. Fortunately, he had now cultivated enough skill to slip inside undetected. Without the Giyan he had encountered since regressing, he would never have considered returning to Kunlun.
Jang Muhwi gazed quietly at the mountain's entrance. Countless people were climbing Kunlun. Most of them were not martial artists. Kunlun Mountain was the only Daoist holy site in the Qinghai region, so common folk ascended it on appointed days. Among them were quite a few merchants supplying goods to the great sect.
Jang Muhwi, too, had disguised himself as a merchant. His pack contained only spare clothes and a few short daggers. He trudged toward the mountain's base.
At the entrance, two young Daoists in white robes watched the passersby. Jang Muhwi walked toward them in silence. Fortunately, neither of them would recognize him. In times like these, being an unknown soldier had its advantages. He blended into the crowd, moving as though he were both present and absent, until only the sound of rustling leaves marked his passing.
Sasasak.
Jang Muhwi headed straight for the Yellow Dragon Waterfall, Kunlun's forbidden zone. As he approached, he tilted his head in confusion. There were no guards at all in the area declared forbidden.
After a few more steps, he understood why.
"Quite potent."
A low mist spread across the ground beneath his feet. It was no ordinary fog. He could tell immediately from its color—a yellowish hue, clearly connected to the waterfall's name. More importantly, its composition: this was undoubtedly poisonous mist. The toxin simply spread along the ground, appearing as mist.
If an ordinary person had come here, they would have collapsed instantly. That explained the lack of guards. Kunlun had declared this place forbidden not to protect treasure, but to protect its disciples.
In that case, he could explore the area at his leisure. Even Jang Muhwi would not have been able to withstand this poison without the Giyan from the Dragon Gate Assembly.
Turuk turuk.
Jang Muhwi pressed forward through the poisonous mist. The deeper he went, the thicker the toxic energy became. The pale yellow had grown dense enough to be clearly visible, almost golden at a glance. Jang Muhwi sharpened his senses. If anything went wrong here, no one would come to save him.
He quickly pulled out a cloth and wrapped it around his face. Even with his Hundred Poisons Body, he could not be certain how long his constitution would hold.
Then, a strange sound reached him from afar.
Seuseuseuk.
Jang Muhwi heightened his vision and looked toward the source.
"That's the Yellow Dragon Waterfall!"
About fifty paces away stood a waterfall. He immediately understood why it was called the Yellow Dragon Waterfall. The long cliff resembled a dragon's form, and from above, poisonous mist continuously poured down—as though a dragon ascending to the heavens was gazing upon the world while exhaling toxic breath. It was a sight Jang Muhwi had never witnessed before. In his past life, when he had searched this place, there had been no yellow poison mist.
Jang Muhwi narrowed his eyes. Now came the critical part. He needed to search for where the manual might be hidden.
Sasak.
Jang Muhwi moved stealthily around the waterfall's perimeter. After a while, his gaze returned to the top of the Yellow Dragon Waterfall.
"Only the summit remains."
With that, he retrieved an item from his pack—something he had brought just in case. He wrapped the cloth more tightly around his face and donned the wind-blocking robe. Fully prepared, he began walking slowly toward the base of the waterfall.
Jang Muhwi loosened his body. There was no other way to reach the summit of the cliff. He would have to climb the wall where the poisonous mist flowed downward. He extended his hand toward the mist-covered rock face.
Thud!
He began scaling the wall slowly. Thanks to his past life as an unknown soldier wandering the martial world, Jang Muhwi had mastered all manner of miscellaneous skills. One of them was the Wall Gecko Art. It was a technique that used only the hands—useful not only for certain combat methods but also for climbing walls.
Thud.
His five fingers dug into the crevices of the rock face. But the poisonous mist grew ever thicker. His skin stung so badly it felt as though it might melt away.
At that moment, a stone jutted out from the wall. Jang Muhwi swiftly shifted his body.
Pabak.
The protruding rock brushed past his wind-blocking robe.
Seureuk.
Though he dodged, the rock caught on his robe and tore it downward. The piece of cloth he had draped over himself came loose along with the stone fragment. In the very next instant, another stone shot out from the wall he had just moved to.
Seureuk.
This was clearly an artificial mechanism. The corner of Jang Muhwi's mouth curled upward. The presence of mechanisms meant there was something worth protecting. He quickened his pace. It was no longer just the poisonous mist. Sharp stone fragments kept shooting out. Some he avoided, but many struck him directly. His body was covered in wounds. His clothes were in tatters, and his hands and arms were stained with blood. Yet he could not stop. If he halted now, he felt he would never get another chance.
How far had he climbed? Finally, the end came into view—a passage emitting dense poisonous mist. Without the slightest hesitation, Jang Muhwi leaped into it.
Pabak!
For a moment, Jang Muhwi's eyes widened. Once inside, the mist thinned. After a few more steps, it vanished completely. He removed the cloth from his face, lit the prepared torch, and slowly advanced deeper into the cave.
The cave was quite deep. Each chamber led to another. At last, a dead-end wall appeared. When Jang Muhwi entered the final chamber, his eyes grew wide. Before him stood a massive altar—large enough for several people to lie upon. It looked as though someone had used it as a genuine altar long ago; two enormous incense burners stood near the entrance.
Jang Muhwi focused all his attention on the great altar ahead. Raising the torch, he illuminated the darkness, revealing a small box resting atop the massive stone surface. It was just large enough to hold a single book.