Mercy
Realms of martial prowess are typically divided into three distinct stages.
Entry, Mastery, and Peak.
Entry signifies taking the first step into that realm. Mastery means one’s understanding of it has ripened considerably. And Peak refers to a state where one has perfectly grasped every insight gained within the realm, can deploy them fluidly in real combat, and stands at the threshold of the next stage.
In other words, Choo Mil—who had only just crossed into First-rate Entry—could never hope to defeat Muyoung, who stood at First-rate Peak.
Boom!Crunch!Crack!
With the sounds of something shattering and breaking, Choo Mil and the rest of his group tumbled across the ground in unison.
It had taken them less than a single incense stick’s time to end up sprawled on the floor. Even among those of the same First-rate realm, the difference in skill—or the quality of their martial arts—could create a chasm as vast as heaven and earth.
“Th-this is impossible…”
Choo Mil despaired.
He had only ever heard rumors about the Ju family’s disgrace.
Ju Woo-jin.
How could he not know that name? The rumors had already echoed loudly across the entirety of Gangseo.
Though the boy had displayed absurd dominance at the recently held Ju Family World Tournament, Choo Mil had dismissed it all as nonsense.
The real problem was that he hadn’t even been defeated by Ju Woo-jin himself—he had been crushed by his guard.
Step. Step.
The young man was approaching.
Choo Mil couldn’t bring himself to lift his head. He felt both furious and terrified.
“…I told you to kill them, yet you didn’t.”
“My apologies, Young Master.”
Muyoung sheathed his sword and offered a light bow.
In truth, if he had wanted to kill them, he could have done so easily. Cutting them down cleanly would have been far simpler and faster.
Yet Muyoung had chosen to subdue them all instead.
“I understand Your Excellency’s intentions, but… sparing those who pose no real threat—isn’t that the luxury only the truly strong can afford?”
“Why? Why should I bother with such luxury?”
“Because that is the way of the White Path.”
I ignored Muyoung’s gaze and walked straight toward Choo Mil.
Then I looked down at him.
His expression was plain to see—fear, belated regret for what he had done, and… a considerable amount of resentment.
“These people won’t reform just because you spare them. They won’t feel the slightest gratitude for having their lives saved.”
“…”
I grabbed Choo Mil’s shoulder and pressed down hard.
“I won’t say you’re wrong. You have your way, and I have mine.”
Crack!
“Aaaaagh!”
I shattered one of Choo Mil’s shoulder blades right then and there. Even if an acupuncture master came, reviving that arm would be nearly impossible—unless every broken fragment was painstakingly realigned and fused back together.
“Once a sprout emerges, it will inevitably grow leaves and bear fruit.”
Choo Mil’s face twisted horribly. He clutched his ruined arm, trembling in terror.
“Whether that fruit is hatred… or fear.”
“Ugh…”
With those final words, I turned away.
Muyoung remained silent.
I wasn’t trying to teach him anything. I had simply shown him what I believed.
Even so, I had respected his wishes and spared Choo Mil’s life. After all, we were on our way to the Black Pavilion; I had no desire to stir up unnecessary trouble.
Yes. Not yet.
When the Demonic Cult eventually swallowed the entire murim, the distinction between the White Path and the Black Path would lose all meaning.
No—the boundary itself would collapse.
The fragile line that had barely been maintained between the two paths would be utterly destroyed.
A world stripped of even the slightest regulations to restrain human nature would descend into pure chaos.
They must realize it for themselves.
The pathetic spectacle of the White Path warriors who glorified themselves by claiming this was justice and this was righteousness would meet its end on that day.
Choo Mil had felt the overwhelming gap in power.
More than forty men had been utterly defeated by a single opponent without landing a single meaningful blow.
Moreover, even though he could have killed them all, not one of them had died. It was proof that their opponent had shown considerable mercy.
Twice now…
This was the second time he had nearly died at the hands of the Ju family.
During the previous encounter, the Red Dragon Unit and their insane leader—the one they called the Mad Dragon—had completely dismantled the group Choo Mil once commanded.
On the verge of death, the Red Dragon Unit’s captain had reluctantly spared him at the Sword Saint’s command.
Damn it… and now I’m begging for my life again?
He hadn’t even pleaded to be spared. As a man, he would rather die gloriously than live pathetically. That had been his mindset.
Yet against his will, he had survived once more.
“…”
Choo Mil looked around at his subordinates.
“Ugh, seriously—if I hadn’t hurt my leg, I could’ve crushed that bastard…”
“You too? Same here. I hurt my pinky playing mahjong the day before yesterday…”
Each of them vented their frustration in their own pathetic way.
“Ha, damn it.”
He didn’t even know why anymore.
“Maybe this path isn’t for me after all.”
His subordinates suddenly seemed utterly contemptible.
It looked like he would have to return to his hometown soon and start farming.
Muyoung kept stealing glances at Ju Woo-jin, who was silently staring out the carriage window.
What could he be thinking?
He had once thought of him as nothing more than a fifteen-year-old boy.
Yet time and again, the boy shattered that perception, revealing a coldness far beyond his years and an overwhelming presence.
His choices were radical. His actions defied all expectations.
Even the attempted poisoning of the matriarch…
No one else had noticed it.
Yet he had instantly recognized the danger to the matriarch and relentlessly hunted down the culprit until the man was dead.
What was even harder to explain was his overwhelming martial prowess.
Looking at him now, he truly seemed like any other fifteen-year-old boy… and yet.
It doesn’t make sense.
The supreme secret arts of the Ju family that he had displayed against the Killing Emperor, Sal-je Do-gon.
Even the forbidden technique passed down only to the family head had emerged.
Where did it end?
What exactly was he trying to show?
He was extremely calm, rational, and persistent.
Those two dark eyes that revealed nothing of his thoughts were filled only with a chilling light.
It had been the same during Choo Mil’s ambush.
Kill them all.
Those words had come so naturally.
From beginning to end, he had never once said to spare them.
In fact, everyone Ju Woo-jin had personally touched had died without exception.
Perhaps Choo Mil was the only one who had managed to keep his life?
Haa… I don’t know anymore.
He no longer knew what was right.
Blindly following the will of the young master he now served felt far too cruel, completely at odds with the ideals the White Path pursued.
He had always believed that forgiveness and tolerance were sources of pride for a Ju family warrior who inherited the spirit of righteousness and justice.
Yet strangely, the more time he spent with Ju Woo-jin… the more that framework began to shake.
It was a trivial matter.
After the minor ambush by the So Gang faction, the number of words exchanged between me and Muyoung had noticeably decreased.
Muyoung seemed to be deep in thought.
He probably needs time to think.
And it wasn’t just Muyoung.
I was preparing for war against the Demonic Cult.
I had already eliminated two of the Twelve Demon Emperors.
To completely derail the Cult’s plans, I had made countless calculations and laid out numerous schemes.
The greatest obstacle to those plans, ironically, was peace itself.
The fact that no one was preparing for what was coming.
Slowly… according to plan.
There was no need to rush.
I simply had to wait. And wait some more.
Before the Demonic Cult made its move, I needed to gather strength as quickly as possible.
“Young Master, we are now entering Guangxi Province.”
The coachman’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.
Guangxi Province—the southernmost region of the Central Plains.
It bordered both Yunnan and Nanman, and with access to the sea, it was the Black Path’s greatest strategic point, securing enormous trade revenue.
The Black Pavilion existed in its capital, Nanning.
Naturally, following the Black Pavilion’s influence, countless Black Path factions had gathered there, and Guangxi Province revolved around the power structure they had built.
“Hoo.”
Tension suddenly gripped my entire body.
Not everyone in the Black Path was merciless and without compassion.
They were simply more free than the White Path and slightly more lax when it came to rules.
Therefore, actions that would be considered cruel and unacceptable from the White Path’s perspective might be seen as perfectly justified from the Black Path’s.
What was wrong and what was right didn’t matter.
Differences in perspective were always relative.
“Halt.”
At that moment, a rather deep voice came from outside.
The voice sounded vaguely familiar.
“Is this carriage from the Ju family?”
Someone was questioning the coachman.
“Yes, that’s correct. Young Master is inside.”
The coachman quickly called for me. I opened the window and glanced outside.
“…”
And there I met the eyes of a man.
Ah.
I recognized him instantly.
Wi Gun-ak.
He was the captain of the Black Ghost Sword Unit, the pride of the Black Pavilion, and a master known separately as the Black Spirit Death God.
It seemed he had been waiting here to greet me.
In my previous life, I had shared quite a deep connection with him.
A stubborn man who devoted his loyalty solely to the Black Pavilion Lord… much like Muyoung.
Even as the Black Pavilion crumbled from internal strife, he had stood by the Pavilion Lord’s side until the very end.
Because of that, I held no particular ill will toward him.
“Are you the one sent by the Ju family?”
Wi Gun-ak tilted his head as he looked at me.
From his perspective, I must have looked like nothing more than a young boy.
“That’s right.”
“…”
I stepped down from the carriage and nodded.
Warriors stood in neat rows, proudly flying the banners of the Black Pavilion. It was unmistakably the Black Ghost Sword Unit.
“Hah. Is this how the Ju family chooses to disrespect the Black Pavilion?”
He looked down at me and frowned.
It seemed he had expected at least an elder or a unit captain—if not the Blood Saint or the Sword Saint—to come.
“This is the youngest young master of the Ju family. We ask that you show him proper respect.”
“…”
It was Muyoung who spoke.
Wi Gun-ak glared at him for a moment before the corner of his mouth curled upward in open mockery.
“Not even the Sword Dragon, but some youngest young master I’ve never even heard of… Just how much am I supposed to tolerate here?”
“The Ju family’s—”
When Muyoung flared up and tried to speak, I raised my hand to stop him and stepped forward.
“Don’t bother understanding.”
“…What?”
“I said don’t try to understand. It means stop using that head of yours in such an unbecoming way.”
This was a classic battle of egos.
I had no intention of playing along.
I had grown sick of it in my previous life.
“Do you want to die here?”
Wi Gun-ak subtly released his killing intent.
“That’s my line.”
Srrrng!
At those words, Muyoung drew his sword.
“If you kill me now, the Black Pavilion could be destroyed because of you alone. Think carefully.”
“…”
Wi Gun-ak’s aura seemed to subside slightly at the remark.
Of course, I knew he couldn’t actually kill me.
This was nothing more than an attempt to seize the initiative.
Since neither of us could truly touch the other’s core territory, we were resorting to the most childish threats possible.
“That bastard you call the Demolition Asura or whatever tried to kill my family’s matriarch.”
“…”
“And that woman also happens to be my mother.”
Wi Gun-ak flinched, visibly startled.
“Let’s stop this pathetic battle of pride here. Just guide us to the Black Pavilion. I’m exercising as much patience as I can right now.”
“Hah.”
The corner of Wi Gun-ak’s mouth twisted once again.
“You’re an interesting one.”
He seemed to have taken an interest in me.
After staring at me for a long moment, Wi Gun-ak finally looked away first. He raised his hand and cleared a path for the carriage.
As the carriage began moving again, the Black Ghost Sword Unit moved to escort us from behind.
Contrary to my expectations, we were able to proceed toward the Black Pavilion rather smoothly and at considerable speed.