At the front stood a young man.
Black robes. A sword at his waist.
Behind him stood the Red Demon.
Maeng Jeung narrowed his eyes.
“So the Red Demon came personally.”
The group stopped before the wooden barricade.
They dismounted.
The young man walked forward.
Maeng Jeung shouted.
“Stop right there!”
The young man did not stop.
“I warn you. Take one more step and I will consider it a hostile act.”
Even so, the young man continued walking.
“This trade route is currently under the control of the Jin family. By order of the Murim Alliance, we are blocking the distribution of illegal goods. Withdraw—”
“You talk [N O V E L I G H T] too much.”
The young man spoke.
His voice was calm.
Maeng Jeung’s brow furrowed.
“...What?”
“You have far too much to say.”
The young man stopped.
Ten paces from the barricade.
Maeng Jeung felt it immediately.
This man was no ordinary martial artist.
“Who are you?”
The young man did not answer.
Instead, he drew his sword.
Shrrrng.
A clear metallic note rang out.
Sunlight slid across the blade.
Cold light.
Maeng Jeung’s eyes widened.
That sword.
And that face.
The hair color had changed, so he had failed to recognize him at first. Every hair on his body stood on end.
“...State your name.”
“You want my name?”
A faint scoff escaped the young man.
“Judging by that expression, you already know it. There seems little point in saying it aloud.”
He raised the sword.
“More importantly, you’ll die today.”
In that instant—
Maeng Jeung moved.
His sword flashed out on instinct.
A streak of light cut through the air.
KRAAAANG—!!!
Fragments of the spiritual energy of heaven and earth exploded across the sky.
The sword energy flying toward him from Unhwi—
No.
A slash formed from Void-Origin Energy.
Destroyed.
Maeng Jeung’s grip trembled violently.
...What kind of power is this?
Impossible.
He had only heard rumors.
“...The Snow Mountain Demon Lord, Seol Unhwi. Is this your greeting?”
“You misunderstand.”
“...What?”
“The Snow Mountain Demon Lord was once my title. But recently, I obtained a new position.”
“...”
“Blood Heaven Arbiter. That is now my title—and the office that represents me.”
Maeng Jeung’s expression twisted. Just as he was about to speak, Unhwi spoke first.
“Chief Seong. And Red Demon.”
The two men stepped forward.
“Kill every last one of them.”
Both men widened their eyes at Unhwi’s words, but the cold finality in his voice left them no choice except to nod.
“I will handle Maeng Jeung myself.”
“...Understood!”
Moments later, Unhwi’s people and the Red Spirit Court martial artists charged into the blockade.
Unhwi raised his sword and pointed it at Maeng Jeung.
“Are you just going to stand there and watch?”
“...Can you truly handle me?”
Unhwi smirked.
“It seems Gun Mugeol never told you about me.”
“...How dare you speak the name of the Murim Alliance Leader so casually.”
“Then as now, Gun Mugeol’s schemes exhaust everyone around him.”
Maeng Jeung’s face darkened again at the utterly irreconcilable conversation.
“And today, he’ll learn something.”
“...What?”
“What it truly means to be exhausted.”
Radiance began flowing from Unhwi’s body.
Then—
He kicked off the ground.
Heavenly Phantom Steps.
Unhwi vanished.
No—
It only looked that way.
He was simply too fast.
Not even an afterimage remained.
Maeng Jeung raised his sword.
KRAAANG—!!
Sparks exploded.
Steel crashed against steel.
Maeng Jeung’s blade had blocked Unhwi’s strike.
“...Kgh!”
His body was driven backward.
Three steps.
Deep grooves tore into the earth beneath his feet.
Unbelievable.
The earlier exchange had not been luck.
The power contained within this young bastard’s sword was absurd.
Unhwi lowered his blade slightly.
“You blocked it.”
His voice remained calm.
“So they were right. You really are standing at the edge of Manifestation of the Boundless. Though it seems your specialty lies in technique rather than power.”
Maeng Jeung ground his teeth.
His martial arts had never specialized in raw force.
Unhwi was exactly right.
His power itself rested squarely within Manifestation of the Boundless.
Technique was his true domain.
Iron-Resolve Sword Emperor.
That was his title.
A swordsman who had trained within the Jin family for thirty years.
His sword was said to be as solid and heavy as iron itself, yet the techniques he wielded with it were dazzling beyond belief.
“...You bastard.”
Maeng Jeung shifted his stance.
He angled his sword diagonally.
His feet spread shoulder-width apart.
His center of gravity sank low.
Iron Wall Sword Formation.
One of the Jin family’s secret sword arts.
A defensive sword formation.
Once this stance was taken, ordinary attacks could never break through it.
Unhwi narrowed his eyes.
A defensive style.
He had seen that stance before in his previous life.
The Jin family’s sword art.
Iron Wall Sword Formation.
A style specialized in defense, yet hidden within it was a blade of counterattack.
A careless assault would only invite death.
But—
There was no need to drag this out.
In fact, if Maeng Jeung intended to rely on technique, then Unhwi welcomed it.
Playing with martial artists like that had never been difficult for him.
“AAAAAAAGH—!”
Screams echoed nearby.
Chief Seong and the Red Demon were cutting through the Jin family martial artists.
But there were three hundred of them.
No matter how powerful they were, it would take time.
At those screams, Maeng Jeung’s ears twitched.
A considerable number of men were dying around him.
He hesitated briefly.
Should I retreat? Or not?
The instant that thought took root in his mind—
Unhwi moved.
His sword lowered close to the ground.
As if it would scrape against the earth.
Then he charged.
Maeng Jeung’s eyes flashed as he discarded his hesitation.
Middle—? No. Lower—!
His sword moved to block low.
At that exact moment—
Unhwi’s blade changed trajectory.
From below to above.
A reverse slash.
Maeng Jeung hurriedly redirected his sword.
KWA-BOOOOM—!!
He blocked it.
But Unhwi did not stop.
The sword moved again.
Left to right.
A horizontal slash.
Blocked again.
From above downward.
A vertical strike.
Blocked once more.
Then diagonally.
Another slash.
Blocked again.
KRAANG! KRAANG! KRAAAANG!!
The swords collided again and again.
Ten exchanges.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Sweat rolled down Maeng Jeung’s face.
He was blocking them.
He truly was.
Yet he could not find even the slightest opening to display the techniques he prided himself on.
This bastard—
Was giving him absolutely no room.
What kind of... insane monster...
Unhwi never paused.
The speed of his sword never slowed.
Its power never weakened.
If anything, it was growing stronger.
Defense consumed more strength than attack.
You had to predict and block every strike.
Miss even one, and it was over.
Maeng Jeung maintained absolute concentration.
Eventually, an opening would come.
A chance to overwhelm him.
That belief had been forged from decades of experience.
Then the thirtieth exchange came.
Maeng Jeung’s eyes changed.
There!
Every person possessed fixed habits.
Unhwi was no exception.
No matter how fast or powerful he was, he was still human.
And humans always had habits.
Maeng Jeung had finally found his.
His sword changed.
No longer a sword that blocked.
A flowing sword.
Iron Flow Circulating Sword.
The essence of the Jin family’s secret sword arts.
A technique that did not stop the opponent’s attack, but redirected it—then used that redirected force to counterattack.
And Maeng Jeung, who had refined it beyond its original limits and transformed it into his own—
Did not block Unhwi’s descending strike.
Instead, he angled his blade and diverted it.
Unhwi’s sword slid away.
Riding that momentum, Maeng Jeung’s sword rotated.
Drawing a circle.
Shrrr—
The blade moved like a living serpent.
It climbed along Unhwi’s sword.
Aimed for his wrist.
Unhwi withdrew his blade.
One step backward.
Maeng Jeung pursued immediately.
His sword danced.
Iron Thread Chaos Dance.
Dense sword strikes woven like a spiderweb.
Every swing produced three trajectories.
One sword became three.
KRAANG! KRAANG! KRAAAANG!!
Unhwi’s sword became busy.
He blocked.
Deflected.
Redirected.
But fragments of the spiritual energy of heaven and earth burst outward in every direction, grazing his body.
Cuts opened across his flesh.
One after another.
But all shallow.
Then—
Maeng Jeung’s eyes flashed.
Slash—!
A cut opened across Unhwi’s left forearm.
Shallow again.
But something had changed.
The corner of Maeng Jeung’s mouth lifted.
Got you.
Once technique began flowing properly, it never stopped.
That was the nature of it.
His sword accelerated further.
Iron Ring Chain.
One circle birthed another.
Before one trajectory ended, the next had already begun.
Relentless.
Endless.
The sword wove an iron net through the air.
Unhwi was pushed back.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
A cut opened across his face.
Another across his shoulder.
Blood spread down his thigh.
Maeng Jeung’s eyes trembled.
Confidence filled him.
He had seized victory.
All he had to do was keep pressing forward.
No matter how strong Unhwi was, nothing could escape once trapped within the web of his techniques.
But—
That was as far as it went.
Maeng Jeung saw it.
The curve forming in Unhwi’s eyes.
What... what is that...?
He saw it clearly.
That bastard was smiling.
Even while drenched in blood.
Even while being driven back.
He was smiling.
“How interesting.”
“...What?”
“So this is the level of the Jin family’s techniques.”
Unhwi’s movements changed.
He stopped blocking.
Stopped dodging.
He simply advanced.
Maeng Jeung’s sword sliced across Unhwi’s side.
Blood sprayed.
A deep wound.
But Unhwi did not stop.
Ignoring the injury, he forced his way inside.
Insane—!
Maeng Jeung withdrew his sword.
Tried to create distance.
Technique required space.
Without distance, it could not function.
There had to be an ideal gap between his sword and Unhwi’s longsword.
He had maintained that distance perfectly—
Until it shattered.
Because Unhwi was too fast.
Unhwi closed in.
Right in front of him.
Close enough to feel each other’s breath.
Maeng Jeung’s techniques were neutralized.
“Technique is easy to read.”
Unhwi spoke calmly.
“It’s dazzling. But that only means it contains more weaknesses.”
His sword moved.
Short.
Fast.
Without technique.
He simply thrust.
Maeng Jeung twisted his body.
Barely avoided it.
But Unhwi’s sword did not stop.
Thrusting.
Slashing.
Cutting.
Simple.
No technique at all.
Just the most fundamental things a sword could do.
Yet he could not block them.
Why...!
He could not understand.
They were simple attacks.
There was no technique hidden within them.
There was no reason he should fail to read them.
Then why—
Even though he could read them—
Could he not stop them?
“Your technique is a net.”
Unhwi spoke as he pressed forward.
“The denser the net, the stronger it becomes. But—”
His sword struck Maeng Jeung’s blade aside.
“It will always contain knots.”
Maeng Jeung swung again, but Unhwi knocked the strike away. The power behind it was not overwhelming, yet the angle was impossibly precise. Maeng Jeung’s posture collapsed naturally.
“And once the knots are cut, the net unravels.”
Maeng Jeung’s eyes widened.
He realized it.
This bastard had known from the very beginning.
The structure of his techniques.
The weaknesses within the net.
The location of every knot.
He had not been pushed back.
He had been reading him.
From the very start.
“You...!”
Maeng Jeung clenched his teeth.
He tried to retreat.
Tried to reestablish his techniques.
Unhwi did not allow it.
He stayed attached to him relentlessly.
Whenever Maeng Jeung retreated, Unhwi followed.
Whenever he shifted sideways, Unhwi blocked him.
His breathing tightened.
He could not use his techniques.
There was no distance.
He could not overpower him.
He was slower as well.
Despair surged upward inside him.
...I can’t win.
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