Spar.

Seo Jong-dae folded his fan. The outcome had already been decided, so there was no need to keep it trained on him.

His wrist ached, but he did not show it.

It was still hard to handle the long fan with one hand.

He had had no choice but to modify the iron fan he had been using.

Even so, it put a strain on his wrist.

It was not suited for the Cool-Breeze Fan.

Even swords were not all the same. They varied according to their own traits.

The same was true of fans.

If his attainment in the Cool-Breeze Fan had been a little higher, there would have been no need for this little act.

‘Although that was not the only reason.’

Seo Jong-dae glanced back over his shoulder.

“I admit defeat.”

At last, Song Gyeom bowed his head.

“Not at all. I learned much.”

“Song Gyeom, come here.”

A sharp voice rang out from behind.

The first-generation disciples were looking at Song Gyeom with stern eyes.

It was not only the first-generation disciples. The gaze of the man who seemed to be his sahyung was no different.

Song Gyeom knew the reason why.

It was a mistake born of carelessness.

And it was also what Seo Jong-dae had intended.

Seo Jong-dae also returned to his place.

For all that he had won the spar, there was no sign of joy on his face.

It was because he knew it had been a fluke.

But he had fulfilled the task he had been given.

“How is it?”

“It is enough.”

At Seo Jong-dae’s whisper, Gyo-ha nodded.

The reason Seo Jong-dae had dragged the fight out was not simply to lure his opponent into carelessness.

“Don’t play around and do it properly.”

At his words, Gyo-ha stuck out his lower lip.

But he did not bother denying it.

Gyo-ha also knew how he had to act here.

Hearing the two of them talk, Jeon Pyeong could tell that his guess had been right.

“Song Myeong… no, Song Hak, you go.”

“Yes, Elder.”

The Taoist standing in the middle stepped forward.

Jeon Pyeong’s eyes gleamed as he looked at the man.

Song Hak.

It was his first time seeing him in person, but he had heard the name before.

Qingcheng’s greatest prodigy of the later generation.

His talent had been acknowledged to the point that the Elders themselves were said to be instructing him.

Qingcheng, too, had played its surest card for victory.

“Do not let your guard down.”

“Yes.”

He, too, had watched the earlier spar. He had no intention of being careless.

Seeing his resolute expression, Tae-jeong Jinin and the first-generation disciples nodded.

They showed not the slightest sign of thinking he could lose.

And the same was true for Song Hak.

“Song Hak of Qingcheng.”

“Gyo-ha of Kunlun.”

Unlike Song Hak, who took his stance, Gyo-ha flicked a glance at the old Taoist behind him.

Unlike Tae-jeong Jinin, he gave off no sense of pressure.

Yet for some reason, Gyo-ha’s eyes kept being drawn to him.

Shaking his head, Gyo-ha let both his arms hang down.

At the bizarre posture, Song Hak’s brow furrowed.

‘I do not know what trick this is supposed to be.’

He only had to unfold his own martial arts.

Song Hak’s sword moved.

True to the name Clear Wind Sword, it shot out like the wind.

And only after that did Gyo-ha move.

Teong!

His sword bounced off the iron shackles, but Song Hak did not panic and changed the direction of his blade.

The sword that had risen into the air dropped down toward Gyo-ha’s head.

Gyo-ha twisted his waist to evade the sword.

Or he should have, yet blood spurted from his shoulder.

“Heh.”

Gyo-ha’s mouth fell open.

Seeing Gyo-ha’s eyes sparkle like a child who had found a new toy, Song Hak’s brows twitched.

But he did not react. He only prepared his next move.

Gyo-ha’s foot aimed for Song Hak’s chin.

Song Hak dodged with smooth movement, then shifted his grip on his sword.

‘Here it comes.’

Jeon Pyeong’s eyes, watching from a distance, grew still.

Qingcheng’s wind came in two kinds.

A wind that was endlessly free and gentle.

And one other.

A gust stormed in. Gyo-ha stepped back.

Soon, blood dripped from his forehead.

‘…A sharp knife wind.’

A sword so steeped in killing intent it was hard to think of it as orthodox martial arts.

That was Qingcheng’s second wind.

Gyo-ha roughly wiped the blood from his brow.

Ironically, it was Song Hak, who had landed the attack, whose face had grown stiff.

‘He dodged that?’

He had not aimed to kill, but it had been a strike meant to deal a serious wound.

“It’s a bit different.”

At the out-of-the-blue remark, Song Hak’s brows knitted.

“But now I can see it.”

See what. But he had no time to think about what that meant.

Koong!

He stepped forward.

Gyo-ha’s body vanished in an instant.

‘Fast.’

Song Hak drew in a sharp breath, but his body was already moving.

His sword thrust toward the charging Gyo-ha.

Gyo-ha evaded by only twisting his head.

He could avoid the blade, yet he could not avoid the wind. Blood burst again.

But Gyo-ha did not stop.

At the moment Song Hak’s sword began to change direction.

Gyo-ha’s figure blurred.

‘What.’

He did not even have time to be surprised. Gyo-ha’s fist aimed at Song Hak’s flank.

Kwaang!

Song Hak staggered back.

Watching him, Gyo-ha shook out his fist.

The back of his fist had reddened.

In that brief instant, Song Hak had lifted his sword to block.

But he had not been able to deflect all of the impact, and his face twisted in pain.

The Mount Hua disciples and Bong Seok, watching, nodded.

Gyo-ha’s fists were not something you could block just by blocking.

Biting down hard on his lip, Song Hak swung his sword.

The wind grew fiercer.

Yet Gyo-ha hurled himself into the wind without hesitation.

It was bold enough to shock the onlookers instead.

And sure enough.

His sleeves were torn, and blood spotted him in several places.

Even so, Gyo-ha did not stop.

Instead, bewilderment surfaced on Song Hak’s face as he swung.

‘He is avoiding them?’

His attacks were all being read.

The sword wind was injuring him, but it could not inflict any decisive damage.

Moreover, even that damage was steadily decreasing.

At last, Gyo-ha’s steps carried him right in front of Song Hak.

His eyes flashed.

Song Hak withdrew his sword.

‘Blocked…’

Kwaang!

Song Hak’s body was sent flying.

The impact made his mind go blank. When Song Hak pushed himself up, he spat blood.

When he looked to the side, he saw the shocked faces of the first-generation disciples.

It was not because he had been careless.

Gyo-ha had just read his movements.

‘…Did he learn it from Sword Freak.’

A method to break the Pine Wind Sword Art.

There was a reason they had sent only disciples. He could not help but think so.

Song Hak turned his head and looked at the old Taoist.

The old man gave a small nod.

With that approval, Song Hak shifted his grip on his sword.

His stance was different from before.

Puzzlement appeared on Jeon Pyeong’s face as he watched.

But Bong Seok beside him had realized something and could not hide his shock.

Soon, a red haze rose from Song Hak’s sword.

And that haze wove itself into a crimson sunset.

Azure Sky Dyed Crimson.

A technique of the Clear Clouds Crimson Sunset Sword Art, which only first-generation disciples on the level of hall masters or higher were allowed to learn, unfolded in his hands.

The sword wind surged.

Anything the wind touched was torn apart.

Those watching all frowned.

Clear Clouds Crimson Sunset Sword Art was close to a killing sword.

A sword art meant to kill the opponent. Every single form was thick with murderous intent.

It was not a sword art that should be used in a spar.

An overwhelming sword wind.

Unlike the Clear Wind Sword, it could not be read.

‘If I cannot avoid it, I will break it.’

Gyo-ha grinned savagely and stepped forward.

At the same time he drew his fist back to his waist, then fired it forward like a shell.

As he extended his fist, blades of wind hacked into his arm.

But Gyo-ha’s fist still reached Song Hak.

Radiant Burst Strike.

Kwagagagang!

Song Hak’s body went flying like a scrap of paper.

It was over. That was what everyone there thought.

The destructive power of that blow was just that great.

And just as everyone expected, Song Hak could not get back up.

“Song Hak!”

“Sahyung!”

The first- and second-generation disciples rushed over to him.

And their faces hardened.

Fortunately, he was not dead. Yet his external and internal injuries alike looked severe.

He would have to recuperate for at least half a year.

Naturally, they glared at Gyo-ha, who was little different from the culprit.

Yet even they could not bring themselves to speak.

It was because Gyo-ha’s hand was a wreck.

That did not mean they hid their hostility. Even Tae-jeong Jinin was looking at him with an unfriendly gaze.

As the mood grew grim, tension rose even on Seo Jong-dae’s face.

“Enough.”

It was the old Taoist.

“It seems my fellow disciple’s worries were needless.”

“Sahyung.”

Tae-jeong Jinin stepped back.

“It is the fault of this old man who boasted yet failed to stop it. My junior Sect Leader will understand.”

Junior Sect Leader.

At those words, the group realized who the old Taoist was.

There was only one person who could refer to the Qingcheng Sect Leader that way.

Tae-ul Jinin.

He bore the title Pine Wind Sword, but another title of his was even more famous.

Qingcheng’s Number One Sword.

“An old tree may fall, yet its roots do not fade so easily. I am glad to see Kunlun’s future.”

Tae-ul Jinin nodded as he looked at Gyo-ha and Seo Jong-dae.

“However, there is one thing that worries me.”

The group tensed. Was he about to pick at something again.

But what followed was something else entirely.

“It is good to have faith in yourself, but you must also know when to step back and watch the situation. If Song Hak’s level had been even a little higher, it would have been your arm that was severed.”

He was chiding him for being too reckless.

“…I will keep that in mind.”

Gyo-ha scratched his cheek. It was not as if he was wrong.

“Then let us end the sparring here. Our guests must be tired, so let them rest. Su-jong, hand out Golden Wound Medicine to the guests.”

“Yes, Martial Uncle.”

With those words, Tae-ul Jinin turned away.

It was a dismissal order.

The group had no choice but to follow Su-jong Jinin back to the reception room.

As he guided them, Su-jong Jinin handed over Golden Wound Medicine as Tae-ul Jinin had said.

He was about to leave when he turned back.

“If you have come this far from Mount Hua, then you must be planning to visit the Tang Clan.”

The Qingcheng Sect was also one of the Nine Sects, One Union.

They knew of the Murim Alliance’s affairs.

“I hear people have come from Mount Wudang as well, so it would be good if you deepened your ties.”

With that, he left.

At the sudden remark, Jeon Gwang and Jeon Hong were puzzled, but Jeon Pyeong was not.

He cautiously turned his gaze.

There was Seo Jong-dae, his face unreadable.

“Still, I am glad it ended without trouble. I thought something big was going to happen when that Song Hak fellow went flying.”

Despite his worried words, Bong Seok looked almost regretful.

“They too walk the orthodox path.”

Jeon Pyeong rebuked him sharply. Yet inwardly, Jeon Pyeong also found it strange.

He had not thought it would come to anything as extreme as what Bong Seok implied, but he had not expected things to pass this quietly either.

Nor were they the only ones harboring that doubt.

---

“Sahyung, are you really going to let them go like this?”

Tae-jeong Jinin asked Tae-ul Jinin, who was walking ahead.

At his question, Tae-ul Jinin stroked his beard.

“Otherwise? Did you intend to harm those who came here as guests?”

When Tae-jeong Jinin fell silent, Tae-ul Jinin clicked his tongue.

He knew what Tae-jeong Jinin was thinking. Yet he also knew why he had such thoughts.

“The boy was called Gyo-ha, was he? He certainly possesses astonishing instincts.”

Even if he had learned a method to counter the art, using it in real combat was another matter.

“Then why…”

Why simply let him go?

At Tae-jeong Jinin’s question, Tae-ul Jinin smiled.

“But that is all. He is a child who practices martial arts by instinct. He may stand tall in the world, yet his martial arts will not be passed down to later generations.”

He had understood the moment he used Radiant Burst Strike.

That was a technique that depended on instinct. In fact, it could hardly even be called a martial art.

It was a talent.

He was different from Sword Freak.

‘Of course, there is no way there could be two such men.’

Let alone in the same sect.

“The other boy who came with him, and the child who inherited the Ghost Lineage, are the same. Since they have already inherited other martial lineages, they cannot become Kunlun’s orthodox successors. Their names may become known and bring Kunlun back to life, but it will be hard for it to regain the flourishing heyday of old.”

Kunlun could no longer surpass Qingcheng.

Tae-ul Jinin declared it so.