Conceal One’s Light And Bide One’s Time

The disciples of the Eminent Mountain Sect huddled together, backing toward the center.

Even In-gyeong, the most skilled among them, had been overwhelmed, so the group had no way to overcome this crisis on their own.

If they had been higher-ranked disciples, they could have at least attempted the Full Moon Sword Formation, but they were too inexperienced—mere fledglings.

“Tsk tsk, just look at those frightened faces. Almost makes me feel sorry for them.”

“What can you do? The weak are meat, the strong are its devourers—that’s how kangho has always been.”

The disciples of Dragon-Summoning Hall chuckled among themselves as if the whole thing were amusing.

They did not yet seem ready to attack, but their formation was tight enough that breaking through was impossible.

In-gyeong’s mind raced with the burden of protecting his brothers-in-arms.

‘If we stay like this, we’ll be slaughtered. The best plan is to send at least one person out to seek help from the Yellow Stone Sect. In that case…’

In-gyeong scanned his brothers and locked eyes with Yeong-jun.

Yeong-jun was the most skilled in swordsmanship among them and his light footwork was decent.

Most of all, his small and nimble build might allow him to slip through their tight encirclement.

“Yeong-jun.”

While the enemies were exchanging jokes, In-gyeong quietly sidled up to Yeong-jun and whispered.

Yeong-jun’s expression darkened instantly, but he couldn’t deny that In-gyeong’s plan was their only chance.

“Sect Leader, I will somehow get help and return.”

Yeong-jun’s eyes welled up red, but no tears fell.

He thought, I survived that hellish night—there’s nothing I cannot do.

“We don’t particularly wish to harm you. Just hand over information about the Commentary on the Saṃdhinirmocana Sūtra, and we’ll spare your lives.”

The man who had injured his hand at the tavern was clearly their leader.

While his underlings chuckled, his face remained twisted with pain, his untreated wound throbbing.

He wanted nothing more than to rest, mission be damned.

“We know nothing of that scripture. But you won’t believe us anyway—so let us speak no more and raise our swords!”

As In-gyeong smoothly drew his sword, the other disciples followed suit, moving as if by unspoken agreement.

Except for In-gyeong and Yeong-jun, the other disciples had once fled death—and carried guilt toward the name of the Eminent Mountain Sect.

Though weaker in skill, they resolved that even if they died here, they would never flee again.

“Tsk tsk, hastening your own demise.”

The Dragon-Summoning Hall disciples exchanged glances.

At first, they had planned to wound them and drag them to their main hall.

But since they insisted on resisting, they decided to kill them all and take only the sect leader.

For those who relished killing, this was even better.

“First Form of the Waxing Moon Sword!”

At In-gyeong’s cry, the six youths thrust their swords forward in perfect unison.

Though they could not form a true sword array, executing the same form together created a flawless defensive posture with no openings.

“Ohhh.”

They let out exclamations of admiration—but it was closer to mockery.

No matter how fine the sword form, it depended entirely on the wielder.

As they continued, the poor skills of some became instantly apparent.

Even without fully attacking, the Dragon-Summoning Hall disciples easily suppressed a couple of swords.

“Yeong-jun!”

In-gyeong strode toward the enemy leader.

He deliberately displayed flashy sword forms, signaling to Yeong-jun who was right behind him.

The more time passed, the slimmer their chances of escape.

He calculated that if Yeong-jun broke through before they noticed, they still had hope.

“Huh?”

The enemy leader, focused on In-gyeong, was taken aback when a small boy suddenly darted past and vanished toward Yellow Stone Mountain.

It was obvious he was seeking help from the Yellow Stone Sect—if they intervened, the mission would be a complete failure.

“Chase him down and kill him!”

He barked in his hoarse voice, and one of his underlings, who had been watching with arms crossed, rushed off after Yeong-jun.

Fortunately, the pursuer wasn’t skilled in light footwork, but if caught, Yeong-jun’s life would be finished.

Cold sweat trickled down In-gyeong’s back.

“Clever trick, but useless.”

Annoyed at being tricked, the Dragon-Summoning Hall disciples finally began attacking in earnest.

Once the killing intent flared, In-gyeong’s group could barely execute even a single form, forced entirely into defense.

The shrinking circle tightened until they were back-to-back, cornered.

“Kill them all except that arrogant brat.”

At their leader’s order, the others smirked wickedly.

Killing youths held no thrill, but the prospect of tasting blood again excited them.

Since Unpyeong was under Yellow Stone Sect’s jurisdiction, they couldn’t kill freely unless outside the area.

And with one rat having escaped, they thought best to end their game quickly.

‘Ah, how utterly shameful…’

In-gyeong could not forgive his own helplessness and incompetence.

He knew that as sect leader, he alone might be spared.

As the desperate will to live clashed with his duty to protect his brothers, he felt a sharp sense of betrayal.

It was not toward others, but a crushing disappointment and contempt for himself.

“Die!”

Meanwhile, the four brothers faced their moment of life and death.

Their numbers meant nothing.

With only two enemies left after the leader fought In-gyeong, the four disciples still couldn’t swing a sword properly and lost their will to fight.

Their white uniforms were soaked crimson with wounds.

Facing imminent death, they all began to weep bitterly, as if in chorus.

“Take only me!”

In-gyeong shouted at the smirking man before him.

“Isn’t it enough to harm only me? If you spare them, I’ll give you what you want!”

“Ohhh.”

The leader, his injured hand still throbbing, shook it as he smirked with interest.

“Now you’re talking sense. So you do know something about the scripture.”

He raised one corner of his mouth and tilted his head.

It was his habit; every tilt of his head came with a sharp “tok tok” of cracking joints.

The chilling sound made In-gyeong shiver.

“A fine thought, but my brothers are already too excited to stop now.”

“Heheheh.”

At those words, two disciples raised their swords high toward the Eminent Mountain youths.

One strike, and the four lives would be finished.

“No!”

Swish!

With a single shout, something round pierced the air like an arrow.

“Argh!”

Kkang!

The two Dragon-Summoning Hall men dropped their swords from the searing pain in their hands.

In-gyeong turned toward the direction of the projectile and saw, several tens of meters away, the wavering silhouette of a dark figure.

“You are…”

“You bastard!”

The leader, who had already been humiliated once, bellowed furiously and charged toward the dark figure.

High-level expert or not, he could not endure this disgrace.

His sword forms were simple, meant only for killing—but fast.

In a flash he reached his opponent, unleashing multiple strikes within a single exchange.

Had it been In-gyeong, such brutal strikes would have been fatal.

“Calm yourself, will you…”

But the dark figure calmly avoided every strike.

Finally, with one hand, he caught the very tip of the thrusting blade.

The leader flinched in shock but feigned calmness, channeling internal energy into his grip and pulling back hard.

But the sword didn’t budge—instead, his hand now trembled so much he could barely hold it.

‘This bastard…’

He began gathering qi in his free hand to unleash a palm blast.

Though his hand was injured, it was enough to inflict damage at close range.

“Damn…”

The dark figure calmly watched, then released the blade tip.

The next moment, he pressed a finger firmly into the man’s Chest Center acupoint.

The leader, focused on his palm strike, was caught off guard and failed to dodge.

With his pressure point sealed, his body froze like ice.

“Forgive me for disturbing your busy play.”

The dark figure stepped slowly out of the shadows.

As he left the cover of the forest, his identity became clear.

“You’re…?”

The disciples of Eminent Mountain Sect glanced at each other in disbelief.

It was the ugly innkeeper who had stirred broth earlier—the clumsy youth who seemed never to have trained martial arts—now scratching his head before them.

“You forgot your change.”

In-gyeong realized he had met the savior of his life.

Just beyond this bend lay the entrance to Yellow Stone Mountain.

Yeong-jun had been running for over half an hour, past his limits, yet he didn’t think of stopping.

Thinking that each step could decide his brothers’ lives, he endured even as his heart threatened to burst.

“Hmph! Run all you want, you’re just a flea!”

But heaven was merciless—the distance between Yeong-jun and the pursuer had shrunk to a mere thirty meters.

His light footwork was better, but his stamina couldn’t match.

“Ahh!”

Startled, Yeong-jun tripped on a stone he hadn’t noticed and fell.

He tried to rise and run again, but the searing pain in his left foot made him collapse.

It seemed he had badly twisted it.

“You were going to be caught anyway—should’ve saved me the trouble.”

The pursuer’s face was drenched in sweat as well.

His expression oozed irritation.

So infuriated was he that he cursed nonstop at Yeong-jun.

‘Sect Leader… forgive my uselessness.’

Seeing the man approach with a terrifying face, Yeong-jun’s tears streamed down.

It wasn’t fear of death.

It was guilt at failing his sect, shame at his own uselessness.

To survive only to die meaninglessly, without helping—he couldn’t bear the disgrace.

“You brat!”

The thug’s rough hand lunged for Yeong-jun’s nape.

The attack, meant only to choke the life out of him, was brutal and merciless.

Crack!

“Urgh!”

The man was struck hard on the hand by a heavy wooden staff and toppled backward.

When he regained his senses and sat up, a short, plump old man stood over him, smiling.

The face was familiar—surely it was the old man from the tavern.

“From here on, this is Yellow Stone Sect territory. Do not cross.”

The old man drew a line in the dirt right before the fallen man’s foot.

It seemed like a light stroke, yet the earth split as deep as two finger joints.

“You senile old fool!”

When the man spat more curses, the old man clicked his tongue and struck his legs mercilessly with the staff.

No matter how he dodged, the staff chased him like it had eyes.

“How boorish and rude. Begone at once!”

At last, the man looked up carefully at his opponent.

The odd-looking old man, right below Yellow Stone Mountain.

A thought struck him, and his face flushed red.

“No… don’t tell me, you’re…”

“Yes, do you see now? This is my territory!”

Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, displeased, was none other than the sect leader of Yellow Stone Sect—Eight Demons Taoist Ma Sepung.

도광양회(韜光養晦), Conceal One’s Light and Bide One’s Time:

To hide one’s talents or fame in obscurity and bide one’s time for the right opportunity.