Chapter 214

Chapter 214: The Eight Trigrams Hall (3)

Four.

As that solitary utterance drifted down, a heavy stillness enveloped the Eight Trigrams Hall.

Not a single soul ventured to speak.

Myo Jinheo and Yan Bilyeong.

Two distinguished Trigram Masters were currently residing within the Hero’s Sect?

For what possible reason would the high-ranking Trigram Masters of the renowned Formation Tower choose to remain at an obscure, newly established organization?

When factoring in Dongmun Mutoe, that brought the count to three.

A dark irritation settled upon the countenances of the gathered masters, their minds seemingly stalled by the sheer absurdity of the revelation.

Dongmun Mutoe slouched comfortably, resting his interlaced fingers behind his head as he sank into his grand seat, quietly analyzing the reactions of the council.

A total, deadening quiet.

He had fully anticipated a stunned reaction, yet the oppressive weight of this particular silence exceeded even his calculations.

It was remarkable how suffocating an atmosphere could become the moment an entire assembly simultaneously lost the ability to process thought.

Right then.

A faint, crisp scraping noise drifted down from the elevated platform reserved for the Yin-Yang Guard.

A porcelain vessel was lifted.

Jin Mugeuk.

The mythical grandmaster, rumored to possess the profound skill required to completely isolate the vast Yunling Mountain Range with a singular barrier, took a measured sip of his warm beverage.

Yet he did not place the vessel back on the tray.

After drawing it away from his lips, he simply maintained his grip on the small cup.

It remained a mystery whether this gesture indicated that his testimony was incomplete, or if he was merely reflecting deeply on the information just delivered.

Such was the sole, inscrutable response offered by the Yin-Yang Guard.

Beneath him, the tense, breathless quiet persisted like the oppressive air preceding a torrential gale.

Predictably, the individual whose patience disintegrated first under the strain of the silence was none other than Baek Jang-gyeong.

Smash—!

The wood groaned.

Baek Jang-gyeong’s massive hand struck the surface of the circular table within the Eight Trigrams Hall with immense force.

A small cup tipped sideways, spilling its contents, but Baek Jang-gyeong paid no heed to the mess.

“Why on earth are two elite Trigram Masters from our own Formation Tower lingering in such an insignificant place?!”

His thunderous shout echoed violently throughout the spacious chambers of the Eight Trigrams Hall.

The pair of unoccupied positions—the designated places for the leaders of the Mountain Formation Division and the Thunder Formation Division—loomed with jarring prominence.

It was not the mere vacancy of the chairs that disturbed them, but rather the baffling reality behind their absence that threw the council into disarray.

“Was it not reported that they departed on an urgent matter?”

The Trigram Master of the Wind Formation Division spoke up without delay to press the issue.

“Trigram Master Yan and Trigram Master Myo vacated their posts under the pretext of critical business, but how could that possibly tie them to this upstart Hero’s Sect?”

Every sharp gaze in the room converged entirely upon Dongmun Mutoe.

Dongmun Mutoe, keeping his hands comfortably tucked behind his head, merely inclined his chin to the side.

A subtle, knowing grin tugged at one corner of his mouth.

“Well, who can say?”

“What do you mean, ‘who can say’?!”

“It is indisputable that the pair arrived in the River Capital seeking my whereabouts, but regarding any developments beyond that, I would personally have to witness it to give you an answer, wouldn’t I?”

He began to tap his fingertips rhythmically across the polished wood.

Pitter, patter.

“Though, I suppose I could hazard a guess. They tracked me down, a confrontation ensued, and at present, they might very well be detained as prisoners… who truly knows?”

He let out a sharp chuckle.

Heh.

He spoke with total detachment, as if discussing the misfortunes of total strangers.

A prominent thick vein throbbed violently against Baek Jang-gyeong’s forehead.

“You have the audacity to mock us during a crisis like this—.”

“A mockery? It is an absolute reality that they are currently at the Hero’s Sect, just as it is an absolute reality that they came to find me. And does that not constitute urgent business? After all, it involves the critical objective of bringing ‘me’ to heel.”

Dongmun Mutoe gave a careless shrug.

His logic was airtight.

Every word was factual, and there was nothing more to parse from it.

Nevertheless, his casual suggestion that ‘they tracked me down, a confrontation ensued, and at present, they might very well be detained as prisoners’ immediately took firm root in the thoughts of everyone present.

Dongmun Mutoe had been bested?

Two elite Trigram Masters were being held against their will by an unranked organization?

An unknown sect possessed the sheer capability to capture two grandmasters of the formation arts?

The rapid calculation of these implications began to race through each of their minds.

Click.

The wooden beads of Ga Myo-ryeon’s calculating frame rattled sharply.

As though she had effortlessly reined in her fleeting surprise, she began to slide the markers one after another with an entirely steady, calculating hand.

“Trigram Master Dongmun.”

“Speak.”

“If two of our highest ranking Trigram Masters are currently residing within the compound of the Hero’s Sect.”

Click.

“Then regardless of how one attempts to rationalize it, the underlying strength of this Hero’s Sect must be vastly superior to what anyone in this chamber previously estimated, is that not so?”

Upon hearing her assessment, Baek Jang-gyeong’s eyes flared with alarm, but Ga Myo-ryeon completely ignored his reaction.

The calculating frame clacked once more in the quiet room.

“Furthermore, it remains undeniable that all communication between our headquarters and those two Trigram Masters has ceased entirely….”

Clack, clack.

“Are you implying that this group commands an intelligence apparatus that outshines our own, alongside the martial prowess required to overcome Trigram Master Dongmun?”

Dongmun Mutoe gave a slow shake of his head.

“To be perfectly accurate, it was their leader alone who bested me in combat. As for the reach of their spies, I cannot say for certain. I am unsure if that individual possesses an extraordinary information network of his own, or if he maintains a hidden alliance with the Great Beggars’ Sect.”

“Hah. Are you suggesting they might be closely aligned with the Great Beggars’ Sect as well?”

“It is a distinct possibility.”

“If that is the case, then by any metric, they cannot be dismissed as a mere typical start-up sect, can they?”

Ga Myo-ryeon tilted her partially closed eyes toward Dongmun Mutoe.

Narrowed eyelids.

The unmistakable precursor to a razor-sharp interrogation.

“Trigram Master Dongmun, despite sharing allegiance to the very same order as Trigram Master Yan, you do not appear to harbor the slightest trace of anxiety for their well-being, do you?”

“I cannot be certain whether that gentleman subdued them through force or is presently hosting them with the highest honors as esteemed visitors.”

Hmph.

“However, a leader who intends to engage in diplomacy does not typically begin by severing the heads of his guests, do they? Particularly not—.”

Dongmun Mutoe gave a slight twitch of his nose before parting his lips to conclude.

“—on the precise day of their organization’s grand inauguration ceremony.”

River Capital.

The Hero’s Sect Training Ground.

“—And next, we shall receive an inaugural address from the Sect Leader of the Hero’s Sect.”

The composed, resonant tones of Jeon Rahwa carried clearly across the expanse of the Training Ground.

Seated in the section reserved for honored dignitaries, Yan Bilyeong shifted and squared her spine.

Her shoulder blades squared automatically, a deeply ingrained reflex.

She was a practitioner whose physical form grew impeccably rigid whenever anxiety gripped her.

Her attention fixed directly upon the elevated stage.

Dong Bongsu was stepping forward.

He wore dark, midnight-colored robes.

The blade resting at his hip cast a sharp silver reflection under the bright sun.

He was remarkably youthful.

A countenance far younger than the vast majority of the crowd assembled before him.

Yet it was the face of an individual who had ascended to an unimaginable pinnacle of power, a realm that should have been impossible to attain even through a lifetime of relentless training from infancy.

Involuntarily, Yan Bilyeong brought her hands together, resting them neatly on her dress.

‘Kim Rae-won.’

That specific individual utterly brought down my martial brother, Dongmun Mutoe.

That specific individual confronted both myself and Myo Jinheo simultaneously.

And emerged completely victorious.

After rendering two of the Formation Tower’s elite Trigram Masters entirely helpless without even changing his expression, he was now stepping onto the podium for his grand opening with that very same unbothered look.

The crushing, terrifying pressure that had caused her entire skeletal structure to shudder mere days ago was completely absent; she could detect absolutely no such martial aura emanating from the present Kim Rae-won.

On the contrary, his demeanor appeared remarkably mild.

His gaze softened with genuine warmth as he looked upon the small children gathered in the front rank of the Training Ground.

A young girl named Hoae occupied the absolute front, her tiny hands squeezed into tight fists, while Jeon Rahwa stood adjacent to the youths, wearing a gentle expression.

Directly across in the dignitary pavilion sat the high magistrate of the River Capital alongside the regional director of the All-Knowing House, a prominent branch operating under the Great Beggars’ Sect.

Furthermore, warriors who had journeyed from every corner of the River Capital crowded the remaining space of the Training Ground.

The gathering was not grand in terms of raw numbers, but every single face in the crowd bore an expression of utmost gravity.

She had received word that he had single-handedly and effortlessly eradicated the two major factions that previously governed this territory, the Iron God Gang and the Seven Star Immortal Society, though she lacked the context to fully grasp how monumental such a victory truly was on its own.

It was merely evident that there was not a soul present who failed to understand that this singular intervention had thoroughly reshaped the balance of power across the River Capital.

‘How bizarre. To seize total control over an entire territory in such a brief window surely dictates that an immense ocean of blood was spilled….’

Yet every individual present was directing a gaze of profound warmth toward him.

No, beyond mere warmth, a striking majority were gazing upon him with an intensity of pure, unadulterated devotion, as though they were looking at a living deity.

This setting, the Hero’s Sect, radiated an energy that made it feel less like a martial school and more like a sacred temple.

It was filled with contradictions she found impossible to decipher, yet she forced herself to remain entirely focused, attempting to parse the true nature of the scene before her.

Adjacent to Yan Bilyeong, Myo Jinheo sat quietly with his parchment fan resting partially spread.

Within his heavily hooded eyes, the sharp, analytical scrutiny of a scholar gleamed bright.

‘I intend to discover precisely what manner of creature you truly are.’

In perfect alignment with his silent vow, Myo Jinheo’s gaze betrayed absolutely no intention of overlooking even the most minute shift in Dong Bongsu’s posture.

The exact measurement of his footsteps, the path of his vision, the precise rhythm of his inhalations, even the subtle depth of his smile.

Dong Bongsu took his place at the absolute center of the elevated stage.

He cast a measured look across the entire congregation, and then slowly began to speak.

“As we mark the official inauguration of the Hero’s Sect, I wish to utilize this moment to share a few fundamental thoughts with you all.”

His words resonated flawlessly across the length of the Training Ground.

It was an unassuming delivery, yet it lacked any sense of insignificance.

He did not strain his throat to project, nor did he adopt a false veneer of superiority; his words were simply, undeniably pure.

“Every individual gathered here understands the reality of this territory known as the River Capital perfectly well.”

A scatter of attendees gave sober nods of agreement.

“It was historically a domain of complete lawlessness.”

Dong Bongsu paused for a brief moment.

“The defenseless were brutally exploited, and the ruthless held dominion. Cold steel clashed beneath the dark of night, and lifeless forms littered the alleyways by dawn. The governing officials cowered securely behind their stone fortifications, while the martial artists concerned themselves solely with personal gain.”

Yan Bilyeong’s eyes opened wide as she absorbed every detail with intense focus.

She found herself deeply intrigued by the precise vocabulary this enigmatic individual chose to employ.

“Such a crisis is by no means isolated to the River Capital.”

Dong Bongsu’s calm gaze traversed the sea of faces before him.

“It is a grim reality replicated across the entirety of these Central Plains. It merely resonates more profoundly within your hearts because this specific land happens to be your home.”

His delivery remained entirely even.

There was no trace of burning fury, no hint of dramatic despair.

He spoke as though he were merely describing the unalterable state of the world.

‘How unusual.’

Myo Jinheo’s narrow eyelids compressed a fraction more.

There is a complete absence of malice.

No righteous wrath whatsoever.

Typically, warriors who choose to lecture on the concept of virtue during such high-profile gatherings harbor a deep-seated anger against corruption, utilizing that inner fire to fuel their rhetoric.

This individual possessed nothing of the sort.

His tone was quiet and entirely flat, as if he were merely discussing the daily forecast.

And yet, his understated delivery carried immense weight.

“The Hero’s Sect was brought into existence to systematically dismantle that very chaos,” Dong Bongsu declared.

“However.”

Another deliberate pause.

“I harbor no desire to preach an overly complex or lofty philosophy.”

Yan Bilyeong’s brow furrowed slightly in surprise.

“True virtue is not an abstract or complex concept.”

Dong Bongsu’s tone dropped to a lower register.

It was an entirely fluid, unforced shift.

It bore no signs of theatrical orchestration.

At the very least, that was how it translated to Yan Bilyeong.

“It is simply the willingness to involve oneself in the plight of others.”

It was remarkably direct.

“It is the fundamental inability to look away when witnessing an act of cruelty.”

It was incredibly brief.

“That is the entirety of it.”

Myo Jinheo’s fan gave a minute quiver.

‘A warrior possessing such terrifying martial capabilities speaks in such ordinary terms.’

His academic intuition gave a quiet warning.

This is either a highly calculated display of humility, or it is a profound simplicity born of genuine conviction.

It had to be one or the other, but regardless of the underlying truth, the ultimate impact remained identical.

It directly pierced the core of anyone listening.

“However.”

Dong Bongsu’s eyes swept across the gathered crowd once more.

“We fully purpose to tread the path of Neutrality.”

Yan Bilyeong’s lips parted in a silent echo.

The Neutrality.

“A trajectory that aligns neither with the Orthodox factions nor the Unorthodox factions; a commitment to determining right from wrong entirely through our own moral compass.”

Dong Bongsu shifted his weight and took a definitive step forward.

“Throughout the Jianghu, there exist those draped in the title of the Orthodox who possess not a shred of genuine righteousness.”

A low, collective whisper rippled through the audience.

“Concurrently, there exist those branded as the Unorthodox who nevertheless adhere strictly to a profound Dao of their own making.”

Dong Bongsu let out a brief, soft chuckle.

“Superficial labels, grand reputations, orsect plaques hold no true value. Conduct is the sole metric of worth. What an individual chooses to do must always take precedence over the title they claim for themselves.”

Yan Bilyeong’s fingers dug tightly into her lap.

A trajectory independent of both the Orthodox and the Unorthodox.

In certain respects, it mirrored the philosophical stance of the Formation Tower.

Yet, while the Formation Tower operated as an entity that aligned itself based entirely on financial compensation, this individual proposed to choose his alliances based strictly on the concepts of justice and injustice.

‘Is he fundamentally naive, or is he extraordinarily conceited?’

Yan Bilyeong had yet to finalize her assessment.

However, the young man’s gaze reflected neither naivety nor conceit.

They were merely saturated with absolute, unyielding certainty.

She vividly recalled her initial engagement against Dong Bongsu a short while ago.

She had unleashed the absolute entirety of her internal energy into the strike, yet she proved to be utterly inconsequential before him.

No, even describing it as being ‘no match’ failed to capture the reality.

That individual had not engaged in a ‘battle’ with her.

He had simply neutralized her.

As effortlessly and methodically as a parent restraining a toddler’s hand.

A warrior of that caliber was now standing before them uttering ‘commonplace truths’.

Shield the innocent and destroy the corrupt.

It was entirely basic.

Yet when an individual possessing the absolute power to manifest those basic words chooses to speak them, they cease to be basic phrases—they transform into a definitive decree.

“Therefore.”

Dong Bongsu deliberately extended both of his arms outward.

The image captured in Yan Bilyeong’s vision, though situated upon the modest training grounds of an unranked sect, somehow took on the appearance of a figure standing upon a far grander, historical stage.

‘He is no mere Sect Leader.’

A sudden realization struck Yan Bilyeong.

‘He is a Commander.’

It was the unmistakable countenance of a leader orchestrating a grand campaign across a field of war.

Concealed beneath that amiable expression, there existed an immovable core.

She had yet to decipher what that core was forged from.

Dong Bongsu’s warm eyes traveled over the assembly one final time.

The young children.

Jeon Rahwa.

The assembled warriors.

Yo Han-myeong.

Bae Dal-pae.

Yan Bilyeong.

Myo Jinheo.

Every single set of eyes was locked onto Dong Bongsu.

“Our Hero’s Sect shall steadfastly walk the path it is destined to walk,” Dong Bongsu proclaimed.

“We shall safeguard the innocent, defend righteousness and fair judgment, bring retribution upon the wicked, and utterly root out the demonic. Regardless of the adversary, no matter how monumental their influence may be—,”

His voice, entirely measured yet cuttingly distinct, swept across every inch of the Training Ground.

“Until they are thoroughly eradicated from these Central Plains, I shall never lower this blade.”

Dong Bongsu’s militant, unyielding proclamation settled heavily over the silent Training Ground.

A transitory, breathless quiet ensued.

And then.

A thunderous wave of applause burst forth.

The young youths struck first.

Hoae began striking her palms together with immense energy, and the children adjacent to her instantly mirrored her enthusiasm.

Shortly after, the martial practitioners of the River Capital, Yo Han-myeong, and Bae Dal-pae joined the chorus.

The entire Training Ground resonated with the deafening roar of clapping hands.

Myo Jinheo’s hooded eyelids snapped completely open.

‘The path it is destined to walk.’

It truly is the correct course.

To shield the innocent and destroy the corrupt.

Principles so fundamentally accurate that society at large has entirely abandoned them; principles whose foundational roots have likely suffered complete extinction across these Central Plains.

Yet.

‘……Could he possibly be genuine?’

Did there truly exist a solitary soul within this chaotic Jianghu capable of actually executing such an ideal?

It remained an impossible question to answer for the time being.

Myo Jinheo allowed his eyelids to droop halfway once more.

He snapped his parchment fan shut.

Nevertheless, he was forced to concede to the reality before him.

That individual’s rhetoric commanded undeniable power.

Not the raw power of internal martial arts, but an intangible gravity that effortlessly pulled minds into his orbit.

Whether the origin of that gravity stemmed from absolute authenticity or masterful performance, the end product was identical.

Hearts are stirred.

Was every single person occupying this space not currently striking their hands together?

Even Yan Bilyeong was joining in the applause.

Myo Jinheo subtly allowed the corners of his mouth to arc upward as he, too, immersed himself in the cascade of clapping.

Unconsciously.

With every strike of his palms, he could feel the rigid assumptions he had nurtured for a long time shattering one by one.

The memory of the terrifying martial entity who had thoroughly humiliated Dongmun Mutoe and themselves was now seamlessly merging with the figure commanding the stage.

An extraordinarily young Sect Leader of a start-up faction, lecturing the world on virtue.

‘If it is indeed this individual.’

Yan Bilyeong’s lips parted slightly.

Though no audible words slipped past her teeth just yet.

‘He may very well be someone the Formation Tower could legitimately forge an alliance with….’

Long after that thought surfaced.

The roaring applause continued to echo for a considerable duration.

Formation Tower, Eight Trigrams Hall.

The intense, fiery dispute had persisted continuously for upwards of two hours.

Dongmun Mutoe spent the vast majority of this window reclined deeply within his seat, idly tapping his fingertips against his arm.

He had already introduced every necessary piece of information to the board.

At present, his sole responsibility was to wait for the planted seed to take root and split the earth on its own terms.

Ultimately, when one flings a stone into a still body of water, the resulting waves are the concern of the current, not the projectile.

Tap, tap.

Nevertheless, before long, his sharp senses registered that the debate among the Trigram Masters was steadily losing its momentum.

Disputes regarding moral justification, logical practicality, and established protocol—all of these arguments were merely spiraling in endless circles when confronted by the completely unknown factor that was the Hero’s Sect.

We possess no data.

Consequent to that, we cannot formulate a judgment.

Consequent to that, we are obligated to verify.

There could exist only one logical resolution.

And within the hierarchy of the Formation Tower, there existed but a single individual authorized to give voice to that ultimate resolution.

From the high dais reserved for the Yin-Yang Guard, the distinct click of a porcelain cup being returned to its saucer resonated.

An incredibly soft sound.

Instantly, the entirety of the Eight Trigrams Hall plummeted into absolute silence.

As though every syllable uttered during the prior arguments had been nothing more than an insignificant introductory act.

“We are required to verify the truth of the matter.”

Jin Mugeuk’s tone was incredibly deep.

It carried no overt force, nor did it attempt to project artificial dominance; it was delivered simply as a brief phrase, akin to the unprompted mutterings of an elder.

Dongmun Mutoe’s rhythmic tapping ceased at once.

‘It is finalized.’

At the exact instant Dongmun Mutoe was celebrating silently within his mind.

“Lord Yin-Yang Guard, when you specify verification…?”

As Baek Jang-gyeong instantly shifted his weight forward to query, Jin Mugeuk offered his directive.

“We shall initiate a meeting with him. Either he shall journey to our gates, or we shall march to his.”

It was precisely at that identical moment that Dong Bongsu concluded his inaugural address.