Chapter 225

The breeze blew bitter and freezing.

A dense dawn fog blanketed the rugged trail leading up the peak.

One could barely see past ten paces.

Silhouettes shifted through the heavy haze.

Yet, to claim they were walking would be an overstatement.

A solitary figure trudged forward, missing his entire left foot.

Beside him, crippled men hobbled along, leaning heavily on one another for support.

Another moved with hollow, dead eyes, putting one foot in front of the other purely by reflex.

Even the few who still possessed both limbs looked as though they were dragging dead weight.

The group numbered roughly two hundred.

Scarcely one out of every ten remained unharmed.

The rest relied on a neighbor’s shoulder, rode on the backs of their companions, or propped themselves up by burying their blades into the dirt like walking sticks.

Their garments, once a pristine white, were now caked in crimson stains and grime. Scabbards hung shattered and useless, leaving raw steel exposed to the elements.

The Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect.

A mighty cornerstone of the Righteous Faction.

The pathetic column crawling up the mountain bore absolutely no resemblance to that legendary name.

The individual leading the retreat halted.

He appeared to be in his mid-thirties.

His left arm was completely missing.

A crimson-soaked cloth was bound tightly over the stump where the limb had been severed cleanly at the shoulder, and dark, sluggish gore still leaked from the edges of the dressing.

Jin Hagyeong.

The Master of the Heaven Reflecting Sword Manor, a prominent subsidiary of the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect.

At this moment, however, titles meant nothing.

The Heaven Reflecting Sword Manor had been utterly wiped off the map four days prior.

At the first light of dawn, the marauders had descended, chanting their sacred mantras.

Zealots clad in dark kasayas, swinging rosaries fashioned from human skulls, had butchered more than a hundred disciples in under two hours.

Jin Hagyeong had managed to break through the slaughter with nothing but a single arm and thirty surviving subordinates.

Ten of those thirty had perished during their desperate flight. Although their ranks had expanded when they crossed paths with routed survivors from other branches along the mountain tracks, their numbers continuously shrank.

The pursuit by the Dark Rakshasa Way was unyielding.

A specialized tracking squad from the Rakshasa Monk Corps.

They hunted the survivors ruthlessly, framing the execution as a sacred Buddhist ritual.

Gradually, deliberately, the refugees were being culled.

Even when injured stragglers from collateral lineages and auxiliary families joined the group, boosting their numbers temporarily, the tally would plummet shortly after.

The enemy’s twisted ‘sacred ritual’ seemed to have no conclusion.

In the chaos of the onslaught, he had surrendered an arm.

On the bright side, he had managed to slaughter nine of the attackers in exchange.

It was a fair trade for flesh and bone.

All contact with the central headquarters had been severed long ago.

If the whispers regarding the total annihilation of the Branch Sword Corps held any truth, it signified that the entire defensive perimeter safeguarding the outposts of the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect had turned to ash.

There was no sanctuary left.

Consequently, he directed his steps toward the south.

There was no grand strategy behind it.

Hostiles blocked the north, and hostiles held the east.

The west was overrun by a completely different Unorthodox Faction.

Once every viable path was crossed out, only the southern route remained.

After combining forces with various remnants along the way, their headcount—which had once rebounded to over five hundred—had ebbed and flowed until it hovered just above two hundred.

The total number of martial artists who had perished within their own compounds without even the chance to draw a blade likely exceeded two thousand.

The solitary shred of comfort was that they hadn’t suffered a single casualty over the last forty-eight hours.

‘…Has the chase finally ended?’

Jin Hagyeong cast a glance over his shoulder.

The foul, suffocating aura that had persistently trailed his footsteps had completely dissolved since the night before last.

Had the trackers abandoned the hunt?

Or had they locked onto a more significant target?

Ultimately, it changed nothing.

They drew breath for another day.

“Manor Lord.”

A muffled whisper rasped from a short distance behind him.

“I catch the scent of water.”

Jin Hagyeong lifted his chin.

A faint, shimmering ribbon of silver pierced through the heavy fog.

‘A body of water?’

“I believe we have reached Colorful Lake, Manor Lord.”

“Colorful Lake?”

“Indeed. I recall maps indicating a grand lake situated precisely in this territory.”

“Is there any danger here?”

“…Local rumors spoke of it as a notorious haven for displaced mountain bandits.”

“Thieves?”

“Yes, Manor Lord.”

“…Disregard them. We are in no condition to fret over petty highwaymen.”

Jin Hagyeong spoke with grim authority, forcing down the agony racking his frame.

“Advance. We will secure water to drink. Should any mountain bandits cross our path, slaughter them without hesitation.”

A collective breath of relief rippled through the ranks behind him.

It had been three long days.

They had marched for three days straight without a single moment of sanctuary.

Those incapable of walking were hoisted onto shoulders, and those who could no longer be carried… were abandoned to the wild.

He had not wiped them from his mind.

Jin Hagyeong preserved the memory of every single face he had been forced to leave behind.

Yet, he had to drag those memories forward with him.

The luxury of pausing to grieve belonged to those who were not fighting for survival.

With each sacrifice, Jin Hagyeong ground his teeth but refused to turn his gaze backward.

To look back meant slowing down, and slowing down meant a death sentence for everyone.

“Advance and secure the bank first. Ensure the wounded quench their thirst before anyone else.”

Jin Hagyeong commanded sharply.

Two exhausted disciples stumbled down the descending slope toward the water’s edge.

Right then.

Jin Hagyeong’s ears caught a sound.

It was distinct from the whistling wind.

Furthermore, it was the unmistakable noise of a large gathering.

The sounds drifted from past the curtain of fog, originating near the bank of the water.

“Hup!”

“Haat!”

Aggressive shouts of focus, followed by the heavy, echoing thuds of impacts.

Drilling.

Those were the unmistakable cadences of martial artists engaging in rigorous training.

Jin Hagyeong’s gaze sharpened into a squint.

“Was there any record of a recognized clan occupying this territory?”

“None that exists within our intelligence, sir.”

‘Then who… who could they be? Have the local bandits actually formed a structured camp?’

Given their battered state, even common thieves posed a lethal threat.

Nevertheless, simple outlaws could be handled.

They could be scattered with a sufficient display of martial prowess.

And yet.

Let them not belong to the Unorthodox Faction…….

If they chanced upon an evil sect in this crippled condition, it would mean absolute annihilation.

On the other hand, if they belonged to the Righteous Faction… could he possibly beg for asylum?

Asylum.

The phrase tasted like ash on his tongue.

To plead for salvation under the banner of the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect.

Only days ago, that title carried the weight of absolute decree.

By uttering that name alone, mountain warlords would drop to their knees and local magistrates would clear the thoroughfares.

Now, even after escaping this far into the southern frontier, he possessed no certainty that the title would provide even a shred of safety.

What honor could be defended with a weapon reduced to nothing but its grip?

Even as a lord of a branch compound, a true representative of the premier sword clan within the Righteous Faction might find himself forced to lower his head to an anonymous wilderness gathering.

Ego attempted to flare within his chest, but Jin Hagyeong forced himself to look back at his men.

Two hundred exhausted, blood-spattered countenances met his gaze.

Among the crowd, the few whose minds remained sharp kept their eyes locked onto him.

They were waiting to see what course of action their leader would choose.

Ah, what value does ego hold?

Built atop the slaughter of my own disciples, is it worth defending this petty shred of vanity?

Vanity cannot preserve lives.

“Halt.”

Jin Hagyeong ordered the column to a stop.

“Remain here. I will venture ahead to scout the area.”

“Manor Lord, navigating forward by yourself is too dangerous…”

“It matters not. I still possess my dominant arm, do I not?”

Jin Hagyeong wrapped his right hand tightly around the grip of his blade and… stepped forward into the gray void.

Thump.

The gathering of shattered warriors remained motionless on the trail, tracking the fragile silhouette of the man as he faded away. ● ● ● The heavy fog commenced to dissolve.

The moment he departed from the mountain track and walked down toward the lakefront, his view expanded dramatically.

The morning light fractured and danced across the rippling surface of the water.

And then.

He spotted them.

Jin Hagyeong’s boots froze.

It was no mere handful of people.

Across a vast cleared field on the northern bank of the lake, backed by an isolated, rustic mountain stronghold, a substantial gathering of martial artists were actively trading blows in coordinated pairs.

This was the origin of the rhythmic cries he had detected earlier.

The style of their sparring appeared remarkably organized.

‘These are no common outlaws.’

Bandits never engage in such disciplined practice.

Arranged in perfect pairs, maintaining precise distances, even projecting their battle cries in unison.

This bore the hallmarks of a traditional martial organization.

And yet.

The foundational prowess of the practitioners was completely chaotic.

Certain individuals swung fists that guided genuine internal reserves along their paths, while others simply lashed out blindly at nothing.

Men whose stepping patterns demonstrated a solid grounding in internal arts were grouped alongside individuals who simply threw their weight around using brute strength.

A newly established organization?

But what purpose would drive a fresh clan to drill in such an isolated wilderness next to a hidden lake?

Right then.

He perceived a presence emanating from the rear of the clearing.

Initially, it was barely perceptible.

A minuscule shift in the air, comparable to a slight turning of the breeze.

Yet, with every pace he closed, the sensation solidified.

The atmosphere grew increasingly dense.

To put it more precisely, it wasn’t that the air grew heavy, but rather its underlying concentration transformed.

It felt as though he were wading into deep waters, his lungs working harder with each passing moment.

It was pure, unadulterated energy.

Someone’s spiritual aura was saturating the entire vicinity without leaving a single gap.

It was devoid of any overbearing malice.

It carried absolutely no murderous intent.

It simply existed.

Like currents filling a riverbed, or the atmosphere occupying the open sky, that power dissolved into the environment as if it belonged there inherently.

Jin Hagyeong swung his eyes across the area to pinpoint the origin of this force.

Shaded beneath the overhang of the mountain stronghold.

A solitary figure rested there.

His shoulder leaned against a tree trunk, a weapon rested horizontally across his thighs, and he quietly observed the training field below.

He simply remained motionless.

And yet.

‘…!’

Jin Hagyeong choked down a breath.

Moisture slicked his right hand where it held his weapon, and his legs gave a microscopic shudder.

This was not merely the result of the physical torment of the past several days.

As the Master of the Heaven Reflecting Sword Manor, he had crossed paths with innumerable titans of the martial world.

He had, naturally, stood before the grand patriarchs at the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect’s core citadel and had operated alongside the commanders of the Branch Sword Corps on countless occasions.

However, this individual stood apart.

Traditional masters would discharge their spiritual presence deliberately when the situation called for it, intentionally making their might known.

That was a feat any accomplished master could perform, whether they hailed from the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect or the Dark Rakshasa Way.

Discharging energy, projecting dominance, evaluating the threat of an adversary.

This individual was projecting nothing at all.

He was merely resting in place, yet the entire environment had surrendered to his personal sphere of influence.

One could comprehend it through sight alone.

The shadow of the rustic stronghold, the breeze coming off the water, even the swirling dirt on the training field—everything seemed to turn around that singular figure.

‘…What manner of entity is this?’

He defied conventional classification.

An absolute master?

Had he crossed into the Transformation Realm?

His inability to measure the man’s depth might have stemmed from his own mediocre cultivation, but the true obstacle lay within the very nature of that spiritual force.

It shared no common ground with the Vast Heaven Qi.

Nor did it bear any resemblance to corrupted, malicious energy.

It matched no signature of spiritual power that Jin Hagyeong had ever encountered throughout his entire existence.

An enlightened being?

He had never encountered a true immortal in the flesh, but… this presence felt as untainted and chilling as an alpine stream, yet possessed a profound depth that appeared bottomless.

At that exact moment, the individual’s eyes shifted directly toward him.

His fingers instinctively clamped down harder around his hilt.

He exerted every ounce of willpower to suppress the tremor in his frame.

He fought to ensure he did not drop his gaze.

The individual rose to his feet.

Deliberately.

Without a shred of urgency.

Thud, thud.

With every stride the man took to close the distance, the pressure of the environment shifted.

It did not grow suffocating.

On the contrary, the air felt significantly lighter.

An inexplicable wash of serene tranquility, rather than crushing weight, enveloped him as the stranger neared.

That sensation proved far more terrifying.

He possessed the training to withstand overt malice.

He could have matched an aggressive aura by drawing his own steel.

But this experience was akin to a helpless victim pulling water into his lungs, incapable of fighting the current.

It was an entity that defied resistance from the outset.

The stranger halted exactly ten paces away, and… locked eyes with him from a short distance.

They were bottomless.

Pupils that appeared to mirror absolute vacancy, yet simultaneously seemed to encompass the entire cosmos.

No malice, no warmth, no suspicion—nothing could be deciphered from his gaze.

He simply observed.

As though watching rainfall.

As though observing the wind.

As though looking upon something whose presence or absence altered absolutely nothing in the world.

Jin Hagyeong understood through pure intuition.

‘To this individual, I pose zero threat.’

The Master of the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect stood with his hand on his weapon, radiating his own internal power, yet not a single ripple of caution registered in the stranger’s eyes.

It was not born of malice.

It was a cold, objective reality, and for that exact reason, it wounded his pride far deeper.

Once, utilizing the authority of the Heaven Reflecting Sword Manor’s Master, he had claimed a prestigious seat at the grand regional council and sat face-to-face with the supreme leaders of the primary sect, sharing tea.

Even as a secondary manor lord, as long as the shadow of the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect backed his actions, crowds would part wherever he walked.

That title had now been stripped of all significance.

A disabled leader missing an arm, draped in a gore-soaked tunic and clutching a fractured weapon, stood exposed before a complete stranger.

What honor could be preserved with a weapon reduced to nothing but its grip?

The stranger initiated the conversation.

“From what region have you traveled?”

His tone was perfectly even.

Neither arrogant nor subservient, a cadence as steady as the breeze.

Jin Hagyeong pressed his teeth into his lip.

Should he declare his true identity?

Faced with an opponent whose alignment with the Righteous or Unorthodox factions remained completely unknown, would revealing his ties to the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect offer protection or invite destruction?

Yet, he lacked the luxury to construct falsehoods.

Nearly two hundred crippled martial artists stood waiting in the wings behind him.

His stubborn ego attempted to assert itself once more, but Jin Hagyeong deliberately crushed it down.

He hammered the truth into his mind one final time.

Vanity cannot preserve lives.

“…I am Jin Hagyeong, Master of the Heaven Reflecting Sword Manor, an auxiliary branch of the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect.”

The stranger’s features remained entirely static.

He exhibited no astonishment, caution, or deference upon hearing the title of the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect.

There was absolutely no shift in his demeanor whatsoever.

Were they not speaking of the legendary Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect?

The fires of the conflict had clearly not spread this far into the southern territories, meaning the matter simply did not concern him.

To that individual, the name carried no weight.

‘…A terrifying individual.’

“Your trauma is critical.”

It was stated not as an inquiry, but as a plain medical reality.

The absent left limb, the saturated dressings, the unstable stance, the microscopic vibration at the tip of his weapon.

The stranger’s vision had undoubtedly deciphered the entire picture already.

“…It is.”

The mere realization that he detected no malice in the stranger’s tone provided a wave of comfort.

“I have roughly two hundred crippled disciples following behind me. The majority can scarcely manage another step.”

The stranger’s eyes briefly shifted past Jin Hagyeong’s frame, scanning the area where the heavy mist was breaking apart along the trail, before returning his focus.

‘Was he already aware?’

He could not say for certain.

Yet it was undeniable that the stranger’s focus had locked instantly onto the precise coordinates of the two hundred refugees.

Even utilizing Jin Hagyeong’s advanced spiritual perception, it would prove nearly impossible to pinpoint the exact locations of two hundred individuals from this distance.

This implied that the stranger had cataloged their presence from the exact spot where he had been resting.

A cold bead of moisture traced its way down his spine.

“Were your forces broken by the Dark Rakshasa Way?”

Jin Hagyeong’s eyelids flared wide.

“…You possess knowledge of them?”

“Word reached me that hostilities were unavoidable.”

A laconic reply.

Nonetheless, Jin Hagyeong extracted immense context from those words.

The reality that he ‘received intelligence of the conflict’ demonstrated that this individual and his disciples were far more than a simple, isolated wilderness clan.

It signified that they were actively monitoring the shifting tides of the martial world.

He paused in uncertainty for a beat, his jaw tightening and his head shifting, before he ultimately bent his upper body in a respectful greeting.

“…This insignificant one ventures to inquire.”

Jin Hagyeong reversed his grip on his weapon and drove the tip firmly into the soil.

A universal sign of relinquishing hostilities.

“What title does this territory bear, and what identity do you possess?”

The stranger permitted a small smile to form.

A minute curving of his lips, a ghostly transformation that barely qualified as amusement.

Yet that expression offered a strange sense of comfort.

Whether his deeper awareness recognized the absence of hostility or the sheer exhaustion of the preceding days had compromised his critical faculties, he could not determine.

“We comprise the Hero’s Sect.”

The Hero’s Sect.

It was a title that had never crossed his radar.

Operating as the master of an outpost belonging to the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect, he possessed familiarity with nearly every prominent and minor organization across the southwestern territories, yet the title Hero’s Sect occupied no place among them.

“…I have never encountered an organization by that name.”

“That is because our foundation was laid only recently.”

The statement was delivered without emotion.

Neither a proud claim nor a defensive explanation, simply a declaration of reality.

“And I function as the Grand Leader of this organization, Kim Rae-won.”

Kim Rae-won.

The air caught inside Jin Hagyeong’s throat.

‘Kim Rae-won…?’