Chapter 171

Chapter 171
## Chapter 171: Long Time No See (2)

“Strategist.”

Jong Yo had been exhausting his mental faculties trying to devise a plan to strike the Ami Sect. He had just closed his eyes for a momentary reprieve when a voice pulled him back to reality.

“Enter.”

As Jong Yo struggled to sit up, Hyeol Sal Pa Pa stepped inside and made a dismissive motion with his hand.

“There is no need for formalities. Stay reclined.”

“I am fine.”

Hyeol Sal Pa Pa observed with a look of deep sympathy as Jong Yo dragged his frail, aching frame toward a wooden chair.

“You look absolutely drained.”

“I have spent the entire day wading through mountains of useless reports and circular arguments. It takes a toll.”

“Tsk. I warned you to pace yourself. Your face has thinned out considerably over these last few days.”

“I don’t have the luxury of rest. We must maintain what strength we have left to ensure we are ready for the day the Valley Lord makes his return.”

“How many within Hwe Cheon even care about the Valley Lord anymore? Since his departure, the reins of power have slipped entirely into the hands of the other side. It makes me bitter—and fearful. If only he had established a firmer grip on our foundation before he left, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

Hyeol Sal Pa Pa felt a deep-seated resentment toward how the leadership of Hwe Cheon, originally set in motion by Eom Jeok So, had been hijacked by a few cliques under Gwan Hwi’s influence. This shift was precisely why he had chosen to distance himself from the inner circle, despite the superficial respect the other executives still showed him.

“Even so, when he does come back, he will need reliable subordinates to act as his hands and feet. I am simply trying to keep those people alive until then.”

“You have a point. If we left things to those arrogant fools, they would surely lead everyone to a meaningless death.”

Hyeol Sal Pa Pa remembered all too clearly the heavy losses Hwe Cheon’s leadership had sustained when they ignored Jong Yo’s counsel and chose a head-on confrontation with the North Heaven Sword Demon.

Jong Yo reached out a stiff, trembling arm to take a teacup.

Noticing the shakiness in his fingers, Hyeol Sal Pa Pa picked up the vessel and placed it gently in his hand.

“My thanks.”

Jong Yo took a slow, methodical sip. He glanced briefly toward the closed door to ensure their privacy before speaking again.

“I was actually intending to discuss this with you.”

“What is on your mind?”

“The drums of war will sound very soon.”

“Even an old man like me can sense that, despite how much they try to keep me in the dark. Reinforcements are pouring in from every direction to bolster the Ami Sect, are they not?”

“Indeed. The numbers are far greater than anticipated. The executives are visibly rattled.”

“Morons. If they had bothered to study the dynamics of Sacheon for even a moment, they would have seen this coming.”

Frustrated by the incompetence of their peers, Hyeol Sal Pa Pa drained his own tea in a single gulp.

“At this stage, the deciding factors are the relief forces coming from the Cheongseong Sect and the Sacheon Tang Clan.”

“I was told the Noeum Temple and the Ma Bul Temple had been dispatched to intercept them.”

“That is the official story. But do you truly believe they have any intention of actually engaging the Cheongseong Sect and the Sacheon Tang Clan?”

A cynical smirk pulled at Jong Yo’s lips, making the burn scars on his face shift into a haunting mask.

“You suspect otherwise, Strategist?”

“If my intuition serves, they will avoid a direct engagement entirely.”

“Are you saying they will tuck tail and run? That they’ve realized they cannot win?” Hyeol Sal Pa Pa asked, looking perplexed.

“The Noeum Temple didn’t throw their weight behind Hwe Cheon out of charity. They saw it as a vehicle to expand their influence into the Central Plains.”

“You have mentioned this theory before.”

“Yes. However, the sheer, terrifying might of the Heavenly Demon Cult shattered those plans. They’ve been forced back all the way to Sacheon. Yet, they haven’t abandoned their greed. They are looking for a way to twist this catastrophe into an opportunity.”

“An opportunity…”

Hyeol Sal Pa Pa’s eyes suddenly widened as the realization hit him.

“You can’t mean… they are hoping for mutual destruction?”

“Precisely. Even if it doesn’t end in total annihilation for both sides, they will likely step back and let the Cheongseong Sect and Tang Clan reach the battlefield. They want the Ami Sect to have enough support to inflict massive damage on our side. While everyone else is bleeding out, the Noeum Temple and Ma Bul Temple will move to strike the weakened Tang Clan at their home base. That is exactly what I would do in their position.”

Jong Yo’s breath came in ragged gasps after the long explanation.

“Here, drink more.”

Jong Yo finished the tea Hyeol Sal Pa Pa offered and allowed a thin smile to cross his face.

“Of course, this is merely my own speculation.”

Hyeol Sal Pa Pa returned the smile. “Your speculations usually have a habit of becoming reality.”

Jong Yo’s record was far too accurate to be dismissed as mere guessing.

“If the Noeum Temple and Ma Bul Temple actually follow through with the attack, then my theory is wrong and you may ignore it. But if those reinforcements arrive at the Ami Sect unscathed, I will need you to act.”

Jong Yo’s expression turned heavy, and Hyeol Sal Pa Pa mirrored his solemnity.

“Tell me what you need.”

“Gather everyone still loyal to the Valley Lord and prepare to vanish. I will position our group as far to the rear as possible during the chaos. I’ll concoct a plausible excuse to keep the others off our trail. And, naturally, don’t forget to bring me along.”

Jong Yo tried to end the sentence with a lighthearted note, but Hyeol Sal Pa Pa’s face remained grimly set from the moment the word “escape” was uttered.

—

The party led by Sima Geon, having narrowly avoided a disaster at the Tang Clan’s perimeter post, moved rapidly toward the heart of the Tang Clan estate under the guidance of Dang Eun-byeong.

They moved with desperate speed, terrified that they might arrive too late to witness the duel between the Sword Empress and Dang Cheonhwa.

“There it is. The Tang Clan.”

Dang Eun-byeong pointed toward a sprawling complex. Despite the legendary status of the Sacheon Tang Clan, the actual buildings appeared remarkably understated and modest.

“Waaaaah!”

A thunderous roar of cheers erupted from within the walls, prompting the group to break into a full sprint.

They reached the main entrance in seconds, only to find their path completely obstructed by a massive, dense crowd.

“Looks like every soul from the outposts gathered here,” Cheol Woo remarked with a chuckle. He placed a hand on Dang Eun-byeong’s shoulder as the latter tried to politely navigate the throng. Pushing the confused guide aside, Cheol Woo took the lead.

He didn’t need to use force.

As Cheol Woo released a sliver of his intimidating aura and stepped forward, the onlookers recoiled in fear, stumbling over one another to get out of his way.

His name was irrelevant.

His towering frame, scarred face, and clothes stained with dried blood were more than enough to terrify the masses. The crowd parted like a curtain being pulled back.

“Haha!”

Dang Eun-byeong watched Cheol Woo’s back in awe, glanced nervously at the disgruntled crowd, and then hurried to keep up.

The cacophony grew louder as they approached the central training grounds.

Then, suddenly, the earth-shaking noise cut out into total silence. At that very moment, Sima Geon’s group stepped onto the edge of the arena.

“Ah!”

Gasps escaped from Manchu and Gwayu simultaneously.

In the center of the field stood Neung So-hwa, holding a single blade. Opposite her stood Dang Cheonhwa. And suspended in the air between them was a literal cloud of hidden weapons, frozen in a moment of lethal tension.

The sight immediately triggered a memory of the Cheonri Plain—the moment Dang Cheonhwa had wiped out the Wind Demon Squad in a single breath. But this display was on a different scale entirely; there were far more projectiles here than in that massacre.

“Heavenly… Flower Rain.”

Dang Eun-byeong whispered the name in a trance.

It was the ultimate secret of the Sacheon Tang Clan: Mancheon Hwaru.

While Sima Geon’s party might not have known the name, Dang Eun-byeong recognized the technique instantly. He had seen elders practice it before, but those displays were like puddles compared to the ocean currently unfolding before him.

It was a literal deluge of steel petals.

Set against the fiery backdrop of the setting sun, the rain of blades was so hauntingly beautiful it made the eyes ache.

Dang Eun-byeong’s hands shook with adrenaline. Watching the true Mancheon Hwaru for the first time, he found it impossible to imagine a scenario where his clan could lose.

He wasn’t the only one. Every spectator, even the cynical Tang Clan elders, stood convinced that victory was at hand.

However, there were those who saw it differently.

While Dang Cheonhwa’s full-strength Mancheon Hwaru was indeed a terrifying spectacle, Sima Geon and Cheol Woo had witnessed something else. They had seen the transcendent duel with Ha Hu-gok—the moment Neung So-hwa achieved her final enlightenment. To them, this looked different.

Neung So-hwa began to move.

It was the Butterfly Dance.

Her steps were fluid and weightless, as if she were a butterfly navigating a gale by simply refusing to fight the wind. She drifted through the gaps in the lethal rain, her sword beginning a slow, rhythmic rotation.

There was no panic in her movements, even as steel converged on her from every angle.

A faint, glowing ring manifested around her.

As the first circle settled, a second one formed just outside it.

With every elegant sweep of her blade, more rings appeared, overlapping and expanding her personal domain.

The hidden weapons launched by Dang Cheonhwa struck against these rings, but not a single needle could pierce the inner sanctum of her defense.

Then, her sword darted out from within the circles, twisting in impossible trajectories.

The variations were so complex and rapid that the human eye could barely track them. One strike split into two, then four, then dozens of flickering images.

The rings surrounding her followed the lead of her blade, shattering into hundreds of glowing threads of energy. These strands wove together, blanketing the training ground in a sea of her aura.

The cloud of weapons that had once dominated the sky was swallowed by her energy, some falling harmlessly and others being swept up into her own flow.

“Incredible.”

Cheol Woo’s jaw dropped as he watched Dang Cheonhwa’s own projectiles being redirected by Neung So-hwa’s power, turning back toward their creator.

“Is she even stronger than before?”

“Yes. Without a doubt,” Sima Geon replied, his eyes locked on the girl who was now methodically dismantling Dang Cheonhwa’s defense.

“Is there even a point in continuing?”

As if he had heard Cheol Woo’s whisper, Dang Cheonhwa—who had been forced into a desperate defensive stance—suddenly stopped moving. Neung So-hwa, startled by the sudden halt, pulled her strike back and sheathed her sword in a blur of motion.

“Let us end it here.”

Dang Cheonhwa spoke with a warm, soft expression.

There was a flicker of sadness in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by genuine pride. He held no bitterness.

Neung So-hwa lowered her head in a respectful bow.

“I am grateful for the guidance you have shown me.”

“I have learned much myself this day. There is an old proverb I usually despise—one about the new waves of a river overtaking the old—but you are the living proof of it. The world of martial arts has been blessed with a true Sword Empress.”

As Dang Cheonhwa made his proclamation, the Tang Clan members, who had been stunned into silence, suddenly erupted in a jubilant roar. They showered the young woman with praise, celebrating the rise of a new legend.

Flushed with embarrassment by the sudden adoration, Neung So-hwa lowered her gaze.

“Your words are too kind, Elder.”

“They are nothing but the truth. But I am curious about what those ruffians over there think.”

Dang Cheonhwa turned his head sharply toward Sima Geon’s group.

“What was your impression of our little bout?”

Every eye in the arena, including Neung So-hwa’s, focused on the newcomers.

“From where I was standing, it looked like you were getting your tail kicked. How did you even notice we were here?”

Cheol Woo’s blunt remark hit the crowd like a bucket of ice water.

“Mind your manners, boy. And look at the state of you before you criticize others. Why do you smell like a slaughterhouse? And what is with that murderous intent rolling off you?”

“Hah! If you knew what we just went through, you’d be bowing at our feet—”

Sima Geon moved quickly to cover Cheol Woo’s mouth, offering an apologetic grin to the assembly.

“It has been a long time, Elder. Lady Neung, it is good to see you again.”

“Yes. It has been a long time.”

Neung So-hwa returned the greeting, her cheeks still slightly pink.

“Enough with the pleasantries,” Dang Cheonhwa boomed, his voice echoing across the grounds. “Tell me honestly—what did you think of what you saw?”

Neung So-hwa’s eyes shone with anticipation as she looked at Sima Geon, clearly waiting for his verdict.