Chapter 475

Chapter 475
## Chapter 475. Finding Evidence (5)

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Gwak Su-san hurried along with unusual urgency. It was as if something was breathing down his neck, driving his desperate urge to escape the premises of the Tang-hyeon Sect without a moment’s delay.

“Just whose fault do you think all of this is?!”

I couldn’t fathom why he kept casting such bitter, accusing stares in my direction. No matter how much I racked my brain, the reason completely eluded me. Our mounts were currently steered straight toward Henan. Moving alongside the members of the Yong-bong Association turned out to be quite an unusual adventure. Under normal circumstances, carrying a blade or any sort of weapon in public practically guaranteed challenges or dragged you into volatile disputes. Yet, the moment we strode into any establishment clad in the official garments of the Yong-bong Association, the surrounding clamor would instantly die down, and a good number of patrons would even hurriedly vacate their tables, unable to withstand the pressure of our presence.

Conversely, bearing the prominent emblem of the Yong-bong Association brought about its own fair share of exhausting complications.

“I am known as Seo Sang-bo, the Unfailing Ten-Thousand-Folds of Henan. Meeting like this today is a profound stroke of destiny, so I would be honored to share a cup of wine with you.”

“My name is Mok Cheon-hyeon, representing the Hong-hwa-mun. The illustrious reputation of the Yong-bong Association has reached my ears countless times. What say you to a night spent discussing the finer points of martial arts?”

“I am an equal of the Thunderous Great Force! To put it precisely, I am your senior in the martial world. Why don’t we forge a deep Kangho bond between senior and junior over a drink today?”

An endless barrage of introductions from figures I had never once encountered came pouring in, rendering it virtually impossible to enjoy a quiet meal.

“We are a fellowship of young martial artists known as the Sin-chang-hoe. Since fortune has brought us together, perhaps you could bestow a brief lesson upon us?”

“I have journeyed here on behalf of the Lion Manor (Sa-ja-bo). Our Manor Lord extends a formal invitation to you all.”

On top of that, we were inundated with requests from local clans based in various territories and numerous social circles. Fending off this relentless stream of hospitality was a grueling chore in itself. Because they carried the prestigious weight of the Yong-bong Association, flatly rejecting everyone was bad for public relations, yet given their urgent directive, participating in every single gathering was out of the question. Each time Gwak Su-san—who served as the Leader despite being the youngest—politely declined an expectant host, it looked as though the sheer stress added another year to his weathered face.

“…Has every previous iteration of the Yong-bong Association had to endure this exact ordeal? Why on earth was everyone so desperate to join this group?”

Gwak Su-san, who had previously harbored a romanticized vision of the Yong-bong Association, seemed to be crashing hard into a wave of deep disillusionment now that reality had set in.

“It was likely a completely different story for them. From the very beginning, the purpose of the Yong-bong Association was to travel across the Kangho in that exact manner, feasting and enjoying luxuries.”

It had long been the custom for the Yong-bong Association to receive grand invitations from local powerhouses whenever they passed through a region, collect lavish tokens of appreciation, and move on. Rumor had it that by the conclusion of the Yong-bong Association’s term, they would amass enough wealth to purchase a modest estate within Wuhan.

Still, this wasn’t an issue we could simply brush aside. Even if we strictly limited our breaks to three times a day, by the time dusk fell, lines of prospective guests would already be forming outside whatever establishment we chose for the night. Gwak Su-san was utterly horrified by the sight of crowds stretching all the way from the second-floor corridors down to the street outside. And to make matters worse.

“A young woman by the name of Song Jo-ryeong, from the prominent Yang-hong Song family, is celebrated as a peerless beauty in these parts. She has traveled a great distance to request an audience with the young champions of the Yong-bong Association, so please do not turn her away.”

There were women arriving to meet the Yong-bong Association accompanied by actual matchmakers upon their very first introduction.

“I am Cheon Wol-hyang of the White Snow Palace. I wish to host a banquet tonight for the righteous champions who toil endlessly for the tranquility of the Kangho, so I insist you do not decline.”

There were also endless invitations to extravagant dining halls. Every imaginable form of allure was closing in tightly around the Yong-bong Association with relentless fervor.

“…But isn’t it rather discourteous to extend these kinds of invitations when a Buddhist monk is part of the group? Or is it already common knowledge across the land that the Shaolin Temple has a fondness for wine and flesh?”

“Jin Siju, what sort of ridiculous blasphemy is thaaaaaat?!”

“Tsk, well, how else do you explain this overwhelming barrage of temptations? I truly wonder if the earlier generations of the Yong-bong Association faced this exact same treatment.”

Standing beside Il-gak—whose smooth, shaven scalp had flared a brilliant shade of crimson from sheer outrage—the face of Gwak Su-san, who possessed absolutely zero experience dealing with the opposite sex, similarly flushed a deep scarlet. Furthermore, the female members of the Yong-bong Association were equally displeased with the ongoing circus, which ultimately pushed Gwak Su-san to make a definitive call.

“We are setting up camp outdoors.”

“…Wait, what???”

This wasn’t a case of avoiding making food out of fear of pests, or setting fire to an entire estate just to rid it of a single insect. To deliberately turn down a comfortable tavern and premium meals that were being handed to us entirely free of charge.

‘Does this make even a lick of sense?’

I voiced my complaints with great intensity, but Gwak Su-san remained unyielding.

“My mind is entirely made up.”

“Look, if it’s too awkward for you to reject them, let me handle it. Can’t we just forcefully throw them all out?”

“That is precisely why we cannot do it! Jin Danju!”

When all was said and done, a subordinate officer has no choice but to obey the directives of the Commander. The solitary silver lining was that we were spared from performing basic camp chores, as we had engaged professional transport guards to accompany us on our journey.

‘…Even so, we’re still sleeping on the dirt!!!’

After forcing myself to accept the grim reality and finishing my rations, I slipped away toward an isolated clearing I had picked out the moment we set up camp. I did this because the mental process of decoding the secret texts, which had occupied my thoughts for the past several days, was finally complete. Given the sheer volume of information, and because I had to decipher every line individually by cross-referencing it with records from the Sim-hyeon-gak, it had been impossible to make real progress while constantly keeping pace with the active movements of the Yong-bong Association.

These were the esoteric styles that represented the desperate, final aspirations of Mak Hyo-wol. What thoughts had crossed Mak Hyo-wol’s mind when he first laid hands on these records? Moreover, had he realized that the cipher used in these texts originated from the Murim Alliance itself? I had a strong suspicion that his deep-seated animosity toward the Murim Alliance wasn’t merely due to them transferring ownership to the Wang Family Manor.

“In any case, no matter how much I ponder the matter, it makes no sense. Why were these secret techniques transcribed using the cryptographic system of the Murim Alliance?”

Even assuming the hidden legacies of the Iron Tower Hermit and Mu-pung-su-ra somehow fell into the possession of the leader of the Tang-hyeon Sect, it was bizarre that those specific texts had been converted into that particular code. This sequence of events suggested that the secret techniques of those two figures had passed through the hands of the Murim Alliance at least once before being released back into the martial world.

“It feels like the deeper I dig into this, the more foul it smells.”

I was already well aware that they were a thoroughly corrupt bunch from the start, but unearthing the actual reality made it feel as though they were an entirely separate breed of untouchable, degenerate scoundrels. After all, the very place where I stumbled upon the primary breadcrumbs regarding the legacy of the Tae-ul Sword Emperor was also none other than the Sim-hyeon-gak.

“Well, regardless… what’s done is done.”

I meticulously evaluated the martial arts that carried such an immense level of classification that they required encryption via the Murim Alliance’s unique cipher. [Mu-eum-cheong-su-in] and [Bi-ryu-mu-hyeong-geom] stood out as the absolute pinnacle of Mu-pung-su-ra’s legendary combat repertoire. Meanwhile, [Cheol-ryong-gap] could practically be considered the defining essence of the Iron Tower Hermit’s entire life’s work.

To begin, I reviewed the principles of [Cheol-ryong-gap]. Fit for an external conditioning discipline that had once rivaled the renowned Diamond Flowing Body and the Diamond Indestructible Body for the supreme title of the ultimate “Diamond” (Geum-gang) defense, its underlying logic was incredibly aggressive and unyielding.

> [Internal energy, in the grand scheme of things, is incapable of filtering out every single external threat to a vulnerable physique. Conversely, a perfected exterior strength possesses the capability to safeguard even the most delicate internal organs.]

Faced with such an audacious philosophy that essentially told specialized internal-rupturing attacks to go take a hike, I momentarily questioned whether the text itself was flawed, but the manual immediately addressed my exact skepticism without missing a beat.

> [In the time you waste fretting over internal-rupturing strikes, focus instead on making your physical shell harder. If you happen to be pierced by an internal-rupturing blow, you ought to question whether your outer defense was simply inadequate.]

“What on earth… is this creator completely out of his mind?”

Come to think of it, I recalled another figure who had fashioned a martial style based on a strikingly familiar philosophy. That particular individual, who was also a bit touched in the head…

“The Sword Demon…”

Bizarrely, as I perused the principles that evoked such an intense sense of familiarity, I found myself gradually grasping the core argument he was putting forward. And the ultimate conclusion I reached after fully comprehending his entire thesis was quite simple.

“He really is a madman.”

Good grief… the fundamental objective of amassing internal cultivation here was to utilize it purely as sustenance to fuel the growth of an external discipline. [Cheol-ryong-gap] was an external art designed to transmute the practitioner’s skin and muscle into a unified, impenetrable layer. To put it another way, it functioned like an omnipresent protective-qi shield (Ho-sin-gang-gi) that remained permanently active. I also realized why he held no fear regarding internal-shattering techniques. Because this protective layer was constantly deployed, the vast majority of internal-rupturing forces would shatter against the qi-membrane before ever reaching the interior.

Roughly a fifth of one’s entire reservoir of internal power had to be permanently diverted into this external art. Once the foundation of [Cheol-ryong-gap] was fully established, the process became entirely irreversible. For the remainder of one’s days, twenty percent of the energy gathered within the Dantian would be automatically consumed by the Iron Dragon Armor to facilitate its continuous evolution. In short, it meant no sane individual should even consider attempting this unless they were thoroughly obsessed with external conditioning.

“Hmm…”

While weighing whether I should simply discard the technique due to its absurdly demanding prerequisites, I pushed forward and read through the remaining execution formulas. However, as I scanned the text to its conclusion… the actual performance it promised was far too remarkable to ignore. I could finally comprehend why it had historically been ranked on equal footing with the sacred Diamond Indestructible Body Technique of the Shaolin order.

“With a defensive threshold of this caliber, a practitioner could likely go toe-to-toe with a Steel Jiangshi.”

Considering the grim prospect of battling vast battalions of Jiangshi forces somewhere down the line, I figured it would be highly advantageous to have at least one ally who possessed an external defense of this magnitude.

“Since I had already been brainstorming which external art to assign to that fellow Geum-pyo anyway.”

With that thought, the future recipient of [Cheol-ryong-gap] was officially decided. Moving on, my focus shifted toward the remaining volumes. The legendary shadow assassin whose movements left behind not even the slightest ripple in the air: Mu-pung-su-ra. Right from the beginning, my curiosity had been far more piqued by Mu-pung-su-ra than the Iron Tower Hermit. Because I had already digested the Diamond Peach and my physical reconstitution rate had completely shattered ordinary mortal boundaries due to the vitality of the Ten-Thousand-Year Earth Bear, there was zero practical reason for me to accumulate further external armor. It wasn’t as though I intended to transform myself into some sort of walking Jiangshi.

Furthermore, during my recent engagement with the Blood Men, the swordsmanship inherited from the Tae-ul Sword Emperor had revealed distinct limitations when forced to operate within the suffocating confines of narrow corridors. While the So-cheon Sword Style remained an exceptional martial discipline, its overall effectiveness was capped because it didn’t truly transcend the boundaries of foundational blade forms. Had there not been several glaring openings exposed during my clash against those three or four Blood Men just a short while ago? Nurturing the hope that this text might provide the missing link to bridge the gap between the Three Styles of the White Moon Worship and the Twin Heaven Sword Style, I conjured the details of the Flying Flow Invisible Sword within my mind.

“Hmm…”

The primary takeaway I gathered while evaluating [Bi-ryu-mu-hyeong-geom] was that it was a remarkably refined sword technique. In particular, as an art specifically tailored for clandestine executions, it was completely devoid of unnecessary motion. It intercepted the absolute shortest trajectory using the bare minimum exertion required, finishing off the target with precise, calculated force. Despite being a style engineered solely for slaughter, it didn’t emit a heavy or suffocating aura of bloodlust. It was highly probable that the original creator viewed even the minor leakage of killing intent as a wasteful expenditure, given how ruthlessly he had purged every single action that wasn’t directly tied to driving the blade home. It felt far closer to a concept like a “Mindless Sword” rather than a literal “Invisible Sword.” While it could certainly be executed using the Red Light Sword, I had a distinct feeling that the Ascension Blade would complement its nature far better. It was precisely the kind of swordsmanship I had been searching for. On top of that, it carried the structural sophistication of a high-tier discipline that evolved in complexity alongside the practitioner’s personal cultivation realm.

“Sip…”

However, the deeper curiosity that arose after I finished reviewing the entirety of the Flying Flow Invisible Sword quickly redirected my thoughts back toward the enigmatic figure of Mu-pung-su-ra himself.

“A legendary figure of the shadows…”

To speak with absolute candor, the swordsmanship itself wasn’t so peerless that it deserved to be hailed as a world-shattering, supreme art. It implied that an individual couldn’t automatically ascend to the legendary status achieved by Mu-pung-su-ra merely by mastering this specific blade style. If anything, it was far more astonishing that he had managed to carve out such an terrifying reputation across the land utilizing a style of this level. It brought me to the realization that Mu-pung-su-ra might not have been a profound grandmaster of the blade after all. The forms were relatively ordinary, to the point where it would be somewhat embarrassing to rank them alongside the Three Styles of the White Moon Worship, which occupied a similar niche of highly specialized martial arts. Failing to achieve true mastery over the blade ultimately pointed to a fundamental limitation in natural aptitude.

“He lacked exceptional genius, and the martial art itself isn’t particularly grand… so how on earth did he rise to become a legendary assassin?”

I couldn’t help but feel a minor wave of disappointment. The grand ‘hope’ that Mak Hyo-wol had desperately sought to pass down at the very end of his rope had, in the end, manifested as nothing more than a ‘futile hope.’

“Well, even so, it’s still vastly better than having empty hands.”

My primary dilemma at the present moment was the distinct lack of a versatile arsenal to handle varied combat scenarios. From that particular viewpoint, Mu-pung-su-ra’s style wasn’t a bad option to adopt as a temporary stopgap measure. With that, I drew out the final remaining text, [Mu-eum-cheong-su-in].

To properly utilize [Mu-eum-cheong-su-in], a practitioner was required to master a foundation of internal cultivation that incorporated the cold principles of ice techniques. The sole reason I hadn’t discarded this option entirely was due to my possession of localized Yin energy, courtesy of the Yin-Yang Twin Demons. Up until now, I had been cycling back and forth between the Great Solar Palm (Dae-yang-jang) and the Gwang-cheon Divine Palm, but the Great Solar Palm lacked sufficient concussive impact, whereas the Gwang-cheon Divine Palm unleashed a level of devastation that was far too extreme. Consequently, [Mu-eum-cheong-su-in] arrived as a perfectly balanced martial option to bridge that massive gap. Palm arts represent one of the critical methods for controlling spacing during an engagement, and up until this moment, I had felt entirely crippled because that specific option had been locked away from me.

As I took a moment to approximate the destructive capability of [Mu-eum-cheong-su-in], it sat precisely at the midpoint between the power output of the Great Solar Palm and the Gwang-cheon Divine Palm. Slowly and carefully, I began to circulate my internal reservoir. Because the technique utilized the unique properties of ice-affinity arts, a refreshing, frigid current began to flow through my internal pathways. Before long, I channeled an amount of energy corresponding to the fifth level of output and unleashed the Silent Blue Crystal Seal.

──.

Yet… despite clearly sensing the concentrated energy surging through my meridians and discharging directly through the center of my palm, absolutely nothing visible occurred in the open air.

“Huh?”

I adjusted my stance and marshaled my internal cultivation once more, this time infusing the strike with an intensity matching the seventh level of output. Furthermore, just to cover all bases.

“Silent Blue Crystal Seal!”

I went so far as to vocally call out the technique’s title.

──.

The result was identically devoid of sound or fury.

“What kind of trick is this supposed to be?”

The technique was completely failing to manifest physically. My internal reserve had undeniably been depleted to fuel the strike, yet there wasn’t a single trace of an external reaction.

‘How can a martial technique be this thoroughly maddening?’

Good heavens, a combat art that shows absolutely zero outward transformation even after actively consuming a practitioner’s hard-earned energy. Refusing to back down, I gathered my inner strength once more and rapidly unleashed the Silent Blue Crystal Seal in successive bursts using both of my hands. Just as I was beginning to convince myself that there was still no reaction despite my continuous volley.

*Puck—*

“Hmm?”

The distinct vibration of a physical impact reverberated from a tree trunk positioned roughly two jang away from my position. When I closed the distance to examine the specific tree from which the noise had emanated…

*Saaaaa—*

A microscopic layer of frost, barely matching the dimensions of a human thumb, was steadily crystallizing on the bark.

“Is *this* supposed to be the actual Silent Blue Crystal Seal?”

The entire display felt so utterly ridiculous that I extended a hand and irritably rapped my fingers against the wood.

*Creaaaak—*

Out of nowhere, the massive tree let out a straining groan and began a slow, ominous tilt…

*Craaaaack—*

In the blink of an eye, the exact localized area where the frost had formed violently fractured as if being hollowed out from within, and the entire structure came crashing down to the earth.

*Boom!*

As I stepped closer to inspect the remaining base of the fallen tree, an intensely sharp, piercing cold was radiating outward from the freshly shattered wood.

“…I see.”

The phenomenon that had frozen solid and brought down a massive tree trunk without leaving behind a single warning sign or visual cue was none other than the true power of the Silent Blue Crystal Seal. Once more, I summoned the internal matrix of the Silent Blue Crystal Seal and discharged the palm strike. The invisible force traveled through the air without emitting a single note of sound or a trace of presence, culminating in nothing more than a soft, muffled thud.

*Puck—*

Immediately following the impact, I used the Red Light Sword to cleanly cleave through the trunk. The interior cross-section of the wood that had been struck by the Silent Blue Crystal Seal was frozen completely solid through to its very core.

“Haha…”

In that precise instant, the underlying reason for why Mu-pung-su-ra had been revered as a mythical figure of the shadows was irrefutably demonstrated.

“This is absolutely insane.”

Simultaneously, it was the exact breakthrough moment where the seemingly ‘futile hope’ that Mak Hyo-wol had desperately clung to transformed into a genuine, brilliant ‘hope.’