Chapter 132

Chapter 132
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**Chapter 132**
**Title: Declaration of Gaecheon Baekga**

Two forces had joined as one, bringing hundreds of martial artists together in a single gathering.

In time, people from the surrounding area began to stream toward the scene. Some wore looks of pure curiosity; others bore expressions of deep unease and dread. A number had come to witness this rare and extraordinary sight, while others stood ready to flee faster than anyone else should the need arise. Their ranks swelled to more than a hundred souls—enough to ensure that tales of this day would spread far and wide, becoming the talk of the common people for days to come.

Amidst the gathering, Baek Clan Manor Lord, the Twin Severing Sword Hero Baek Mu-ryang, spoke in a measured, steady tone. “Our clan has traveled all this way to Namchang for one simple reason: there are people here who stand in need of aid.”

“Ha! So you hide behind such a flimsy pretense!” came the retort. “Protecting and aiding the people of Namchang is the sacred duty of our White Righteousness Sect alone!”

“A flimsy pretense, you say?” Baek Mu-ryang forcibly suppressed the laughter rising within him. *Flimsy*—hardly a word suited to one who claims to walk the path of righteousness. Yet rather than rebuke the speaker outright, he simply asked, “Then what truly matters to you, Sect Leader?”

“What is the point of speaking of it? The outrageous acts you have committed are the gravest matter of all!”

The Baek Clan had marched its armed forces directly into territory claimed by the White Righteousness Sect. It was an act that struck at the very heart of the sect’s dignity—a serious matter, indeed. Even so…

“This Baek…” Baek Mu-ryang, who had always been quick to show humility, paused for a moment to survey the faces around him before continuing. “…sees things very differently from you, Sect Leader.”

“I have no interest in your views! Explain yourself at once! How dare you violate our sect’s sacred banner!”

“An explanation, you ask?” Demanding an explanation was the tone of a superior addressing an inferior, or the words spoken to a sinner during confession. Still, Baek Mu-ryang replied with calm resolve. “Very well. I shall tell you plainly. Every martial artist of the Baek Clan—myself included—has acted with one purpose only: to secure peace for the ordinary folk of Namchang.”

“Circular, empty excuses! I will not waste my time listening to them!” The White Righteousness Sect Leader raised his voice, his tone swelling with self-righteous fervor. “You are nothing but liars hiding behind fine words! In the name of the White Righteousness Sect, I shall see you punished!”

Then a voice rang out—louder, stronger, and carrying a weight of presence that crushed the Sect Leader’s momentum in an instant.

“However!”

“Urk…!” Shock blazed in the Sect Leader’s eyes. The man standing before him, the Lord of the Baek Clan, had been no more than a second-rate warrior only a few years prior. The clan he led had been a third-rate martial family—so insignificant it had never once been worthy of the Sect Leader’s attention. How could he now command such overwhelming power? A peak expert… no, this was a realm even higher than that of Gong Ya-hyeok!

It was only natural. The years Baek Mu-ryang had spent as clan lord had been filled with purpose and growth far denser and more meaningful than those of Gong Ya-hyeok. Ever since he had taken Yang-hui in as his adopted son, the clan had flourished with each passing day. Even so, Baek Mu-ryang had long carried a heavy burden of doubt: was he truly worthy to lead the Baek Clan? He could not answer that question with certainty. And so, for nearly nine years, he had withdrawn into rigorous, solitary training. He refused to be an unfit leader, overwhelmed by the sudden, soaring rise in his clan’s fortunes. He wanted to stand before his people and declare with pride: *I am Baek Mu-ryang, and I am your Lord*.

Now, he understood that his journey had reached a defining crossroads.

“I make you this proposal, Sect Leader: our clan has come solely to safeguard the people of Namchang. Let the Baek Clan stand beside you and lend its strength to your sect’s noble cause.”

As he had expected, the answer came immediately: a refusal. “We need no help from the likes of you! Do not twist events to suit your own ends under the false guise of an alliance!”

It was a sound argument—one difficult to refute. From where they stood, the Baek Clan did appear to be in the wrong. Even so…

“Then give me your word: the moment our Baek Clan withdraws, you will move to subdue the lawless gangs of the black path.”

“Know your place, Baek Clan Lord! By what right do you presume to demand promises from me? The very idea that you can act with such arrogance and then leave without consequence is absurd!”

“Perhaps it is. Yet give me your word, and I shall offer a full apology for every transgression we have made.”

The White Righteousness Sect Leader hesitated, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. Baek Mu-ryang’s words were not what he had anticipated. If the Baek Clan simply apologized and departed, it would create a problem: the Baek Clan’s growing influence in Namchang, centered around Yeongnak Street, would remain unchecked. Nor could they demand the Baek Clan abandon Yeongnak Street—the businesses there were run by the Baek Book Merchant Group and that sharp-witted woman Yeo Gu-wi.

From the Sect Leader’s perspective, direct confrontation was the best course of action. A decisive victory with their superior numbers would resolve everything neatly—and bring great gain. And so he replied, “A promise? What is there to promise? Our sect will act when the time is right, when the moment for cleansing is at hand.”

“I see. So you have no real intention of rooting out the tyrants of the black path.”

Baek Mu-ryang turned his gaze toward Yang-hui—his beloved adopted son, who had orchestrated every detail, laying the groundwork to bring him to this very place. *Hui-ah, what is it you truly seek?* In truth, he already knew. His own role was to be the final stroke, the touch that brought the dragon to life. All of this was meant to secure greatness for the Baek Clan. And yet…

Yang-hui had told him that the disturbances caused by the black path gangs were themselves set in motion by the White Righteousness Sect. If that were true, were the people’s suffering in some way the Baek Clan’s fault? Had his family’s own ambition led to harm for the innocent?

The Sect that had unleashed the black paths… and his own clan that had stirred things into motion. Was there any point in arguing over who was truly righteous?

Baek Mu-ryang thought of his late father, and the stories he had told him as a boy, sitting together on his knee. “For generations, Jiangnan had been overrun by forces of the black path. It was a land where ordinary folk suffered without end. And so our ancestors settled in Jiangxi and declared the founding of our clan.”

Those who admired the highest ideals of the age flocked to the call of righteousness and chivalry, uniting as one. The world came to know them as Gaecheon Baekga—the Baek Clan. But…

“Bamboo that is too straight will snap. However deep its roots, the reed bends and survives storms that ancient trees cannot. So it is with the world. And so our clan fell.”

It had crumbled and declined—because it would not compromise in the name of righteousness, because it would not bend in the name of chivalry.

“Mu-ryang-ah… the true reason our clan faded is that, in the end, people no longer felt they needed us.”

When no one saw you as essential, you could not grow. Giving endlessly to those in need had drained the clan’s vast wealth. As the saying goes: a tower built over three years may collapse in a single day. Those who chafed under rigid, unyielding traditions departed; those who feared for their own survival turned away.

Once numbered among the five greatest clans in the land, the Baekga had fallen. And the truth, passed down only to each successive Lord, was this: our clan declined because it would not bend, even in the service of righteousness and chivalry.

And so doubt had taken root. *What is true righteousness?* If it led to ruin, must it still be followed without deviation? Before being a man of virtue, he was the leader of his people—he owed them protection and responsibility. Yet could he compromise and still remain honorable? Could he remain as pure as unmarked white paper, free from even a single speck? If stained with ash and ink… what worth remained in something that could no longer be called pure?

He did not know. He simply closed his eyes and felt the hilt of the sword in his hand. Martial artists—swordsmen—spoke of this: the voice of the sword. The sound a blade makes when drawn carries the will of the one who wields it.

*Click.*

With a flick of his thumb, the blade slid an inch from its scabbard. Then Baek Mu-ryang drew it fully.

The White Righteousness Sect Leader stared in disbelief and shouted, “What are you doing? Do you dare stand against us?”

“More than a hundred of my people have already drawn their blades in service to their Lord. We do not fight over mere words. A true leader embodies the virtue of balance and steadfastness.”

His words left the Sect Leader speechless, as though caught in a spell. Baek Mu-ryang simply looked down at his sword—forged by the clan’s master smith Baek Cheol from steel refined to resemble a hundred lotus petals. The flawless white blade trembled faintly, as if it had something to say.

*Kiiiiiaaaaa!*

He closed his eyes and listened to the sword’s song, and to the quiet voice within his heart. Was confronting the black path the reason… or was it the goal? Why had he—why had the clan—truly come to Namchang? The answer came clearly, as it had always been known.

He felt a pang of regret toward his adopted son, watching from a distance with eyes bright with anticipation. But Baek Mu-ryang walked the path of a Clan Lord, and his path was unshakable.

“I ask all of you gathered here…” He turned to the common folk clustered nearby, watching with fear, hope, and uncertainty. “…if any of you need the Baek Clan’s help, speak now.”

“None! No one wants your help—cease this nonsense!” the Sect Leader shouted.

Then, hesitantly, a man raised his hand. He was plainly dressed, a middle-aged laborer who knew hardship well—the provider of a family who would go hungry if black path thugs took even a single day’s wages. He feared the Sect Leader’s wrath, yet for his loved ones he spoke up.

“P-please… help us, my Lord. We live in fear and cannot sleep… I beg you, help us…”

Baek Mu-ryang’s answer was calm and firm. “It would be my honor.”

The Sect Leader’s face twisted with rage as Baek Mu-ryang continued, “Our ancestors followed righteousness and suffered greatly for it. They were truly, foolishly devoted. Yet I too am a Baek.”

*Kiiiiiaaaaa!*

The sword sang, carrying the will of its master. In perfect harmony, every member of the Baek Clan drew their weapon at once.

“After all these years, today—our clan declares its purpose anew! We raise our banner in service to the people!”

Yang-hui was the first to respond. He needed no long, elaborate words. Simply raising his sword hand in formal salute, he said, “I stand by your command.”

Then came the thunderous chorus, rolling like waves: “By your command!” “By your command!” “By your command!”

“I swear to stand ever at the Clan Lord’s side and leave these dark days behind us!” Even Blood Lord Gu-ak could not contain his pride and loyalty as he roared his vow.

Deeply moved, Baek Mu-ryang turned toward his adopted son. And when he saw Yang-hui’s brilliant, proud smile, a wave of relief washed over him. Joy filled his heart. The picture was complete. The dragon’s eye had been drawn in. Though they shared no blood, their wills were one—gazing toward the same horizon.

“Have you all lost your senses?” the Sect Leader shrieked. “Dare you speak such treason before us? Do you truly not fear war?”

His words carried no weight now—his spirit was already broken, his resolve shattered. Even his own disciples heard only empty anger in his voice.

“The Baek Clan walks the path of Gaecheon! We stand over the people and bring peace to all beneath the heavens! For righteousness and chivalry, we shall not yield an inch—nor hesitate, no matter the cost!”

A leader must be made of strong stuff. Baek Mu-ryang and the Sect Leader were no longer in the same league—gifts honed to brilliance versus hollow pretense.

“Brethren of the Baek Clan! Our will is opposed by those who would stand in our way! Shall we yield because they are many and powerful?”

“Never!” the assembly roared.

“Then I, your Lord, issue this challenge!” The declaration rang out from the heart of Namchang, in Jiangxi. “This day, the Baek Clan reclaims its true name: Gaecheon Baekga!”

“This is our path: Gaecheon! To spread our wings over the people and shelter them in the ways of honor!”

“The people of Namchang cry out for help! Members of Gaecheon Baekga—go to their aid! This is my command!”

“By your command!” “By your command!” “By your command!”

They were the very image of chivalry—unbroken, unyielding. To the watching folk, Gaecheon Baekga was the ideal they had long dreamed of but never found. In stark contrast stood the White Righteousness Sect.

“Disciples! Seize these villains who dare defy us with their lies!” the Sect Leader screamed. His followers surged forward, yet he himself remained safely at the rear—unlike Baek Mu-ryang, who stood at the very front of his people. The two factions stood ready to clash.

“Hold!”

A voice like a lion’s roar shook the earth, and a figure stepped forward. Behind him stood twenty warriors—unmistakably masters of the highest realm.

“Let the decisive battle between Gaecheon Baekga and the White Righteousness Sect be delayed!”

The speaker was Waryong Clan’s Young Master, the Peerless Waryong. Zhuge Clan’s Young Master Zhuge Seon then spoke in turn, his voice booming: “Where is my daughter?!”
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