Chapter 158

Chapter 158
**Chapter 158: The Path to Great House Status**

*Se ga*—the “se” drawn from the word “world,” the “ga” from “house.”

A *se ga* is, in the plainest terms, a title conferred upon those martial clans worthy of standing as rulers over all beneath heaven. It is not a distinction a clan claims for itself; rather, it is a name bestowed by the people and the wider martial world. In a sense, one might call it a revered nickname, a mark of public recognition earned through deeds and standing.

And so the question arises: what must a clan do to ascend and be numbered among the great houses?

They must prove it. They must demonstrate beyond doubt that they possess every qualification the position demands.

His father’s lifelong ambition had been to lift the Baek Clan to the status of a great house. Yang-hui’s own vision stretched further still: he would not merely elevate the clan—he would make the Baek Clan the greatest under heaven.

*I have spent long years preparing for this very moment.*

Now, the hour to claim what they had sown had finally arrived.

“Scholar So.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

“Walk me through the plan once more.”

“At once.”

Scholar So tapped a finger against the map pinned to the wall, following lines and marked locations as he spoke.

“First: the martial domain of Gangseo is split cleanly down the middle, held between the black and white factions.”

“I am aware.”

“Second: for our clan to be acknowledged as a great house, we must establish unchallenged dominion over Gangseo at the very least.”

Dominion alone, however, would not suffice—they needed universal recognition as the undisputed overlords of the region. In short…

“Third: throughout this process, the Baek Clan must prove itself fully deserving of great house standing.”

This was a hurdle made all the steeper for them. For the prevailing view across the martial world was that the Baek Clan was little more than a fox strutting in a tiger’s skin. Many claimed their championing of Heaven-Covering Righteousness had succeeded only because they enjoyed powerful backing from the Tang and Zhuge Clans.

There was no denying it: once a modest third-rate martial family, the Baek Clan had indeed received immense assistance from those two great clans to reach its present heights.

“There is no other way, is there?”

“None that carries such promise. It is fraught with peril, yet it is also the most direct path.”

Across in Honam, the black daoists waited, teeth clenched in eager anticipation. The Namgung Clan, outwardly posing as allies, had quietly fed critical information to their foes all along—they would open the gates at the agreed hour.

Meanwhile, where stood the Baek Clan’s main strength? Clan Lord Baek Mu-ryang and Pavilion Master Gu-ak of the Regeneration Pavilion had marched for Gwiju alongside the bulk of their forces.

“Two days… three days… gates open… strike to annihilate.”

Scarcely a single day remained.

Yang-hui lifted his gaze, fixing it on the detailed diagram spread before him. Could they truly bring this off? Was he wagering the lives of so many, and the very survival of his clan, on a single roll of the dice?

Scholar So turned to him, his tone gentle but firm. “Young Master… that look does not suit you.”

“Hmm?”

“You have always carried yourself with unshakable pride and certainty. Do not let doubt show itself now.”

The distant, preoccupied look faded from Yang-hui’s face, replaced slowly by a smile.

“You speak truly. Even someone as young as you has wisdom to share—just as one would expect from my trusted advisor.”

“Young Master… how old do you think I am?!”

Yang-hui paid his indignant tone no mind, his hand closing into a fist at his side.

“The question is not whether we *can* do this. It is that we *will*.”

He reached for the orders laid out before him.

“Reports speak of an unprovoked incursion by black dao bandits. The force is substantial, so I am assigning twenty of our retainers to join your household’s fighters. Lead them and eliminate this threat yourselves.”

These instructions had been issued at the behest of Namgung Cheon-hu, half a day prior.

*They must be drawn away from here so no suspicion falls on them. A mission in the field will provide them with an unimpeachable alibi.*

Only the core household defenders remained now.

*It will succeed. It must—even if I stake everything I have on this outcome.*

The silence around him felt heavy. Adu and Zhuge Seol-ha, who stood at his side for every matter of consequence, were absent now, attending to arrangements elsewhere. Both were deeply immersed in final preparations, laying the groundwork for the Baek Clan to seize victory from the very jaws of overwhelming defeat.

*And I do not rely on Seol-ha alone in this.*

“Scholar So, continue analyzing the situation and compiling intelligence.”

“Where are you going?”

“To raise our people’s spirits.”

He made his way to the training grounds.

“Raise your swords! Hold firm!”

“Hah!”

“Hah!”

Baek Heon-so called out commands, demonstrating each stance as he did so, and the members of the Baek-a Squad followed his lead in perfect unison. Yang-hui watched them for a moment, a quiet fondness in his expression, before stepping forward to rest a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder.

“Ah, brother.”

“Heon-so—you are doing well.”

Baek Heon-so, nearly as tall as Yang-hui now, grinned broadly.

“Of course I am.”

“Good. I can count on you for this, yes? Your role is vital.”

Determination shone in his eyes, a resolve to live up to the trust placed in him—then gave way to visible weight of responsibility. Heon-so had always longed to take part in the clan’s affairs, great and small alike. This was his first opportunity to bear true responsibility, and it fell at a moment when the clan’s very existence hung in the balance. No wonder he felt so burdened.

“Heon-so.”

“Yes, brother?”

“I have faith in you. Because you are my brother.”

“Brother…”

The weight seemed to lift from his shoulders, washed away in an instant. Ever since Yang-hui had appeared in his childhood, Heon-so had followed in his footsteps, chasing the figure who never wavered, no matter what befell them.

*If he believes in me, then it is so.*

Confidence bloomed in his eyes—rooted in another’s belief, yet fully his own to hold.

“Baek-a Squad!” Heon-so’s voice rang out. At his call, every member assumed a ready stance.

“Can we prevail?!”

“We can!”

“We will succeed!”

“We will defend this household with our lives!”

Heon-so’s voice rose above the rest in a final, ringing declaration.

“Brother… I pledge my life to this. We will succeed!”

***

He breathed in deeply, then exhaled slowly, guiding the flow of energy through his body. His eyes opened, a flash of brilliant light appearing and fading in their depths.

“So close… I nearly had it.”

He had already grasped the fundamentals of Vital Energy Surge and Void Grasping—two of the three insights required to attain the Super Peak realm. If he could fully master even the last one, their chances of victory would soar. What a bitter disappointment to fall just short.

*I understand the principle clearly. I have held this comprehension before… yet it eludes me now.*

Every martial artist walks their own path to understanding; what comes easily to one may come slowly to another. Their arts differ, their minds and bodies differ, and so their insights differ too. This held true even for him—he carried memories of an entirely different martial system from his past life, and his foundation was strengthened by spirit energy beyond what most could imagine.

“I know exactly where I must go.” There was no confusion, no groping in the dark. “But the path I once walked is no longer there.”

He would have to find another way forward.

*How maddening.*

Yet there was comfort in knowing this: the foundation he had laid now was broader, deeper, and stronger than before. When he reached the same level of understanding, the power at his command would be greater still. And because he knew his destination, he would find his way there all the sooner.

“Brother? Finished?”

At Chui-dal’s voice, he stepped out of quiet seclusion. Chui-dal stood atop the roof, gazing toward the horizon.

“I am.”

“Any progress?”

“Not as I would have liked. But my mind and body are as ready as they can be.”

“That is something to be thankful for. They draw near.”

“How far?”

“Half a *shichen* from the household gates.”

No one who knew an attack was coming would remain idle. Agents of the Baek-ri Pavilion had been dispatched across the region hours earlier.

“They traveled separately to avoid notice, then joined forces once they crossed into Muju.”

“And now they advance at full speed?”

“Precisely.”

Yang-hui bound his hair back securely, adjusting the headband across his forehead. He retightened the sash wrapped about his waist. Finally, he belted on his sword—*Baek-ryeon Jeong-gang*, the legendary blade forged by Baek-cheol, finest of the clan’s swordsmiths, over a hundred days of labor, as repayment of a debt of gratitude.

“Let us go.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

All who could bear arms had gathered in the main courtyard of the manor. At one side stood those who would stand closest to him: Adu and Zhuge Seol-ha.

*Eleven masters of the Peak realm. The remainder range from second-rate to first-rate.*

Those of lesser skill, along with all family members who did not fight, had been led to the deepest shelters within the clan compound.

*Seol-ha… one last time—are you certain you wish to stand with me?*

Her reply came instantly, without hesitation.

*Senior Brother… if I were in peril, would you leave me behind?*

As if he ever could. Setting aside all ties of loyalty and obligation, all that had passed between her and her master Yin Hou, and the rift that had severed her from her uncle Zhuge Seon—Zhuge Seol-ha was one of those he would protect, no matter what befell them.

*I feel the same as you, Senior Brother. We face this together.*

“Very well. I will ask no more.”

“It is a pity, though… if only we could send word to Master, she would sweep this whole force aside in moments.”

He shook his head gently.

“Even if we could, we would not call upon her. This battle must be won by the Baek Clan alone.”

Adu or Seol-ha might stand beside them—that was one matter. But if Yin Hou, numbered among the Ten Venerables of Heavenly Martial, were to intervene, the Baek Clan would never be recognized as a great house.

“We will make amends to the Zhuge Clan, I promise you that.”

“And I am owed a debt personally too, am I not?”

“Most certainly.”

Her lighthearted tone even now brought a faint smile to his lips. He drew himself upright, and his voice rang out across the courtyard like a lion’s roar.

“People of the Baek Clan!”

“Sir!”

He walked among them, then stepped through the gates and climbed to the ridge of the main gatehouse, drawing his sword and resting it across one shoulder.

“You all know what I am like.”

“We do, Young Master!”

“There is no one here who does not know your ways!”

“Those who took issue left long ago!”

“Not one to let a slight go—ever!”

That last remark came from Chui-dal. Under other circumstances he would have earned a playful rebuke, but today Yang-hui simply nodded.

“He speaks true. There is no one alive who holds a grudge as I do. And that means this: do not throw your lives away. I will say nothing more than that.”

Silence hung for a heartbeat, then broke as a single, thunderous shout rose from every throat.

“By your command!”

“By your command!”

“By your command!”

Dust clouds rose in the distance, matching those stirred within the courtyard. His senses, honed to razor sharpness, counted their numbers and measured their strength.

*Two hundred. Fifty of them at the Peak realm.*

Fifty masters, with a hundred and fifty more ranging from second-rate to first-rate? Even accounting for the advantage of defending fortified ground, their attackers outnumbered them more than two to one. Half that number would have been enough to overwhelm them. Yet…

Yang-hui met the gaze of their leader, grinning fiercely.

“Well now—if it is not Hyeong Mountain Yin Blood. What brings a man who ran away with his tail between his legs all the way back here?”

His words were meant to provoke, to draw out and measure the true extent of their power.

*Three at the same level as Hyeong Mountain Yin Blood…*

They had come in full strength, nearly the entire might of the Hyeong Mountain Sect. He ought to be grateful, he supposed, that the Namgung Clan had not joined them openly.

“Baek Yang-hui… you insolent whelp. You appear remarkably well.” The question hung unspoken: how had he recovered so thoroughly after expending so much of his potential in their last encounter?

“Unlike those who have grown old and frail, the young still have fire in their veins—such is the way of things.”

“You have swallowed some spirit pill, no doubt, to force such a recovery.”

“Believe what you will.”

“You have been waiting for us… so you must have some sense of what you face.”

“I do. I have a spy in your midst, feeding me every word and move.”

Hyeong Mountain Yin Blood radiated dark, murderous intent.

“I know not where the truth leaked. It matters not.”

“Truly? What if this is a trap?”

A low, derisive snort answered him.

“Do I look like a fool to you, Sect Leader?”

“You do.”

“…Your stronghold lies far from the capital. Whatever traps you have laid are of no consequence here.”

Power gathered in Hyeong Mountain Yin Blood’s palms, and at that signal, every one of the two hundred black daoists unleashed their full, terrifying aura.

“The Baek Clan ends today. Forward—attack!”

Fifty masters of the Peak realm, leading two hundred fighters. It should have been more than enough to wipe them from existence. Yet as they surged forward, Yang-hui stood unmoving.

“Fools. Even a cornered hare will bite.”

He smiled, and light rose in winding, shimmering streams all along the manor’s outer walls.

“Let us thin your ranks by half before the real fighting even begins.”