Chapter 161

Chapter 161
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**Chapter 161: Life-and-Death Declaration**

Three carefully crafted, covert strategies had been set in motion to receive and confront the Black Dao forces, each one designed to target their strengths, exploit their weaknesses, and turn their own momentum back against them. Every single plan unfolded exactly as its architects had foreseen, fulfilling its purpose with flawless precision and carving through the enemy’s vast numbers to leave their ranks decimated and broken. Yet even amid this stunning success, if one surveyed the broader battlefield with clear, unvarnished eyes, the brutal truth remained: the overall disparity in raw power still weighed heavily, overwhelmingly, against the Baek Clan and their allies. There was no way to soften this reality, no trick of tactics that could truly bridge the chasm—from the very first moment hostilities began, the foe had held a threefold, even fourfold advantage, not just in sheer numbers but in the depth and caliber of individual warriors at their command.

It was an ancient, unshakable truth of warfare that defending forces carried a threefold inherent edge over those who attacked, and the Baek Clan had maximized every scrap of that natural advantage, fortifying their positions, coordinating their strikes, and drawing on every ounce of discipline and resolve they possessed. The result was a surge of morale that blazed brighter than any battle fire, lifting every heart and steadying every hand, allowing them to stand firm and strike back as equals where no force of their size should have lasted even a single hour.

*In the end, when all tactics have run their course and every stratagem is spent, the martial world grants victory to nothing but pure, unyielding strength.*

Martial power, and martial power alone—that was the bedrock upon which every great clan’s legacy was built, the ultimate measure by which all things were judged. This was why the final, decisive gambit Baek Yang-hui had chosen to stake everything upon rested not on cleverness, not on hidden tricks, but on martial might, displayed openly and unflinchingly. Anything less than an unassailable demonstration of strength would never win them the recognition they sought from a watching world.

Why had they chosen to stand forth and meet the Black Dao horde head-on, with only their own limited forces, fully aware that by every conventional measure they were hopelessly outmatched? There were many reasons, but above all else it was to prove the Baek Clan’s worth—their inherent, unassailable right to be counted among the realm’s greatest. To proclaim, in a voice that would echo across every province and reach every noble house, that they possessed the strength and stature to stand as a Great Clan, entirely on their own merits, without leaning on the influence or armies of the Namgung Clan or the Tang Clan.

Viewed in that light, a victory secured through clever schemes and masterful tactics would always ring hollow, its luster fading with the passing of days. To overcome superior numbers through intricately layered defensive formations, linked offensive arrays, and the unseen, deadly precision of shadow assassins would earn them praise—poets and storytellers would speak of Baek Clan stratagems as nothing less than legendary, comparing their brilliance to the fabled wisdom of the Zhuge family. Yet for all that acclaim, the title of Great Clan would remain forever out of reach, a distinction withheld from those who relied on wits rather than might. To rise as a power that could contend for supremacy across the known world, they had to prove their strength above all else, beyond argument, beyond doubt.

“Forward, all of you! Today, our main house steps forth and claims the title of Great Clan for its own!”

The final, conclusive blow had to be delivered through martial prowess alone, visible to friend and foe alike. They had to shatter the enemy’s strongest defenders and strike down their leader with the Baek main house’s own hands, their own inherent power, so that none could ever say their triumph had been gifted to them by others.

“Woooaaah!”

Adu surged forward at the vanguard, a living avalanche moving with the unstoppable weight and fury of a great bear that had conquered every peak of an entire mountain range. Blazing, molten firelight erupted from every inch of his broad frame, casting long, fierce shadows and driving back Black Dao fighters as though they were dry leaves before a gale, carving a wide, unobstructed path through the very heart of their formation. Naturally, the enemy rallied and rushed to seal the breach, pouring in from every side to close the gap—

“Young Master! Press forward without hesitation, we hold the line!”

“Brother! Go, we will secure your path and guard your rear with our lives!”

Yeo Un-hyeok and Chui-dal, master and disciple who had stood fast through every clash and held their ground with unwavering resolve alongside Adu, stepped forward in perfect unison and unleashed twenty gleaming strands of heavenly silken thread. *Hidden Shadow Silk Binding* and *Circulating Stream Leaf Binding* swirled and wove together in a dazzling, intricate dance, catching the light and shimmering like spun starlight, sweeping forward like a sudden gust of wind chasing autumn leaves into a towering whirlwind, forming an impenetrable, shifting barrier that blocked every avenue of approach and repelled every desperate charge. The path Adu had hewn through brute strength was now held and guarded by these two consummate masters of the Divine Throw Earth Pulse style—though even their combined skill and devotion, valiant as it was, could not hold back the tide forever.

“The time has come for me to stand! All Reformed Evils—follow me!”

Gu-ak, who had fought at the forefront of every engagement, throwing himself into the thick of the fray with a ferocity that shamed even the boldest warriors, now stepped forward as the acknowledged leader of the One-Day One-Hero Reformed Evils, his twin axes whirling in a deadly, blinding arc as he loosed surging waves of searing axe energy. “Stand aside, you foul curs of the Black Dao! Your ends have come!”

To stem an overwhelming flood and hold back the rising tide, one needs a strong, unyielding dike. Those who had once walked the dark, cruel paths of the Black Dao but had been redeemed, their hearts and wills purified and reborn through the Baek Clan’s guiding influence, now stood as that very dike, facing their former brothers-in-arms without flinching. A living, unbroken barrier formed along the entire length of the path Adu had cleared and the Divine Throw Earth Pulse masters struggled to maintain, each soul standing firm as a pillar to ensure their young leader could pass unhindered.

“Go now, little brother! This is your moment!”

At the very tip of the spear, the absolute foremost point of the entire vanguard formation, a needle-sharp column of warriors drove straight toward the enemy’s command center, where the fighting was fiercest and death hovered closest—any heartbeat, any instant could bring the end there, yet Baek Yang-hui did not hesitate, did not waver, did not look back even once. He raced forward along the path his people had fought and died to keep open, his gaze fixed unwaveringly ahead.

*—Kiyaaaa!*

His hand closed firmly around the hilt of a single sword, and the blade itself seemed to sing out, crying with fierce, living intent as it drank in his resolve. *I trust them. Every bond we have forged, every sacrifice we have made, every step we have taken defying all odds and the cruelty of time itself—all of it has led to this, to the Baek Clan as it stands today. I trust them with my life, with my everything, and I do not doubt them for even a moment.* He ran on and on, his eyes locked upon the figure of Hyeongsan Yinblood standing tall at the enemy’s heart.

“Adu!”

“I am right beside you! Woooaaah—Hundred Paces Divine Fist!”

With a mighty, upward leap, Baek Yang-hui landed squarely upon Adu’s broad shoulder, riding the crest of the surging, concussive wind generated by the great warrior’s strike—a force that scattered Black Dao fighters before them like chaff in a storm—until at last they arrived, standing face-to-face, eye-to-eye, directly before Hyeongsan Yinblood. Baek Yang-hui’s lips curved into a calm, confident smile as he raised his sword with effortless, elegant grace.

“I am Baek Yang-hui, eldest son and heir of the Baek Clan! Known across the realm as the Soaring Sword Dragon—I stand before you today to challenge Hyeongsan Sect Leader Hyeongsan Yinblood to a life-and-death duel, fought fairly between us alone!”

His voice rolled across the entire battlefield like the roar of a lion, carrying over the clash of steel and the cries of the wounded, reaching every ear and silencing every shout. For a breathless, suspended instant, every blade froze in mid-swing; every warrior, friend and foe alike, stood motionless, all of them recognizing the solemn, binding declaration that had been spoken. *There is no turning back now, you despicable cur. You cannot retreat, you cannot hide—your move.*

“Go ahead and smile while you still can. Your so-called leader has made a foolish, reckless choice. Victory is already within our grasp, slipping no further away.”

Hyeongsan Yinblood spoke no words in reply—he only glared, his eyes burning bloodshot and inflamed with a mixture of rage and disbelief. “Baek Yang-hui… you insolent, upstart whelp… how dare you speak to me so! How dare you stand before me!”

“Refuse me if that is your wish. Here I stand, alone, unguarded, directly in front of you. Give the order to your followers to cut me down where I stand, and the day is yours, and I shall trouble you no more.”

A harsh, grinding sound echoed across the space between them as Hyeongsan Yinblood clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth grated against one another. Baek Yang-hui’s smile widened, sharp and knowing. “Too shameful, isn’t it? That is the truth of it.”

It was commonly said that Black Dao fighters possessed no pride, no honor—they would swarm even a single, powerful champion like a pack of wild dogs, overwhelming through sheer numbers rather than skill, and that was the way of their kind. Yet even among them, bound by their own cruel codes and expectations, there was one thing no leader could ever cast aside: his standing, his reputation, his unquestioned right to rule. A boy of barely sixteen summers challenging a grizzled veteran who had walked the martial path for more years than the boy had lived, to a duel fought man to man, life against life? By every standard of common sense, it was utter madness, a suicidal act that would drag his entire clan down into ruin alongside him. But to refuse? To call upon his followers to strike him down while he stood alone and unarmed in challenge? If he did that, he would forfeit his place as Hyeongsan Sect Leader that very hour. In the ruthless hierarchy of the Black Dao, a chief who could not prove his dominance through his own strength was nothing but vulnerable prey, to be cast aside and devoured by those beneath him.

“You will not refuse? Then draw your blade and fight!”

It defied all logic and calculation, yet such was the true nature of the martial world—those who lived and died by the blade knew, deep in their bones, that for all the grand armies and sweeping campaigns, every great conflict ultimately narrowed down to this: a single test of strength, a clash of will and skill.

“You dare speak to me with such arrogance, after barely escaping with your life the last time by forcing your latent power to awaken prematurely?”

Blades clashed and rang out as they circled and struck, words cutting as deeply as steel.

“I do dare. So draw and fight me. When you find yourself outmatched and your strength fails you, you may call for help.”

He had threaded his way through the enemy’s lines like a fine needle guided by Adu’s great strength, piercing every defensive layer to stand at the very center of their formation—and now the psychological and tactical balance of advantage rested entirely with him. Hyeongsan Yinblood had no choice but to answer this challenge with his own hands, or lose all claim to command.

“So be it, insolent child. I will teach you that there is always greater power, higher mastery, far above anything you have yet dreamed exists.”

*Even if I must unleash every last reserve and force my deepest latent power to awaken fully… I will crush him in a single, overwhelming strike, here and now.*

“Spare me your grand lectures. There is only one heaven, one truth, that matters to me—and I am looking at it.”

Baek Yang-hui moved with fluid, almost ethereal grace, stepping through the forms of *Ghostly Heaven Step*—a technique first devised a decade prior, now refined, honed, and perfected to its absolute peak. With every stride his speed increased, blurring the air around him, and he struck.

*Kagagagang!*

Steel rang out, striking so truly it sounded as though it had met tempered metal even when it struck flesh. Hyeongsan Yinblood was a grandmaster of water arts, his hands alone capable of crushing solid iron and shattering stone with a single blow.

“I do not know what dark trick allowed you to restore your core energy so swiftly after exhausting it, but today shall be your funeral!” Hyeongsan Yinblood’s hands shifted and flowed in intricate, sinuous patterns rooted in ancient, profound principles—techniques dark and sinister, yet undeniably formidable, bearing the weight of generations of practice.

*Formidable? Please. You are nothing but a Peak Realm mediocrity, stagnant and unenlightened.*

*—Kiyaaaa!*

“Tell me something, old man—of the three great Insights that separate the truly great from the merely strong, have you grasped even one?”

“Silence! Hold your tongue!”

*Kagagang!*

“I knew it the moment I asked. You have not, have you? Not a single one.”

Hyeongsan Yinblood’s temples bulged, veins rising thick and angry beneath his skin; he was seething, burning with impotent rage. *It is strange… in the life I remember, he should have attained at least one, perhaps even two, of the Insights by this stage.* Their previous encounter had seen him struggle desperately, only matching his foe after straining his latent power to its breaking point; Hyeongsan Yinblood was undeniably powerful, standing at the very apex of the Peak Realm, yet something vital was missing. The man he remembered from the past had stood far higher, possessed a depth and illumination this version lacked. Which meant that in the years yet to come, the real Hyeongsan Yinblood would advance and attain those Insights at a terrifying, unprecedented pace. *It matters not. Not today. Not here.*

“It seems I must teach you respect, boy, and remind you of the gulf between your skill and mine.”

“I said—silence!”

Baek Yang-hui’s sword cried out all the louder in answer, its tone fierce and defiant, as though it possessed a will and voice entirely its own. *Vital Intent Qi—this is the secret I have mastered. It is like those tales told around hearth and campfire: the hero swallows a rare, potent spirit pill, slips into a deep trance, and feels his internal energy begin to circulate and refine his body without being guided, moving entirely of its own accord.* Energy that moves without being directed, that acts with purpose—every living thing requires will to move, to act, to endure; deprive a being of will, and they become hollow, empty shells. And so it was with energy. Vital Intent Qi was energy that lived, that breathed, that possessed its own will and moved of its own volition. *And the foundation, the very first condition for energy to bear will… is spirituality—thought, purpose, a clear mind-image held with absolute conviction.*

*—Kiyaaaaa!*

*Heaven-Covering 108 Swords, Fourth Stance: White Feather Crushes the Ding Star.*
*Divine Variation Initial: Heavenly Wing Crushes the Peak.*

A single, devastating stroke, descending with crushing weight enough to sunder the heavens themselves and split the earth from crown to core—infused not merely with technique, but with the profound insight of a Sword Immortal. Hyeongsan Yinblood’s face twisted in horror and disbelief; even after sixty long years of dedicated practice, his body could barely withstand the sheer, overwhelming force of the blow.

“Kaaaaah!”

He threw himself aside at the last possible instant, dodging the cut that would have split him from crown to groin, though not quickly enough to escape unscathed. *That is more than sufficient.* Baek Yang-hui glanced calmly at the severed arm lying upon the blood-soaked earth and allowed himself a cold, sharp smirk. “A master of water arts without his dominant arm? I shall grant you a moment—go retrieve it, reattach it if your arts allow, and we shall continue.”

“You monstrous cur! You… you have destroyed me!”

“How… how can this be!” Hyeongsan Yinblood raged, his voice cracking with disbelief. Only months prior, this same boy had been no match for him, saved only by forcing his latent power to flare up in a desperate, temporary burst. Now, in a single, blinding exchange, he had lost an arm. The gap between them had widened into an abyss impossible to cross. “Impossible! It cannot be real!” No blade, no matter how perfectly tempered or potently imbued, should have been able to cut through flesh hardened by decades of rigorous training and shielded by layers of swirling protective energy—unless the energy itself had awakened, gained life, and taken form.

“Vital Intent Qi is not something any mortal can master in a handful of months! It is impossible!”

“Perhaps not for you, or for any other. But I am the greatest martial prodigy the world has ever known—and for me, nothing is impossible.”

“Get back! Stay away!” Hyeongsan Yinblood shrieked as Baek Yang-hui advanced once more, genuine terror flashing clear in his eyes. He thrashed wildly with his remaining arm, and his personal guards surged forward in a desperate, coordinated attempt to intercept and overwhelm the young swordsman.

*Just as I anticipated. Seol-ha!*

*I hear you, Senior Brother!* Her reply traveled instantly between them, unspoken yet perfectly clear, and in that same moment, pure, resonant notes rang out across the battlefield—bright, celestial tones that seemed jarringly out of place amid the mud, carnage, and clashing steel. The melody struck Black Dao fighters with crippling force, yet it also washed over Baek Yang-hui, and in response, the sword in his hand wailed all the louder, its cry rising in perfect harmony.

*—Kiyaaaaa!*

The piercing cry of the hawk blended and wove together with the beautiful, haunting melody, rising higher and surging forward as one, blasting toward the enemy lines with shattering force. *Linked Formation: Jade Sound Births Eagle Cry!* Sound amplifies sound, resonance building upon resonance to create something far greater than the sum of its parts—this was one of Seong-cheol’s unique gifts, now channeled through two masters standing at the very peak of their power, magnified into a colossal, irresistible wave that swept everything before it.

“Kaaaaah!”

“Kaaak!”

Flesh and blood scattered across the field as the wave struck. Baek Yang-hui stepped forward once more through *Ghostly Heaven Step*, the world blurring around him, appearing instantly in Hyeongsan Yinblood’s path just as the man turned to flee.

“Spare me… I beg you, spare my life!”

“It is finished.”

A magnificent white hawk unfurled its wings in the space between them, every feather honed to a razor’s sharpness. *Sgeung-!* A thin, crimson line appeared silently across Hyeongsan Yinblood’s throat, bright and terrible against his skin.
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