Chapter 168

Chapter 168
# Chapter 168: Flock of Hawks

The Central Plains knew outward peace. More precisely, it was an era where right and wrong tore at one another, yet such turmoil belonged only to those of lesser standing. The leaders of both righteous and unorthodox factions were busy shoring up their own positions. Minor martial sects merged and split apart, scrambling to claim whatever scraps the powerful left behind.

*And then the moment the demonic cults burst forth, everything would erupt.*

That would be the true age of chaos—a desolate realm where blood flowed like water. He was not bound to stop it, yet for the Baek Clan’s sake, he must steer events away from the ruinous path he had witnessed in his past life.

*In that regard, the Tang Clan was an indispensable ally.*

Across the entire realm, few could rival them—alongside the Beggars’ Sect—in their reluctance to betray those they trusted. If the Tang Clan flourished, the Baek Clan would stand to gain without fail. And so he would ensure they grew strong.

*Perhaps I should probe just a little deeper.*

He extended his awareness like fine spun threads, sharpening his senses to their utmost. Those threads led straight to the dantians of Tang Gun and Tang Yeon.

*Brother Tang has attained Peak realm. Sister Yeon stands at First-rate.*

At their age, such mastery placed them among the most gifted prodigies of their generation—yet it was not enough. The shortcoming stemmed not from lack of talent, but from the very arts they practiced. In Tang Yeon’s case, had she not cultivated the Three Yangs Return to Origin Art, reaching Peak realm would have been all but assured.

The Three Yangs Return to Origin Art: the Tang Clan’s treasured core discipline, forged in the era of the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Clans. It was without question a supreme technique, yet it could never truly be called a divine art, for its boundaries were clearly drawn.

*It could hold immense yang energy within, greatly easing the risks of handling poisons—but even accounting for that, its weaknesses were plain to see.*

Most righteous martial arts taught balance between yin and yang. Practices that strayed from such harmony found it far harder to ascend to higher planes. It was common sense: between a traveler with one leg and one with two, the latter would always journey farther and swifter.

*They deliberately built this imbalance in. Specialization was the trade-off, yet the flaws and vulnerabilities were undeniable.*

A man deprived of one leg might develop extraordinary strength in his arms as compensation, and the Three Yangs Return to Origin Art worked in much the same way. By drawing upon and wielding pure yang energy, it granted a natural defense against poison qi—so much so that practitioners could endure and wield poison arts alongside it.

*So what? For a celebrated clan’s signature art, it is no less a curse and a chain.*

And so one purpose of this journey to Sichuan—indeed, its greatest purpose—was to reshape and revitalize the Tang Clan’s martial traditions. Whether an outsider could succeed was uncertain. But if it proved impossible, he would make it possible.

Only then would the Tang Clan cast off their state of being leashed hounds and rise as true allies to the Baek Clan.

*It is almost moving to think of.*

Where the Tang Clan had once stood as one of the lofty great clans, even as the Baek Clan had barely begun to recover from his return, now he found himself in a position to guide their ascent.

“Conquering Hunan remains a distant ambition, Brother Tang. Let us speak first of matters close at hand.”

“Indeed. To answer whether our elders welcome closer ties with the Baek Clan… sentiment runs roughly fifty-fifty.”

Even having reclaimed their renown as the preeminent clan of Gangseo, support remained divided. And that was only natural.

“In the wider martial world, Gangseo is still something of a backwater.”

Gangseo, Fujian, Guangdong, Guangxi—these southern lands lacked the great, revered sects that defined the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Clans. The heart of the martial world lay undeniably in the north.

“Hunan was the exception… but Hunan has fallen.”

Sichuan, where the Tang Clan made its home, occupied an ambiguous place, yet it was counted among the northern realms. Remote wilderness stretched across parts of it, yet two of the Nine Great Sects had their strongholds there.

“Frankly, the Baek Clan has yet to stand fully equal beside our own. Setting aside numbers, your fighting strength is still lacking.”

Such was the inherent weakness of a newly risen clan. Building cohesion among those unaccustomed to alliance took time, no matter how promising.

*Even flooding them with elixirs, subjecting them to grueling training, and bringing in outside aid could only achieve so much.*

“And yet you say half support us. Surely that is thanks to the Tang Poison Hall?”

Tang Gun smiled warmly.

“Precisely. The Tang Poison Hall… has fulfilled the heartfelt wish of every soul bearing the Tang name.”

Barely ten years prior, the Tang Clan had borne the scorn of the world: a righteous faction that shamelessly dealt in poisons and hidden weapons, feared and shunned for their ruthless nature, their very clan vow to repay injury tenfold.

“The Tang Poison Hall has shattered those prejudices entirely. Through you, Brother Hui, we are now recognized as honorable guardians of the righteous path.”

“Between us, there is no need for such gratitude.”

“Nonetheless, when others turned away, the Baek Clan showed us unwavering loyalty—granting space within your manor as our branch hall and bestowing benefits no gold could buy. And so, even with the gap in strength, half our people stand ready to stand with you.”

Tang Gun spoke gently, yet fifty-fifty was hardly a firm foundation. Those who opposed would always speak the loudest.

“In other words, the Baek Clan must prove itself further.”

“I fear that is so.”

That was no doubt why Baek Mu-ryang had brought Baek Heon-so along. To present two such exceptional sons was to declare the Baek Clan’s bright future.

“After consulting with Clan Leader Baek, it is decided: you and your people will remain with us for at least a year, in the spirit of mutual learning and exchange.”

Martial arts withered in isolation. Unless one belonged to an ancient, colossal sect where generations of masters could sustain progress from within, clans prospered most when they shared ideas. Not core secrets, but exposure to other approaches sparked insight and growth.

“That sounds well, but an entire year?”

“Your father said that length of time would be needed.”

So Father’s true intent was to station them here, to build trust. Yet being based at the Tang Clan would not stop him from guiding affairs back home.

“Worried about leaving your clan so long?”

“Not in the least.”

The Baek Clan was not left in the hands of the incompetent or the untested. He trusted them—was eager to see what they would achieve.

How far would the Baek Clan advance in a year or two?

“Fifty-fifty, is it?”

He would need to find a way to turn that split into unanimous support before they even reached Sichuan. Plans were forming, though whether they would work in practice was another matter entirely.

—

From the Baek Clan’s manor to the Tang Clan’s home in Sichuan stretched a journey of great length. Unable to pass through Hunan, their path carried them east to west across the breadth of Hubei, and even then they must detour. The most direct route would take them through Shaanxi as well—two provinces to cross. And so the company chose the swiftest way possible: through Geomgak.

“Whew. We have barely arrived, and already it looks formidable.”

“Ha! The terrain is as harsh as it appears, is it not?”

“Indeed. Even for a martial artist, this will be no easy crossing.”

Geomgak: a jagged range where peaks rose like blades of unsheathed steel, famed for cliffside paths where a single misstep meant a plunge into endless darkness.

“Brother.”

Baek Heon-so spoke softly, careful not to disturb him, then waited a moment before continuing.

“We have reached the pass. The carriage can go no farther—we must prepare to proceed on foot.”

Yang-hui did not open his eyes. He had been circulating energy even as the carriage shook, his awareness fully attuned to the world outside, yet to break his focus now felt wrong—as though he would miss something vital.

“Could we rest a little before moving on? Interrupting your practice midway would be unwise.”

To his relief, Baek Heon-so asked the others gently rather than pressing him. With the carriage stilled, Yang-hui sank deeper into his meditations.

*I have felt this building since that battle a month ago. Change was inevitable.*

In that fight, he had drawn upon the power of Seong-cheol and forced forth the essence of Vivid Vital Energy. Vivid Vital Energy: the profound realization that qi and intent could become one, making energy itself live and breathe. Its true power lay in amplifying the will that drove it—performing what should be impossible, such as dividing what could not be split.

*In short, the first step toward making intent itself real.*

What was intent? Thought, image, will. How could something so intangible shape the world? Through qi, as a bridge. Just as humanity stood between heaven and earth, so qi linked the mind to all creation.

He breathed deeply, and the energy within him flowed—moving of its own accord, unbidden. If it moved without his direction, then will dwelt within the energy itself.

*Have I truly grasped the essence of Vivid Vital Energy? Not yet. But I am close.*

The “Harmonious Heaven” of the Harmonious Heaven Principle Origin Art spoke of unity with all things. Its very nature was to weave together disparate strands. Even fusing energy and intent rather than different energies was no departure from its purpose. He had already merged Harmonious Heaven Qi and Prior Qi into Harmonious Prior Qi through its power.

And then—

*Kiyaaaaah!*

A hawk’s cry rang out. Had he imagined it, or was it real?

Energy surged, filling every acupoint—those channels and wells that mapped the body as dragon veins mapped the earth—like water finding its natural course.

*Kiyaaaaah!*

*Something… something never seen in my past life is taking shape.*

Even to Yang-hui, who carried the wisdom of Super Peak enlightenment, the feeling was ineffable, beyond words. A premonition, hovering on the very edge of understanding.

*Almost. Just a little closer.*

Click.

As two halves of a lock fit together. As the final stroke brings a dragon painting to life. As the pearl set in place…

“Ah!”

He opened his eyes, a sharp pang of loss cutting through him.

“So close. I was nearly there.”

A sharp, aching sense of unfulfillment lingered, yet the moment of clarity had slipped away. Enlightenment was a gift from heaven, as the saying went, and the time had not yet come. Still, calling forth Vivid Vital Energy through the Seong-cheol Sword would be far easier now. At sixteen, that was achievement enough—though he would turn seventeen in mere days.

*Kiyaaaaah!*

Yang-hui frowned, confused.

“Wait… that was not in my mind?”

He stepped down from the carriage to find his companions staring in awe. The reason was plain: dozens of hawks perched upon the branches nearby.

“Chui-dal. What is happening here?”

“I… I do not know, Brother. We were waiting and resting, and suddenly they all appeared.”

As if in answer, one hawk stepped forward—its plumage pure white, clearly the leader of the flock.

*Kiyaaaaah!*

Yang-hui watched it, then smiled faintly.

“Looks as though heaven has sent us a feast before we climb these peaks.”

Roast hawk. A rare delicacy, indeed.

*Kiyaa?*

Confusion flickered in the white hawk’s gaze—as if to say, *That was not what I meant.*

“Does it understand me? A clever bird, then. All the more reason to make it count.”