Chapter 205

Chapter 205
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**Chapter 205: The Heavenly Thirty-Six Sects**

Of all the sects that made up the Baekdo alliance, how many truly deserved to be called powerful? Pose the question to anyone in the murim, and they would give you the same answer: thirty-six.

The reason was simple. Across generations, exactly thirty-six sects had always received Heavenly Grade invitations to the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly. Collectively, they were known throughout the jianghu as the Heavenly Thirty-Six Great Sects—or sometimes, the Heavenly Grade Martial Sects.

Thirty-six chosen from thousands upon thousands of contenders. To put it in perspective, this was an honor reserved for the absolute peak—one in fifty ri, a distinction so rare it was barely within reach.

“Yang-hwi, brother… you aren’t actually thinking of marching straight up to Wudang, are you?”

It sounded utterly ridiculous, yet no one could dismiss the thought out of hand—Yang-hwi had a well-earned reputation for pulling off feats just as absurd as this, as if they were nothing at all.

*Everyone’s far too quick to doubt me*, he thought, shrugging helplessly under the weight of so many wary stares. He met their gazes directly, refusing to flinch. The sharpest look of all came from Dang Gun—the eldest of their group and its acknowledged leader—and even Yang-hwi, thick-skinned as he was, found himself scrambling to explain himself.

“Don’t worry, Brother Dang.”

“How can I not worry?”

“I’ve got a plan.”

“Then tell us what it is first.”

“Do you really not trust me at all?”

“Put yourself in my position for a moment and ask yourself the same thing.”

Yang-hwi paused, mentally reviewing everything that had happened before. Hmm.

“Fair enough—but even I wouldn’t pick a fight with Wudang just to get my hands on an invitation. Not yet, anyway.”

“…Setting aside that ‘not yet’ part—what exactly is your plan?”

“Beyond the Nine Sects and Five Great Clans, there are twenty-one other sects holding Heavenly Grade status. That leaves fifteen more. We’re going to pay one of them a visit.”

“You’re talking about Taegukmun, aren’t you? You mentioned Wudang—so that’s who you have in mind.”

“Exactly right!”

Taegukmun was Wudang’s secular branch, newly elevated to the rank of Heavenly Grade Martial Sect specifically for this coming Dragon-Phoenix Assembly.

“Pressuring them into handing over an invitation might as well be declaring war on Wudang itself.”

By any conventional standard, Dang Gun was entirely correct.

“Taegukmun will welcome us. They’ll be only too happy to spar.”

“What makes you so certain?” Chudal asked, stepping forward.

“Taegukmun just announced they’re throwing their gates wide open—they’re accepting challenge requests from any promising young martial artist, no limits.”

“Huh? Why would they do something like that?”

“They need to prove themselves, Young Heir. Taegukmun hasn’t had time to build up its own reputation or achievements yet.”

The murim of Hubei was currently divided: the western regions belonged to Wudang, while the east was firmly under the Jeogal Clan. Taegukmun had been established right on the Jeogal Clan’s doorstep, as Wudang’s outward-facing branch.

“It was created for one purpose only—to keep the Jeogal Clan in check.”

“Precisely. And to make sure it carried enough weight, Wudang threw its full support behind the new sect—they were determined to force Taegukmun into the Thirty-Six Great Sects, no matter what.”

Because it had been rushed into existence so quickly, Taegukmun now had to prove its worth to silence all the whispers that it had only been chosen because of favoritism. That was why they’d adopted this open-challenge policy.

“That makes sense, but if we humiliate them, there’s bound to be serious trouble.”

“It’ll be fine. Our Master’s reputation alone will smooth everything over.”

Jeogal Seol-ha smiled, and there was something decidedly wicked about the expression. To her and the Jeogal Clan, Taegukmun was nothing more than a dagger Wudang held pressed to their throat—and the thought of humiliating it filled her with unmistakeable delight.

“Having said that, Seol-ha… we can’t head straight there just yet. There’s something else we need to take care of first.”

“What sort of thing?”

Yang-hwi laid out what they knew about the Blood Cult.

“The Blood Cult Leader has infiltrated the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly—and you want to seize invitations to keep innocent people safe?”

“That’s right.”

True to her Jeogal blood, Seol-ha didn’t waste time asking whether he’d already informed the clan head. Chudal, however, spoke up.

“Brother—something’s been bothering me. Why not just send a messenger pigeon to Yin Hu? Wouldn’t that solve everything?”

“Chudal, Chudal… you really are something, aren’t you?”

“Ugh—what? What did I do this time?”

“Tsk. The Dragon-Phoenix Assembly is the greatest festival in the murim, held once every ten years. Do you honestly think the Black Dao and all the other evil factions have ever sat back and let it go undisturbed?”

“Huh?”

Dang Gun stepped in to explain to the clearly confused Chudal.

“Since ancient times, all kinds of villains and troublemakers have tried to sneak into the Assembly to spread chaos. This gathering is no different from any other.”

“I see.”

The Blood Cult was a colossal demonic power—one that would one day drag the entire world into a sea of blood. If the elders of the Baekdo knew what was really going on, everything would change… but right now, Yang-hwi alone carried the knowledge of the coming Demonic Religious War.

*Even if I tried to warn them, no one would believe me*, he thought. *And besides—Wudang is directly responsible for running this Assembly. They’ll go to any length to make sure nothing delays or cancels it.*

“However loudly we sound the alarm, the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly will go ahead exactly as planned. They won’t increase security or step up their surveillance. A few evil sect infiltrators are considered normal—just part of the risks you have to accept.”

He did intend to drop a hint to Yin Hu, of course. But it was equally important that they take matters into their own hands and do what they could on their own.

“We have roughly three months before the Assembly begins. We’ll travel far and wide in that time.”

“We’re hunting for the Blood Cult Leader?”

“We’re hunting for the Blood Cult Leader.”

“That sounds like trying to fish a lost ring up from the bottom of a deep river.” Chudal’s sigh carried the weight of undeniable truth. Finding one single person across the vastness of the jianghu was no easy task.

“Maybe it won’t be as difficult as you think. Someone like the Blood Cult Leader won’t be able to resist showing up—and they’ll be holding a Heavenly Grade invitation.”

“Yang-hwi… for all we know, one of the sects that already holds a Heavenly invitation might already be under the Blood Cult’s control.”

“I’ve already considered that possibility.”

“Do you have any idea where we should start looking?”

There was a pause as he weighed every possibility.

“Sects that were once glorious and powerful… but have since fallen on hard times, or faded from prominence.”

That much he had been able to piece together from the Blood Cult followers he had interrogated. From that single thread, a hypothesis had begun to form.

“You mean… like Hwasan?”

Yang-hwi didn’t answer directly. His silence only made Dang Gun look at him, confused.

“Yang-hwi?”

Yang-hwi narrowed his eyes, his mind racing. *Anything but Hwasan*, he found himself hoping. If it were Hwasan… things would become complicated in ways no one could imagine.

—

Without question, the greatest Buddhist sect in the world was Shaolin. But which was the greatest Taoist sect? Opinions differed these days—but once, there had been only one answer. Hwasan.

Hwasan Sect had stood above all others, the undisputed heart of Taoism across the Central Plains. Even among the Nine Great Sects—Jongnam, Cheongseong, Wudang, and the now-lost Hyongsan Sect—no fewer than four traced their lineage directly back to Hwasan, or shared deep, ancient ties with it. That alone spoke volumes.

Yes… that was how things had been. Once.

“Uncle Ok-cheong? Is that you…?”

Standing guard at the gates of Hwasan Sect, a second-generation disciple caught sight of the ragged swordsman making his way up the path—and his face lit up with pure joy.

The man called Ok-cheong grinned broadly. “That’s right! It’s me! It’s been far too long! I’m Ok-cheong—the man who dares to stand right before Hwasan and slap the title of ‘Greatest in the World’ across its face! The swordsman who will restore the Plum Blossom Twelve Forms and make them Twenty-Four once more! And your martial uncle, come home at last!”

“Uncle… how many years has it been?”

Five years had passed since Ok-cheong had left the sect, vowing to recover the lost portion of Hwasan’s sword arts. The prodigal disciple had finally returned.

“Wait here a moment! I’ll go and inform the elders at once!”

Ok-cheong was a genius who had earned the rank of Ok-ja-bae at an exceptionally young age, leaping ahead of everyone else in his generation. As soon as word of his arrival spread, the Sect Leader summoned him directly to Ok-mae Pavilion—the heart of the sect.

“Ok-cheong… five full years.”

“Elder Baek Jang—no, Sect Leader! It truly has been ages! Every day I wandered the world, I gave thanks for Hwasan’s boundless grace and your wise guidance! Seeing your face unchanged brings me such joy—it is proof that my devotion was answered!”

Baek Jang frowned and pretended to cover his ears, yet a faint, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Your voice is as loud as ever. I’d know that tone anywhere—only you could speak like that.”

“Of course! My voice has carried clearly since I was a boy—that is the mark of Ok-cheong!”

“I’ve told you this a hundred times: the ‘Cheong’ in your Taoist name refers to clear eyes—the purest vision among the Ok-ja-bae generation.”

“Exactly! Eyes so clear and true none of my senior brothers can match them! That is why I am called Ok-cheong!”

There was no denying it—his eyes were remarkably clear. Unnervingly so, burning with a fierce, almost wild light.

“So… what did you see and learn during these five years?”

“So much! I witnessed the world with these eyes, kept it all in my heart, and now I shall give it form through my sword!”

“I suppose that means you will go to the meditation cave and face the wall, as you should?”

“Of course! I… wait?”

Five years ago, Ok-cheong had stormed away without permission, determined to recover the lost half of the Plum Blossom Twenty-Four Sword Style. He had left without a single word of approval from anyone.

“You departed without so much as a word to the elders. In another sect, you would have been hunted down, brought back in chains, and punished severely—your meridians severed, perhaps.”

Baek Jang’s expression was stern. Ok-cheong glanced up nervously, then snapped into a formal bow.

“Disciple Ok-cheong! If that is your will, Sect Leader, I will go to the cave this very instant! But—surely my skills can serve Hwasan in greater ways? Grant me just one chance to speak!”

Baek Jang shook his head, half-amused, half-sorrowful.

“Enough, you rascal. That glint in your eye tells me everything—you timed your return to coincide with the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly. You’re hoping to avoid punishment.”

“Hahaha! I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean, Sect Leader!”

“You came back because of the Assembly. You’re trying to talk your way out of a scolding.”

“I swear I do not know what you are implying!”

He always had a way with words. In any other disciple, such boldness would have been irritating—but watching Ok-cheong, Baek Jang felt nothing but genuine affection. That was who Ok-cheong was. He was a prodigy who had far outdistanced everyone else in his generation, yet somehow never stirred envy in a single heart. He was beloved by all—a young man whom every brother dreamed of standing beside when, one day, he would lead Hwasan.

“Ok-cheong… Wudang is determined to crush our sect. The Dragon-Phoenix Assembly will be the turning point.”

Deep lines of care marked Baek Jang’s face as he spoke. Since its founding, Wudang had followed a path of dominance that seemed entirely at odds with the very spirit of Taoism. And standing in their way—Hwasan, the once-undisputed greatest Taoist sect of all—was something they simply could not tolerate.

The reason was simple.

“Throughout history, the Sword Immortal Yeo Dong-bin… inherited his martial arts lineage directly from Hwasan.”

Of all the legends surrounding Yeo Dong-bin, the most famous told of how he had learned under the Fire Dragon Immortal, on the slopes of Mount Hua. Fire Dragon Immortal was Hwasan’s founding master—and that meant Hwasan was the true heir to the Sword Immortal’s legacy.

“And there is more—Jang Sam-bong Immortal as well. Some say he too was a disciple of Fire Dragon Immortal, or of Yeo Dong-bin himself.”

In short, Wudang had always been one generation—two at most—junior to Hwasan. How could they ever rest while Hwasan stood so tall above them?

“Everything is about to change. Ok-cheong—among all disciples aged thirty-six or younger, none can match you. You are the benchmark by which the younger generation is measured. Will you represent us at the Assembly?”

Ok-cheong leapt to his feet and bowed deeply.

“Disciple Ok-cheong accepts your command! I shall go to the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly! As the name Fire Dragon declares, Hwasan is the mountain where dragons are born! I shall become Hwasan’s newest dragon—and I shall return having remade myself!”

He spoke with a brilliant, unshakable smile. And in the quiet of his own heart, he knew it to be true. Everything was going to change.
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