Chapter 247

Chapter 247
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**Chapter 247 — A Name That Shines in the Sunlight**

“My son Hui’s name means shining brightly beneath the sun. The very first time I met him, Hui was a child who had stopped believing he could glow all on his own, lost in the dark. That is exactly why such a name came to me.”

Baek Mu-ryang lifted his gaze, his thoughts drifting back to those early days.

One single child had turned the Baek Clan—once nothing more than a third-rate martial family—into a power capable of sheltering the very heavens.

He remembered clearly the day he had forged an unbreakable bond with that boy.

“Looking back now, it feels as though it was always meant to be. The characters for *yang* and *hui*—light radiating forth—just appeared in my mind. And Hui… he has lived up to every bit of that name, entirely through his own strength and will.”

“Perhaps giving him that name rewove the threads of his fate.”

Baek Mu-ryang did not disagree.

Had he turned Yang-hui away back then, the boy would almost certainly have wandered down twisted, unorthodox paths.

Yet he would not say the name alone was responsible.

“Hui possessed a righteous heart from the very beginning. Bold and resolute, yet ever unwavering in what he knows to be right. I have watched him long enough to speak with certainty—this is simply who he is.”

“I see. You believe in your son completely. You are a truly remarkable father.”

“Hmph. I do my best, but I would not claim to have done everything right.”

“Do not sell yourself short. Names shape us, after all—take myself. I was given the name Min-eum, yet I have chosen to be known as Nanghon. That is why I speak from experience.”

*Min* meaning toil, *eum* meaning shadow. However one looked at it, it was never a name meant to bring joy—two characters branded onto a child raised from birth to be nothing more than an assassin.

“You were not granted a kind name, yet you gave yourself a better one. That carries its own profound meaning, does it not, young hero?”

“Well put. I am grateful for your kind words, Clan Head.”

Nanghon continued asking about the Baek Clan after that, his inquiries ranging widely. He made no secret of his keen interest, yet remained careful never to overstep proper bounds. *He seems genuinely eager to join our ranks.*

Even Baek Mu-ryang appeared to share that impression, answering freely even when silence would have sufficed.

“A hero who shields all beneath heaven. Righteousness and chivalry often fixate on small matters, yet the Baek Clan grows ever greater, standing always beside those who have no one else.”

“Many claim to strive for noble ends. Our Baek Clan simply chooses never to turn away when someone reaches out for help.”

To Baek Mu-ryang’s own ears, it sounded almost too idealistic. To others, it might well seem the foolish fancy of a dreamer.

Yet that dream was taking shape, made real through the kindness and aid of countless souls.

“We have received so much help along the way. It is only right that we give back in equal measure.”

“You are truly worthy of being called a great hero.”

“I hardly think such grand praise is deserved.”

Their conversation flowed as smoothly as clear water, unbroken and unhurried. Yet beneath it all, Yang-hui felt a tight, heavy weight in his chest, a strange, restless frustration.

He had not felt so stifled even immediately after traveling through time—not when he knew nothing, not when he could only guess at what lay ahead.

*That look in his eyes. That maddening smile… he knows something I do not.*

When one could not foresee and counter every move perfectly, the only answer was to speak plainly. Yang-hui cut in sharply.

“Hey—Nanghon.”

“You called?”

“Are you connected to the Blood Cult?”

A short silence followed, but Yang-hui pressed on without hesitation. No matter how he reasoned it through, this man’s secrecy and evasion pointed straight toward those loathsome cult members.

“The Blood Cult? You speak of those wicked fanatics who wrought such tragedy before vanishing?”

“That is the one. Any ties? A recruitment offer, perhaps?”

The Blood Cult Leader… surely not. He had already swept Nanghon with senses sharpened to their fullest by his sword energy. Even if his own skill fell short of piercing a Cult Leader’s true power, this man was plainly not that figure.

The reason was straightforward: the Tai Chi Sword Hermit would never stand idly by. Only four of the Heavenly Martial Ten Elites were present at the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly. Deceive all four and smuggle the Blood Cult Leader into the True Dragon Hall? If that were possible, the entire Orthodox White Path would be plunged into endless night.

“He may not practice their arts, yet he could still be linked to them. That name… it reeks of being raised in secret within one of their hidden dens.”

Nanghon shook his head firmly.

“I swear by the name I chose for myself—I have no part in the Blood Cult. Like you, young hero Yang-hui, I hold my name in high regard. You may trust my word.”

“Then I will.”

“That is enough, Hui. Asking so abruptly is poor manners.”

“My apologies, Father.”

Baek Mu-ryang bowed slightly to Nanghon in apology, which Nanghon accepted graciously.

“I too was less than courteous toward Young Master Baek Heon-so during our duel. Let us consider ourselves even. My curiosity got the better of me.”

“Not at all. Meeting an opponent who meets you fully and without reservation—how could that be anything but honorable?”

“If you view it so, then I am truly thankful.”

Nanghon glanced toward the window, where the sky was darkening, and seemed ready to depart.

*Not so fast.*

“One last thing before you go, Nanghon.”

“Yes?”

“Do not pretend otherwise—I look forward to it. I would face you again in the arena.”

It was exactly the declaration Nanghon had so earnestly sought from the start—yet now he shook his head.

“Much as I would welcome it, I must decline for now.”

“What? Why?”

“I had hoped to enjoy a spirited contest with you, young hero Yang-hui. But the time is not yet right. I intend to seek out the Young Heir of the Tang Clan. Whether he will agree, I cannot say—but should he, it promises to be a most satisfying match.”

Yang-hui studied him for a long moment. “What has changed your mind? Why seek out the Tang heir above all others?”

“Two questions, one answer. I, Nanghon, act always for enjoyment. Nothing matters more to me than finding what truly entertains me.”

Entertainment. Always entertainment.

“I shall take my leave now, Clan Head Baek. Thank you for your time.”

“The pleasure was entirely mine.”

Nanghon departed with a bright, unforced laugh—though to Yang-hui, it was the most exasperating smile he had ever seen.

—

The road beyond the city was dark and nearly empty. Walking alone, Nanghon spoke quietly to himself.

“Between heaven and earth stands humanity—seemingly small and insignificant, yet perhaps the only beings truly worthy of existing here at all.”

Though no other soul was visible, a voice answered him.

—You sound well pleased, Supreme One.

“It went most delightfully. A man who lost everything he was meant to inherit… and yet he changed the very will of heaven. Humans are endlessly fascinating creatures.”

The will of heaven—a phrase none dared speak aloud. It meant fate laid down by the heavens themselves. Yet Nanghon spoke of it as easily as breathing.

“Eheradiya~ Whoa… drunk already!” A man staggered toward him, swaying unsteadily as though deep in his cups. He failed to notice Nanghon and kept straight on his path—right through him.

Not stepping aside so smoothly it appeared as though nothing stood in his way. *Passing through*, as though Nanghon had no physical form at all.

A few steps more, and the man collapsed, lifeless.

“Was it truly necessary to strike? He could not see you, hear you, or sense you in any way.”

—He lacked the worth to perceive you, yet failed to acknowledge your presence. That alone merits death.

“Tch. What a pitiful waste of life.”

At those words, the Bloodfiend Witch released a surge of blood energy toward the fallen man, drawing away every last spark of his life force.

—Forgive me if my zeal ran ahead of your will.

“You speak as though you do not already know I will not punish you. I am well aware of your devotion.”

She alone, out of all beings across all realms, knew Nanghon’s true nature.

—Ah… Supreme One. My Supreme One… Her voice trembled with reverence.

Nanghon—no, Min-eum—chuckled low and deep.

“There are four who shine with light,” he murmured. “One born to it. One who strives toward it. One who was made to glow… and the last.”

The one who was changed. The very idea filled Min-eum with delight.

“I never understood why things failed before—no, even had I known, I doubt I would have cared. Who could have imagined that a single name, given by an ordinary mortal, could pull a being lost in deepest darkness out into the light?”

Even the Bloodfiend Witch could not fully grasp his meaning, yet she would never presume to ask. To simply follow was joy enough, boundless and complete.

*I am the Bloodfiend Witch. Created for no other purpose than to serve my god—a tool for my Supreme One alone.*

—Shall I arrange something new to amuse you?

“An excellent thought.”

—Word has come from one of our subordinate organizations. The proposal is curious in many respects—I believed it might interest you, Supreme One.

Min-eum’s eyes lit as she finished speaking.

“It does sound diverting. Very well—let us see how they respond when pressed.”

—I shall make preparations at once.

“One question… what destruction do you expect to follow?”

She considered why the all-seeing one should ask such a thing before replying.

—If we proceed as planned: half-ruin, or total devastation. Though outside interference might alter that.

“For the sake of entertainment… either outcome is perfectly acceptable.”

Min-eum began to fade, dissolving into the shadows as if he had never stood there at all—only his voice lingering in the air.

“Proceed. And for your amusement… do not hesitate to intervene if it pleases you.”

—It shall be as you command, Supreme One. I shall ensure your delight is beyond measure.

—

Banquets were held each evening at the True Dragon Hall, timed to follow the day’s contests—natural enough, for the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly existed to bring masters together in friendship and alliance.

“Father… you have had rather too much to drink.”

Unusually, Baek Mu-ryang was clearly in his cups.

“Can one blame me? So many blessings have come our way—reunited at last with a sworn brother I have not seen in years, speaking as an equal beside elders I once could only look up to…”

Yang-hui smiled. Put that way, who could find fault? He himself would have struggled to keep his composure as well.

His father was buoyant with joy—that was why he had sent their other attendants ahead, choosing to walk the quiet night streets with only Yang-hui beside him.

“And you—defeating the Namgung Young Heir as well!”

The words warmed him. An adopted son, yet loved as fully as if born of his own flesh—his father meant every word.

“It was always likely to happen. You are making far too much of it.”

“Perhaps to you—but a father’s pride is different. Hahaha.” Baek Mu-ryang stretched his arms wide. “I know you have matters you wish to discuss. You would normally insist we remain sober and speak plainly at once.”

“I would, yes.”

“I will clear my head once we return to our lodgings. Until then… let us simply enjoy this moment.”

Yang-hui nodded. It was not an unpleasant way to spend the evening. The Baek Clan did not seek power only to stand above all others.

“You are right, Father. Then I shall set aside my worries for a while too.”

“Hmm… just do not relax *too* much—that is when you get into trouble.”

“Me?”

“Do not play innocent. How many times have you wandered off like some masterless rogue?”

More than half his past life had been spent exactly that way… and Yang-hui understood why it rankled. The Baek Clan valued learning and grace as much as martial strength—those rough habits would always stand out.

Then he paused.

“Hm?” His expression hardened.

“Father. It seems someone is intent on spoiling our evening.”

No more words were needed. Baek Mu-ryang’s intoxication vanished instantly—and in the same breath, Yang-hui struck out.

*Puuk!*

A figure in black burst from thin air, blood spraying as he fell.

“Assassins.”

“What? Here? In the Infinite?”

“Exactly. Mad, is it not?”

The Infinite was now the most heavily guarded place in the realm—four of the Heavenly Martial Ten Elites were in residence, alongside masters beyond counting. Who would dare launch an ambush here?

Yang-hui recognized the faint, foul energy clinging to the attackers—tainted blood power he had faced often in his former life.

“They belong to the Ink-Face Blood Sect—one of the World’s Five Great Assassination Gates.”

Baek Mu-ryang’s voice sharpened with alarm. “Why would they come now…?”

“There are three possibilities.” Yang-hui shifted to silent spiritual transmission.

—Either the Blood Cult has begun to move openly… or someone has paid to have us killed.

One suspect stood above all others—the Great Namgung Clan.

—You spoke of three… what of the third?

—Simple. The first two need not be separate. They could very well be working together.