The Jungson family had managed to preserve their lineage for generations without ever revealing their true headquarters—thanks to a secret art called the Absolute Boundary.
Even among sects that specialized in sorcery, such a technique existed.
However, deploying it required immense time, manpower, and a vast array of tools.
The Jungson family, by contrast, could create an Absolute Boundary with ease and freedom.
That was why, even though they were situated in the most bustling provincial capital, no one could ever pinpoint the location of the Jungson family.
“I’ve reserved the annex.”
Jade Inn.
A small inn on the outskirts of the provincial capital.
Its interior furnishings were worn and outdated, but both food and lodging were exorbitantly priced. As a result, even clueless tourists and transient travelers had long stopped coming.
Yet someone had rented out the entire annex of this very inn.
It was none other than the Divine Mountain Sage—or rather, the Martial Venerable.
“What a waste, but it can’t be helped.”
Entering the annex’s study, the Martial Venerable took a single Boundary Prosperity Jade from his robes.
It contained the power of one of the Hundred and Eight Stars, and possessed the ability to annihilate all supernatural powers.
Shuuu.
As the Boundary Prosperity Jade turned to powder and scattered, the walls of the study began to flake away like petals, revealing a large door on one side.
That was the entrance to the Jungson family.
‘Of course, this can’t be their main headquarters.’
If this were the true entrance to the Jungson family, a single Boundary Prosperity Jade would never be enough to break through an Absolute Boundary. At best, this was probably one of the branch locations the Jungson family had established in the martial world.
‘I wonder how many more places like this they’ve created.’
Swallowing his thoughts, the Martial Venerable stepped through the doorway enveloped in light.
Inside the white radiance, a black silhouette took shape.
“Divine Mountain Sage.”
The shadow seemed already familiar with his identity and spoke in a chilling voice.
“You didn’t come here to die, so why have you crawled into this place?”
“I came to provide the information you desire.”
When the Martial Venerable answered in a voice thick with age, the shadow replied coldly.
“Have you perhaps located the Heavenly Mechanism Star?”
The Heavenly Mechanism Star.
A divine being of wisdom said to be capable of altering even the fate of the world—the very Hundred and Eight Star the Jungson family had endlessly searched for.
“Of course not.” The Divine Mountain Sage shook his head. “I came to tell you the identity of the one who interfered with our affairs at Western Spirit Mountain.”
“Who is it?”
“The Sword King, Seon Woojin.” The Divine Mountain Sage spoke in a low voice. “He is the one who saved Manwol.”
“Is this confirmed information?”
“Confirmed intelligence from the upper echelons of the Martial Alliance. I stake my own neck on it.”
The surface of the black shadow rippled.
“Surely she didn’t obtain another key…”
Realizing he had spoken out of turn, the shadow waved a hand.
“What do you want?”
“Boundary Prosperity Jade. Thirty-six strands of river energy.”
Thud.
Three transparent orbs dropped at the Divine Mountain Sage’s feet.
“Too small.”
“I can reduce it to two.”
The Martial Venerable smacked his lips regretfully and tucked the Boundary Prosperity Jades into his robes.
“No helping it.”
Then he slowly turned.
“Take care.”
The shadow stared intently at the departing back of the Divine Mountain Sage.
“To think he would try to manipulate our family under the guise of a sage.”
The shadow spoke in an utterly sinister tone.
“I’ll kill that brat first—and soon enough, you too.”
***
Returning to the study, the Martial Venerable’s face looked utterly exhausted.
The Jungson family’s Absolute Boundary was a kind of mental world they had created. Not only could it block inner energy but it also consumed an enormous amount of mental strength from anyone who entered its domain.
“If they truly set their minds to it, the Baekri family power within him will awaken.” Recalling Bu Eunseol’s face, the Martial Venerable gave a faint smile. “If this matter puts him in danger, this old body will step in to help. That way, any suspicion he harbors toward me may lessen somewhat.”
Since ancient times, there has been one fastest way to win a person’s heart:
Deliberately set a trap, then personally rescue them when they fall into it.
The Martial Venerable intended both to hasten the awakening of the Baekri family power sleeping inside Bu Eunseol’s body and to earn his trust at the same time.
“He should be heading toward Xi’an by now.”
In truth, Bu Eunseol had made one mistake all this time.
Because he was so accustomed to coming and going from the Martial Alliance, he had momentarily forgotten that—aside from Mu Gyeol—there was one other person who knew Seon Woojin’s true identity.
***
“Now we must change the training method. Not only must we raise martial prowess—we must also gradually build up barriers in the soul.”
Meanwhile, after dealing with the Inbiin who commanded the Ghosts, Bu Eunseol issued orders to the captains of the Death Shadow Corps.
Through this incident, he had realized that the forces of the abyss—which had remained hidden until now—were already deeply rooted and active across the Central Plains.
No one knew when or where they might appear again.
Especially since the captains often carried out missions alone, they absolutely had to raise their martial level.
‘All the captains have already reached the Transcendent Realm.’
Yoo Unryong and Myo Cheonwoo had entered the Transcendent Realm even before joining the Death Shadow Corps.
Later, Wi Cheongyeong also stepped into the Transcendent Realm.
Following them, Won Semun and Jo Namcheon were now on the verge of entering the Transcendent Realm thanks to grueling training.
But Bu Eunseol no longer placed great importance on mere martial maturity or realm.
Victory and defeat were not determined by a simple ranking of martial skill.
Matchups could decide outcomes, and quick-witted adaptation in the moment could allow one to defeat a master clearly superior in level.
For the captains of the Death Shadow Corps, something far more important than raising martial prowess existed:
The tempering of a soul that would never collapse under any circumstance.
The powerful enemies that had appeared so far relied far more on bizarre techniques than on pure martial arts. Therefore, training that could strengthen their souls was essential.
However, tempering the mind was something only possible for those at the very peak of the Transcendent Realm—like Yoo Unryong and Myo Cheonwoo.
‘How can we build a barrier in the soul?’
Bu Eunseol held discussions with the captains on exactly this topic and one conclusion emerged.
—Fighting a master who is one step above oneself, or who possesses similar specialties, should make it possible.
The three captains on the verge of the Transcendent Realm still did not clearly understand their own limits and strengths.
Moreover, if their specialty failed against an opponent?
Or if the opponent’s technique perfectly countered their own?
Ordinary masters would feel despair.
But fighting such opponents would be extremely effective for understanding one’s martial limits and for forging a soul that would never break under any circumstance.
“I will personally select the opponents and observe the fights.”
“You’re busy, why go that far?”
At that moment, Myo Cheonwoo—who had been silently listening—spoke up.
“I’ll handle that part myself. Don’t worry about it and just take care of your own business.”
“Can you manage it?”
“Though I’m not on your level, while I was wandering the martial world, the thing I did most was friendly duels.” Myo Cheonwoo gave a confident smile. “I’ll thoroughly conduct duels so those guys can make one more massive leap.”
“Hm.”
“Don’t worry. I may not know everything, but I know exactly whether their shit comes out square or round.”
In the early days of the Death Shadow Corps, it had been Myo Cheonwoo who—under Bu Eunseol’s orders—had trained the three captains’ martial arts.
Won Semun specialized in bold demonic twin-sword killing forms.
Wi Cheongyeong in qinggong.
Jo Namcheon in the Black Poison Demonic Art that turned his body into steel.
Myo Cheonwoo had analyzed their innate personalities, physiques, and temperaments and trained them through near-real-combat duels so they could leap forward once more.
“Understood. Then I’ll leave that matter to you.”
At Bu Eunseol’s words, Myo Cheonwoo nodded with a grin.
“Rest easy.”
***
Ahnnam Inn had relatively cheap food and was located near a scenic lake, so it was always crowded with customers.
Especially at lunchtime, when meal-goers flooded in, it was far busier than dinnertime.
Yet today, around noon, the interior of Ahnnam Inn was eerily silent—quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
The reason sat right in the center of the inn.
A man wearing a pitch-black bamboo hat, had a build so massive it seemed like three grown men had been fused together.
Countless scars covered his entire body and every time his eyes moved, a murderous aura flowed out so sharp that merely standing nearby felt like one’s flesh might be sliced open.
Ink Hat Battle Demon, Gwang Baek.
Normally, sword users received titles incorporating the character for “sword.”
But he bore the character “battle”—the one usually given to fist fighters because of his belligerent and cruel personality and techniques, and because he wielded a unique martial art that fused fist and sword techniques.
Moreover, he would pick fights with anyone who merely met his gaze and once a fight began, he would inevitably kill his opponent.
Despite that, he never became a public enemy of righteous or demonic paths.
Because the only people he provoked were outstanding martial artists.
In the martial world where people died constantly, fighting fellow martial artists—or being excessively cruel in combat—alone was not enough to earn infamy.
In other words, Gwang Baek was a cunning killer who committed slaughter only within the limits that martial world people tolerated.
Flinch.
Martial artists who recognized Gwang Baek quickly averted their eyes, fearing eye contact.
Since he was famous for his deathly battles, mere accidental meeting of eyes might provoke him.
“Hmph.”
Gazing at the fearful looks directed his way, Gwang Baek let out a satisfied smile and pressed the mouth of a liquor bottle to his lips.
In truth, he possessed one other special ability:
An uncanny knack for instantly recognizing anyone stronger than himself.
That was why he always scanned his surroundings first and never provoked anyone clearly superior.
In short, he only fought opponents he could defeat—thus becoming the undefeated Battle Demon.
Thud thud.
But at that moment, a man entered the inn.
His frame was solid and sturdy, with a hedgehog-like beard bristling everywhere.
He looked almost like the reincarnation of Zhang Fei.
“Is your face a drawing board? Why the hell did you scribble all over it like that?”
The man glanced at Gwang Baek, frowned deeply, and muttered.
“Guys with no confidence in their martial arts always tattoo their bodies like that.”
When Gwang Baek glared with wide eyes, the man snorted and muttered again.
“Little shit. I’m gonna smash you.”
Then, with an indifferent expression, he climbed the stairs to a special room on the second floor.
Crack!
Instantly, the liquor bottle in Gwang Baek’s hand shattered into powder.
Thick earthworm-like veins bulged on his forehead as he stared with bulging eyes.
“His guts have swollen.”
Gwang Baek shot to his feet.
Unlike now—when he carefully chose weaker opponents—for the five years after first stepping into the martial world, he had genuinely sought out strong opponents for true duels, and in the process had acquired countless scars.
The scars etched across his body were not mere wounds—they were the history of his life, his medals of honor.
Yet this black pig dared deny and insult his past?
Thud thud.
With white killing intent rising in his eyes, Gwang Baek walked toward the man sitting in the corner.
As the seven-foot-tall, muscular giant slowly approached, the inn seemed to darken.
“What did you say?”
Gwang Baek looked down at the black-clothed man with supreme confidence.
His instincts had already analyzed the opponent.
This one was not stronger than him.
If the man had even slightly surpassed him, his razor-sharp instinct would have immediately suppressed the surging rage.
“A beggar like you dares crawl all the way here.”
But the black-clothed man merely frowned and waved a hand dismissively.
“Look at that face. Doesn’t your village have anywhere to wash? Go clean yourself up.”
When Gwang Baek opened his mouth in disbelief, the black-clothed man scanned him up and down and shouted irritably.
“Are you taking my order?”
“What?”
“Or move. I’m busy.”
‘That idiot. I told him to just hand over the challenge letter.’
Watching from afar, the man in yellow narrowed his eyes.
It was Myo Cheonwoo.
‘At this rate, there’s no choice but to fight Gwang Baek to the death.’
The black-clothed man was Won Semun.
Myo Cheonwoo knew Won Semun’s temperament and martial characteristics all too well.
His opening moves lacked refinement; he always sought out weaknesses and obsessively targeted only those spots.
That was why Myo Cheonwoo had deliberately chosen Gwang Baek: a master with abundant combat experience who was even better at finding and attacking enemy weaknesses.
Facing him, Won Semun would no longer be able to use his skill, forcing him to adapt to the fight.
—Gwang Baek may be cruel, but he is still a senior figure. Reveal your identity first and politely deliver the duel challenge. That way, the Death Shadow Corps’s face would be preserved, and he likely wouldn’t escalate to a fight to the death.
Even if Won Semun’s martial prowess had greatly improved, Gwang Baek was a Transcendent Realm master who had shaken the martial world for over twenty years.
There was simply no comparison.
That was why Myo Cheonwoo had personally written the challenge letter and arranged for it to be delivered.
Yet Won Semun was provoking Gwang Baek as though he were some neighborhood black-faction thug.
‘Won Semun.’
Myo Cheonwoo urgently sent a transmission.
‘Get out of there first. If you provoke him like that, that lunatic will go berserk and…’
But it was already too late.
Crack.
Blood vessels burst in Gwang Baek’s eyes and flames of true energy blazed across his body.
Boom!
With an explosive sound, the black-clothed man—Won Semun—was blasted through the inn wall and sent flying outside.
Thud thud.
Gwang Baek emerged through the broken wall, rubbing his fist.
“That crazy bastard dared insult this elder’s beard…”
Continuing to speak, he suddenly widened his eyes.
Ptoo.
Spitting out a clump of blood, Won Semun snorted and beckoned with one finger.
“You little shit. You talk too much.”
Instantly, pure white killing intent surged in Gwang Baek’s eyes.
Normally—even as battle-crazed as he was—he would have asked about the opponent’s background and checked for any potential fallout.
But right now, such thoughts didn’t even occur to him.
“I won’t kill you easily.”
Chopping off that pig’s head would be far too merciful a death.
Crack crack.
The sound of cracking rang from Gwang Baek’s fists.
He had decided to beat this black bastard to death with his bare hands.
“I’ll pound you to death!”
Flames seemed to erupt from both of Gwang Baek’s fists.
His “sword” had never been sharpened for cutting in the first place; it specialized in thrusting and smashing rather than slashing.
When such a man used fist techniques, they became absolute arts no less formidable than swordsmanship.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Won Semun met him head-on, also using only his fists.
‘This bastard?’
He had naturally expected him to draw the twin swords on his back yet when Won Semun charged using only fists, Gwang Baek grew even more excited.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The two masters began trading blows at close range—neither retreating a single step.
Every punch produced a horrifying sound of tearing flesh.
In moments, both faces were reduced to bloody pulp.
The onlookers watched with open mouths and horrified expressions.
For martial artists who trained in martial arts to engage in a face-to-face slugfest was an almost unheard-of spectacle in the martial world.
‘That… that…’
Watching from afar, Myo Cheonwoo gaped.
He had chosen Ink Hat Battle Demon specifically to help advance swordsmanship—yet now they were having a bare-knuckle brawl?
Moreover, Gwang Baek—clearly insulted—hadn’t drawn his sword either.
As though competing to see who had the tougher chin, he was meeting the assault head-on.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Won Semun was born rough and rowdy. Before meeting Bu Eunseol, he had fought with both blades and fists.
Gwang Baek, nicknamed Battle Demon, loved combat above all and his own “swordsmanship” already incorporated fist characteristics.
When two such men refused to yield even a single step and traded pure punches, the scene was indescribably savage, causing some spectators to turn away, unable to bear the gruesome sight.
Bam!
When they simultaneously smashed each other’s faces,
Sss.
Both were pushed back the exact same distance.
“Draw your weapon.”
Gwang Baek looked down at Won Semun with an arrogant expression.
“Unless you want to die.”
“If I draw my sword, you die.”
“Haa ha ha ha!” Laughing loudly, Gwang Baek widened his eyes. “Fine. I’ll play along.”
He resumed the slugfest.
In truth, the fight had always favored Gwang Baek.
He possessed innate divine strength, and the very nature of his blade techniques drew on the subtleties of close-quarters brawling.
Even if Won Semun had outstanding innate combat sense, he could not possibly defeat a fist master like Gwang Baek who had honed his fists for decades.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Eventually, Won Semun began taking more hits and his eyes grew hazy.
In that moment, only one person came to mind.
‘The Command Lord.’
Bu Eunseol had trained him so rigorously that he could defeat any strong enemy.
To lose here—to this bastard—would mean he could never face the Command Lord again.
‘But…’
If he drew his sword first, it would already be no different from defeat.
That was not just Won Semun’s personal pride—it was the pride of a Captain of the Death Shadow Corps.
‘Command Lord. What should I do…’
In an instant, Bu Eunseol’s explosive, dazzling sword forms flashed through his mind.
Those forms transcended time and space, capable of cutting down any enemy in a single breath.
“Haaap!”
When Won Semun let out a battle cry, waves of true energy exploded outward.
At the same time, he reached behind his back and placed his hands on his twin swords.
“Hahaha! Finally realizing you’re going to die, so that pathetic pride of yours is shrinking?”
Seeing Won Semun finally prepare to draw his blades, Gwang Baek also placed his hand on the hilt of his beloved weapon.
Ziiing.
But something strange happened.
Time seemed to slow suddenly—and a red aura surged from Won Semun’s body?
‘Meteor Chasing the Moon Form?’
Watching from afar, Myo Cheonwoo’s eyes widened.
Bu Eunseol’s signature sword art—the ultra-high-speed swift-killing form that delivered death to the enemy’s eyes before the blade even moved: Meteor Chasing the Moon Form.
Had Won Semun somehow secretly learned and copied it in the meantime?
Kwaaaaa!
But something even stranger occurred.
Everyone expected a terrifying swift sword strike to erupt.
Yet instead of a swift sword technique, Won Semun’s massive body shot forward like a thunderbolt!
“Huh?”
Gwang Baek—who had been waiting for Won Semun to draw his twin swords—
Bam!
Suddenly collided face-first with the cannonball-like charge of Won Semun’s head.
Crack.
With a gruesome bursting sound, Gwang Baek’s face caved in completely.
Tremble tremble.
Though he somehow remained standing, his face was already unrecognizably crushed.
“This…”
When he opened his mouth, missing front teeth gleamed through the gap.
“What… is this?”
At Gwang Baek’s question, Won Semun crossed his arms proudly and declared,
“Face Overtakes the Moon Form.”
Inspired by Bu Eunseol’s Meteor Chasing the Moon Form, he had created a technique that launched his own body like a cannon.
“…What nonsense are you spouting.”
Leaving those final words, Gwang Baek collapsed unconscious.
Thus fell the Ink Hat Battle Demon—who, though not quite a killer, had terrified martial artists across the land.
To be knocked out by a single headbutt from what looked like a black-faction thug… it was such an utter humiliation that he would likely never show his face in the martial world again.
“Hm.”
Watching from afar, Myo Cheonwoo pressed his forehead with a gloomy expression.
He had gone to great lengths to find a strong opponent capable of advancing swordsmanship… only for it to devolve into a slugfest and end with a surprise headbutt victory?
‘This isn’t the picture I planned at all.’
Myo Cheonwoo shook his head despondently.
In the end, the plan to use the battle against Ink Hat Battle Demon to elevate Won Semun’s martial prowess and temper his soul had failed.
‘No… it’s fine.’
He soon nodded to himself.
‘Wi Cheongyeong is still there.’
Jo Namcheon… was a little uncertain.
But Wi Cheongyeong was a genius whose talent, footwork, and character were all exceptional.
Through the fight Myo Cheonwoo had arranged this time, he would surely achieve a breakthrough.
“Heh heh heh.”
Myo Cheonwoo gave a low chuckle and turned away, completely unable to imagine the bizarre and marvelous events that would unfold next.
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