In the martial world, there were eight masters renowned for their qinggong.
These individuals, known as the Eight Great Qinggong Experts of the Martial Forest, were mostly former thieves or originated from the demonic paths.
The fact that they had trained solely in movement techniques to the point of obsession usually meant one thing:
They either intended to steal others’ possessions or needed ways to escape pursuit.
Because of this, finding an expert in qinggong capable of contending with Wi Cheongyeong proved quite difficult. Fortunately, however, Myo Cheonwoo located one of the Eight Great Qinggong Experts who had long since retired from the world:
Twin Flying Immortal, Jeong Bulhae.
At the foot of a secluded mountain slope stood a somewhat aged yet neatly maintained house.
Beside the front yard was a square stone chamber—a proper room for playing Go.
Back when he roamed the martial world, Jeong Bulhae had been utterly obsessed with the game. That was why, even though he was still in his prime at around forty, he retired relatively early. He intended to spend the rest of his days freely studying the Go records he had collected during his travels.
“Hmm.”
Just as Jeong Bulhae was about to enter the go room, he let out a soft exclamation.
Even though twenty full years had passed since he retired from the martial world, his internal energy remained as potent as ever.
Yet someone had concealed their presence and circled behind him?
“Though this old man has already left the martial world, what grudge brings you here?”
Turning around, he saw a tall, handsome man with a prominent nose framed by long hair. The stranger stood imposingly with a large cloth sack slung over his shoulder.
It was none other than Wi Cheongyeong.
“Retiring and taking the name Twin Flying Immortal… you really do look like an immortal now,” Wi Cheongyeong said coldly, gazing down at Jeong Bulhae with open contempt. “While completely hiding your true identity as the Blue-Faced Thief.”
Twin Flying Immortal Jeong Bulhae.
Known to the orthodox sects as an honorable hero, he possessed a second, hidden identity:
The infamous great bandit and murderer who plundered the wealth of the rich—the Blue-Faced Thief.
“Haha, this old man, the Blue-Faced Thief? I have no idea what nonsense you’re spouting.” Jeong Bulhae shook his head as though bewildered. “That vicious robber fell into the Ten-Thousand-Zhang Cliff while being chased by experts from the Martial Alliance ten years ago and died, didn’t he?”
Then, calmly, he continued: “This old man no longer concerns himself with grudges or reputation in the martial world. Please leave.”
But as he spoke, Jeong Bulhae’s expression suddenly stiffened.
Wi Cheongyeong’s left hand now held a Go container.
“Indeed, these are genuine white stones carved from fossilized shell.” Wi Cheongyeong took out one white stone, held it up to the sunlight, and nodded.
“No wonder Master Eunyeop valued them more than his own life.”
Carving Go stones from shells or other materials is far more difficult than making a board from wood. Moreover, the white stones in this container were crafted from fossilized shells—each one worth far more than ordinary treasures or antiques.
“Keep spouting nonsense, and I’ll crush these stones first.”
“What exactly is your grudge against this old man?”
Crack.
Wi Cheongyeong crushed one stone into powder.
At once, a terrifying killing intent surged from Jeong Bulhae’s eyes, an utterly sinister, vicious glare that no one bearing the title Twin Flying Immortal could possibly possess.
“As expected, instinct cannot be hidden. Just from that look, it’s clear you were a murderer who treated killing people like eating meals.”
After a long silence, Jeong Bulhae spoke in an extremely low voice.
“…How did you find out?”
He no longer bothered concealing his true self.
“There should have been no one who knew my identity.”
“There are no true secrets in this world.” Wi Cheongyeong tucked the Go container back into his robes. “You committed every kind of atrocity and thought you could enjoy a peaceful old age?”
The Twin Flying Immortal Jeong Bulhae, long regarded as an upright hero of the orthodox path was in truth, he was the great bandit and killer who periodically turned the martial world upside down: Jeong Ilhae.
“The reason your identity never came to light was because you had a shadow acting as the real Jeong Bulhae.” Wi Cheongyeong sneered. “But as investigations continued and the net tightened, with your true identity and deeds about to be exposed… you swapped the shadow into the Blue-Faced Thief’s identity, lured him into a trap, and killed him. Then you lived on as Jeong Bulhae.”
Jeong Bulhae—no, Jeong Ilhae’s gaze grew razor-sharp.
No one in the world should have known that secret. How had this man uncovered it?
How could he quietly kill this man and keep the secret buried?
“Those Go stones are treasures that should be passed down through the generations.” Jeong Ilhae suppressed his killing intent and spoke. “Even if you bear a grudge against me, the stones themselves are innocent, aren’t they?”
“You really are mad about Go.”
Wi Cheongyeong replied coldly.
“Or perhaps there’s evidence hidden inside this go container.”
Jeong Ilhae’s eyes wavered like rippling water.
It seemed this young man had come here already knowing everything.
“What do you want?”
Jeong Ilhae scanned Wi Cheongyeong’s body thoroughly.
“The treasure I’ve hidden away? Or do you plan to expose my identity, drag me to the Martial Alliance, and make a name for yourself?”
“Try to catch me.”
“What?”
Wi Cheongyeong gave a faint smile.
“I’m heading straight to the Martial Alliance to present the evidence inside this container. But if you can catch me before then… you can keep your secret.”
“I don’t understand.” Jeong Ilhae frowned. “What do you gain from this?”
“I can’t sleep at night if there’s someone faster than me.”
“You came all this way just for that reason?”
“Your choice is your own.”
Bang!
In that instant, Wi Cheongyeong’s body shot forward, slicing through the air.
It was lightning-swift qinggong.
Killing intent swirled in Jeong Ilhae’s eyes.
As the Blue-Faced Thief, he had murdered countless wealthy men and martial experts. The grudges against him still lingered, and an astronomical bounty remained on his head.
Yet this young fool was challenging him to a mere chase?
“Is he one of those eccentric hermits in the martial world?”
The martial world were full of bizarre eccentrics with incomprehensible personalities and habits. They cared nothing for fame or wealth—only obsession with one single thing drove them.
“Good.”
If his identity were exposed, not only would he lose all the wealth he had accumulated, he would spend the rest of his life fleeing the Martial Alliance experts and bounty hunters.
But if he simply killed this young man, he could return to his peaceful life.
Bang!
Jeong Ilhae immediately unleashed his qinggong in pursuit.
The reason he had committed countless atrocities yet was never caught was simple: He had mastered both the orthodox supreme qinggong art Extreme Flash Flying Current and the demonic path’s ultimate movement technique Black Sprinkling Divine Thread, fusing them into his own unique style.
Kwaaaa!
Having combined the divine techniques of both righteous and demonic paths, Jeong Ilhae’s movement created twin afterimages , like two immortals soaring through the sky, allowing him to cover a thousand li in a single breath.
Shwaaaa!
Before long, Jeong Ilhae closed in behind Wi Cheongyeong, who was charging forward like an arrow with the sack on his back.
‘Impressive.’
Seeing Jeong Ilhae catch up so quickly, Wi Cheongyeong inwardly swallowed his surprise. Since receiving qinggong instruction from Bu Eunseol, he had never met anyone—regardless of age—who could match him, except perhaps the Death Spirit Corps Leader Mu Heon or the Flying Demon Tak Ilhon, who held only the slightest edge.
Yet even starting late, Jeong Ilhae was practically glued to his heels.
Shuuu!
A murderous glint flashed as Jeong Ilhae charged and black metal gauntlets now covered his hands. Sharp, claw-like protrusions gleamed darkly, coated, no doubt, with lethal poison that killed on contact.
His signature weapon: Blue Demon Hands.
Kuuuu!
Even at full power, Wi Cheongyeong’s movement gradually lost ground. At this rate, his back would soon be torn apart by those poisoned claws.
Swish!
Then Wi Cheongyeong pulled a small object from the sack and threw it.
Because he hurled it while moving at extreme speed, the object streaked toward Jeong Ilhae’s face with terrifying velocity despite no special technique.
Clack!
Reflexively, Jeong Ilhae snatched it with his metal gauntlet.
Even if it were a poisoned hidden weapon, the Blue Demon Hands would protect him.
‘What is this?’
It was a tiny statue—a man gazing into the distant sky with one hand raised.
Yet the expression felt artificial and the belly oddly protruding made the whole figure somewhat grotesque.
Shuk!
But something strange happened.
After throwing the statue, Wi Cheongyeong’s already blazing speed increased slightly.
Why? Because that palm-sized statue made from a mix of lead and dark iron was ten times heavier than a gold ingot of the same size.
“Hmph.”
Jeong Ilhae snorted, tossed the statue aside, and resumed the chase.
Though Wi Cheongyeong had sped up a little, it was still catchable.
Swish!
But again, just as he closed in once more, another identical statue flew toward his face.
And again, Wi Cheongyeong’s speed ticked upward.
“Surely not…?”
The foundation of qinggong is making the body extremely light.
Carrying heavy objects naturally slows one down.
He had assumed the large sack contained stolen goods… but could it be filled entirely with heavy statues?
“Impossible!”
Kwaaaa!
Alternating Extreme Flash Flying Current and Black Sprinkling Divine Thread, he pressed hard.
Yet each time a statue was thrown, Wi Cheongyeong grew faster until finally Jeong Ilhae could no longer keep up.
“Haa… haa…”
A groan escaped Jeong Ilhae’s lips.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t close the gap.
If he let this man escape now, he would remain a fugitive forever.
“No!”
Watching the silhouette grow distant, Jeong Ilhae roared like thunder. But the figure he could almost grasp kept slipping farther away.
“Absolutely not!”
He hurled the flying darts hidden in his robes.
Yet the faster he attacked, the more unstable—and slower—his own movement became.
“Haaa!”
At last he resorted to his final measure.
Unable to catch up normally, he activated his Primordial Qi and unleashed his qinggong.
Flash!
His body shot forward like a beam of light. As he surged ahead, the hair around his ears turned white.
Trading life force for speed, his movement became blindingly fast.
Before long he was once again right on Wi Cheongyeong’s heels.
“Die!”
Just as he prepared to unleash Soul-Seizing Heaven and Earth with the Blue Demon Hands—
Crackle—whoosh!
Suddenly the sack on Wi Cheongyeong’s back burst open in all directions.
Dozens of statues fanned out like an umbrella, raining down on Jeong Ilhae’s face.
The move was utterly unpredictable.
“Ugh-ahh!”
Jeong Ilhae cried out in shock.
The statues, propelled by extreme speed and their crushing weight, struck with more force and destruction than any hidden weapon in existence.
Thud thud thud thud!
Unable to dodge, Jeong Ilhae took heavy blows to the face, chest, and dantian.
The sheer power pierced straight through his protective true qi, shattering his skull, sternum, and dantian.
Thump.
Covered in blood, Jeong Ilhae collapsed, gasping.
With a look of deep resentment he said, “You deliberately hid hidden weapons in that sack just to toy with this old man.”
“No, that’s not it.” Wi Cheongyeong carefully picked up the fallen statues. “The sack was simply too weak and tore. These are specially made.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They are commemorative figures modeled after our Command Lord. Every warrior in the Death Shadow Corps pooled several years’ salary to craft them with utmost care.”
“Commemorative…?”
“Indeed.” Wi Cheongyeong spoke proudly. “To prevent rust, they were forged from lead mixed with dark iron. Scaled down to one-tenth actual size while preserving every detail—even the shoulder insignia polished to a shine.”
“…”
“Though not yet complete, the Command Lord’s beloved sword, Silent Tiger Soul, will also be included once Demonic Sword Master finishes it and sends it to the main hall.”
Jeong Ilhae frowned and coughed up blood.
“I… have no idea what you’re saying.”
Then he breathed his last.
Twenty years ago, the great bandit and murderer who terrorized the world—Blue-Faced Thief Jeong Ilhae—met an absurd end: killed by a statue of Bu Eunseol crafted by the Death Shadow Corps.
“Command Lord.”
Wi Cheongyeong gently wiped clean the statue in his hand.
“Even as a statue, you continue to protect us.”
After setting the cleaned figure upright on the ground, he suddenly clasped his hands in solemn respect.
For a long while he stood with eyes closed in prayer. Then, reverently, he began gathering the scattered statues one by one and placing them back into what remained of the sack.
“…”
Watching from afar, Myo Cheonwoo’s eyes had lost all focus.
‘Just where did everything go wrong?’
Though the match against Jo Namcheon still remained, Myo Cheonwoo felt no anticipation at all.
***
“I don’t know how you found this old man, but…”
A muscular middle-aged man glared at Jo Namcheon.
Blood Wind Demon Wall, Baek Jangsong.
Once a mere bandit, he had by chance obtained the Soul-Snatching Demonic Scripture and, with the overwhelming martial arts he gained from it, committed countless depraved acts. After perfecting the Blood Wind Demonic Fist from that scripture, he achieved near-Indestructible Golden Body-level horizontal training and terrorized the martial world for over a decade.
Yet at some point he vanished without a trace.
Astonishingly, he had spent those years training alone in an isolated valley.
But something unexpected occurred.
A young man with a scruffy beard appeared and challenged him to a spar.
“I already washed my hands of the past.”
At Baek Jangsong’s calm words, Jo Namcheon let out a hollow laugh.
“You’re spouting nonsense.”
He threw off his upper garment and spoke gravely:
“You stopped your evil deeds and left the martial world because the Bullet King relentlessly hunted you—don’t pretend otherwise.”
Baek Jangsong flinched and furrowed his brow. He had nothing to say.
As Jo Namcheon said, the Bullet King Bukgung Ryeong had publicly sworn to kill Baek Jangsong, who repeatedly violated and murdered women.
The Bullet King always kept his word.Terrified of being exploded from the inside by his Internal Bullet Qi, Baek Jangsong had hidden deep in the mountains to re-train his Blood Wind Demonic Fist.
Once he reached the twelfth level, he would no longer fear that technique.
Just as he completed it and prepared to re-enter the world, some bandit-looking fellow shows up and picks a fight?
“So.” Baek Jangsong’s face darkened. “You really want to spar with me?”
“Of course. Let’s have a match.” Jo Namcheon clapped his palms provocatively.
Baek Jangsong studied his musculature and immediately recognized that the young man practiced a powerful demonic external martial art.
“You’ve trained in external martial arts similar to mine. Have you stepped into the Fist Qi Single Form realm?”
“No need for you to know.”
“Hahaha. Interesting. Someone else who walks the external path.” Baek Jangsong smacked his lips with a slightly displeased expression. “This will be a boring fight.”
Those who master external martial arts can easily shrug off ordinary strikes.
Moreover, since neither would use weapons, it would devolve into a bare-knuckle brawl no different from a street brawl among black path thugs.
“I heard you installed a Nether Blood Mansion here.” At that moment Jo Namcheon made an odd suggestion. “Let’s fight in there. A simple slugfest won’t settle anything anyway.”
“In the Nether Blood Mansion…?”
Baek Jangsong looked surprised.
The Nether Blood Mansion was a device that unleashed sound attacks from a thousand musical instruments simultaneously, making it the perfect place to train external martial heart methods or temper the spirit. Yet no matter how strong one’s heart method or mental defenses, the terrifying power of the Nether Blood Mansion usually drove people out within half an hour.
“If we endure in there, either our spirit or our external qi is bound to shatter, right?”
“Heh heh heh.” Baek Jangsong gave a faint chuckle.
He had built the Nether Blood Mansion here precisely to perfect his Blood Wind Fist. Through relentless training, he could now endure a full hour inside.
“Are you confident? Your external martial art will probably collapse in less than half an hour.”
“Who are you worrying about?” Jo Namcheon spat into his palms and rubbed them together. “I’ll deliver your punishment in there, so accept your sins obediently.”
“Hahaha. I look forward to it.”
Baek Jangsong led Jo Namcheon into a large stone chamber inside the cave.
Hundreds of thick bamboo tubes lined the walls—channels through which the thousand instruments would unleash their sound attacks.
“Ready?”
Clank.
Baek Jangsong locked the three-foot-thick iron door and grinned wickedly.
“Either go mad from the sound attacks of the Nether Blood Mansion, or have your external martial art shattered and die by my hand. One or the other.”
“You talk too much. Just start already!”
“Fine.”
Boom.
With a low vibration, dazzling light burst from the seven-colored luminous pearls embedded in the chamber.
Then—
Screeeeech! Screech screech! Boom! Rumble rumble!
An overwhelming noise filled the stone room.
It wasn’t mere sound but a vicious sound art capable of driving anyone insane just by hearing it.
“Ugh.”
The moment the Nether Blood Mansion activated, a groan escaped Jo Namcheon’s lips.
This brutal sound art was beyond endurance—even for those with powerful heart methods or fortified minds. Many of the techniques amplified innate killing intent, causing victims to claw at their own heads or chew their own flesh.
‘Let’s see how long you last.’ Baek Jangsong folded his arms and smiled calmly.
Having trained here every day, he could now listen to the ferocious sound art as peacefully as gentle music.
“Uuuugh.”
After about an hour, groans finally spilled from Jo Namcheon. His breathing grew ragged, his closed eyes twitching nonstop.
‘Heh heh. It’s over.’
Baek Jangsong smiled as though victory were assured. Facial convulsions meant the external martial art had already collapsed.
If he struck with qi-infused fists now, Jo Namcheon’s head would explode.
“Since your external art is broken, you can’t complain even if you die.”
Faint qi flowed around Baek Jangsong’s fist—he had concentrated his Blood Wind Demonic Fist into it.
One hit and Jo Namcheon’s skull would shatter.
But at that moment—
“Om mani padme hum! Hwal-li-no-a!”
Trembling violently, Jo Namcheon suddenly opened his eyes wide and began shouting strange words.
‘A true mantra?’ Baek Jangsong frowned.
Some sorcerers in the martial world used bizarre spells and chanted incomprehensible mantras.
“Make the weak strong! Make the poor rich!”
But these weren’t mantras—they were utterly bizarre phrases.
Irritated, Baek Jangsong swung with full force at Jo Namcheon’s face.
Boom!
Yet something astonishing happened.
The man whose external art should have shattered and whose head should have caved in easily withstood the punch.
‘He recovered his mind?’
Inside the Nether Blood Mansion, a once-shattered spirit is extremely difficult to restore—one must leave, meditate calmly, and only then regain full mental and qi integrity. Yet this young man had somehow restored his spirit instantly simply by uttering those strange words.
“Raise the lame! Let the blind see!”
Jo Namcheon kept spouting odd phrases.
Each time, his gaze turned eerie, and an even stronger fist qi—far beyond his previous Black Poison Demonic Art—surged from his body.
“Is he turning a heart method into song lyrics and reciting them?”
As an external martial grandmaster, Baek Jangsong finally understood.
Jo Namcheon had somehow converted some martial heart method into song-like verses and was murmuring them.
“Quite clever.”
Such recitation methods had once been popular in the past, though not so much now.
But turning them into songs required constant chanting like mantras—making them ineffective in actual combat.
“Oh ho! That is precisely the Command Lord!”
The verses were so bizarre and absurd they barely qualified as song.
“Has getting hit scrambled his brain?” Baek Jangsong sneered coldly. “No need to play along any longer!”
Abandoning the slugfest, he roared and unleashed a barrage of Blood Wind Demonic Fist-enhanced strikes.
Thud thud thud thud!
“The Command Lord’s care and love flow through the blood vessels in my body!”
The words grew stranger the more he heard and somehow turned his stomach.
“Shut up.”
Even the sound art of the Nether Blood Mansion no longer fazed him yet cracks were slowly forming in Baek Jangsong’s own spirit.
“My love! Your love! Our Command Lord!”
“Shut up, I said!”
Enraged, Baek Jangsong swung with full power.
But for masters of advanced external martial arts, the most crucial thing is maintaining a calm mind and tranquil spirit.
To cultivate high-level external arts, one must harden not only the body but also the mind. If mental composure and qi flow are broken, the connected body will eventually shatter as well.
“Our Command Lord!”
Then, even while taking blows, Jo Namcheon suddenly unleashed a whip-like, elastic punch.
It was the Giant Spirit Fist Sect’s supreme technique: Reed Whip Flash Form.
Thud.
It was lightly launched, but it carried mountain-crushing force.
Baek Jangsong, whose spirit was no longer whole, took the blow squarely in the lower abdomen.
“Urk!”
He vomited blood and clutched his stomach.
Those bizarre words had torn his spirit apart.
“You’re using some freakish tactic!”
Baek Jangsong roared, but Jo Namcheon kept spouting nonsense while pouring out fist techniques.
—Command Lord, Command Lord. Command Lord.
Even the sound art that should have filled the Nether Blood Mansion had somehow become nothing but echoes of “Command Lord.”
Baek Jangsong wanted to cover his ears, yet strangely the song looped endlessly in his mind.
His spirit had already collapsed and his external qi was broken.
“Urk!”
Finally, struck by Jo Namcheon, Baek Jangsong vomited blood and collapsed inside the stone chamber.
“Stop… you lunatic.”
Thump.
With eyes rolled back, he died.
Looking down at Baek Jangsong’s corpse, Jo Namcheon shouted with solemnity:
“As long as the love of the Command Lord lives and breathes within my body, no one can ever invade my spirit!”
Clank.
He opened the stone door and stepped outside.
But Myo Cheonwoo was nowhere to be seen.
After witnessing the battles of Won Semun and Wi Cheongyeong, Myo Cheonwoo realized this bout had been completely ruined and hadn’t even bothered to come watch.
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