“...You bastards... Now you try to deny it, thrashing about like worms. Do you think I don’t remember every one of your faces from back then? Deny it, will you? Ha—fine. I didn’t know your guts were so big, but I’ll open you up myself and take a look.” With that, he lunged straight at Yi Pungun. Miasma coiled around Urin’s hand. He struck without hesitation. Twin Demon-Fire Lotuses. His aim was to blow Yi Pungun’s head off. Jang Yunhong’s sword slashed through the air and intercepted Urin’s strike. But the force behind the blow was beyond imagination. Jang Yunhong was sent flying, sword and all. He landed and quickly took two steps back, pointing his blade at Urin. From it, red flames flared up. It was the opening move of the Red Flame Heavenly Path Sword Technique. “...You’re mad. Truly mad. Even if this is a misunderstanding, why won’t you listen?! Why the hell are you—!” Urin burst into laughter. But the sound was closer to terror than mockery. “Now I see. You really are one hell of an actor.” He opened his mouth to say something, but before the words could leave— In that brief instant, Jang Yunhong lost sight of him. Urin’s fist shot toward Yi Pungun. Yi Pungun raised his sword and swung. Blue Cloud Flowing Sword. A blue aura shot from his blade, forming the shape of a dragon—but it was wielded by a man frozen in fear, even if he was a master of Three Flowers Gathering Purity. There was no way it could reach Urin. Urin’s fist crushed the dragon-shaped aura, then crushed Yi Pungun’s skull. True miasma burns through all things. Whether it’s a dragon’s shape or a real dragon— Miasma devours and rips it apart. Urin turned his head. He spotted Jang Yunhong, and launched himself at him. Jang Yunhong gritted his teeth and brought his blade down with full force. Red Flame Heavenly Path Sword Technique. Exploding Flame Shadow Blade. Dozens of afterimages surged toward Urin—but his eyes calmly scanned them all. Which were illusions? Which were real? He finished his judgment in a breath. Urin’s foot shattered the ground beneath him. Jang Yunhong’s sword scorched the dirt, but failed to leave so much as a scratch on Urin’s body. Jang Yunhong’s voice was nearly a death rattle. It should be—Urin stood right before him. And his miasma-wreathed fist lashed out again. Twin Demon-Fire Lotuses. The lotus-shaped blast struck Jang Yunhong’s abdomen. He flew through the air and slammed into a pavilion, unable to rise. No one was left nearby. Urin silently gripped Jang Yunhong’s throat, and whispered in a low voice: “I gave you a whole day. Did that sound like a joke to you?” The voice was completely different from the earlier one, full of rage and betrayal. It was as if the person had changed altogether— No. That wasn’t the point. “I even gave you an extra day out of generosity. I said I’d accept your letter. But all you did was scheme to stab me in the back.” “You... you... Don’t tell me—?” A smile curled at Urin’s lips—or rather, at Unhwi’s. And just as Jang Yunhong’s mouth began to open— Unhwi’s other hand forcibly clamped it shut. —What do you think this place is? —This is the Martial World. When you reach the afterlife, I hope you reflect on that fact. There was nothing more. He shattered Jang Yunhong’s jaw, then tossed him aside. Dust billowed into the air—just as Unhwi’s foot came down. No one could see what had burst beneath the cloud of dust—but from a distance, the many onlookers could tell by the sound alone. It was Jang Yunhong’s head. It was a night faintly lit by moonlight. The two of them had fully left Saryang and were walking through the mountains. As they went, Han Murin’s steps grew heavier. Unhwi stopped and turned to face her. At her words, Unhwi replied: “...I can’t get what I saw out of my head. I... I just don’t understand.” “What don’t you understand?” “You didn’t condense any miasma at all. And yet you produced such a complete demonic fire. It wasn’t the final form, the Black Lotus Qi, but... if I may say so, it rivaled the Black Lotus Qi in force.” Unhwi silently regarded her as she stood there, her expression full of turmoil. “...I don’t know. It’s like I’m about to grasp something—but the more I try, the more everything I thought I knew starts to feel meaningless.” Quietly, Unhwi looked up at the night sky. Through the clouds, the stars flickered faintly. “What do you think miasma is?” “An aura of darkness... and a force of destruction.” Her answer came without hesitation—and Unhwi smiled. “Do you know of the Doctrine of the Golden Mean?” “Then what is the Golden Mean?” Han Murin hesitated. She didn’t understand why a Confucian teaching was being brought into a discussion about miasma. But that didn’t matter. It was Unhwi giving her this lesson. As she pondered, Unhwi opened his palm. Fwoosh. A violet flame blossomed there. “Look. This is miasma. People call it evil. But if there is a sun in the sky, then there must be a moon. If there is day, there must be night. If there is righteousness, then there must also be evil.” He moved his palm slightly, and the violet flame began to dance. “The essence of miasma is not destruction. It is flow. It is transformation. It’s the same as harmony (화) in Confucianism.” Han Murin tilted her head slightly. “But Ta-ju-nim... isn’t miasma undeniably a force of destruction?” “When water flows, it can float a boat. But when water flows, it can also capsize one. It’s the same water. The difference lies in how it is used.” Unhwi began to walk again. Han Murin followed. “There is something called the Four Sprouts. The minds of compassion, shame, humility, and discernment. These are ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) the roots of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom. Miasma has its own four seeds as well.” Han Murin listened closely. “The seed of destruction. The seed of transformation. The seed of fusion. And the seed of creation. Most demonic cultivators pursue only the seed of destruction. But true mastery of miasma lies in mastering all four.” The night breeze passed between them. Han Murin turned his thoughts over in her mind. “The miasma I used earlier was of destruction. But its purpose was not simple killing. It was for transformation. To change the order of Saryang.” Unhwi looked at her once more. “Miasma is not a rejection of the heavens’ will. It is a different way of seeing it. Just as there can be no yang without yin, the Dao cannot be complete without the existence of demonic force.” Something clicked in Han Murin’s mind. The question that had tormented her for so long suddenly became clear. “...So you’re saying we must not deny or reject miasma—but acknowledge and accept its many aspects. Like acknowledging our own shadow.” A glimmer of satisfaction passed through Unhwi’s eyes. “Not bad, Han Murin.” “Unity of knowledge and action. Knowing and doing must become one. What you saw today wasn’t mere slaughter. It was the Dao of a martial artist in practice. Miasma is not the goal—it is the means. The end of all martial arts, all weapons, all paths... must be the person.” Suddenly, Han Murin felt something shift inside her body. Her inner energy flowed through her meridians like a river. As if some long-blocked passage had opened. “Ta-ju-nim... this...” “Your inner energy is now flowing into your middle dantian. The state of Five Dragons Offering to the Sacred One has accepted you.” Tears spilled from Han Murin’s eyes. They were tears of joy—and of enlightenment. Righteous and evil, Dao and demon, yin and yang. They were not opposites—but fragments of a single whole. Unhwi smiled in quiet satisfaction. “Before the insight scatters, sit in meditation and solidify it. Unless you want to be stuck between Yang Light Manifestation and Five Dragons Offering to the Sacred One forever.” Without delay, Han Murin folded her legs into lotus position. As she fell into trance, Unhwi’s gentle voice echoed in her ears. “The road you’ll walk is still long. But today, you’ve taken a vital first step.” “Keep going. I will be at your side.” And with that, Han Murin fell completely into trance. Yangso was having an extremely busy day. He was staying at the estate of the Hwar Yeong Sword Sect, and when the disaster broke out in Jeokan, nearly half the estate had burned down. Hwar Yeong had been a powerful sect, and the estate had been massive—so even with half the buildings, including the Main Pavilion, destroyed, what remained was still large enough. It was more than enough to house Yangso and the entire Iron Mountain Sword Sect. In a side hall, Yangso was conversing with a man. “Hahaha... Yangso-nim, this humble Im Jinhae has long admired you.” “Yes, yes indeed. And now that you’ve earned the trust of Seol Unhwi-daehyeop, the rising star of the Martial World, your name will surely echo far and wide.” “You’re too kind. You're making me feel flattered, truly. Hahahaha.” In truth, Yangso’s reputation had already started to spread. In the purge of Jeokan, he had fought at the front lines—and the martial art he had displayed was that of the Heavenly Extreme Sword Sovereign, which had once shaken the Martial World centuries ago. Naturally, a new epithet had attached itself to Yangso— Heavenly Sword Mad Dragon. That was Yangso’s new title. “If there’s ever anything troubling you, seek out this Im Jinhae of the Im Household. Whatever it may be, I shall gladly support—no, serve you.” The Im Household had been one of the hidden sects obscured behind the ruling One Gate, Three Clans of Jeokan. To be blunt, since Jeokan was Sacheon Alliance territory, any sect not aligned with them had long been marginalized. Yet a few had stubbornly endured. The Im Household. The Jeong Clan. The Hyeok Clan.