Truthfully, I had thought of a few names for the martial art the White-Robed Scholar displayed. But none were to my liking, so I didn’t blabber them aloud. In fact, there was something more important than me naming it myself. Im Sobaek looked at me and gave a nod. “Gate Leader, speak.” “Please give a name to the martial art the White Scholar has shown us.” I passed the task onto the Alliance Leader. For now, the outcome of the duel was momentarily set aside. Everyone’s attention was focused on naming the martial art. It was that kind of feeling—like witnessing the birth of something. Since everyone here belongs to Jianghu, it’s only natural they’d care about the name of a martial technique. Im Sobaek spoke with a faint smile. “You’re pushing a difficult task onto me, Gate Leader.” “Do you remember the name of my martial art? Because I was part of the Six Combat Division, I simply called it the Six Combat Blade. That name contains no romance, no humor, no elegance or hidden meaning. Just the resolve not to forget that I was once part of the Six Combat Division... That’s what made it the name of my martial art.” Honestly, I’d wanted the crowd to hear that story—and Im Sobaek responded exactly as expected. I already knew what was in Im Sobaek’s heart and the story behind the Six Combat Blade, so I deliberately made the request. The White-Robed Scholar and Im Sobaek. When viewed side by side... there might not be two people more different. The White-Robed Scholar is overly artistic, living in some cave carved out within a damp cliff. Whereas Im Sobaek is overwhelmingly practical, the leader of the Martial Alliance, sharing every step and breath with the members of his alliance. One hides in a cave plotting schemes. The other takes the storms of the world head-on, breaking, enduring, and smashing through countless schemes. I connected those two people through the name of a martial art. In any case, Im Sobaek is the leader of the White Path’s Martial Alliance. The fact that he names the White Scholar’s technique... isn’t that ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) meaningful in itself? Looking at Im Sobaek, I pressed him again. “Still, please give it a name.” Im Sobaek rose from his chair with a troubled expression, then looked toward the White Scholar. “The essence of the martial art you showed us lies in your movement technique.” The White Scholar responded. “It was an advanced martial art of controlling the body freely. With that movement technique alone, you evaded most of the Emperor’s attacks—it was an outstanding absolute art. As the Gate Leader said, you appeared like a butterfly. Or like a painter with a white brush painting midair. What impressed me most was that, aside from the final clash of force, you didn’t use any other martial techniques. Which must mean, you have an even broader knowledge of martial arts, don’t you?” The White Scholar nodded. “Even without a grand name, that movement technique alone will become a verse in the Jianghu.” Im Sobaek had already recognized that what the White Scholar performed was, in broad terms, Jeunjong, an elite light movement technique. “I, unlike our Haomun Leader or the White Scholar here, lack artistic or creative traits. Why else would my sword technique be called the Six Combat Blade?” The White Scholar stared quietly at Im Sobaek. Im Sobaek spoke in a calm tone. “I’m sorry I cannot give it a name. I don’t want to tarnish your excellent martial art with a clumsy label from me. But I was deeply moved by the duel, from start to finish. Even I gained much from it.” Can the White Scholar handle such a storm of praise? He remained silent, then offered a wordless fist-and-palm salute to Im Sobaek. Just then, someone in the crowd cluelessly blurted out to Im Sobaek, “Alliance Leader, then who won the duel?” Ah, goddamn it. Who said that? Who the hell just shattered this touching moment? I looked around, trying to spot the culprit, but couldn’t tell who it was—just someone with a bit of a dumb-looking face. There’s always someone like that in life. Honestly, all the masters knew the White Scholar had won. You couldn’t really blame someone for not noticing—especially since Seomun Mu-je hadn’t yet acknowledged defeat himself. This time, Im Sobaek subtly pushed the matter onto Gongson Wol. “Strategist Gongson, why don’t you answer?” Gongson Wol, caught off guard while minding her own business, looked bewildered. “You’re the smartest in the Martial Alliance. I’m sure you can explain it well.” So this is how praise can be turned into a deadly weapon. Gongson Wol’s eyes darted around rapidly, then she spoke all of a sudden. “......Of course, the White Scholar won.” Seomun Mu-je raised his hand slightly. “Strategist Gongson, why do you think so? I won’t scold you.” “Understood. To me, it looked like a draw. But if we must determine a winner—if we’re scoring points, the White Scholar was ahead. He caught his breath within two beats, showing an edge. Of course, had the duel continued immediately, Senior Mu-je wouldn’t have lost right away. But since he stopped the match and acknowledged the outcome himself, the result must already be clear to him. If I may humbly add... the Alliance Leader once defined what it means to be a true winner of a duel.” Gongson Wol looked to Im Sobaek, then relayed his words to the audience. “Whoever gains more after the duel is the real victor. If the duel ends properly, without injuries, and someone grows stronger from their training—then that person is the true winner. Victory and defeat are but passing moments, and there’s always another duel to come. This is the kind of duel the Alliance Leader has always wished for.” With a fist-and-palm salute, Gongson Wol addressed the assembly. “Seniors, I, too, learned a lot today. Even without dueling, I feel as if I’ve had the chance to become a winner.” She wasn’t just any woman—her words shook the hearts of the crowd. The Alliance Leader and his strategist knew how to tug the audience’s emotions like masters. Looking between Seomun Mu-je and the White Scholar, Gongson Wol added, “That was a duel truly worthy of the name. And I doubt I’m the only one whose perspective has broadened.” “Well said. I lost the duel. But as the Haomun Leader said, that’s not so easy to cast off.” I averted my gaze from Seomun Mu-je, almost without realizing it. “The title of ‘Martial Emperor’ now belongs to the White Scholar. I’d already resolved myself, so I asked about victory and defeat only for closure.” I wasn’t the only one shocked. A murmur of awe rippled through the crowd. The entire Seomun clan looked stunned. The spectators who had just witnessed a man discard the title of Emperor wore dumbfounded expressions. Even the White Scholar himself was stunned. “Mu-je... are you serious?” “There’s no need to call me Mu-je anymore. It was a heavy burden. Just call me Patriarch. The duel was fair, and defeat is defeat. I’m only keeping the promise I made beforehand.” Then came the most elegant compliment of all. “White Martial Emperor. Somehow, the title suits you well. I know your skills better than anyone—I have no regrets.” Seomun Mu-je—no, the Patriarch of the Seomun clan—clasped his hands behind his back and stepped off the stage. I hadn’t felt much listening to Im Sobaek or Gongson Wol, but the Patriarch’s words sent chills down my arms. ‘He honors his word...’ With one near-draw, the Martial Emperor of Jianghu had changed. We had become witnesses to a truly astonishing event. I looked again at the Patriarch of the Seomun clan. At this point, he could no longer be called a typical stubborn old man. He certainly carried the distinct, unyielding pride of the White Path. I turned to the White Scholar and offered my congratulations. “White Martial Emperor. Congratulations.” Still a bit flustered, the White Scholar looked at the now-seated Patriarch. The Patriarch gave him a small nod, as if to say, “That title is yours now.” Only then did the White Scholar return to his original seat. As he turned his back, I looked around and gave a discreet hand signal. At once, the members of the Martial Alliance erupted into cheers and applause for the departing White Scholar. “White Martial Emperor!” I clapped too, until the White Scholar had sat down. At this point... what exactly is my role in Jianghu? Even I felt a little confused. Beside me, the Lecher muttered something entirely offbeat from the rest of the crowd while nodding to himself. “Yeah, that title was hard to give up.” “Shut it. You crazy bastard.” Thanks to his comment, all the emotion dissipated and the moment lost its grandeur. As silence returned to the room, Im Sobaek spoke again. “As Strategist Gongson said, this was the kind of duel I had hoped for. Among the titled masters—who will take the stage next?” As someone rose, every gaze turned toward a single man. The Sword King of the Baekri Clan was walking toward the duel stage. This man was a Sword King, no less. No one knew whom he would challenge or what he would say. Yet his mere presence was acknowledged in total silence. Standing on the duel stage, the Sword King looked around and spoke. “......I bear the undeserved title of Sword King. I had come here to challenge Alliance Leader Im to a duel, but my thoughts changed as I watched. I am willing to duel him—or someone else. But one thing I promise. If I lose, I will relinquish the title of Sword King without regret.” Are your balls really that precious? I couldn’t ask out loud, so I just laughed inwardly. Am I the only piece of trash? Thankfully, another trashy bastard beside me was also staring intently at the duel stage. Now then—since the Sword King had essentially issued an open challenge, people began wrestling with inner conflict all around the room. Truthfully, whoever fought the Sword King today would likely only get one shot at a duel. Some among the titled might wish for the Sword King to face the Alliance Leader. But the Sword King had left the opponent undecided. Do you take the fame of having fought the Sword King? Or do you go all in, aiming to claim the title yourself in a once-in-a-lifetime match? While hesitation rippled across the room... I looked at the Drunk. Honestly, I thought the Drunk would be the perfect challenger. But suddenly, the man next to him rose. Quietly, the Sword Demon stood and walked toward the stage. A few others had also started to rise around the same time—but upon seeing the Sword Demon silently approaching, they sat right back down. Those who haven’t trained in martial arts fear the Drunk’s appearance and aura. But those who have trained... recognize something grave in the Sword Demon at first glance. He has always been a deadly serious man. It’s only because he’s been traveling with us that the atmosphere around him has mellowed a little. But on a day , with his mouth shut and walking steadily forward—one couldn’t tell whether it was a man walking, or a shadow of darkness taking form. As the Sword Demon reached the stage... The Sword King spoke. “Are you the man who scolded Mongrang at Wolhagwan?” The Sword Demon nodded. The Sword King smiled. “Perfect. My second son was defeated by your disciple. It’s fitting for master and father to have their rematch.” The Sword Demon nodded. Then someone called out to the stage. “......You there. The Sword King’s opponent should identify himself first. I’ve heard rumors that you are the former Left Guardian of the Demonic Cult. Is that true?” And who the hell is this petty bastard opening their damn mouth again? I felt the urge to hunt him down and rip out his soul. From the stage, the Sword King fixed his gaze on a man. “Patriarch Jegal, he is the former Left Guardian. So what?” “Hearing him rebuke his disciple, I found nothing petty or wicked. If you have idle complaints, bring your sword and say it on the stage.” As the Sword King glared at him, the Jegal Patriarch couldn’t say a word. The Sword Demon looked around and introduced himself in a calm voice. “I am indeed the former Left Guardian.” He acknowledged his past openly among the White Path elites. At that moment, Im Sobaek’s voice echoed through the hall. “I know better than anyone who is staying within the Martial Alliance. The Sword Demon has already faced off against demonic forces multiple times. In Dongho, he personally killed the Number One of the Evil Path. Unlike those who hide in their homes, he has helped us repeatedly. So let’s refrain from pointless talk in front of me. Bring out the wooden swords. This duel is between the Sword King of the Baekri Clan and the man known as the Sword Demon.” With the sharpness of his Six Combat Blade, Im Sobaek quelled the noisy atmosphere in an instant. And in the ensuing stillness... Two members of the Martial Alliance brought out wooden swords and approached the Sword King and the Sword Demon. Watching the two quietly accept the weapons, I felt an unexpected sense of relief and inner peace. Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind. I’m glad I left the life of a jomsoi and jumped into Jianghu. My big brother too... perhaps we were meant to be alive in Jianghu for moments . Bathed in the afternoon sunlight, the Sword King and the Sword Demon examined the wooden swords in their hands, checking their balance and grip.