“You frustrating bastard. You want to die? Do it properly!”
“Huh? Yes.”
“That’s not the spot. How many times do I have to tell you? Move your hand down a little.”
“Yes….”
Number 48 broke into a cold sweat under Hwang In-gwang’s irritated scolding.
He placed his hand where Hwang In-gwang had told him.
This time, properly.
If he got it wrong, Hwang In-gwang might turn around and beat him.
Getting thrashed by an ally in the middle of a battle was something he could do without.
And it was not just him.
“Hey, bastard! Can’t you do it properly?”
“That’s not the spot. A little farther to the side. Are you trying to kill me?”
“You want to die, you little shit? Just wait until this is over, bastard.”
Curses erupted from the Silver Dragon Corps members all around them.
No matter how much they had trained, the Iron Dragon Corps consisted of children who were still inexperienced with the Transmission Art.
And with the children suddenly thrust into the extraordinary circumstances of actual battle, it was only natural that they would panic.
It was just as natural for the Silver Dragon Corps to curse them out.
Just as Hwang In-gwang was cursing at Number 48.
‘Focus. Focus. This is the right spot, isn’t it?’
The junction where the energy of the upper body divided toward the arms and torso.
The Outer Shoulder Acupoint.
The inner arts Number 48 drew up from his qi center traveled along the Governing Vessel and gathered in his palm.
A bluish glow.
It was the unique color of the Ascending Dragon Sect’s inner arts.
“Yeah, there! Right there! Push your inner arts into me!”
Hwang In-gwang shouted at the top of his lungs.
‘Mm.’
Number 48 gritted his teeth and concentrated even harder.
One mistake here could take Hwang In-gwang’s life.
And the backlash of reversed inner arts could send Number 48 himself into qi deviation.
Energy extended from his palm and seeped into Hwang In-gwang through the Outer Shoulder Acupoint.
The inner arts pierced through his skin, stimulated the acupoint, and merged into the flow of qi and blood.
It followed that flow until it reached the spine, then poured directly into the Governing Vessel.
The Transmission Art was not merely a technique for forcing inner arts into another person.
The user had to refine his own inner arts into a uniform flow and send them along in harmony with the recipient’s qi channels.
The recipient likewise had to consciously release his resistance and accept the incoming energy.
If their breathing fell out of sync or the acupoint was even slightly misplaced, the inner arts could scrape against the meridians and flow backward, or block the flow of qi and blood entirely.
No matter how efficient the Ascending Dragon Sect’s Transmission Art was, fully accepting the foreign inner arts of another person was never easy.
Number 48’s heavy inner arts tangled with Hwang In-gwang’s own true qi and battered mercilessly against his Governing Vessel.
Hwang In-gwang’s brow furrowed on its own.
“Ugh.”
His own true qi and the inner force entering from outside mixed violently.
The tension made it feel as though every joint of his spine were splitting apart.
His entire back felt as though it were twisting.
The Governing Vessel was the path along which the inner force rising from the qi center traveled toward the Hundred Convergences Acupoint.
In other words, it was a channel through which energy flowed upward.
That was the proper direction.
But the Transmission Art went against that flow, drawing another person’s inner arts downward.
In reverse….
That meant Hwang In-gwang’s inner arts and Number 48’s inevitably became tangled together.
This was why inner arts could not easily be transferred to another person.
One’s own inner arts could collide with the other person’s and completely block the acupoint at the Great Vertebra.
If that happened, the colliding inner arts would swell until the flow of qi and blood ruptured.
Becoming crippled or dying would only be natural.
At last, Number 48’s inner arts reached the most dangerous point, the Great Vertebra Acupoint.
And collided.
The Great Vertebra was located at the protruding bone just below the neck.
It was the starting point from which the energy of the Governing Vessel spread through the upper body and limbs.
In other words, it was a junction where the yang meridians converged.
It was inevitable that the inner arts flowing in through the Outer Shoulder Acupoint would collide there with Hwang In-gwang’s own inner arts.
‘I can’t block the Instructor’s flow of qi and blood. I have to feed it through little by little between his own energy.’
Number 48’s inner arts did not forcibly suppress Hwang In-gwang’s surging energy.
Instead, they gently wrapped around it as though reducing friction and redirected its flow.
Down the spine.
Past the Spirit Path Acupoint to the Spirit Platform Acupoint.
Then through the Reaching Yang Acupoint and Gate of Life Acupoint, descending deeper toward the Meeting of Yin Acupoint.
From the Meeting of Yin, into the qi center.
The energy that had gathered below was then drawn upward once more.
Below the navel.
At last, Hwang In-gwang’s qi center, which had been steadily emptying as he transferred inner arts into Ho Jeong, began filling again.
The inner arts Number 48 had pushed into him had flowed through his meridians and seeped deep into his qi center.
‘What the hell is with this bastard? He just came up from the Non-Dragon Hall, didn’t he? How is he this good at transmission?’
The amount of inner arts flowing into him was not particularly large.
But the way it threaded through Hwang In-gwang’s own flow of qi and blood and found its way into his qi center….
It was skillful enough that one might have believed Number 48 belonged to the Silver Dragon Corps.
Truthfully, his control was even more refined than Hwang In-gwang’s own.
“Hmph. Not bad for an Iron Dragon Corps brat.”
Apparently satisfied with the amount of inner arts filling his qi center, Hwang In-gwang grinned.
More importantly, there was none of the pain that usually came from foreign inner arts tearing through his internal flow.
“Thank you.”
“Shut up. Just concentrate.”
“Yes.”
With most Silver Dragon Corps members shouting at the Iron Dragon Corps children behind them as though they wanted to kill them, praise from Hwang In-gwang was something special.
Especially when he was usually among the harshest toward the Iron Dragon Corps.
‘Did practicing in secret while everyone was asleep actually pay off?’
In truth, Number 48 had a secret he had never told anyone.
While everyone else slept, he had practiced circulating his inner arts alone.
Members of the Non-Dragon Corps died even with the Instructors glaring at them and watching their every move.
For the sake of keeping them under control, practicing alone was forbidden in the Non-Dragon Corps.
“Anyway, you’re doing well. Keep it up and do it properly.”
“Yes.”
Once even the Iron Dragon Corps completed their inner arts transmission, the Golden Dragon Corps gained even more strength.
The Heaven-Revolving Mighty Path in the foremost row became an impregnable wall.
Whenever it seemed as though their strength might falter, the Transmission Art from the rows behind immediately followed.
One needed only to see this to understand why the Ascending Dragon Sect was known as the strongest shield in the Hegemon Fortress Alliance.
“Tch. Still as sturdy as ever.”
A sigh came from the Orthodox Allied Forces.
But they were not stupid enough to keep hammering endlessly at a wall that would not break.
“Deal with the Ascending Dragon Sect as usual. Do not clash with them recklessly. Instead, destroy the forces on either side.”
“Yes, Commander.”
The order came down from the command post of the Orthodox Allied Forces.
Their forces split sharply in two, redirecting their strength elsewhere.
Toward the two wings of the Hegemon Fortress Alliance.
Ironblood Hall on the left.
The Tiger Fang Gang on the right.
And that was where the problem finally erupted.
The shields maintained by Ironblood Hall and the Tiger Fang Gang were utterly feeble.
The limitations of forcing defensive techniques upon organizations unaccustomed to defense were laid bare.
For thirty years, the Ascending Dragon Sect had remained unchanged.
Its martial arts had not changed, nor had its way of fighting.
It had merely used its original martial arts to serve as a shield.
But the other two shields on the wings, Ironblood Hall and the Tiger Fang Gang, were different.
Unorthodox factions naturally favored offensive martial arts over defensive ones.
As a result, their defense was crude beyond belief.
Forcing defensive techniques into martial arts built around attacking could never fit properly.
They somehow managed to endure by mixing the inner and external arts peculiar to unorthodox factions, but they were quite literally candles flickering before the wind.
They had even brought enormous shields to compensate for their inferior skill.
It was useless.
“H-Hold!”
“W-Wait. The shield’s cracking….”
CRACK.
Under the Orthodox Allied Forces’ relentless assault, part of Ironblood Hall’s shield wall finally broke open.
“Go! Don’t let this opening escape!”
The orthodox martial artists, their momentum surging, fiercely drove themselves into the gap.
“AAAAARGH!”
“You bastards dare!”
The assault force waiting behind Ironblood Hall rushed out in alarm to meet them, but they were hopelessly outnumbered.
The difference in individual martial prowess was simply too great.
‘H-Huh? Isn’t this getting dangerous…?’
Number 48’s eyes widened as he performed the Transmission Art behind Hwang In-gwang.
A vicious battle was unfolding right beside them.
‘They’re really cutting people with swords? Is that actually allowed?’
He had been beaten plenty of times, but he had never seen people fight like this.
He had never seen anyone stab and cut people with weapons either.
Yet another thought suddenly occurred to him.
There was not much reason to be shocked.
Blades might not have been involved, but life in the Non-Dragon Corps had been even more miserable than this.
There was a bigger problem.
Ironblood Hall, which was collapsing, stood directly to the Ascending Dragon Sect’s left.
If they fell completely, Number 48 would not escape unharmed either.
“What are you doing, bastard? Can’t you concentrate? I said do the transmission properly.”
Hwang In-gwang snapped at him from the front.
The inner arts being fed into him from behind had begun fluctuating.
“N-No, Instructor. The people beside us are….”
“Don’t worry about them, bastard. Just do your own damn job properly.”
How was he supposed not to worry when things looked like this…?
That was when it happened.
BOOM.
New sects that had been waiting behind Ironblood Hall joined the battle.
The Heavenly Pivot Fortress and the Death Spirit Sect.
Both were subordinate sects of Hegemon Fortress.
They began cutting away the orthodox martial artists who had penetrated Ironblood Hall’s formation, eliminating them one by one.
That was the signal.
As the Hegemon Fortress subordinate sects responsible for offense entered the battle in force, both the left and right wings erupted into chaos.
Everywhere except the center, where the Ascending Dragon Sect stood firm, fierce exchanges broke out.
A short distance away.
“Hmm. It’s proceeding as usual. This should be wrapping up soon.”
Jang Woo-geun quietly muttered with his arms crossed.
Judging from his expression, he seemed satisfied.
“It always ends inconclusively like this anyway. I truly don’t know why we bother fighting….”
From the outside, it looked like a desperate battle to the death.
In reality, it was merely a tedious exchange in which neither side held any real advantage.
“They should start withdrawing soon. I’m getting hungry.”
Jang Woo-geun watched the rear of the Orthodox Allied Forces and nodded.
They too appeared to be looking for the right moment to retreat.
As always.
“Indeed. Unless we break through that wall in the center, victory will remain far beyond our reach.”
At the command post of the Orthodox Allied Forces, an old man with a long white beard murmured quietly.
He was Moyong Yang, Head of the Moyong Family and Commander of the Orthodox Allied Forces.
“We’ll shift into a standoff now. Tell everyone to fall back one step at a time, as usual.”
“Yes, Father.”
His eldest son, Moyong Jeong-cheon, gave a clasped hands greeting and relayed the orders to each unit.
Yes.
This was enough.
It had looked fierce enough from the outside.
He wanted no further losses.
This was exactly the level of casualties the Martial Alliance could tolerate.
Their enemies had suffered similar losses, so further bloodshed would be meaningless.
‘There are many children of prestigious families here. I can’t allow them to shed blood carelessly.’
The Greater Khingan Range and the Yan Mountains.
Follow their farthest reaches and one eventually came to Shanhai Pass.
The gateway connecting Liaoning and Hebei.
Beyond it spread the lands known as the Central Plains.
They called this the murim.
This place was certainly part of the murim as well, but people considered the Central Plains to be the true martial world.
That land was peaceful.
There were only two troublesome regions.
And one of them was Liaoning.
Because Hegemon Fortress had grown far too powerful.
Thirty years ago.
When the Orthodox Allied Forces were first formed, volunteer martial artists had gathered like clouds.
Some pursued chivalry.
Some cried out for justice.
Others simply wanted to elevate their family’s reputation.
The circumstances had been dire, but looking back, those had been better days….
‘Last time, the Jaegal Family complained because they suffered casualties too. Insolent bastards. Why send members of your direct line to the Orthodox Allied Forces if you’re going to complain about it?’
He had grown thoroughly sick of such grievances.
The years had made him tired.
And indifferent.
‘When this war first began, it was truly a scene straight out of hell… Now it’s no different from children playing house.’
Moyong Yang clicked his tongue bitterly.
Once, the war had reached the height of savagery.
Ambushes, surprise attacks, assassination attempts—they had used every means imaginable in pursuit of victory.
Back then, Moyong Yang had been the Young Family Head of the Moyong Family.
As the heir of one of Liaoning’s foremost families and a martial officer, he had stood at the front lines and led the allied forces.
He had personally endured ferocious exchanges and brutal slaughter.
But thirty tedious years had passed.
Time had completely transformed the nature of the war.
‘Damn bastards. Now they come here just to raise their own reputations. Do you think this battlefield exists so you can polish your names?’
As the conflict dragged on, the war had eventually deteriorated into a tedious battle resembling Peking opera.
The martial artists who gathered here had changed as well.
Winning fame in the peaceful martial world was no easy matter.
Families and sects increasingly sent those whose skills were lacking.
They came hoping to gain a little worthless reputation.
Because this was considered relatively safe, no longer the vicious battlefield it once had been.
Because it gave them an opportunity to win approval from the old men who still remembered the place as a brutal front.
And because they even had the righteous justification of exterminating unorthodox factions.
They could practically take a stroll and come away more famous.
What could be more profitable than that?
‘The Martial Alliance is watching, so we can’t simply refuse to fight…. At this rate, one day I might end up drinking with those unorthodox bastards and playing Go.’
Still, it was not entirely bad for Moyong Yang.
Financially, it was quite lucrative.
Under the pretext of maintaining the front, the Martial Alliance poured enormous sums of money into the Moyong Family, which effectively served as the leader of this region.
For a family that had lost most of its business foundations because of Hegemon Fortress, those funds were a lifeline.
That was why they continued fighting.
No.
They continued pretending to fight.
Whenever casualties occurred, criticism poured in from the various families.
Yet if he simply retreated, he would be branded a defeated commander.
In the end, even victory had become secondary to Moyong Yang.
The war had become nothing more than a means of extracting support money from the Martial Alliance.
‘Now I’m suddenly getting irritated. What a damn headache… Should I just smash straight into them for real?’
Moyong Yang’s brow furrowed.
He was a martial artist too.
Of course he had pride.
But he soon forced the boiling impulse back down.
‘We can’t advance too deeply because of the Colossal Mountain of Hegemonic Might….’
There was one man alone who could make him sigh.
Moyong Yang had seen him only a few times in his youth, but he had never forgotten the shock.
‘Can that thing truly be called human? He isn’t a man.’
One of the seven venerables of the unorthodox martial world, known collectively as the Seven Venerables.
Supreme Among Hegemons, Colossal Mountain of Hegemonic Might, Jang Hang.
Among every member of the Orthodox Allied Forces gathered here, there was not a single person capable of confronting the master of Hegemon Fortress head-on.
‘If they’re going to send support, they should send someone from the Three Sovereigns or Five Emperors. Then we could wipe them out in one stroke…. Then again, there’s no chance those old fossils would drag their heavy asses all the way out to a backwater like this.’
As though shaking off an impossible fantasy, Moyong Yang clicked his tongue bitterly.
Across the plain, the Orthodox Allied Forces and the Hegemon Fortress Alliance slowly began putting distance between each other, just as they always did.
When they clashed, they fought fiercely as though determined to take each other’s lives.
But when the proper time came and the hour of truce approached, both sides withdrew as though by mutual agreement.
At some point, it had simply become an unspoken rule.
‘This is enough for today. At least I’ve got enough to write a few lines in the letter.’
Once the letter went out, it would return as money.
With an expression that was neither satisfied nor dissatisfied, Moyong Yang turned away.
What good was a martial artist’s pride?
Did pride put food on the table?
Could it really be more important than money?
From the Hegemon Fortress Alliance’s perspective, the outcome was not bad either.
Ironblood Hall had suffered a few casualties, but these were ordinary losses by their standards.
In the middle of the plain that had served as the battlefield, the two formations slowly drew apart.
By the time the sun hid itself beyond the horizon, both forces had quietly disappeared into their respective forests.