Chapter 205: One Way Path
Jin Seong-un and his group ran at a leisurely pace.
There was no urgent reason to hurry, nor any intention to expend all their energy while traveling.
However, from a fair distance away, the rough breaths of the martial artists chasing them never ceased to echo.
Jin Seong-un turned his head slightly to glance behind.
Apart from Namgung Rin of the Sword Phoenix, the Special Task Force martial artists’ complexions had gone pale.
‘Seomun Sohyeop has improved a lot.’
Though Seomun Ak didn’t look completely fine, he was still faring much better than the others in the Special Task Force.
It was thanks to his frequent travels with Jin Seong-un and Seo Yu-gyeom, which had greatly improved his movent arts.
Seomun Ak was well aware of the current situation.
Though he could still run, seeing the so-called heirs of the Five Great Clans and Nine Sects One Gang struggling like that...
The corners of Seomun Ak’s lips curled up.
He didn’t train in martial arts just to compare himself to others, but the experience of surpassing his peers from prestigious clans and sects delivered quite a thrilling satisfaction.
“Jin Seong-un, perhaps we should pick up the pace a bit. It’s getting so boring I could yawn.”
“……Will you be all right?”
Jin Seong-un knew well why Seomun Ak was acting like this. It was one of those rare tis he could show off—without it being true bravado—in front of his peers.
And since accelerating was no issue for Jin Seong-un, he had no reason to decline.
He briefly admired the vast lake stretching westward and the moonlight reflecting off its surface, then powerfully kicked off the ground.
Swish—!
In an instant, Jin Seong-un’s form vanished into the distance.
Seo Yu-gyeom skillfully followed behind, and Seomun Ak imdiately regretted it.
But a man couldn’t take back his words.
“…This is fine.”
Muttering that with effort, Seomun Ak squeezed out his internal energy and sprinted until his dantian shriveled.
The sighs of the Special Task Force mbers trailing far behind gave Seomun Ak just enough motivation to keep going.
.
.
.
They ran without rest for several days until they finally arrived at Deyang.
Jin Seong-un and Seo Yu-gyeom stopped gracefully, like a breeze.
A short mont later, Seomun Ak arrived where they stood and imdiately collapsed.
Only after a long while did the Special Task Force martial artists arrive, one by one, looking like the walking dead. So, lacking enough internal energy, didn’t even show up.
Jin Seong-un, having confird that Tang So-yeon and Hwa Myeong had arrived, resud walking.
“Deyang’s changed a lot since last ti.”
“Without those Black Path bastards, it’s beco far more pleasant.”
Seo Yu-gyeom agreed with Jin Seong-un’s remark.
The two strolled through the streets of Deyang, wearing calm expressions.
Seo Yu-gyeom, in particular, who had spent part of his childhood here, looked at the shops of Deyang with deep, nostalgic eyes.
How long had they walked?
Familiar faces began to appear from the front of the street.
Smiling Hwa Yeon-seol, the still-pale Mun Hyo-sang, and even Shin Mok, who had left saying he’d build a few pavilions for the Hwa-un Trading Company.
Jin Seong-un greeted the three.
“It’s been a while, everyone.”
“Jin Daehyeop, it must’ve been tough getting all the way here. Seomun Sohyeop, it’s good to see you again. And…”
Hwa Yeon-seol and Seo Yu-gyeom locked eyes.
Though they were siblings, the two still seed awkward, exchanging only a silent greeting.
Just then, Tang So-yeon burst out from among the Special Task Force mbers like a shooting star.
“Unni!”
“So-yeon, you ca too?”
It seed the relationship between the Hwa-un Trading Company and Tang Clan had grown close enough for the two won to start calling each other "unni" and "dongsaeng."
While the two exchanged greetings, the Special Task Force martial artists cautiously drew closer, reading the atmosphere.
Shin Mok, observing this, asked Jin Seong-un,
“Seong-un, are you playing street boss or sothing? Why are you dragging all these kids around?”
At that, the Sword Dragon Moyong Hyeon’s expression hardened.
He wasn’t soone to be treated like this.
How dare soone speak that way to the eldest son of the Moyong Clan, to the Sword Dragon, and the Captain of the Special Task Force?
Moyong Hyeon was not a man who hid his displeasure.
“Who are you to speak like—”
Just then—
Gwang-ryong of the Diancang Sect, who was close to Moyong Hyeon, subtly tugged on his sleeve.
“…That’s Elder Shin Mok.”
Moyong Hyeon repeated the na in his mind, then quickly turned pale and looked at the other martial artists.
They all seed to recognize Shin Mok and were bowing their heads in greeting.
Since the Moyong Clan resided on the far eastern edge of the Central Plains in Liaoning, he hadn’t recognized Shin Mok’s face.
Of course, he knew that both Shin Mok and Shin Eui were n whom even the heads of Murim factions wouldn’t dare treat lightly.
That applied not just to him but even to his father, the Clan Head. Both Shin Eui and Shin Mok were figures even Murim leaders of the current era couldn’t act arrogantly toward.
Shin Mok looked at the now petrified Moyong Hyeon and spoke.
“Continue what you were saying.”
“I-I am Moyong Hyeon, eldest son of the Moyong Clan. I was ignorant and failed to recognize the First Wood of the Central Plains. I sincerely apologize.”
Shin Mok nodded.
“A boy whose attitude flips like a coin depending on who he’s talking to.”
At that, Moyong Hyeon’s face turned red like a ripe persimmon in autumn.
anwhile, Gwang-ryong of the Diancang Sect, who had been observing the Hwa-un Trading Company mbers, locked eyes with Hwa Yeon-seol.
His expression was initially indifferent, but as he slowly examined her face…
‘What the hell!’
His eyes widened like lanterns.
He hadn’t lived that long, but among all the won he’d ever seen, she was the most beautiful.
So mbers of the Special Task Force had already been sneaking glances at Hwa Yeon-seol. Even if they were heirs of great clans and sects, they were still young n not yet thirty.
In that mont, lust glead in Gwang-ryong’s eyes. It was far from pure affection.
And then, soone casually draped an arm over his shoulder.
Startled, Gwang-ryong instinctively reached for his sword.
But clack—the sword budged slightly and stopped. The man who had draped his arm over him was pressing down on the guard with his other hand.
“……”
A brief silence passed.
Face-to-face with Seo Yu-gyeom’s gaze, Gwang-ryong felt the hairs on his body stand on end.
It was as if every martial instinct in his body had been triggered.
Among their generation, only a handful across the world could match hands with him.
And yet, this man had gotten so close, even resting an arm on his shoulder, without him noticing a single trace of presence.
Had this man intended to strike, he’d have been dead before realizing what happened.
Seo Yu-gyeom stared deeply into Gwang-ryong’s eyes and spoke in a calm, asured tone.
“If you're a martial artist of the Orthodox Faction, keep your eyes decent, punk.”
A suffocating silence followed.
There had already been a subtle tension between Jin Seong-un’s group and the Special Task Force.
Especially among the latter, many felt a strange sense of wariness, rivalry, and deprivation toward Jin Seong-un.
Rumors going around had fueled that—about how Guest Dragon’s martial prowess defied reason, and how the influence of the Nine Sects and Five Great Clans might wane in this generation.
And now, tension finally erupted between the Seong-un Inn mbers and the Special Task Force.
Everyone held their breath and watched.
And because it was Gwang-ryong—Mad Dragon—they watched even more closely. He was among the most battle-hungry martial artists of the era.
Facing Seo Yu-gyeom’s cold gaze at such close range, Gwang-ryong forced himself to speak.
“…People might think you’re that young lady’s family.”
“She’s my sister.”
Silence returned.
Seo Yu-gyeom leaned a little closer and said,
“Wanna die?”
“……”
Gwang-ryong shut his mouth.
Then Seo Yu-gyeom lightly tapped Gwang-ryong’s head with the back of his Heaven-Slaying Dagger.
It was a deeply humiliating gesture, and the Special Task Force martial artists expected Gwang-ryong to erupt in rage.
But even as ti passed, Gwang-ryong remained still.
While others wore puzzled expressions, Gwang-ryong himself felt an icy chill in his gut.
‘What the hell kind of eyes does this guy have…’
It wasn’t just a simple matter.
Each ti the man tapped his head with the back of the blade, a faint chill seeped in, cooling his bones to the core.
He wanted to draw his sword and fight right away.
Martial artists of the Diancang Sect typically did not shy away from combat, and Gwang-ryong’s temperant was particularly fiery.
Yet sothing deep within him was holding his entire body down.
A martial artist’s instinct.
It wasn’t logic—it was a survival instinct stopping him.
Seeing this, Seo Yu-gyeom let out a short laugh.
“Your senses are sharp.”
With that, Seo Yu-gyeom gave Gwang-ryong one last glance before turning to the Special Task Force martial artists.
It seed they would be tagging along from now on, and this was sothing he’d eventually have to say.
“Try living your lives properly for once. In a world like this, you never know when you’ll run into soone who’ll slice you apart without hesitation.”
“……”
“Look at Seomun Ak over there. You think he ever imagined that a waiter in a backwater inn would turn out to be Jin Seong-un? And this Diancang brat—how could he possibly know who he’ll run into next?”
Everyone remained silent.
It was so quiet that Seo Yu-gyeom deliberately tapped the back of Gwang-ryong’s head again, making a sound.
Gwang-ryong scowled but remained completely still, as if bound in chains.
There was an overwhelming gap between a Peak Master Level martial artist and one at the level of a Master.
Seo Yu-gyeom continued.
“What if I’d been hit by bird shit on the way here?”
They all looked confused.
Seo Yu-gyeom went on, not expecting an answer anyway.
“This Diancang brat would be dead. Why? Because I’d be in a damn foul mood after getting hit with bird shit. And if soone ticks
off on a day like that? That’s it. You’re dead. Get it? In Murim, your lives aren’t worth more than a fly’s.”
Seo Yu-gyeom looked over the martial artists.
All of them were acting intoxicated with their backgrounds as heirs of the Five Great Clans or Nine Sects.
But Seo Yu-gyeom, who had co from the Deathshroud, knew better. Status and heritage wouldn’t stop a blade from piercing your gut.
Whether it was the Moyong Clan of the Sword Dragon or the Diancang Sect of the Mad Dragon—none of that mattered.
If Jin Seong-un or Seo Yu-gyeom himself were in a slightly worse mood right now, they’d be dead.
Had Elder Shin Mok been a little less rciful, the Sword Dragon would be dead already.
Such was the nature of Murim.
When Seo Yu-gyeom finished his warning, the Special Task Force martial artists reacted in various ways.
Most of them didn’t bother to hide their hostility or displeasure.
Surprisingly, however, a few—including Seung-ryong of Shaolin—wore blank expressions, as if they’d just had an epiphany.
Seo Yu-gyeom predicted that only those desperately thinking things through now would survive ten or twenty years from today.
He then sheathed his Heaven-Slaying Dagger and spoke.
“They say you’re called Mad Dragon because you love to fight. If you can’t control your bloodlust, just say the word anyti.”
Seo Yu-gyeom secretly hoped Gwang-ryong would attack.
He had been annoyed by these kids following them around, and was planning to half-kill the guy and leave him behind here.
But contrary to expectations, Gwang-ryong avoided his gaze. So mbers of the Special Task Force were visibly shocked at the sight.
So was the Sword Dragon, Moyong Hyeon. The Gwang-ryong he knew would never have held back. aning, it wasn’t willpower—it was instinct suppressing him.
‘Even the cook’s that strong?’
He had, of course, acknowledged the martial prowess of the Guest Dragon.
He just hadn’t considered the cook worthy of placing on the sa level due to his lowly status.
But to think that cook could suppress Gwang-ryong purely with presence alone?
Gwang-ryong’s martial ability was, at worst, the height of Master Level. To overpower him with re presence, one had to be at least at Peak Master Level.
Moyong Hyeon cast a sideways glance at Seo Yu-gyeom.
‘Is that guy stronger than the Guest Dragon?’
He rembered hearing that the Guest Dragon’s martial ability was at the pinnacle of the Master Level or just entering the realm of Peak Masters.
Was the rumor wrong, or was the cook stronger than the innkeeper?
Ever since arriving in Yichang, Moyong Hyeon had found everything terribly confusing and chaotic.
While the Special Task Force mbers were deep in thought—
Now that the situation had cald, Jin Seong-un subtly gave Seo Yu-gyeom a thumbs-up.
– You didn’t kill anyone. Impressive restraint.
– Do I look like so bloodthirsty fiend to you?
Seo Yu-gyeom looked genuinely baffled.
So of the Special Task Force mbers thought, “That cook has quite the temper.” But those who knew Seo Yu-gyeom well thought, “Wow… he actually held back.”
Jin Seong-un turned to Hwa Yeon-seol.
There had been a commotion, but their purpose for visiting Deyang remained clear.
“The request I made…”
“Of course, it’s ready.”
Hwa Yeon-seol gestured toward General Manager Mun Hyo-sang.
He then carefully retrieved sothing he had been cradling like a baby. It was a long object wrapped tightly in white cloth.
Judging by how he groaned as he handed it over to Jin Seong-un, it was quite heavy.
All eyes turned to them as Jin Seong-un gently unwrapped the cloth.
A pitch-black straight saber was revealed.
Just as he had requested from Hwa Yeon-seol through a letter.
Weight didn’t matter, but it had to be strong enough never to break.
It was a saber that t every demand. So heavy it seed absurd for any human to wield it.
“Oh.”
Jin Seong-un swung the saber through the air a few tis and let out a sound of admiration.
At this level, it could probably handle an imnse amount of qi with ease.
The technique he had learned from the rchant King could slice through anything, as long as he had enough inner energy to support it.
Iron chunks, stone, even the defensive qi of most experts—it could all be cut smoothly by its edge.
The problem had always been finding a blade that could withstand such qi.
As Jin Seong-un smiled in satisfaction, Moyong Hyeon spoke up.
“Weren’t you a swordsman?”
Jin Seong-un gave him a brief glance… and ignored him.
Moyong Hyeon’s face flushed again.
Then a mber of the Special Task Force chid in.
“I heard he was a fist technique expert.”
“I think I heard he was a bladesman.”
Voices ca from all directions, each saying sothing different.
Naturally so.
Because all of them were correct.
“I never focused on just one thing.”
Jin Seong-un answered plainly.
The impact was massive.
The mbers of the Special Task Force were all people who had spent their entire lives training only in swords, or only in fist or blade arts.
From their perspective, soone who learned all sorts of weapons and techniques haphazardly was just a lowly street thug.
Moyong Hyeon beca curious.
If the cook’s martial ability was truly at Peak Master Level, then what was the Guest Dragon’s real level?
It wasn’t re curiosity. You had to know your opponent’s level clearly to plan anything.
The best way to confirm martial ability was to exchange blows. The most orthodox thod was to provoke a duel.
Still, the opponent’s ability was clearly unusual, so he hesitated.
A situation where he wanted to fight—but also didn’t.
So, after a mont’s hesitation, Moyong Hyeon casually said,
“Hmm, it’s hard to reach mastery even in one art, yet you dabble in so many. Can you even do any of them properly?”
A very light provocation.
He wanted to confirm Jin Seong-un’s level, but didn’t really want to fight.
If the Guest Dragon brushed it off with his usual dry personality, he planned to postpone the assessnt.
But the Sword Dragon overlooked one thing.
Just before departing, Jin Seong-un had learned a new martial art. And here, he had acquired a new saber.
When a martial artist receives a new technique and weapon, their next action is obvious.
“Oh? Then may I witness the sword of a young master who has walked a single path?”
Jin Seong-un stared at Moyong Hyeon, letting the heavy straight saber dangle at his side.
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