Chapter 218: Fist Dragon
Sinister and ominous demonic qi surged from all directions.
Led by Moyong Hyeon, the later-generation prodigies realized that they couldn’t overco this situation through standard thods.
Their opponents were both powerful and nurous.
It was a mont that called for strategy—and in the end, Moyong Hyeon’s voice transmission rang clearly in everyone’s mind.
“Master Seung-ryong is the North Star. You must keep a distance of no less than five steps and no more than ten.”
Dipper-Turning Star Shift, the Moyong Clan’s secret technique.
As the na suggested, it was a thod that deflected the opponent’s offense by revolving around a central axis—just like the seven stars of the Big Dipper revolving around the North Star.
In practice, Dipper-Turning Star Shift comprised seven intricately connected mysteries forming a single sword technique.
Chuseong (樞星)—literally, the pivot star—was the opening move.
It rendered the opponent’s intent ineffective, marking the start of Dipper-Turning Star Shift. The person for this task was obvious.
“Master Baek Sang. I’ve heard that Wudang’s sword excels in skillfully pushing and pulling. Pull them in. Don’t let them move according to their intent.”
Next was Seonhoe (旋回)—rotation.
This scattered the point where the opponent’s power concentrated.
“Master Chwiryong, no matter what, if three or more enemies gather, unleash the most dazzling and unorthodox sword techniques possible.”
Mount Hua Sect’s fluid sword style created chaos, preventing the enemy from consolidating their strength.
“Miss Tang, focus solely on their ankles. If any of them shift their balance to the left, imdiately throw a hidden weapon. Refrain from using poison.”
Gibyeon (機變)—literally, creating an opening.
Those who heard Moyong Hyeon’s voice transmission had puzzled expressions. They were unaware of their “roles.” They had only been instructed on “actions.”
However, their individual actions ford a single formation. That was Moyong Hyeon’s thod.
Moyong Hyeon continued.
“Seung-ryong, yours is the most important role.”
Gwonhyeong (權衡)—balancing the weight.
It was the core yet most dangerous part of Dipper-Turning Star Shift.
And it was a role that only Seung-ryong, possessing a mighty demon-subduing qi, could carry out.
Moyong Hyeon briefly felt sorry—but in a life-and-death situation, he remained calm and resolute.
“If anyone begins to falter, you must receive their energy in their place. Others may be pushed back. But you must not. If you’re pushed back, we all die.”
Though it was a heavy burden, Seung-ryong rely nodded. The monks of Shaolin did not shy away from karma.
If Baek Sang drew in the enemy’s strength with Taiji Sword Art, the Beggars’ Union’s Neung Sogae would push it away using Kang Dragon Palm. This corresponded to Hyeongjeon (衡轉)—balancing reversal—one of Dipper-Turning Star Shift’s mysteries.
Moyong Hyeon’s gaze drifted to Seomun Ak.
“……”
He briefly wore a look of mistrust.
Could he really be trusted?
Though he had seen Seomun Ak’s recent change, among the later-generation prodigies of the Orthodox Faction, his reputation as a rogue lingered stronger.
After all, Seomun Ak had lived the past several years as an exemplary scoundrel.
Still, the formation required exactly seven martial artists. There was no one else to take his place.
“The sword formation isn’t all-powerful. Inevitably, the encirclent will gradually tighten around Master Seung-ryong.”
The Demonic Cult bastards were strong and many.
There was no way to completely block their assault.
It was inevitable that they’d gradually be pushed back into the inner five-step zone, the critical range of the formation.
That’s when Seomun Ak’s role was needed.
“If all of us are squeezed within five steps, don’t hesitate. Throw your strongest punch directly ahead. The opening it creates will be our path forward.”
Gaemun (開門)—literally, opening a door.
Seomun Ak’s brutish punch would beco the opening breath of the formation. No—it had to.
With an expression full of confidence, Seomun Ak looked as if he was saying, “Just trust .”
Though uneasy, Moyong Hyeon had no other choice and gave a nod.
The last of the seven mysteries—
Yoseom (瑤閃)—after passing through the previous six mysteries, the final, slicing strike.
This was Moyong Hyeon’s role.
At the sa ti, he had to cover for everyone’s absences. He was the only one among the seven who could execute all the mysteries of Dipper-Turning Star Shift.
‘Seven-Star Battle Formation.’
That’s what Moyong Hyeon nad this formation.
Each person carried out their assigned role against the Demonic Cultists.
Baek Sang’s sword pulled in the fierce attacks of the demonic practitioners. The swords they lashed out lost their original aim and wavered.
Tang So-yeon and Huamyeong neutralized the enemy’s assaults. The ever-looming threat of hidden weapons made their movents rigid, and whenever three or more demonic practitioners combined their force to break the formation, a barrage of sword qi resembling plum blossoms scattered them.
Neung Sogae pushed back those who closed in.
Even then, when the pressure beca too great and the mbers were forced inward, Seomun Ak’s fist arts surged forward.
All of this was only possible because Seung-ryong stood firm at the center like a deep-rooted tree.
Seogak—!
Moyong Hyeon’s sword, carrying the mystery of Yoseom, cut into the enemy. Though aid at the neck or heart, it only left shallow wounds.
Still, it wasn’t just defense—it showed they could strike at any ti, weighing heavily on the Demonic Cultists' steps.
Simply by carrying out their individual tasks, the seven martial artists created a ticulous battle formation. It clearly embodied the mysteries of Dipper-Turning Star Shift.
Seven martial artists stood their ground against opponents who outmatched them in both numbers and strength.
If martial experts of formations from the Zhuge Clan, the Sima Clan, or the Shaolin Temple had seen it, they would have truly admired its precision.
After all, the very idea of embodying the mysteries of a sword technique into a formation was an ambitious leap.
‘…It’s working.’
Moyong Hyeon felt a rush of exhilaration.
This was the first ti his insight (????) had shined so brightly in real battle—especially under such harsh circumstances.
Having lived under the protection of the Moyong Clan and the Murim Alliance, this was his true first step into the jianghu.
But the warriors of the Hanma Unit were not idle spectators. As elites of the Seven Demon Heavens of the Demonic Cult, they were battle-hardened.
Watching the Orthodox Faction’s martial artists hold their ground in such formation, the Hanma Unit’s Vice-Captain clicked his tongue quietly.
“They’re planning to endure.”
If their foes had simply charged in recklessly, they would have been easy to slaughter.
But with a formation that ticulous, there was no telling how long the fight would drag on.
The battlefield was a living organism—it constantly changed. Therefore, it was best to kill them all before new variables erged.
The Vice-Captain infused his voice with inner qi and shouted:
“Take out the bald one. At any cost.”
He had realized that the Shaolin’s Seung-ryong was the center of their formation. If he fell, the formation would collapse instantly.
The atmosphere among the Demonic Cultists shifted drastically.
One martial artist hurled himself at the formation, eyes bloodshot. The demonic qi rising from his shoulders felt raw and untad.
At that mont, Moyong Hyeon and Huamyeong struck with their swords simultaneously.
Pwak—!
The man’s head and shoulder were lopped off.
However, Moyong Hyeon and Huamyeong felt a chilling sensation crawl up their spines.
‘…There’s no hesitation.’
The enemy did not fear death.
More precisely, it looked as if he knowingly hurled himself toward it.
Even in the mont the blade cleaved through his flesh and bone, he showed no sign of retreat.
Sure enough, through the fleeting gap created by his death, two Demonic Cultists charged in.
Their objective was clear.
Seung-ryong, facing the two ferocious demonic practitioners, pushed the mystery of Heavenly Thousand-Pound Hamr (??????) to its limits.
‘I will endure.’
That was his role.
Young Master Moyong had explained that if he fell, the formation would collapse. Thus, even if his limbs were severed, he intended to hold his ground.
Seung-ryong’s palms glowed gold.
Arhat Palm (??????).
The Arhat’s palm force, ant to strike down evil spirits, poured toward the Demonic Cultists.
JJJJEONG—!
The Demonic Cultists hurled their bodies into the suppressive qi.
Even as their bodies and souls were torn apart, they swung their blades.
SEOGAK—!
Seung-ryong’s side and shoulder were split open.
Fortunately, the wounds weren’t deep—but the martial artists of the Orthodox Faction felt a chill in their hearts.
That earlier display—the madness shown by the Demonic Cultists—was precisely why the Central Plains feared the Demonic Cult.
“The formation’s shaking. Press harder.”
A calm command rang out.
The Demonic Cultists’ eyes burned with madness.
Even the heirs of the Five Great Clans and Nine Sects One Gang shrank back at that fervor.
“We, we have to hold…”
Moyong Hyeon’s words never reached their end.
The Demonic Cultists, prepared to die—or rather, desiring death—rushed the formation from all directions.
The Orthodox martial artists were pushed back endlessly. Normally, they should have already been wiped out by such suicidal tactics, but the Seven-Star Battle Formation barely held them together.
Seomun Ak unleashed fist qi repeatedly.
That was his role.
Whenever their formation was suffocating under pressure, he would blast through with a brute-force punch filled with inner strength to open a path again.
But it was no use.
The power gap was far too great.
Seomun Ak’s punches failed to carve a way forward.
Before they realized, the distance between the seven martial artists shrank from five steps to three.
At this rate, it was inevitable they would collide.
One Demonic practitioner, even as his ribs and thigh were severed, burst forward with an explosion of qi. His palm finally struck Seung-ryong in the chest.
JJJEONG—!
Palm force infused with thick demonic qi shoved Seung-ryong back.
Just half a step.
Even so, Moyong Hyeon’s face turned deathly pale.
In Dipper-Turning Star Shift, the role of Gwonhyeong (權衡)—the one who held the balance—was paramount.
If it so much as wavered, the whole would shake like an earthquake.
The mont Seung-ryong was pushed back half a step—
The delicate equilibrium of the formation broke.
Even an ant’s hole could collapse a dam.
Baek Sang’s sword could no longer redirect the enemy’s intentions. Huamyeong and Tang So-yeon’s swords and hidden weapons began to slash at empty air.
The distance between them narrowed to a single step. Everyone could clearly sll the stench of death.
‘…It’s over.’
That’s what Moyong Hyeon thought. Just as he was about to let his sword fall in resignation—
FWOOOOSH—!
In that instant, everyone’s gaze turned to a single point.
Seomun Ak.
He had understood the problem.
All paths that sustained the formation had been blocked.
To break through it—to open a path—was his role.
If he succeeded, everyone would survive.
mories of his past life flashed through his mind.
Most of them were of the rogue Seomun Ak.
Only after those painful recollections passed did his more recent, chivalrous image erge.
Whenever Seomun Ak spoke of being a hero, people would click their tongues. So mocked him.
But no one feared or despised him anymore. Even Jin Seong-un and Seo Yu-gyeom, though baffled, didn’t dislike the change.
He thought of his father, Seomun Jeok. In recent days, he had seen in him expressions and eyes never before shown in a lifeti.
His father no longer felt sha toward his son. In fact, he was proud—so much so that people around him clicked their tongues, saying he was at it again.
After all these mories flashed by, a single question erged in Seomun Ak’s mind.
Had he beco a hero?
No—his infamous past as a rogue was too long. His current reputation hadn’t yet eclipsed his infamy.
Even a mont ago, Young Master Sword Dragon hadn’t fully trusted him.
So, Seomun Ak made up his mind.
He would stake everything on this final move.
He hoped that the last punch of his life would bury his disgrace and let him be rembered as a hero.
It was his way of repaying the trust of his father, the Seomun Clan, and his two close friends.
Seomun Ak drove his energy to the limit.
He poured everything into this one punch—not just inner strength, but life and death.
‘I’ll die opening a path.’
Even in death, he intended to create a way forward for his comrades.
The mont everyone realized his intent, their faces went pale.
Light erged.
The Seomun Clan’s signature reddish glow, though faint, clearly enveloped his fist.
Fist Flux (????)—the qi projection that marked the realm of Peak-level Masters—surged from Seomun Ak’s fist.
KWAAANG—!
The heads of three Demonic Cultists standing before him exploded outright.
Thwack thwack, blood and flesh rained down like a storm.
Everyone froze, staring at Seomun Ak.
If one afflicted with "hero fever" risked his life to destroy evil and save comrades without hesitation, then that couldn’t be dismissed as re bluff or delusion.
He was now truly a hero.
Seomun Ak raised his fist.
His callused, rugged hand was soaked in lted snow and blood.
Seomun Ak declared,
“Fist Dragon (????). That’s the alias I’ve chosen.”
Giving oneself an alias was considered rather disgraceful in contemporary murim.
But Seomun Ak wasn’t the kind of man to care about that.
He glanced toward Seo Yu-gyeom, who was fighting the Hanma Unit Captain. They, too, had stopped to look his way.
A newly erged Peak-level Master—such a presence could alter the tide of the battlefield.
Seomun Ak, grinning boldly toward Seo Yu-gyeom, declared once more:
“Fist Dragon (????), Peak-level entry.”
Seo Yu-gyeom’s face contorted in an instant.
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