The Alliance Leader’s Hall was silent. Only one person remained where countless people had come and gone just one shichen—approximately two hours—earlier.
“How quickly the years pass.”
Sword Saint Mae Jonghak murmured the words under his breath. His youthful face was turned toward empty space, but his gaze was searching a distant past. Few people alive still shared those old memories.
They’re all gone now.
Of those who shared Mae Jonghak’s memories, very few had lived out their natural spans. Most had fallen in nameless wastelands and fields, never to rise again.
The monster known as the Great Faction War had claimed countless lives and turned the survivors into heroes.
But in the end… here we are again.
Enough time had passed for the mountains and rivers to change four times over.
Peace had come to the world. The pain and sorrow of war had faded, and orthodox Murim had sung of the glory of victory.
Then a dark cloud called Dark Heaven appeared in a sky that had seemed destined to remain blue forever.
Peace is over.
The runny-nosed child who had not understood the horrors of war had become middle-aged, while the young man who had drawn his weapon and burned with righteous indignation had grown old.
Those who had not even been born back then had come to Henan seeking glory rather than justice.
Their lives, personalities, and goals were all different.
And Sword Saint Mae Jonghak knew it well. He—and no one else—would have to lead them all into battle once again. He would have to defeat Dark Heaven, which sought to plunge the world into misery.
That was when a low voice slipped between Mae Jonghak’s firmly closed lips.
“Every now and then, I wonder whether I can truly do it.”
He was not talking to himself. Mae Jonghak knew it, and so did the person who had been quietly standing guard by the door.
Thousand-Faced Fox Song Ho, a sturdy old man, stepped forward as he answered.
“You can.”
Clack.
The tip of his prosthetic leg struck the floor, the sound echoing unusually loudly. Beneath his hanging white hair, his shrewd eyes shone with force.
“No—you must.”
“I know.”
Mae Jonghak let out a quiet sigh.
“But I’ve known nothing but the sword my entire life. That’s how I came by the empty title of Sword Saint.”
“It’s precisely because you are the Sword Saint that everyone will trust and follow you.”
“Being a martial artist is different from being a leader. I never even became the Sect Leader of a single faction.”
“It’s not that you couldn’t. You chose not to.”
The Thousand-Faced Fox was right.
When the Great Faction War ended and Huashan’s former Sect Leader passed away, every disciple of Huashan had been certain that Sword Saint Mae Jonghak would become their new Sect Leader.
“But you refused. In the end, the Sect Leader’s Command Token went to your Disciple, Heavenly Sword True Person.”
“It was only natural. He was more suited to becoming Huashan’s Sect Leader than I was. And…”
Mae Jonghak ran his fingers over the treasured sword at his waist before continuing.
“I simply liked the sword.”
The Thousand-Faced Fox gazed quietly at Mae Jonghak, then suddenly spoke.
“I don’t know if I ever told you this.”
“Told me what?”
“That person once struggled with the same concern.”
“If you mean that person… surely you’re talking about the Martial God?”
The Thousand-Faced Fox gave a small nod.
“To the people of the world, that person seemed perfect in every way.”
“I know. The Martial God excelled at everything. No—he was overwhelming.”
“But he was a person too. And in the end, he succeeded. For some reason, these old eyes see the two of you overlapping.”
“…!”
Mae Jonghak went still. For a while, he said nothing, gazing at the old martial artist who stood straight before him. Then he spoke.
“Great Hero Song.”
“Yes?”
“It truly is… a fine day.”
“The sky is clear.”
“May I ask the time?”
“It is the wu hour.1 Everyone is waiting for one person.”
“I’m late.”
“You’re not late. This is only the beginning.”
Sword Saint Mae Jonghak turned his head. Powerful sunlight poured through the wide-open window.
Yes. It truly is a fine day.
He repeated the words to himself. After taking in the blue sky, he slowly turned around.
At that moment, the Thousand-Faced Fox realized that the young man before him was no longer merely a martial artist.
“Chief of the Hidden Shadow Pavilion.”
The quiet voice pierced Song Ho’s ears.
The Hidden Shadow Pavilion answered directly to the Alliance Leader’s Hall, and only one person had the authority to command its chief.
Song Ho took a deep breath and clasped his hands.
“Song Ho, Chief of the Hidden Shadow Pavilion. I await the Alliance Leader’s command.”
Mae Jonghak’s next words marked the beginning of the New Murim Alliance—and its new Alliance Leader’s first order.
“Let’s go raise the flag.”
The old martial artist’s eyelids trembled. Then he answered with a cry as strong as any young man’s.
“As you command!”
I looked up at the sky. The sun had climbed high into the blue and was pouring down fierce sunlight.
Not even a cool breeze stirred. One thought flashed through my mind.
It’s hot.
The heat was intense, but I wasn’t uncomfortably warm.
That wasn’t just because I’d become Unaffected by Cold and Heat after reaching the Supreme Peak realm.
It wasn’t the sunlight I could feel now. It was the heat rising from the crowd—the aura pouring off countless people.
Sssss.
Below the high platform, so many martial artists stood gathered that I couldn’t begin to count them. Their combined aura seemed to have stopped even the wind.
Qi rose from them like a heat haze, burning hotter and fiercer than the sunlight overhead.
Then, through that heat, the person everyone had been waiting for finally appeared.
Thud. Thud.
His firm footsteps reached every ear. The sound alone was enough to make bodies tense and minds snap to attention.
The wandering martial artist who had caused a drunken disturbance only yesterday swallowed hard. So did the orthodox and unorthodox martial artists who had gotten into a brawl with each other.
All because of one man’s presence.
Sword Saint Mae Jonghak.
The One God, Three Saints, and Ten Kings.
If the Nine Sects and One Gang2 and the Five Great Families were the fifteen pillars supporting the world, then the people bearing those titles were the heroes who had made that world anew.
Ten kings stood upon the earth. Above them stretched the unreachable sky of the Martial God, adorned with three stars.
And…
The brightest star of them all.
Sword Saint Mae Jonghak. The Number One Sword Under Heaven.
Shhk-shhk-shhk!
Thousands of martial artists parted at once.
No cheers or exclamations could be heard.
Some were stunned by Sword Saint Mae Jonghak’s youthful appearance, while others shuddered at the overwhelming aura they could feel against their skin. But not one dared voice a question or say anything aloud.
No. They couldn’t doubt him.
This was a path meant for one person alone.
Mae Jonghak passed through the ranks and ascended the high platform. Standing there like a giant, he swept his calm gaze over the crowd.
“You’ve all been waiting a long time.”
The platform was reserved for a select few.
Sect Leaders of prestigious great sects, Family Heads of great families, and heroes and masters who had earned great fame regardless of their origins. They were the people who belonged here.
Jeok Cheongang, the Jin Family of Taiyuan, and I are among them.
But if those on the platform were the pillars of the new Murim Alliance, Sword Saint Mae Jonghak was its foundation and its head.
Without anyone taking the lead, we all rose from our seats and clasped our hands toward him.
Dozens of us spoke at once, our voices so perfectly matched they sounded like one.
“We greet the Alliance Leader.”
Everyone paid their respects with solemn faces—even Jeok Cheongang and Cheongpung, seated on either side of me.
Mae Jonghak gave us a faint smile, nodded, and turned away.
The next moment, every martial artist below—thousands of them, perhaps even ten thousand—heard his voice clearly.
It shook heaven and earth.
“Peace is over.”
“…!”
The air surrounding us burst apart.
A towering tree trembled, and the heroes gathered below the platform froze like statues.
Mae Jonghak continued, his words carrying an extraordinary force of internal energy. Nothing remained of the eccentric man I’d known until now.
“War has already begun. Another hundred thousand followers of the Demonic Path are approaching the Central Plains.”
Some in the crowd had never lived through the Great Faction War, but none were ignorant of its horrors.
Fear and anger filled the eyes of the older martial artists. The younger ones trembled at a feeling they could not name.
“Dharma King Hong Dao.”
At Mae Jonghak’s next words, the monks of Shaolin softly murmured Buddhist invocations.
“Poison King Tang Taesang. And the Heaven-Shaking Venerable Nun of Emei.”
Tang Sadok, the Myriad-Poison Asura, had made the long journey despite his ailing body. His green eyes gleamed, while the nuns of Emei Sect wept.
“The bloodshed that began in Shanxi Province spread to Henan, then reached Sichuan and Hubei.”
Countless lives had been lost in little more than a year.
Old martial artists praised by all and young greenhorns alike had fallen before their lives could fully bloom.
Eight Spring Gorge.
I could still see it whenever I closed my eyes.
How many people had died in that narrow gorge in Shanxi Province?
Who had fallen in Henan, Sichuan, and Hubei?
I didn’t know their names or the dreams they’d held while they were alive.
But I knew why they had taken up their swords.
To protect something precious.
Boom!
An unprecedented aura burst from Mae Jonghak’s entire body.
Purple qi rooted in the Zaha Divine Technique rolled over his shoulders like waves.
“Take up your weapons and fight back.”
His manner of speaking and his aura weren’t the only things that had changed.
Right now, before he was the Sword Saint or the Number One Sword Under Heaven, Mae Jonghak was the Alliance Leader guiding us all.
“For the sake of the families who share our blood. For the sake of the Senior Brothers and fellow disciples, and the sects with which we have shared joy and hardship. And…”
A mighty shout erupted from his lips.
“To protect the Murim in which we live, take up your weapons!”
The giant roared. A shiver ran up my spine.
The martial artists filling the grounds let out the breaths they’d been holding and raised a thunderous cheer.
“Waaaaaah!”
“For the destruction of the Demonic Path!”
Shhk, chakachachang!
The world flooded with light. Countless weapons flashed in the sunlight pouring down overhead.
“Waaaaaah!”
“For justice and chivalry!”
Shhk, chakachachang!
The world flooded with light. Countless weapons flashed in the sunlight pouring down overhead.
Mae Jonghak gazed at the dazzling, magnificent sight, then grasped the enormous flag lying at his feet.
Murim Alliance.
Those three characters had been written across it in bold, flowing strokes. Once he raised the flag, a new era would begin.
But what he did next caught everyone by surprise.
“Great Hero Jeok. Would you help me?”
“…!”
I could feel the crowd’s agitation against my skin. Jeok Cheongang, who had been silently staring at Mae Jonghak, suddenly spoke.
“Is the flag heavy?”
“It seems to be, for now.”
“That flag feels heavy even to this old man. And the more hands, the better.”
I knew what I had to do.
At Jeok Cheongang’s signal, Cheongpung and I stepped forward and took hold of the flag together.
Then we pulled it upright with all our strength.
The Murim Alliance had been born.
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