Chapter 536

Two Dragons Pavilion.

I’d never heard the name before. Yet I knew what Mae Jonghak meant.

The masters of the Two Dragons Pavilion.

Cheongpung and me.

Then Mae Jonghak spoke, his voice calm and commanding.

“Blazing Flame Divine Dragon Jin Taekyung. Come closer.”

His manner was different. So was the air around him.

There was no trace of the man who called me his friend and liked to tease me.

The person before me was neither Always-Victorious Sword Jongni Chu nor Sword Saint Mae Jonghak.

Step.

I took a deep breath, stepped forward, and respectfully cupped my hands toward the Alliance Leader.

“Jin Taekyung of the Jin Family of Taiyuan greets you, Alliance Leader.”

A light came into Mae Jonghak’s eyes as he looked at me.

“For generations, the Jin Family of Taiyuan has stood as a symbol of righteous spirit. It fed the hungry, cared for the sick, and whenever the Central Plains was in danger, its members fought without regard for their own lives.”

Three hundred years. A full three hundred years.

The Jin Family of Taiyuan had roots deep and strong enough to earn its place among the great families. It might have swayed, but it had never been uprooted. Its steps might have faltered, but it had never strayed from the righteous path.

“Two years ago, in winter, you personally cut down Blade of Flowers Jin Baekyang, your own blood relative and the family’s Head Elder. Chief of the Hidden Shadow Pavilion, why was that?”

The leader of the Hidden Shadow Pavilion, Thousand-Faced Fox Song Ho, who had been standing silently at attention, opened his mouth with a stiff expression.

“Because he was a traitor. He had long been acting on Dark Heaven’s orders. He betrayed not only the Jin Family of Taiyuan, but all of Murim.”

“Are you certain?”

“I stake my life on it.”

He didn’t need to stake his life. Everyone here knew the truth. Anyone who paid the slightest attention to news from Murim knew it.

So why spend precious time on something everyone already knew?

I had a good idea.

To remind them. And to make them accept it.

Mae Jonghak’s words weren’t meant for me alone. His real audience was the twenty-odd giants seated throughout this vast conference hall.

“One year ago, the Star-Array Grand Banquet was held here in Henan, and Dark Heaven’s attack stained Shaolin’s grounds with blood. What did you do?”

I answered without hesitation.

“I fought.”

“Why?”

“That’s…”

I closed my mouth.

Why?

The question caught me off guard. Not because I didn’t know the answer, but because I’d never once thought about it.

Well. Why did I?

I’d long considered myself selfish and materialistic. That didn’t make me a cold-blooded bastard. When people were dying right in front of me, who had time to weigh what was in it for me?

On the day Shaolin was stained with blood, there hadn’t been a question mark in my head. Only exclamation marks. I’d run in and fought.

The answer came easily.

“I’ve never thought about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it was what anyone would do.”

“What anyone would do…”

Mae Jonghak repeated my answer softly, then turned his smiling eyes toward his Disciple and sworn grandson.

“Pung. What about you?”

“Me?”

“Were you afraid of dying?”

Cheongpung stared at him with wide, clear eyes before answering hesitantly.

“I was. I’d never thought about death before.”

“But you went to Shaolin. Why?”

“…Regret.”

“Hmm?”

“I think I would’ve regretted it for the rest of my life if I’d run away.”

His quiet mumble grew clear.

“I felt like I’d lose something greater than my life.”

That was right. He’d said the same thing when we fought the Blood Lord.

Cut and torn, bleeding heavily and writhing in pain, Cheongpung had refused to retreat. He’d known he was no match for the Blood Lord, but he kept charging at him.

“What the hell? Why are you acting like you’re so desperate to die first?”

And when the Blood Lord had asked him that with confusion and anger, Cheongpung had answered with a clear smile.

“If I retreat… I think I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

That regret. I knew what he meant.

Maybe I’d been more afraid of living alone with that regret than I was of dying.

“Regret. Regret…”

Mae Jonghak muttered quietly, then turned his gaze toward me.

“And you?”

“Me, sir?”

My answer hadn’t changed since I first started working as a Hunter.

I gave a short, quiet laugh and answered.

“Death is always scary. I’m afraid of dying.”

Was that too honest?

“Ahem. Hm.”

A few of the people watching in silence cleared their throats uncomfortably. But Mae Jonghak’s smile only deepened.

“Facing the fear of death and helping another in need. That is chivalry.”

“……!”

The throat-clearing stopped. The room went still.

A man who had been sitting crookedly in his chair spoke up.

“What anyone would do. Thinking it and doing it are worlds apart, though. And you two did it without hesitation.”

There was warmth in his voice. Fire King Jeok Cheongang’s eyes were unmistakably smiling as he looked at me.

“That is humanity.”

“……!”

Humanity and chivalry. Chivalry and humanity.

Alike in one sense, different in another. Two short words, heavy enough to press down on everyone in the room.

People say a true martial artist does not fear death.

But the world has another name for someone who feels that fear, refuses to yield to it, and acts with humanity and chivalry.

“A knight-errant…”

Someone’s murmur rang strangely loud in the silence.

That was when a graying middle-aged man with a faint smile opened his mouth.

“A knight-errant. Now there’s a word I like.”

His hands were strangely large and thick for a man of his modest build. Only then did I recognize him.

Fist King Yan Hwapyeong.

The last descendant of the Jinzhou Yan Family, which had been utterly ruined long ago by power struggles between orthodox factions.

He had turned his back on the world and lived atop an unnamed mountain. But when news reached him that a hundred thousand demonic soldiers had invaded the Central Plains, he joined the Murim Alliance without hesitation.

“Do you know why the Fist King is such an incredible man?”

“How would I know?”

“I once asked him if he had no pride. The orthodox bastards had ruined his family before he was even born. How many of the men gathered here, I asked him, knew anything about humanity or chivalry?”

“You really have no tact, do you?”

“Shut up and listen. His answer was the best part.”

“What did he say?”

“He said it didn’t matter.”

“What?”

“Just that. None of it mattered. He’d simply come to help. And the moment the Great Faction War ended, he vanished like a phantom. That man was the real thing. Ha ha ha.”

That same Fist King Yan Hwapyeong was smiling at us now. It was a warm smile.

“Doing what ought to be done. Overcoming fear and moving forward. That is a knight-errant. Yes, indeed.”

He wasn’t the only one nodding in approval. Gentle gazes fell on Cheongpung and me from around the room. In the eyes of several familiar faces, I could see unmistakable gratitude.

Myriad-Poison Asura Tang Sadok.

He was pale, as though he hadn’t fully recovered, but his back was straight and the green light in his eyes was clear.

Our eyes met. The corner of his wrinkled mouth lifted slightly, and he spoke.

“As Family Head of the Sichuan Tang Clan, I would like to say a few words.”

The unexpected announcement drew every eye to him. Mae Jonghak gave a small nod, and Tang Sadok continued in his hissing voice.

“Being a pavilion master of the Murim Alliance is a position of tremendous weight and responsibility. I believe it requires not only outstanding martial arts, but also the experience to match. It would be unreasonable to entrust it to young people who are not even thirty, let alone forty.”

A stir ran through the room. Several expressions shifted. Joy crossed some faces, displeasure others.

But…

The rule about hearing someone out before you judge doesn’t just apply to Korean.

Tang Sadok’s next words confirmed my suspicion.

“However, Blazing Flame Divine Dragon Jin Taekyung and Huashan Divine Dragon Cheongpung are exceptions. They fought Dark Heaven in Shanxi, Henan, Sichuan, and Hubei. They showed us what humanity and chivalry mean. This old man and my family owe them a debt we cannot hope to repay.”

Voices of agreement rose around the room.

They belonged to the heads of sects and families who had crossed paths with me personally throughout the Murim, or through Jeok Cheongang or the Jin Family of Taiyuan.

Others nodded as though it were only natural, despite having no connection to me at all.

Encouraged by this response, Myriad-Poison Asura Tang Sadok continued in a clear voice.

“If these two take on important positions within the Murim Alliance, who would dare question their qualifications—or object to the Alliance Leader’s command?”

He put particular force behind those last words. Several people frowned, among them the Wind-and-Cloud Sword Lord, Sect Leader of the Zhongnan Sect.

Tang Sadok swept his green-lit gaze across the room, then cupped his hands.

“As you can see, there will be no objections. Alliance Leader, you need only give the order.”

He’d ended the argument before anyone could raise it.

And anyone who did object would be taking on the Family Head of the Sichuan Tang Clan, one of Murim’s most famously uncompromising clans. The Sichuan Blood Tragedy had dealt them a devastating blow, but they were still one of the Five Great Families, with strength no one could afford to dismiss.

“Hmm…”

Someone let out a low groan.

Then a voice broke the brief silence.

“Blazing Flame Divine Dragon Jin Taekyung. Huashan Divine Dragon Cheongpung.”

Mae Jonghak looked at us warmly.

“I have yet to ask the two of you. Do you wish to join the Two Dragons Pavilion?”

At that moment—

Ding.

System

Would you like to join the Murim Alliance?

The notification appeared before my eyes.

Neither Cheongpung nor I took long to decide. Our eyes met, and we answered as one.

“We do.”

“Then I hereby formally decree this. From this moment onward, the two of you shall belong to the Two Dragons Pavilion, directly under the Alliance Leader’s Office and answerable only to the Alliance Leader’s commands. Each of you shall become a pavilion master, with the authority to select the personnel you require…”

I couldn’t make out what came next. No—I couldn’t hear it properly.

Ding. Ding. Ding, ding!

The bells rang without pause, filling my ears.