Until the envoy from Mount Hua arrived, Seolhwa spent every day training under Seop Mugwang from morning to night.

Knowing that she would soon depart for Mount Hua, he raised the intensity of their training.

Each day began the same way: running up to the training ground halfway up Mount Huang, weighted down with shackles and without using light footwork. What began with stepping over scattered pebbles evolved into traversing the entire mountain range with footwork alone.

Shshk—shshk—

As she ran toward the destination through a forest thick with undergrowth and towering trees, Seop Mugwang’s sword would strike like a sudden bolt of lightning.

Kaang! Kakang! Kaang!

Seolhwa used only the Sword of Wind and Thunder to counter his attacks.

Sometimes his blade shot out from the brush, sometimes from the treetops, and other times from beneath her feet.

Tap—tatap! Tap!

In those fleeting moments, any surface that could bear her weight became a platform. Her movement technique—Thunder Shadow Step—relied on placing just the right force on whatever footing was available, allowing her to dodge even sudden ambushes with fluid precision.

Shwaa—

“Haa... Haaah... Haa...”

By the time she returned to the training ground, having looped around the entire mountain, the sun had already dipped behind the ridge.

“Tired?” Seop Mugwang approached as Seolhwa tried to catch her breath.

Despite doing the same training alongside her, he showed no signs of exhaustion whatsoever.

Even accounting for the difference between Peak Realm and Transcendent Peak Realm, his stamina was truly monstrous.

“Hm...”

He scratched the back of his neck.

“Then how about I tell you a story about your grandfather while you rest?”

It was a welcome offer.

Seolhwa dropped down to the ground without hesitation.

Standing in front of her, Seop Mugwang jabbed the ground with the scabbard of his sword.

“Your grandfather... was a man as close to the heavens as one could get.”

Straightening his shoulders, he stood tall—almost as if imitating Namgoong Mucheon.

“He is someone who gazes down upon the world from above. Until I met you, I had never seen another monster like the Patriarch.”

His eyes gleamed with unconcealed reverence.

“Do you know why your grandfather is called the Sword Emperor?”

“Because he’s unmatched with a sword?”

“I meant—do you know when he earned that title?”

Seolhwa shook her head.

She knew the title, of course, but not the story behind it.

Seop Mugwang gave a knowing smile.

“More than twenty years ago, there was a dark faction that had taken over the Hunan region. They called themselves Black Immortal Fortress. They originated from Ganghwa, the southernmost part of Hunan, and quickly expanded their power.”

Although Hunan bordered the southern edge of Hubei, where the Wudang Sect and the Zhuge Family were based, Ganghwa lay far to the south, beyond their immediate influence.

“They were clever. They knew they’d be blocked if they pushed north, so they spread their influence outward instead.”

They reached Guizhou and Jiangxi, the arms of Hunan, and Guangxi and Guangdong, its legs—then extended by sea to the southeastern edge of the Central Plains, even touching Fujian and Zhejiang.

“By the time anyone realized what was happening, they’d taken control of the entire southern belt of the Central Plains. And the orthodox sects didn’t even notice how serious it had become.”

Once established, their crimes grew worse and worse.

They looted ordinary people, raped women, kidnapped children, and murdered indiscriminately. Eventually, they even attacked government offices and emptied their storehouses.

When word of their atrocities spread, martial artists across the land declared they would exterminate Black Immortal Fortress.

“The problem was—their leader was incredibly strong. Even the so-called Ten Great Masters at the time failed to bring him down.”

Though the fortress lord never directly confronted them, the fact that ten of the most powerful figures in the Central Plains had failed was enough to shock the martial world.

Most of those ten had already reached the Flowing Realm. Their failure implied that the leader of Black Immortal Fortress was himself at least at the threshold of Flowing Realm.

“That’s when your grandfather stepped forward. He challenged the fortress lord to a life-or-death duel. Back then, your grandfather was known only by the nickname ‘Celestial Dragon Swordsman.’ He had just begun to make a name for himself, and hardly anyone truly knew who he was.”

People had only heard rumors—

That the Namgoong Clan’s young lord was powerful.

That his cultivation was high.

That he wielded the sword skillfully.

But twenty years ago, sects looked down on martial clans even more than they do now.

So all those rumors boiled down to a single, dismissive judgment:

“Pretty decent—for a clan noble.”

It was a backhanded compliment—designed to belittle, to draw lines between sect and clan.

“So when your grandfather challenged the fortress lord to a life-or-death duel, the whole world exploded. Everyone mocked him, saying that some pampered noble fool was walking willingly to his death.”

Seop Mugwang burst out laughing, as if reliving the memory.

“Think about it. Who in their right mind would believe that a young nobleman fresh to the martial world could defeat a man the Ten Great Masters had failed to subdue?”

“Did the fortress lord accept the challenge?”

To agree to a duel he might not win—especially one-on-one?

From a dark faction leader?

“He was stupid enough to believe the rumors. He bought into the story that Namgoong’s young master was overrated. He thought defeating your grandfather would cement his own fame and crush the Namgoong Clan in the process.”

He accepted the duel.

It lasted three nights and three days.

A battle so immense, it was said a mountain in Jiangxi was sheared down by the clash.

People had flocked to watch the duel in the beginning, but fled in terror from the pressure alone. No one could even approach the battleground until it was over.

The aftermath was devastation—and survival was far from guaranteed for any who wandered too close.

“Your grandfather’s sword, Heaven’s Order, cut from the fortress lord’s right temple...”

Seop Mugwang’s hand traced the path—from his own forehead, down across his right cheek, and finally to the base of his neck.

“All the way to here.”

A single slash. From temple to nape.

The sheer size of the wound was staggering.

Suddenly, Seolhwa recalled someone else.

That Blood Cult Lord with the mask... whose scar hadn’t been fully hidden by it—one that stretched all the way to the back of his neck.

“Did the Fourth Blood Lord’s scar... reach the nape as well?”

She had never seen where it began—his mask had covered it. But she remembered how far it extended down.

Her memory wavered.

“After that wound, the tide turned completely. Having lost his right eye, the fortress lord could no longer keep up.”

“Did Grandfather win?”

“Yes. And that’s how he earned the title of Celestial Dragon Sword Emperor. After that, no one dared look down on him. And the Namgoong Clan’s standing began to rise more than ever.”

“What happened to the fortress lord?”

As Seolhwa recalled the image of the Fourth Blood Lord again, she asked quietly:

“What happened to him?”

“What do you think?”

Seop Mugwang shrugged, as if it were nothing worth dwelling on.

“He died by your grandfather’s hand that day.”

“Are you sure he died?”

“Yes. No one saw the moment it happened, but his body was found not long after—decapitated.”

I see.

Then the Fourth Blood Lord must not have been the Black Immortal Fortress Lord.

There were plenty of men with scars on their faces. Perhaps it was just a resemblance.

“Your grandfather did not survive this life easily either,” Seop Mugwang added, and a bitter smile flickered across his lips.

For a moment, the weight of everything he had seen and endured seemed to surface in that one expression—something too heavy to be explained in words.

But it vanished as quickly as it came. He suddenly drew his sword and shouted,

“Now then! Do you know why I told you that story?”

His blade gleamed faintly beneath the sunset’s glow.

“Ever since that day, countless swordsmen have chased after the Sword Emperor’s path. Just laying eyes on his sword once was enough to burn it into their minds, to the point of madness. One of those people—was me.”

Seop Mugwang chuckled as he swung his blade with sweeping whoosh, whoosh arcs.

“I will show you a sword technique born from your grandfather’s influence.”

His expression was composed now, his presence unshakably solid.

“Watch closely. This is Flowing Thunder Heaven-Wind Sword and Skyborne Galloping Thunder Sword.”

Seop Mugwang stepped into the wide center of the clearing, framed in the dusk, and adopted his initial stance.

Then his inner energy surged—and before she realized it, Seolhwa’s eyes were drawn to the heavens.

The force radiating from him rumbled like the roar of the earth itself. The presence of thunder and lightning tore through the air, wild and untamed.

And at its center—Seop Mugwang began to move.

His sword remained as powerful and swift as when he first demonstrated the Sword of Wind and Thunder.

But now, there was something more.

If before the energy of lightning had raged, unleashed and uncontrolled—now it was...

...riding the wind of the heavens.

His blade seemed to soar ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ freely, carried by a lofty, flowing breeze—liberated, exhilarating.

To Seolhwa’s eyes, he no longer moved like a swordsman. He was thunder, swimming through the wind.

His strikes were faster now. Sharper. More refined.

“....”

A chill of exhilaration ran down her spine, her lips parting without thought.

Just watching his technique made her heart pound. Her hands tightened instinctively with tension.

And then—the swordplay changed again.

Tztztztzt—

Skyborne Galloping Thunder Sword.

If his previous style flowed atop the wind, this one stormed through the heavens themselves.

The lightning coursed between clouds, reverberating across the sky.

It lit up the heavens, scattering darkness in its wake.

That was what Seop Mugwang’s blade had become.

Tzzt—! KWAANG—!

It felt as if dark clouds had gathered over the entire training ground.

And his sword rampaged through them.

His roar was in the blade itself.

And within that roar lived his reverence for Namgoong Mucheon.

It held the awe of a man who had stood at the pinnacle of the martial world, trampling scorn and prejudice beneath his feet.

Fwoooosh...

When Seop Mugwang’s sword finally came to a halt, Seolhwa still could not take her eyes off him.

A shiver raced down her entire body.

He might not be one of the Ten Great Masters—but to witness the blade of a man who had carved his name into the world with his own, original martial art...

It was truly... awe-inspiring.