The man, dragging his dying body, had to stop over and over again as he climbed the mountain.

Using his sword as a crutch, he caught his breath, ascending at a painfully slow pace.

By the time the two of them reached the summit, the sun had already set, and only the moonlight remained to light the dark night.

The man stood for a long while before the collapsing front gate of the Mount Hua Sect, staring at the spot where the name plaque had once hung.

His shoulders rose and fell—whether from labored breathing or from holding back sobs, it was impossible to tell.

The worn-out hinges let out a harsh screech that echoed through the mountain.

The man stepped through the gate, and Seolhwa followed silently behind.

Even in its half-broken state, the gate still bore the gruesome scars of that day when Mount Hua had crumbled into ruin.

Whoooosh—

A chill night wind blew between the two of them, as if cutting through the space they shared.

Seolhwa stood before the gate, gazing at the hollow remnants of Mount Hua, left behind in the wake of death.

Atop the platform where the Sect Leader once stood, spirit tablets now rested—memorials for him and the elders.

Beneath it, in the wide martial training ground where disciples once lined up to hear the Sect Leader’s teachings and learn martial arts, rounded graves now rose in an orderly formation.

Before each grave, a crude wooden spirit tablet stood, inscribed with the name of its owner.

Between the rows of graves were still empty plots—spaces yet to receive the bodies they were meant for, the mounds not yet raised.

The man, without hesitation, carried the corpses of his senior brothers to their rightful resting places and laid them down.

Meanwhile, Seolhwa looked around.

There was no soil nearby to cover the bodies.

What does he intend to use?

The question did not linger long.

The man, having laid down the bodies, picked up a sack and shovel he had left to the side and exited the gate once more.

Seolhwa did not follow him.

She already understood what he was about to do.

The mountain around Mount Hua was all stone—gathering soil would not be easy.

Leaning against the wall, she waited for some time, until the man returned with a sack filled with earth slung over his back.

His ragged breathing sounded more precarious than ever.

How many times did he go back and forth like that?

It took several trips to fill a single grave, and after five graves were filled, dawn had already begun to break.

The sunrise in Mount Hua was unlike any other.

It felt as if the sun had come out to awaken the world—and this place was where it first poured down all its light with full force.

By that time, the man who had finished filling the graves retrieved the blank spirit tablets he had prepared in advance, and one by one, carved into them the names of the senior brothers he had personally brought back.

Two from the first generation of disciples, and three from the second.

His hands trembled as he engraved each name.

Tears fell thick and fast upon the wooden tablets.

‘First-Generation Disciple Yu Cheong’

‘First-Generation Disciple Yu Baek’

‘Second-Generation Disciple Jin Ryeong’

‘Second-Generation Disciple Jin Je’

‘Second-Generation Disciple Jin Ye’

When he finished placing the spirit tablets, one by one, in front of each grave, the man’s lonely memorial ritual came to an end.

Staggering back toward the entrance, the man stood facing the graves he had built.

He gazed at them for a long while.

He looked at the empty spaces between the mounds, where no one had yet returned.

He looked at the training ground, now filled with graves.

He looked at the line of spirit tablets standing in silent rows for his senior brothers.

He looked at the row ahead of them—those belonging to the Sect Leader and the elders.

He looked at Mount Hua, where the memories of long ago now slept.

The sun had risen high in the sky, its rays harsh and searing.

Even Seolhwa, standing in the shade, had to squint under the blazing sunlight.

Beneath that burning light, the man slowly began to move.

He brought both hands together neatly and lowered himself into a kneel.

His martial robes, tattered from battle and dirtied from hauling soil, were soaked in blood in several places.

The man bowed.

To the Sect Leader and elders of Mount Hua.

To his senior brothers.

To those who never made it back.

To Mount Hua itself.

It was a bow that was very slow—but ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) sincere, solemn, and poured out with the last of his strength.

Even Seolhwa, who claimed not to know emotion, felt her chest ache at the sight of that mournful bow.

The man could not rise again.

He should have died long ago—his body had already passed the point of no return, somewhere during the carrying of that soil.

Curled in on himself, the man who had drawn his final breath looked impossibly small.

And yet, he also looked impossibly vast.

Seolhwa stared for a long while at the foolish man—and at the sect that had made him so foolishly devoted—before descending the mountain alone.

That was how Seolhwa remembered Yu Gang’s end.

Tears, thick and warm, rolled from the eyes of the young man.

“I know. I know how you feel.”

Seolhwa’s words—recognizing his feelings—had finally struck the core of his grief and broke the dam holding it back.

Before he could even understand what was happening, the moment had already arrived.

He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to ask, but he had held them back—afraid to disrupt, afraid to interfere—and now the emotion he had swallowed burst all at once.

“...Are you crying?”

Seolhwa was clearly flustered by Yu Gang’s sudden tears.

“Why—why are you crying...?”

“Huuh...”

“...!”

Seolhwa froze.

There were no dumplings here.

She had never had to console a crying child before—never had any reason to.

This situation was awkward and bewildering to her.

“Hic... huuh...”

“....”

Looking around helplessly, Seolhwa hesitated a moment, then reached out and gently patted Yu Gang on the head.

She did not know if it was the right thing to do.

But being patted by someone had always made her feel a little better.

Still, why does this boy cry so easily?

He laughs so easily too—and now he cries just as easily.

‘I think I would feel... embarrassed.’

A part of her felt envious.

That he could express his emotions so freely, without restraint.

That people accepted that from him without the slightest discomfort.

The awkward rhythm of Seolhwa’s patting soon became a natural gesture.

Tap. Pat.

Seolhwa, eyes fixed on the tear stains soaking into the rock, slowly opened her mouth.

“It is all right. For now.”

So that this time, you will not have to wander in search of your senior brothers.

“We can block it. All of it. If we stop it, then nothing ever happened.”

Even if she could do nothing about the hypnosis that had already taken root.

At the very least, they could prevent the tragedy of killing each other.

If only this could be stopped—then nothing would happen.

Nothing at all.

****

One day before their ascent to Mount Hua.

Namgoong Mucheon, the Commander of the Black Dragon Division, two disciples of Mount Hua, Choryeon, and Seolhwa were all gathered in one place.

It was Seolhwa who had arranged the meeting.

She gave a polite martial salute to the assembled group, then turned first to Namgoong Mucheon and spoke.

“When we arrive at Mount Hua, Grandfather, please handle the elders. Please distinguish between those who are under hypnosis and those who are not.”

Namgoong Mucheon was the only one who could determine whether someone had fallen under hypnosis without the use of poison.

The one who had placed the disciples under hypnosis would surely be among those not affected themselves.

It was important to identify them.

“I am asking this of you.”

“I shall.”

Though the situation was little different from a granddaughter giving orders to her grandfather, Namgoong Mucheon showed not a trace of discomfort and listened intently to her words.

‘The Sword Emperor himself is listening so earnestly to a girl this young...’

Yu Pyo found the situation strange.

The strangest thing of all was that he seemed to be the only one who found it strange.

Thanks to the Namgoong Clan, they had discovered that hypnosis was involved—but had that not all been due to the Sword Emperor?

Why, then, was everything being directed by a child...?

“Are you listening?”

“...Huh? Yes?”

Seolhwa was staring at Yu Pyo.

Realizing too late that everyone’s eyes were now on him, Yu Pyo cleared his throat quietly.

“Ah, could you say that once more, please?”

“I was asking Master Yu Pyo to help arrange a sparring match between the Black Dragon Division and the first-generation disciples.”

“Ah... sparring, you say?”

“Yes. I might be able to tell by watching.”

If any of them subconsciously used martial techniques from the Blood Demon Cult, there was no way Seolhwa would miss it.

She intended to root out any infiltrators hidden among the first-generation disciples.

“I understand.”

Yu Pyo glanced at the Black Dragon Division Commander and gave a small nod.

Finally, Seolhwa turned to Yu Gang.

“I would like the Young Master to help me naturally build rapport with the second-generation disciples, so I can get a sense of their condition.”

The second-generation disciples were likely to be close in age to Seolhwa and Yu Gang.

Previously, Yu Gang had said he was the strongest among his peers—which had probably referred to those very second-generation disciples.

Seolhwa did not know why Yu Gang was already a first-generation disciple at such a young age, but given his personality, he was likely close with the second-generation ones as well.

“Yes! Leave it to me.”

As expected, the answer came with full confidence.

“As for you, Lord Choryeon, please hasten the production of the poison as much as possible.”

Choryeon gave a nod in response.

She had been sacrificing sleep to focus on analyzing and manufacturing the antidote poison.

With that, Seolhwa took her seat.

When she turned her gaze to Namgoong Mucheon, the attention of everyone else followed naturally.

Namgoong Mucheon slowly looked over the group, then spoke in a heavy voice.

“That place is a battlefield.”

In an instant, the air grew taut.

“We do not know our enemy, nor do we understand our enemy’s thoughts.”

They said: ‘Know your enemy, know yourself, and you will win a hundred battles.’

But this was a battle against an enemy they could not know.

“However, do not forget—neither does the enemy know us.”

The Blood Demon Cult had no idea that the Namgoong Clan and Mount Hua had discovered the secret behind the hypnosis.

Since the Five Blood Lords had acted independently in deploying the hypnosis technique, even within the cult, there were few who knew of it.

There was no way they could suspect the hypnosis had been exposed.

“Do not try to kill—try to survive. Do not chase what is behind you—stay vigilant ahead. Above all, value your own life.”

This mission was not to wipe out the Blood Demon Cult.

It was to break the hypnosis on Mount Hua and eliminate the threat undermining the sect.

“So long as you live, do not forget—that alone is victory.”