Spring had once again arrived at Nangyang Pavilion.
On a gentle day in the third month of spring, with a soft breeze blowing, a martial artist clad in black robes arrived at Nangyang Pavilion.
“I bear the Demon Emperor’s command to bring Nangyang Pavilion’s disciple, Bu Eunseol, to Majeon,” he announced.
He did not reveal his affiliation, for the emblem of twin dragons vying for a pearl, symbolizing Majeon, was embroidered on his sleeve—a mark reserved for high-ranking figures of the sect, at least of the hall leader rank.
“Understood,” Bu Eunseol replied.
He bid farewell to Dan Cheong, Master Iron, the Peongan Corps Leader, and others. Without hesitation, he stepped outside. At the entrance of Nangyang Pavilion stood a resplendent eight-horse carriage, gleaming with black lacquer, surrounded by escorts on black steeds.
‘Quite the reception,’ Bu Eunseol thought. Having entered Majeon twice before, he had never received such treatment. Only now, seeing the escort, did he realize the significance of being a candidate for Majeon’s successor.
“Please board,” the martial artist said, courteously gesturing toward the carriage.
If he entered Majeon now, Bu Eunseol would likely be officially recognized as a candidate for its successor.
Clatter, clatter.
The black eight-horse carriage, adorned with Majeon’s banner, left Geommi Mountain and sped along the main road. Black-clad riders led the way, while high-ranking Demon Sect masters discreetly guarded the carriage’s flanks.
Inside, Bu Eunseol sat, gazing out the window with an empty expression.
‘A candidate for Majeon’s successor,’ he thought, taking a deep breath and shaking his head lightly. ‘I only wanted to remain a disciple of Nangyang Pavilion.’ Ascending to a high position wasn’t always a blessing. To reign over others demanded a price paid in blood.
‘It’s like riding a tiger,’ he mused. Power, once grasped, was hard to relinquish—not only for its sweet allure but because letting go could turn it into a dagger aimed at one’s own heart.
‘Now that the Demon Emperor knows of me, the sect’s leaders and the powers of the Ten Demon Sects will be watching,’ Bu Eunseol thought, a bitter smile crossing his lips.
If becoming a candidate for Majeon’s successor was unavoidable, he would have to hold onto that position to the end.
But something was strange. The carriage, which should have been heading toward the capital, suddenly veered toward a desolate outskirts.
It stopped at the entrance of a vast, abandoned manor where no one lived. The carriage came to a halt, but no sound followed.
Creak.
As Bu Eunseol stepped out, the escorts and even the coachman had vanished.
‘Is this another test from Majeon? Or…’ he wondered. Gazing at the wide-open gates of the abandoned manor, Bu Eunseol walked inside without a hint of panic.
The exterior was dusty, but the interior had been meticulously cleaned, as if someone had prepared it.
“Come in,” a low voice called from within.
As he entered, a clean curtain hung across the room, and a man’s voice spoke again. “You’ve become a true martial artist of the world.”
The voice behind the curtain felt vaguely familiar. Bu Eunseol remained silent, and a tall shadow slowly emerged from behind the curtain.
The man who appeared was dressed in ornate silk robes. Though he hid his face behind a fan, Bu Eunseol recognized him instantly from his eyes and physique.
“…!”
“You know who I am, don’t you?” the man said, his tone warm and familiar. “I don’t recall ever showing you my true face.”
“Your voice and eyes are the same,” Bu Eunseol replied.
“Ho! Sharp memory—or perhaps keen perception,” the man said, letting out an admiring chuckle.
He slowly lowered the fan, revealing a strikingly handsome face with pale skin and a sharp nose. Yet his eyes carried a cynical, languid air, exuding a decadent aura.
“Let me introduce myself properly,” the man said, smiling. “I am Do Cheonlin, the young master of the Blood Flame Blade Sect.”
Back on Hell Island, he was the masked man who had first invited Bu Eunseol to join their group. He was none other than Do Cheonlin, the legitimate heir of the Blood Flame Blade Sect.
“Curious,” Bu Eunseol said. “Can the Blood Flame Blade Sect command Majeon’s masters?”
Do Cheonlin chuckled. “It’s not that my clan commanded Majeon’s masters. The masters were simply from my clan.” He gazed at Bu Eunseol as if studying an amusing toy. “You’re as taciturn as ever. Even back on Hell Island, you barely spoke.”
Pausing, his eyes gleamed. “You’re not asking anything. Aren’t you curious why I brought you here?”
“You’ll tell me eventually,” Bu Eunseol replied.
Do Cheonlin nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Always cutting to the core. I like that.” Twirling his fan, he suddenly adopted a grave expression. “Abandon going to Majeon.”
His tone shifted to one of command, as if addressing a subordinate.
“…”
“Being Majeon’s successor isn’t a role a martial artist like you, devoted to the path of martial arts, can handle,” Do Cheonlin said.
Bu Eunseol remained silent, but this silence carried a different weight—a clear refusal.
“If you refuse, the moment you head to Majeon, that path will become a river of blood,” Do Cheonlin said, sighing and shaking his head. “Because far too many don’t want you to be recognized as a successor.”
“And one of them is the young master of the Blood Flame Blade Sect,” Bu Eunseol said.
“Hahaha,” Do Cheonlin laughed, nodding candidly. “Correct. I, too, don’t want you to become a candidate for Majeon’s successor.” His tone shifted back to the warmth of an old friend. “If you abandon going to Majeon, my clan will ensure your safety.”
“Safety?” Bu Eunseol asked.
“Indeed,” Do Cheonlin said coldly. “You made a grave mistake trusting Majeon’s envoy and leaving Nangyang Pavilion alone. Many righteous and demonic masters are targeting you. They’ll arrive here soon. By then, even if you want to return to Nangyang Pavilion, you won’t be able to.”
“…”
“But if you abandon becoming Majeon’s successor, my clan’s masters will immediately escort you back to Nangyang Pavilion safely,” Do Cheonlin said.
“That’s strange,” Bu Eunseol said calmly. “For one of the Ten Demon Sects to intercept a Nangyang Pavilion disciple heading to Majeon under the Demon Emperor’s command…”
“I don’t know about other matters, but the Demon Emperor doesn’t interfere in the struggles among successor candidates,” Do Cheonlin said, his eyes flashing. “He himself ascended to that position through such trials.”
He fixed Bu Eunseol with a piercing gaze. “What will you do? Will you abandon the path to Majeon?”
“I refuse,” Bu Eunseol said firmly.
Do Cheonlin let out a deep sigh. “You always reject my offers. What a pity.” Shaking his head, he stepped back with a smile. “It’s a shame, but this may be the last time I see you.”
“We’ll see,” Bu Eunseol replied.
“I know you’re the greatest among the Ten Demon Warriors,” Do Cheonlin said, “but this time, survival will be difficult.”
Gazing at the distant sky, he bared his white teeth. “It’s already begun. I hope you survive.” Without hesitation, he turned and disappeared behind the curtain.
Swish.
With the rustle of the curtain, Do Cheonlin’s presence vanished completely. Bu Eunseol turned and walked out of the abandoned manor.
Do Cheonlin’s words about it having already begun were true.
As he stepped outside the gate, seven Taoist priests in flowing robes blocked his path. Though not old, their eyes gleamed sharply, and they wore the Tai Chi swords of the Wudang Sect at their waists.
These were the Seven Swords of Wudang.
If Shaolin had the One Hundred Eight Arhat Formation, Wudang had the ancient supreme formations: the Seven Star Sword Formation and the Heavenly Big Dipper Formation. The Seven Star Sword Formation required only mastery of the formation, but the Heavenly Big Dipper Formation demanded seven masters who had perfected the Lesser Clarity Sword.
For generations, Wudang had selected disciples capable of executing this formation flawlessly—the Seven Swords of Wudang.
“Are you the Ten Demon Warrior of Nangyang Pavilion?” asked Yeong Heo, the eldest among them, stepping forward.
Bu Eunseol nodded, and Yeong Heo spoke in a low voice. “Very well. Prepare yourself.” The Seven Swords of Wudang arranged themselves in the pattern of the Big Dipper, drawing their swords in a low stance, ready to unleash the Heavenly Big Dipper Formation.
“I have no particular ties with Wudang,” Bu Eunseol said. “Just leave.”
He had no desire to fight the Seven Swords of Wudang. They weren’t righteous masters, and their strength lay in formation techniques rather than swordsmanship, which didn’t appeal to him.
“Wudang has always valued the code of righteousness,” Yeong Heo said, his expression solemn. “Recently, the Ten Demon Warriors from Majeon have not only killed righteous masters but have wreaked havoc in the martial world.”
“Havoc?” Bu Eunseol said, a faint smile crossing his lips. “Surely you’re not calling my duels with righteous masters havoc.”
In truth, the one responsible for such havoc was Seok Woohaeng. He hadn’t fought fairly, using assassination techniques, poison, and traps against righteous masters and pursuers.
“What havoc have I caused?” Bu Eunseol asked, staring directly at Yeong Heo. “Or does Wudang have evidence of my misdeeds in the martial world?”
Caught off guard by Bu Eunseol’s pointed questioning, Yeong Heo faltered, his expression flustered. “Of course… it’s not that you’ve caused havoc yet. But won’t you eventually challenge our sect’s righteous masters?”
“Is challenging righteous masters considered havoc?” Bu Eunseol asked.
“You’re a Ten Demon Warrior,” Yeong Heo said. “Who knows when you’ll commit the same deeds as your comrades?”
It was a flimsy argument. Staring at Yeong Heo’s brazen expression, Bu Eunseol narrowed his eyes. ‘These are people you can’t reason with.’
Shaolin and Wudang were pillars of the Nine Great Sects. When Bu Eunseol defeated their righteous masters, they felt their prestige had been tarnished. Otherwise, the esteemed Seven Swords of Wudang wouldn’t have come to confront him.
‘This will be a dull fight,’ he thought.
The Seven Swords of Wudang excelled not in swordsmanship but in executing the Heavenly Big Dipper Formation. A battle focused on breaking the formation’s unique mechanics, rather than clashing sword techniques, wasn’t enjoyable for Bu Eunseol.
“Be on guard,” Yeong Heo said. “We will now unleash Wudang’s Heavenly Big Dipper Formation.”
Despite his words, Bu Eunseol stood motionless.
“Draw your sword,” Yeong Heo urged.
“I’ll draw it when the time comes. Don’t worry about it,” Bu Eunseol replied.
“We don’t fight opponents who don’t wield weapons,” Yeong Heo said.
“How amusing,” Bu Eunseol muttered, gazing at the distant sky as if speaking to himself. “Seven ganging up on one is righteous, but striking an unarmed opponent isn’t?”
His eyes glinted with a blood-red light as he looked down at Yeong Heo. “Isn’t that laughable?”
Yeong Heo’s face flushed red as he shouted, “We are merely upholding the righteous spirit of the orthodox sects! How can you call it ganging up when it’s for justice?”
“I see,” Bu Eunseol said coldly, flicking his hand. “Then hurry up and uphold your martial world’s justice. No need to waste more time.”
“You’re an unreasonable demon!” Yeong Heo cried. “Begin!”
At his command, the other Six Swords of Wudang moved swiftly, stepping in intricate patterns. A faint glow emanated from their bodies, creating a strange pressure around Bu Eunseol.
The Heavenly Big Dipper Formation.
Wudang’s supreme formation was about to unfold.
Whoosh!
At the same time, the air around Bu Eunseol compressed, and a fierce wind swirled from his fists.
The Seven Fist Demon Forms. He intended to counter the Heavenly Big Dipper Formation with this ancient fist technique.
Thud, thud, thud.
At that moment, the sound of air splitting and dozens of footsteps echoed from the distant sky. Soon, over forty shadows began to appear at the entrance of the abandoned manor.
‘Those are…!’ Bu Eunseol thought, his eyes flashing with red energy.
They were masters clad in the robes of the Hell’s Blood Fortress.
