People must constantly prove themselves in life.

Or rather, everyone already does—the only difference is whether they are aware of it or not.

But among all people, martial artists have an even greater burden of proof.

They must prove that, despite wielding a blade, they are not mere butchers.

They must prove that they are still strong, unyielding, and not to be challenged lightly.

A martial artist carries countless proofs on their shoulders.

If one who wields a sword wishes to coexist with those who do not, and if they wish to stand tall among their fellow swordsmen, then proving themselves is unavoidable.

And now, at this moment, I too was faced with a moment of proof.

“This is a misunderstanding.”

Tang Sowol looked down at me, her eyes cold as I lay on the bed.

Beside her, clinging closely, was Seol Lihyang, wearing a similar expression.

They didn’t believe me at all.

Still, I had to prove it.

I had to prove that what had just happened was not something indecent…!

“Senior Seorin, could you please step aside for a moment?”

“Hiccup!”

Startled beyond measure, Seorin let out a hiccup as she scrambled off of me.

Perhaps it was thanks to the Golden Boar Physician’s medicine, Seorin’s Qi Circulation Acupoint Therapy, and my focused qi circulation training, but my body was now almost back to normal in terms of basic movement.

I would still need more time before I could handle internal energy as smoothly as before, but at least I could move without issue.

Rising from the bed beside the now-barefoot Seorin, who stood there awkwardly, I spread my arms lightly and approached Tang Sowol.

It was best to ease the tension first before trying to explain anything.

“It’s good to see you again. How have you been? On my end, I’ve had some experiences that are almost too unbelievable to—”

“Stop. Do not take another step.”

Tang Sowol extended a single finger, halting me mid-motion.

Her gaze held distrust, unease, and… a hint of reluctant understanding.

Understanding what, exactly?

As I hesitated, she spoke in a trembling voice.

“Brother Cheon. Do you realize? Everyone here has come searching for you. Both Lihyang and I have been overwhelmed with worry, and yet we stand here now.”

“…I’m sorry.”

Tang Sowol had already heard my explanation before.

And precisely because she had, seeing me suddenly holed up in one place like this must have made her even more anxious.

“I am not looking for an apology. After all, had I been in your position, you would have done the same for me.”

“Of course. Even if you were at the very edge of the Central Plains, or even in the outer lands, I would find you.”

“Yes, I know that well. That’s why, after these past few days of torment, just seeing your face safe and sound has turned all that anxiety into relief.”

“…A few days?”

A middle-aged man, dressed in fine clothes yet giving off an oddly disheveled aura—likely the Murim Alliance Leader—raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Tang Sowol ignored him and pressed on with her words.

“However, there is something else that is troubling me right now.”

I had a bad feeling about what was coming next.

Before I could brace myself, she lifted the same finger and pointed between me and Seorin.

“The two of you. Just how did you become so close? And Brother Cheon… do you actually have… such a peculiar taste—”

“No.”

“Absolutely not!”

Seorin and I denied it in unison, reacting with such urgency that we nearly tripped over our own words.

“That was not anything strange! It was purely a medical procedure.”

“T-That is correct! I was using my feet, yes, but it was still Qi Circulation Acupoint Therapy! Nothing more!”

Seorin flailed her arms dramatically, as if trying to physically convey her innocence.

But then, Seol Lihyang’s eyes widened, and she let out a startled cry.

“Qi Circulation Acupoint Therapy?!”

“Y-Yes. Is… is there something wrong with that?”

“Of course, there’s something wrong!”

Tang Sowol’s voice dropped to a calm yet firm tone.

“Take your time adjusting to new titles, but for now, speak freely and explain. What exactly is so problematic about this?”

“What’s wrong?! The problem is that Seorin—no, Lady Seorin herself performed Qi Circulation Acupoint Therapy for Cheon Hwi!”

“Lady…?”

Seorin’s eyes widened in shock, her mouth left hanging open.

She had only recently regained her youth, but she had long been used to being addressed with titles of respect.

So she wasn’t reacting to that.

No, what likely stunned her was that Seol Lihyang, who had always treated her like an equal, had just addressed her with such formal reverence.

Even if their bonds had been forged while her identity was hidden, Seorin had clearly cherished her relationship with Tang Sowol and Seol Lihyang.

Seorin, still stunned, could only blink as Seol Lihyang’s face turned red.

“Qi Circulation Acupoint Therapy… That’s… that’s…!”

Unable to finish her sentence, Seol Lihyang seemed lost in a spiral of thoughts.

Perhaps she had imagined something far beyond reality.

Seorin tilted her head, looking puzzled, and took a step forward—

But before she could move any closer, a weathered wooden staff quietly intervened between her and the rest of us.

“We have a more pressing matter to settle first, do we not?”

The Murim Alliance Leader had finally made his move.

Tang Jincheon, observing from the side, took a step forward as well, positioning himself naturally in front of Tang Sowol and me.

The scene had shifted.

It was now clear—the Murim Alliance Leader and Tang Jincheon were containing Seorin while ensuring we remained behind them.

The situation was just as tense as before, but now, the focus had changed.

The air grew sharper, teetering on the edge of violence.

Seorin recognized this and took a step back before speaking in a calm voice.

“First, This One apologizes for concealing my identity and entering the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering. Additionally, I apologize for causing a disturbance by taking Cheon Hwi with me.”

“Destroying half the tournament grounds and escaping leisurely with a hostage—that seems like too much to dismiss with a simple apology.”

“You are not wrong. Then how about this? Since This One has disrupted the Murim Alliance’s affairs once, I shall now assist the Murim Alliance—on the condition that it is a just and honorable cause.”

“…The Murim Alliance is not always purely righteous, but we strive to be. I did not expect to hear such words from the White-Haired Rakshasa of all people.”

“I rejected the Black Lotus Sect’s invitation. That alone should tell you where I stand.”

“The Black Lotus Sect? This situation seems more complex than I expected. Explain in detail.”

“That was my intention from the start.”

Shrugging, Seorin took a few steps back and sat down on the very bed I had been lying on.

“The reason I took Cheon Hwi… No, before that, I should first explain why I chose to participate in the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering.”

She let out a small sigh before turning her gaze toward me.

I gave her a small nod.

Only then did she finally begin.

“When one reaches the Flowering Stage, they undergo a profound transformation. But do you know why so few reach the level of Rejuvenation?”

***

Seorin explained everything—

Everything except for a few key details.

She omitted the part where I had asked her to kidnap me.

She left out the overwhelming killing intent I had unleashed against the Black Sky Sword Sect.

But aside from those, she told them everything.

Her days as the White-Haired Rakshasa, consumed by revenge.

Her self-imposed exile, tormented by guilt over the excessive blood on her hands.

Her rise to the Flowering Stage while mastering the Seo Mun Clan’s recovered martial arts.

How her regrets and lingering attachments influenced her transformation, allowing her to achieve Rejuvenation.

How she descended the mountain, now bearing the forgotten face of her childhood, and encountered us.

How she impulsively took me after recognizing traces of Seo Mun techniques in my swordsmanship, interrogating me for answers.

How she met the Black Lotus Sect Master due to the unfinished remnants of her past.

And finally, how I had wiped out the Black Sky Sword Sect.

By the time she finished, Seorin nodded slightly, a trace of exhaustion visible in her expression.

“…That is how it happened.”

“Honestly, it’s difficult to believe.”

The Murim Alliance Leader turned his gaze toward me and spoke.

“But… thinking it through, it’s not entirely unreasonable.”

He continued, his voice calm but calculating.

“It is not uncommon for survivors of supposedly annihilated clans or sects to exist. Nor is it unheard of for a dying master to pass their martial arts onto a fated successor.”

As the leader of the Murim Alliance, he was privy to the fates of many sects.

He had undoubtedly heard countless tales—of sects falling, of their martial legacies being passed down and resurrected.

“It also makes sense that the Black Lotus Sect Master would approach you personally upon hearing that the White-Haired Rakshasa had reached the Flowering Stage.”

The Black Lotus Sect Master was a man utterly consumed by ambition.

A man who sought greater power, more wealth, higher status, a vast army—one who desired to bring the world itself under his heel.

His natural talent aside, it was that insatiable greed that had driven him to reach his current level.

Though the Alliance Leader had lowered his staff, the sharp glint in his eyes showed he was still wary.

“However, there is one part I simply cannot believe. You expect me to accept that this young man—this lone individual—annihilated an entire sect? A sect led by a Sub-Perfection Stage martial artist?”

His words carried skepticism.

“Frankly, it is easier to assume that the White-Haired Rakshasa is hiding something and using this poor boy as a cover.”

Seorin let out a sigh, clearly troubled by how absurd it sounded.

But before she could respond, Tang Jincheon, the Poison King, spoke up.

“Alliance Leader. I don’t think she’s lying.”

“Tang Clan Leader. No matter how highly you regard your future son-in-law, there are limits to what one can believe. At the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering, his strength was undoubtedly impressive—astonishingly so for his age. But Sub-Perfection Stage is an entirely different level.”

Tang Jincheon smirked, his arms crossed.

“Even when he was merely a first-rate martial artist, my son-in-law took down four Peak Stage experts.”

“…What?”

The Alliance Leader’s brow furrowed.

Tang Jincheon nodded and continued.

“It was some time ago. A group with a grudge against the Tang Clan attempted to assassinate my daughter, Sowol. My son-in-law killed them. The leader of the assassins had already entered the Sub-Perfection Stage, though just barely.”

“Hoooh.”

A flicker of interest crossed the Alliance Leader’s face.

Tang Jincheon smirked.

“Then there’s the time he avenged us against a demon cultist. He was unstable at the time due to demonic influence, but he still took down two fully-matured Peak Stage masters back-to-back. In the end, he even briefly manifested sword energy.”

The Alliance Leader let out a slow exhale.

“That… is remarkable indeed. I know that martial prowess alone does not always determine victory, but sword energy is no trivial matter.”

Then, as if something had just occurred to him, he asked,

“By the way, who was the last one?”

“The branch leader of the Hao Clan.”

“Ah.”

“That fight was slightly different. The man was suffering from an internal cultivation backlash and was unable to utilize his full strength.”

Even after hearing the full story, the Murim Alliance Leader still looked unconvinced.

I smiled slightly and offered a respectful gesture.

“It seems I’ve delayed my introduction. I am Cheon Hwi-da.”

Then, I straightened my posture and met his gaze head-on.

“I understand that my internal injuries have dampened my presence, but… if you will permit me to draw my sword, I will prove myself.”

The Alliance Leader studied me for a moment.

Then, he nodded.

“If you are that insistent—go ahead. Draw your blade.”

At his approval, I reached for my sword.

Not the Tang Clan’s blade, which had been dulled and chipped from my last battle.

Instead, I drew the newly forged black iron sword.

I wasn’t fully recovered yet, so my capabilities were limited.

But—

Revealing a glimpse of my presence was still well within my ability.

Focusing my mind, I gripped the cold hilt, my fingers wrapping around the metal like roots digging into the earth.

Somewhere deep inside, something clicked into place.

Like roots merging with the soil.

Like branches extending from a trunk.

A singular connection, uninterrupted and absolute.

—Wuuung.

Though I had infused no qi, the blade trembled, letting out a low, resonant hum.

A sound not of steel, but of something far greater.

The sound of a sword narrowing the gap between itself and its wielder.

The sound of Sword-Heart Unity.

A sound that proved my worth.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep