He drew in a deep breath.

His whole body screamed in protest. He retrieved several elixirs, including the Shin Samhwan, from his duskbelt and shoved them into his mouth.

With eyes closed, he began circulating his qi rapidly.

Only after a short interval—about one quarter of an hour—was he finally able to stand up.

The fallen Thought-Form never rose again.

A brief glance to the side revealed Sim Munryong, seated in full lotus position.

Judging by his state, it was obvious he’d gained enlightenment and broken through to the Heaven-Earth Apex—but the timing couldn’t have been worse.

With no way of knowing when the secret realm would disappear, making such a leap now meant staking his life on an uncertain outcome.

A hollow laugh escaped him. Still, it was fine.

He had more or less expected this.

In his past life, Sim Munryong had been famous.

Setting aside the fact that he was a master of Limitless Embodiment, what made him truly unusual was one thing: Sim Munryong had ascended from the Ipshin Realm to the Heaven-Earth Apex in just two years.

Because of this, some called him a once-in-a-generation genius, while others swore he would one day reign supreme over all of Murim.

But, unfortunately, he died by my hand—before he could even make it into the upper ranks of the Murim Hierarchy, let alone claim supremacy.

Setting everything else aside, the fact that he reached the Heaven-Earth Apex in only two years meant that, given proper guidance, timely realization, and the right circumstances, such advancement could be replicated.

More importantly, unlike me, he hadn’t been born with the Madblood Veins, so he wouldn’t suffer any side effects.

It was unquestionably a tremendous breakthrough—but why now of all times?

Tch.

He clicked his tongue and stood up.

After glancing once at Sim Munryong and once at the exit, he walked toward the fallen Thought-Form.

Why had he fought it?

Secret realms were built around a basic structure: passing trials to obtain treasures.

The Thought-Form adjusted its strength to match the highest cultivation level of the intruders.

If the highest cultivator present was at Mythic Realm, the Thought-Form would manifest at the Heaven-Earth Apex.

If a Limitless Embodiment master entered, it would elevate to the Flower-Realm Manifestation.

In this case, there were two options for the intruders:

First, avoid the Thought-Form by any means necessary and escape.

Second, kill it.

Most would choose the first. And rightly so—it was the final trial, and one only had one life. There was no reason to take risks.

But what happened if someone chose the second?

The answer lay before him.

He silently reached for the two books strapped to the “waist” of the Thought-Form.

One was labeled:

Limitless Tai-eul Sword.

There was a point worth clarifying. Why was the Plum Blossom Sword Immortal so famous?

It was because of this martial art—the Limitless Tai-eul Sword—which he had created in collaboration with the head of Wudang.

The very technique that annihilated Black Wind Unit, one of the elite corps of the Millennial Demonic Sect.

A synthesis of Wudang’s and Mount Hua’s insights, this martial art alone ranked at the very pinnacle of the God-tier level.

That this Plum Blossom Sword Immortal had defected to the Demonic Sect remained a mystery, but at least the records said so.

He shoved the book into his chest and checked the second volume.

It was a kind of memoir.

The first page read:

—I write this not to record history, but to confess the sins of myself and my master. Should this memoir one day fall into someone’s hands, the world will have likely changed beyond recognition. But the truth must still be known. I entrust that to fate.

The second, third, and fourth pages followed.

He read them without even breathing.

There was no other way. The content demanded it.

To summarize it simply:

During the Millennial Chaos, the orthodox Murim forces were continuously driven back. To change this tide, the Plum Blossom Sword Immortal made a decision.

He became a spy for the Millennial Demonic Sect.

His goal was singular from the beginning:

To obtain one of the Three Sacred Treasures of the Demonic Sect—Celestial Origin Reflection.

To gain their trust, he handed over an avalanche of secrets: confidential intel from the Murim Alliance, meeting schedules, lists of operatives to be dispatched to various regions.

The consequences were catastrophic.

The Hwangbo Clan was wiped out.

Mount Heng Sect was annihilated.

Half the Namgung Clan was destroyed.

And in the end, the Emei Sect perished entirely.

But he gained entry into the innermost sanctum of the Demonic Sect.

There, a new accomplice appeared—Seol Heun, the founder of the Everlasting Snow Palace.

Together, they succeeded in stealing the Celestial Origin Reflection.

But that was only the beginning of the end.

His two disciples—Cheongmun and Baekhwa Jin-in—stood against him.

The Sword Immortal explained why he had done what he did, but betraying Murim was an unchangeable fact.

Thousands had died because of him. It was an unforgivable sin.

Baekhwa Jin-in, devastated by his master’s betrayal, cast a deathly poison on both of them—and the two perished together.

As he entered Final Radiance Reversion, the dying Sword Immortal handed the Celestial Origin Reflection to the tearful Cheongmun, telling him to give it to Seol Heun, who would be waiting at the appointed place.

He left behind one final, cryptic message:

If the sacred treasure remained in the hands of the Millennial Demonic Sect, then no matter who won the war—it wouldn’t be a true victory. It would merely be practice for them.

He said:

Only Seol Heun could hide it where no one could ever touch it.

And that in time, someone would surely appear who could use it to sever the Demonic Sect’s throat.

On the final page, the Plum Blossom Sword Immortal’s dying words were written clearly:

—My sins will be remembered forever in history. But my only wish is for the Celestial Origin Reflection to be safely preserved and for the ambitions of the Millennial Demonic Sect to be crushed. That alone is the only way I might atone.

He closed the book.

He understood now.

No matter how great Seol Heun was, the Millennial Demonic Sect had once ruled the entirety of Murim.

To infiltrate their deepest stronghold and steal a sacred treasure? Alone, it would’ve been impossible.

He needed help—and that help had been the Plum Blossom Sword Immortal.

In the end, the Sword Immortal had made the right choice.

There was no way Won Geukcheon didn’t know the value of the Celestial Origin Reflection. If it hadn’t been stolen, they’d still be living in a world ruled by the Demonic Sect.

Mount Hua had not betrayed the orthodox path.

He didn’t particularly like the saying, “sacrifice the few for the many,” but in this case, it seemed to hold some truth.

He placed both volumes into his duskbelt.

The exit was still open, and Sim Munryong was still circulating his cultivation.

If the exit even showed the slightest sign of closing, he would drag Sim Munryong out by his hair.

He stayed tense, ready to act at any moment.

Time passed.

One quarter of an hour. Then another.

Half a shichen. One full shichen.

Then two. Then three.

Time passed.

Suddenly, Sim Munryong’s eyes flew open, and the exit began to shimmer and contract.

“Wow… hahaha—!! I’ve reached the Heaven—hurk!”

Unhwi instantly grabbed him by the hair and launched himself toward the exit.

***

Having emerged outside, Commander Seong immediately scanned the surroundings.

Rusty swords and abandoned weapons hung around, buried under layers of dust thick enough to wrinkle the nose.

It was obvious.

This place was an old armory, not far from Icewhite Gorge.

It had long been decommissioned and left to rot—and yet, they ended up here.

It gave him an odd feeling.

Commander Seong turned his head.

The Four Blood Shadow Brothers stood there, confused.

He spoke with finality.

“Pure as snow a thousand years old.”

They straightened at once and responded in unison:

“Shadowed like a lingering soul.”

As with any group, hierarchy existed here too.

Though Commander Seong served directly under Unhwi as his personal protector, he was also a senior of the White Snow Mourning Corps, far above the four men in standing.

He asked,

“Are you upset?”

“…No, sir.”

“Lord Hyun Seolrin is not someone who acts without thought. The reason he sent you out with me is twofold: first, because he does not yet trust you four. Second, because your strength is insufficient.”

“…We understand.”

There was no more to be said.

Commander Seong shifted the topic.

“What’s your opinion of Sibiryeong?”

“…He speaks frivolously, but he’s a man of great responsibility.”

“If he rebuilds Mount Hua, would you follow him?”

“…That’s a hard question to answer lightly.”

“Then may I offer some advice?”

The four looked startled.

“…You don’t need our permission, sir. You’re our senior—please speak freely.”

“Make a choice you won’t regret.”

“…Regret, sir?”

“The Lord I serve, Hyun Seolrin, always says this: Trust for trust. Loyalty for respect. Grace for grace. And grudge for grudge.”

“…”

“If your path is to remain shadows of the White Snow Mourning Corps, then I’ll report that to Lord Seolrin. But if even a sliver of you desires to walk your own path—then follow Sibiryeong. Lord Seolrin’s judgment has never once been wrong.”

At his words, the four felt something.

Absolute faith.

It was deeply impressive.

“…I’m worried,” said I Myeong.

Commander Seong turned his head.

“That being… was no ordinary existence. At minimum, it was Heaven-Earth Apex. Will they be alright…?”

It was impossible that they didn’t know how many superior martial artists Unhwi had already slain.

Sim Munryong, too, was considered a ‘genius’ in his own right.

Some might think that if the two joined forces, they could kill even a Heaven-Earth Apex master.

But there was a reason that realm was what it was.

That level was not something to take lightly.

They could topple mountains and alter the flow of nature.

To face one required at least five Mythic Realm martial artists acting in concert.

That was the Heaven-Earth Apex.

They may have defeated Gok Jinbung, but this was an entirely different matter.

The chances of death were extraordinarily high.

“This is something Lord Seolrin decided,” Seong said firmly. “He’s never wrong. And they won’t die. So stop worrying.”

At those resolute words, everyone fell silent.

Time passed.

Suddenly, from the air, Unhwi emerged, gripping Sim Munryong by the hair.

Commander Seong grinned brightly.

“Didn’t I tell you? Lord Seolrin’s judgment has never failed—not even once.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep