Sim Munryong, whose hair was being pulled, didn’t even have the time to protest.

In his heart, Unhwi had already become more than just a once-in-a-lifetime benefactor. The very first thought that crossed his mind was that there must be a reason for Unhwi grabbing his hair. The second was that—well, even if there wasn’t, it was still Unhwi, so there must’ve been some necessity behind it. And the third was a more fundamental question: Was it even right to resist this?

In the martial world, judging and treating others based on cultivation level wasn’t unusual in the least.

But before being a martial artist, Unhwi was a man with the qualifications to lead and command others.

In Sim Munryong’s mind, Unhwi already stood far above him.

So, he asked—politely, in his own way.

“…Hey. When are you gonna let go of my hair?”

Unhwi stared blankly at him for a moment, then released his grip.

Seriously.

“How many times do I have to save your life before it counts?”

“Heh, why are you being like this now? I’m not exactly dead weight, am I?”

“You still fall way short.”

Saying that, Unhwi pulled out two books from his duskbelt and handed them to him.

“What’s this now? When did you—wait…?”

Sim Munryong’s eyes widened.

“…Limitless… Tai-eul Sword…? Wait—this is that one? The one from the Plum Blossom Sword Immortal?”

Unhwi nodded.

“The Limitless Tai-eul Sword is yours. As for the other book, read it and then destroy it—or rather, return it.”

Sim Munryong scratched his head but nodded in understanding.

While he read, Unhwi walked over to Commander Seong.

“Were you worried?”

“…Just look at you. Seriously… how couldn’t I be?”

Unhwi let out a small laugh.

Blood was still seeping from multiple spots on his body, but there were no lethal wounds.

By avoiding a drawn-out fight and unleashing everything in a short burst, he’d avoided the worst.

If it had gone on even a little longer, he would have sustained mortal injuries.

To be clear—Unhwi could not defeat a martial artist at the Heaven-Earth Apex.

The difference in realm was too absolute. No amount of experience or cleverness could bridge that gap.

The strongest opponent Unhwi could kill was a Mythic Realm martial artist.

Commander Seong accepted Unhwi’s weapons and spoke softly.

“You’re badly hurt… Please, just rest for a while.”

Unhwi nodded and let himself collapse beside a large crate in the corner.

Commander Seong sat down next to him.

Trying to change the subject, he spoke up.

“First time in the old armory?”

“Yeah.”

“You know the history of this place?”

Unhwi shook his head.

While tending to his wounds, Commander Seong began speaking slowly.

The Old Armory.

It carried a history of its own.

The Everlasting Snow Palace had always been steeped in war.

Wars with nations. Wars with martial sects. Wars with barbarians.

War, war, and more war.

They led thousands, tens of thousands of troops, expanding their territory generation after generation… until it ended under Seol Jungcheon, who became palace lord a few decades ago.

He made a pact with neighboring countries—including the Yang Empire—in exchange for disbanding the ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) Palace Army, and that’s how the modern Everlasting Snow Palace came to be.

Neither a state nor a sect.

Something in between.

Still, they secured dominance over the martial world beyond the Central Plains.

The people of the Snow Mountains hailed Seol Jungcheon’s strategy as genius. The people of the Yang Empire derided it as filth beneath contempt.

And they had their reasons.

Yes, Seol Jungcheon disbanded the army.

The tens of thousands of troops vanished—but the way it was done was… different.

One might call it a transformation into an elite force.

What was born in place of the disbanded army was the Seolcheon Guard.

Comprised of only a few thousand martial artists, they weren’t an army—but martial warriors.

A linguistic trick, maybe, but technically, the army had been “disbanded,” so no one could fault the justification.

The Seolcheon Guard was established as a sub-branch of the White Spirit Guard, and soon solidified its place.

They stood against barbarian invasions at the Windwall and protected the borders of the Everlasting Snow Palace.

To appease the enraged Yang Empire, Seol Jungcheon specifically did not station the Seolcheon Guard along their shared border.

If he hadn’t done that, war might have broken out again. But Seol Jungcheon gave them a sliver of face—and so they backed off.

“They say this place used to house all kinds of armaments… I think this was the site. Somewhere near here, they say ten thousand Yang soldiers were wiped out wholesale. When was it again… maybe 90 years ago?”

Seol Jungcheon hadn’t become Palace Lord for nothing.

Though outsiders praised him as a genius, he’d always run the Palace by weighing real gains.

Yes, he’d lost his way in later years, and his clarity had dulled—but he was no fool.

The story trailed off as Unhwi’s body recovered enough for him to walk.

At that moment, Commander Seong’s eyes turned upward—toward Sim Munryong, now leaping high into the air, summoning hundreds of shattered weapons from the armory and executing sword-flight techniques.

“Jealous?”

“I’m not a child. Jealous? Me?”

Commander Seong said it, but there was a hint of lingering regret in his tone.

When was it?

He’d first met Sim Munryong about half a year and a month ago.

At the time, their realms had been the same.

But just days later, Sim Munryong broke through to the Mythic Realm. And now he had reached the Heaven-Earth Apex.

This was… incredibly rare.

A martial artist skipping two entire stages was the sort of thing that happened only at the Heaven-Human Apex, not at the Heaven-Earth Apex.

An Ipshin Realm martial artist breaking through twice in the span of a year?

Once this got out, there wouldn’t be a single person in Murim who didn’t know Sim Munryong’s name.

“Don’t be envious. It happens, now and then. Martial artists like him.”

“Is that so?”

Unhwi, watching Sim Munryong read the book from afar, replied.

“Born with outstanding talent, honed to perfection—but with growth that stops just short of transcendence. In the Original Blood Sect, we call people like that ‘Flash Geniuses.’”

Commander Seong nodded.

“In Sim Munryong’s case, he’ll grow faster than anyone else up to the peak of the Heaven-Human Apex. His rise is as natural as water flowing downhill.”

“So he’ll keep growing fast?”

Unhwi shook his head.

“No. He’ll stop one day—like hitting a wall. That’s the hallmark of flash geniuses.”

“A wall…?”

“You saw it yourself. In Senior No Cheonmyeong’s case.”

At that, Commander Seong’s eyes widened.

“You mean Sim Munryong is the same as… No Cheonmyeong?”

“He is.”

“Then… Sim Munryong will also…”

“He’ll likely remain at the Heaven-Earth Apex for the next ten, maybe twenty years.”

Unhwi’s voice held certainty.

“And this is something I’ve been meaning to say eventually. Up to the Heaven-Human Apex, you can climb with talent and instinct alone. But after that—it’s different. You need a profound understanding of martial arts, and your own personal martial path.”

Commander Seong looked at him.

“Commander Seong.”

“Yes… young master?”

“Don’t rush. Don’t be impatient.”

“…”

“I’ll say it again. Just being by my side already helps me greatly.”

Commander Seong scratched his head.

“And one more thing.”

Unhwi slowly stood up.

“Once we reach Cheonyeomeng, I want you to finally tell me… what exactly your father did in the past.”

Commander Seong smiled faintly.

“Of course, young master.”

Right on cue, Sim Munryong returned to them.

His expression had grown quite serious—and understandably so.

While Unhwi was speaking with Commander Seong, Sim Munryong had read the book five times.

“…Hey. That Thought-Form earlier… you think it had a consciousness?”

He clearly couldn’t get it off his mind.

What was written in the book was enough to make anyone stop feeling ashamed of Mount Hua.

Unhwi answered.

“It didn’t.”

“…You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

There wasn’t a shred of hesitation in his voice.

But unfortunately—it was a benevolent lie.

That Thought-Form had been imbued with Cheongmun’s will, even if only through killing intent.

Otherwise, it couldn’t have manifested Cheongmun’s martial arts.

But Unhwi had no desire to share that.

“That’s a relief.”

Sim Munryong visibly relaxed.

If there had been awareness, then it would’ve heard every single word he said—about betrayal, about being ashamed.

“Whew… seriously, thank god.”

Still scratching his head, Sim Munryong handed the book back to Unhwi.

“Thanks.”

Unhwi accepted it with a nod.

“When you rebuild Mount Hua, come get it then.”

“…Will do.”

Then Sim Munryong suddenly tilted his head.

“When do you think would be a good time to start rebuilding Mount Hua? Got any advice?”

“That’s not the real question.”

“…Huh?”

“The important question is where you’re going to rebuild it.”

Sim Munryong scratched his head.

He wasn’t wrong.

The original Mount Hua was one of the Five Great Peaks, located on West Peak (Seoak)—but the entire range had vanished during the Millennial Chaos.

There wasn’t a trace of it left. So he had to pick a new location.

Sim Munryong, apparently already considering options, answered quickly.

“I was thinking of Gongneung or Sichuan?”

At that, Unhwi and Commander Seong chuckled. The Four Blood Shadow Brothers gaped in disbelief.

And rightly so.

What was in Gongneung?

The Murim Alliance.

What was in Sichuan?

The Sichuan Alliance.

Sim Munryong was essentially saying he’d bulldoze both factions and build Mount Hua there.

Anyone would react that way.

Unhwi smiled.

“If you want to become a grandmaster of your generation, you need that kind of ambition.”

Then, almost as if he’d been waiting, he tossed out a suggestion:

“There are quite a few famous peaks near Jeogan.”

“…Huh?”

“It’s a coastal city. Great scenery. If you sail out, it’s not far from the Central Plains. And it’s close to the Snow Palace too. You should at least consider it.”

At that moment, Sim Munryong felt it.

He might’ve been a Go prodigy back in the South, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Whoa… wait a sec. Are you trying to make Mount Hua a branch of the Everlasting Snow Palace?”

“Just consider it.”

Sim Munryong wiped a hand down his face and responded firmly.

“Too much to ask for a branch. But an alliance? That we can talk about.”

“We’ll discuss it when the time comes.”

It wasn’t the right moment to decide such things anyway.

But as the conversation carried on, Sim Munryong suddenly realized—there was one very important thing he still hadn’t asked…

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep