Two days had passed.

Unhwi stood at the entrance of Seongrim Mountain. The wound on his left shoulder had not yet completely healed, but it no longer hindered his daily movements.

Behind him stood quite a number of people.

Excluding Pung Muhwi of Wind Sword Pavilion and Commander Seong, there were exactly twenty.

They were elites selected from the various sects belonging to the Martial Alliance, and each one of them was at least at the level of Three Flowers Gathering Purity.

Pung Muhwi approached Unhwi and spoke.

“Master Cheonsusa. Preparations are complete.”

Since the conversation they had had two nights ago, Pung Muhwi’s attitude toward Unhwi had changed greatly.

It wasn’t simply the manner of one acknowledging a stronger man, but closer to the reverence of someone who had received enlightenment — a kind of grace.

Unhwi paid it no mind.

“Have you decided on a unit name?”

“Yes. We have named it Heaven-Falling Unit (Cheonrakbu).”

“Heaven-Falling Unit…”

Unhwi repeated the name. The band that falls from the heavens. Not a bad meaning.

He walked forward, standing before the twenty warriors.

“As you’ve already been told, what you of the Heaven-Falling Unit and I must do today is simple.”

His voice echoed across the entrance of Seongrim Mountain.

“We are to wipe out every last Green Forest stronghold within this mountain.”

A subtle change crossed the faces of some of the warriors. Wiping out the Green Forest bandits was a bloodier task than most had expected.

Unhwi asked,

“Does anyone have questions?”

A warrior from the Gangcheon Faction raised his hand.

“Master Cheonsusa, the Green Forest men are martial artists in their own right. More than that, I’ve heard that the Heavenly Righteous Alliance has traditionally treated the Green Forest with some measure of respect. Is it truly right to kill them all?”

“A good question.”

Unhwi smiled.

“The will that formed the Heavenly Righteous Alliance was only half of one. The martial supremacy that Ye Wonje pursued was not a world for martial artists, but a world for parasites. If exploitation, murder, and plunder of common folk can be justified simply by being a martial artist, then what reason is there to distinguish between the orthodox and the demonic?”

Everyone was listening intently.

“Let me make this clear. I am Cheonsusa of the Heavenly Righteous Alliance. But that does not mean I follow every one of its doctrines. Least of all Ye Wonje’s extreme ideals. As Cheonsusa, I will protect the province of Seongjak. And what lies within my walls includes not only martial artists, but the common folk as well. Any who threaten those within my domain are my enemies — and I never leave my enemies alive.”

There was force behind his words.

“The Green Forest strongholds are nothing but harm. Bandits and thieves have no reason to exist in this world, and thus they will all be killed. If my intent unsettles you, or if you do not wish to follow, then turn your backs and leave now. You will not be punished, nor will I stop you.”

Not a single person left.

Unhwi glanced at Pung Muhwi. It seemed the man had chosen his elites well — not only in skill, but in resolve.

“Good. Listen. The first target is the Yellow Dragon Stronghold. They are entrenched deep within Seongrim Mountain, numbering about a hundred bandits.”

Pung Muhwi stepped forward and added,

“The stronghold master is one named Hwang Daryong, at the level of Harmonization Realm. His vice master, Black Tiger, has reached Union of Five Energies, and most of the other lieutenants are at least Two Lights, One Manifestation under Three Flowers Gathering Purity.”

“In terms of sheer power, we hold overwhelming advantage.”

Unhwi looked around at the Heaven-Falling Unit members.

“But do not grow careless. They have used this mountain as their base for decades. They know the terrain, and no doubt traps have been laid throughout.”

A woman from the Flower Fragrance Group asked,

“How will the operation proceed?”

“We will divide into three units.”

Unhwi raised his hand and pointed toward the mountain as he explained.

“Unit One will circle the western ridge and cut off their rear. Pung Muhwi will lead, and the swift-footed will form the main force.”

Then,

“Unit Two will strike from the east. Seong Yangho will lead, along with those adept in surprise assaults.”

It was more systematic than expected. Unhwi continued.

“Unit Three will attack head-on. I will lead this group. Only those unafraid of injury should follow me.”

Pung Muhwi took a moment to assign people to their places.

When the division was complete, Unhwi swept his gaze over them all.

“If you have questions, ask now.”

Silence.

“If not, then remember this. Every single bandit of the Green Forest shall be eradicated today. Spare not a single life, and show not a shred of mercy. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

Unhwi advanced into Seongrim Mountain, with everyone following behind him.

It was their first campaign.

***

Deep within Seongrim Mountain, at the Yellow Dragon Stronghold.

Inside the tall palisade walls, over a hundred bandits went about their daily routines.

Some were drinking. Some gambling. None of them realized that death was already pressing at their door.

Hwang Daryong, the stronghold master, was drinking with his men in his quarters.

“Hahaha! Among the merchants we caught yesterday, there was a fine one indeed!”

“The way he cried, begging for his life, was priceless!”

Just then, the vice master Black Tiger raised his cup with a grin.

But Hwang Daryong frowned.

“Wait.”

He had let himself relax, dulled by wine, but something felt wrong.

This was deep within Yellow Dragon Stronghold. Yet as a martial artist of Harmonization Realm, his instincts had unmistakably sensed something amiss.

He immediately gathered his inner qi.

“…We have guests.”

“Sir?”

“Go and check.”

Black Tiger drained his cup and moved to the door.

That was when Hwang Daryong’s eyes flew wide open.

The sound of his men collapsing came far too quickly.

The sound of necks being severed, of limbs ripped apart.

The speed was astonishing.

He turned his head.

Black Tiger was just opening the door to step outside.

But he never made it through.

Shhhhk—

With the slicing of air, blood spurted like a fountain from Black Tiger’s throat.

His body crumpled to the ground.

Hwang Daryong leapt to his feet.

The door swung open, and a dark figure stepped inside.

It was Unhwi.

“So you’re Hwang Daryong.”

The cold voice froze the chamber solid.

In that moment, Hwang Daryong struggled to comprehend.

He was a bandit lord of Harmonization Realm.

The Green Forest strongholds gathered the strongest of the outlaws across the central plains — men who had become public enemies of the martial world, criminals cast out from their sects, even fiends of the demonic path.

Only the most powerful of them could rule a stronghold. Rising to that position required endless battles.

There had been challengers without number. But never had one so brazenly stormed in like this.

And this intruder wasn’t even another Green Forest man.

Hwang Daryong drew the blade from his waist.

“…Who the hell are you?”

Unhwi gave no reply.

There was no sound of a sword being drawn — yet suddenly, Hwang Daryong’s right arm was lying on the floor.

“Wh… what…? Wh-what—!!”

“Quiet.”

At that frigid command, his scream died in his throat.

Unhwi shook the blood from the Heavenshaking Spiritblade as naturally as breathing — without a trace of hesitation.

But Hwang Daryong’s eyes, his senses, caught something.

Amid that smoothness, there was a break — amid that fluidity, there was a deception.

He was no ordinary man.

To have lost an arm? Possible, if caught by a sudden killing blow.

But in Hwang Daryong’s eyes, the man before him was not of the same realm.

He had attacked while injured. That much was clear.

Hwang Daryong lunged.

“You bastard!”

Unhwi let out a quiet sigh and tossed aside the Spiritblade.

Hwang Daryong swung with his remaining arm — and the sword knocked the Spiritblade aside, embedding it uselessly in the wall. At that moment, he felt certain.

“You were nothing after all!”

He closed in, sword slashing for Unhwi’s throat.

But Unhwi’s body moved.

The wound in his left shoulder kept him from perfect form, but it was enough.

Right foot forward, left foot back, his body bent like a drawn bow.

His left hand, crippled, pressed against his chest — only his right lowered, poised to strike.

It was the Fist of Time and Space.

As the blade flashed toward his throat, Unhwi struck.

It was neither fast nor forceful. Yet within that movement lay a fundamental power, as if aligned with the flow of the world itself.

His right fist shot forward.

Hwang Daryong dismissed it. He could take a punch or two. In return, his blade would cleave this man’s neck.

With that resolve, he swung down.

Fwoooosh—!

Unhwi twisted aside, the sword grazing past.

His fist, faintly glowing red, sank into Hwang Daryong’s solar plexus.

This was not an attack — it was a flow.

Thud—!!

A tremor rippled through Hwang Daryong’s body.

“Wh-what… is this…?!”

He staggered, trying to retreat, but Unhwi did not stop. His body flowed endlessly — turning, folding, rising, bending.

Incomplete due to his left arm, yet still more than enough.

The second punch slammed into Hwang Daryong’s ribs.

Crack.

The third struck his shoulder.

Crunch.

The fourth hit his side.

Thud.

The fifth drove into his thigh.

Crack.

Each blow shattered him piece by piece. He was Harmonization Realm, cloaked in inner qi and natural force — but the vibrations of the Fist of Time and Space bypassed such defenses, sinking straight inside.

“Guuhk… urghh!”

Coughing blood, Hwang Daryong collapsed. His bones broken, his organs twisted.

Impossible.

Nothing he knew of could explain this. Yet Unhwi was not finished.

Stepping back, Unhwi shifted his stance.

He raised his right hand to his chest, palm facing outward toward Hwang ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) Daryong.

As once Bodhidharma himself had done, an ordinary palm became a vessel holding the universe.

The palm pushed forward. Outwardly it seemed an ordinary strike, yet within it was the condensed truth of heaven and earth.

Energy expanded as if exploding from a single point.

The Tathagata Palm Wind.

It struck square into Hwang Daryong’s solar plexus.

KWA-BOOOOM—!

It was not mere wind. Faint though it was, it carried the absolute truth of the Buddha.

Air burst outward from the impact point.

CRAAAAASH—!!

Hwang Daryong’s body slammed into the wall, crushed utterly. His chest caved in, limbs twisted, neck snapped.

He could not even groan.

Dead.

Unhwi looked calmly at the corpse impaled in the wall, then retrieved the Heavenshaking Spiritblade and walked out.

Already, the entire Yellow Dragon Stronghold was a scene of carnage.

Do you want me to keep translating this raid sequence straight through until the whole Yellow Dragon Stronghold purge is finished, or should I pause here for you to check tone/faithfulness first?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep