In the span of fifteen days, an extraordinary number of events had taken place.

Among martial artists, there wasn’t a single one who didn’t understand what it meant to ascend in realm.

It was something that couldn’t be bought with gold, jewels, or even power—yet rumors spread that playing a game of Go with Seol Unwi could make it possible.

Even before, the influx of people had been intense. But after three individuals actually ascended in cultivation after playing with him, the crowd had grown to levels no ordinary force could contain.

Among them were many riffraff—but not all.

And how could there not be?

In a single day, the number of people arriving in Yangnyeong had reached the hundreds.

But make no mistake—

There were hundreds of players coming to play Go. Once their attendants and escorts were factored in, the number easily rose to the thousands.

Yangnyeong enjoyed a sudden economic boom from the flood of visitors, but the branch members of Yangnyeong and Chief Steward Seong were practically dying from exhaustion.

How much longer could this go on?

Unwi was aware of this, and he had devised a method of his own.

First: those who arrived in Yangnyeong would play each other in matches, and only the final two would be allowed to face Unwi.

Second: no additional games would be permitted—Unwi would play only two matches per day.

And third—

Perhaps the most important of all—

Both of those games would be played in public.

Just like this one.

Hundreds of eyes focused on a single spot.

The man sitting across from Unwi was Jang Mujin, the “Hidden Sword Hand” from Golosan—a training ground famous within the demonic path.

A master of the Spirit Ascension Stage and one of the most renowned Go players in the Central Plains.

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Unwi, staring at the white stones, spoke.

“Once again, we have so many gathered here today.”

“As expected, no? Your match record with the Golden Path Chess Hero has become a legend. To be honest, I was skeptical until I saw it for myself…”

Jang Mujin looked straight into Unwi’s eyes.

“…You are not ordinary. After watching your game with the Jade Sword Immortal, Ha Mujin, a few days ago, I became certain. You are a prodigy of the ages.”

Many among the onlookers nodded in agreement.

Unwi gave a soft smile.

“They say even a bear will dance if you flatter it enough—but unfortunately, I’m not much of a dancer. I’ll express my feelings through this game instead.”

“I look forward to it.”

Jang Mujin placed a black stone. Unwi followed with a white.

The opening moves were unremarkable.

Without a word, the two began their game.

Black and white stones landed on the board.

Then, at some point, one of Unwi’s white stones caused a flicker in Jang Mujin’s eyes.

The large house he had meticulously built in the upper right corner was suddenly at risk.

This is…

Jang Mujin looked at his black formation.

It had been like a fortress wall—but Unwi’s single white stone had pierced a seam in it.

No exaggeration—he hadn’t even noticed it happen.

When…?

And then the crowd began to murmur in delayed astonishment.

“Huh…”

“That move…”

“How did he think of that…?”

Jang Mujin’s expression hardened.

Now he could see it.

Unwi’s opening, which had started from the lower left, had flowed through the center and linked all the way to the upper right. It had created a massive pattern.

Until now, each move had seemed ordinary—but with just a few stones in place, the flow had revealed itself.

This is depth.

So deep—immeasurably deep.

Unwi’s white stones moved as if alive, and each motion seemed to contain the logic of heaven and earth.

Jang Mujin murmured,

“…The white stones… it’s as if they’re reading the very heavens.”

He looked up.

Unwi still wore that same gentle smile.

Indeed.

A prodigy of the ages.

Jang Mujin resumed playing, and tension flooded the main hall.

Hundreds of eyes were locked on the board, and with each stone placed, even breathing became inaudible.

Unwi’s white stone landed once more.

It appeared ordinary—but its depth was beyond anyone’s immediate comprehension.

“…Damn…”

Jang Mujin’s face stiffened. Only now was the shape created by Unwi’s play becoming visible.

“That move…”

Someone gasped behind him.

“A five-move foresight! That one stone just doomed the entire upper-right group!”

Even with such a distracting outburst, Jang Mujin silently picked up a black stone.

In over thirty years, he had played many masters. But never a game like this.

Unwi moved again—this time toward the center. Like a waterfall crashing down, his white stone surged /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ forward, pressing Jang Mujin’s black stones into retreat. The pressure from the upper right had now spread to the center.

“…Now I see.”

Unwi opened his mouth.

“What it is that you seek through this game.”

“I…”

Jang Mujin looked down at his black stones.

“…I wanted enlightenment. A way to cross from Spirit Ascension to the Mythic Realm…”

“In that case, may I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“What does Go mean to you, senior?”

The question echoed through the grand hall. Jang Mujin fell silent.

Then he looked at the board before him.

His once-great black formation being taken, piece by piece—it reminded him of his own past.

“Go is… a contest between two people placing stones.”

“Then what are we doing now?”

Unwi placed another white stone—this time in the lower right.

It was like a sword dividing heaven and earth. Even Jang Mujin’s final escape route was blocked.

“We are…”

Jang Mujin’s gaze trembled. At last, it seemed something had struck him.

“…We’re not just placing stones.”

“No. We are discussing the truth of heaven and earth. You seek enlightenment—but is that enlightenment truly found in the game?”

Hundreds of martial artists held their breath. Each word from Unwi pierced deep into their hearts.

“Enlightenment doesn’t come from the board. Go is merely a mirror. A mirror that reflects our hearts. As they say, ‘A virtuous man is never lonely—for he will always find companions.’ Isn’t it the same with black and white? Go only exists because both sides face each other.”

Unwi placed the final white stone.

“To harmonize while accepting difference—that, I believe, is where the Dao begins. Look at your black stones. Look at my white stones. Do these seem like just lifeless pieces in a game?”

Jang Mujin’s eyes flew wide. Something inside him began to stir.

“…Now I see…”

His voice shook.

“All this time I sought enlightenment in the game—but it was within me all along…”

“Yes.”

Unwi’s voice echoed through the hall.

“On this board are black and white, surrounding each other, trying to capture. But within it lies deeper meaning. It is no different from our martial world.”

Every single martial artist in the hall listened with rapt attention.

“We martial artists are sometimes enemies, sometimes allies. But the root of it all must be the Dao. Just like on this board.”

Tears welled up in Jang Mujin’s eyes.

It was as if something inside him had broken open. The gate to the Mythic Realm was opening.

“…I truly understand now…”

His voice trembled.

“Go was only the beginning… The true enlightenment…”

He set his stone down and immediately sat in meditation.

A massive wave of internal energy burst from his body, and every spectator instinctively stepped back several paces.

A man was now on the verge of entering the Mythic Realm.

It was an unbelievable—almost absurd—scene, and most were left speechless. Some gasped aloud.

Only Unwi remained unchanged.

Without a word, he placed his white stone.

Jang Mujin was no longer able to continue the game, but even if he had resumed, the result would not have changed.

A difference of thirteen and a half points.

Unwi had won.

***

Unwi slowly rose from his seat. The hundreds still gathered in the main hall turned to him as one.

“A martial artist stands on the verge of a breakthrough.”

His voice was calm.

“At times like these, a peaceful atmosphere is needed. I ask everyone to quietly withdraw.”

Someone opened their mouth to speak, but stopped.

Another looked disappointed—but no one dared defy Unwi’s words.

One by one, the martial artists began to rise and leave.

At that moment—

“Master Unwi.”

It was Ju Soa’s voice. She approached briskly, holding a sealed letter.

“…A message from the main palace.”

She looked awkwardly formal, likely due to all the onlookers, but Unwi didn’t mind.

He silently accepted and opened it.

Youngest,

I’ve heard about the incredible things you’re doing in Yangnyeong.

I never imagined you’d grow into someone this remarkable… though, well, you know me. I’m not one for writing letters like this.

But I need your help.

The second brother made a serious mistake related to ‘that matter’ we discussed during the last meeting.

You’ll understand—the incident at Bingbaek Gorge.

What started as a small wound on his arm has now progressed to the point where even the physicians have given up.

If you have time, could you come take a look?

If you’re able, I truly hope you can come.

That idiot might be a pain, but he doesn’t deserve to die like this.

Unwi’s expression shifted—if only subtly.

Chief Steward Seong caught it immediately.

“Young Master…? Are you all right?”

“No. I’m not.”

Seong blinked.

But it was true.

This was not something to take lightly.

To an outsider, the contents of the letter might be too vague to parse—but not to Unwi.

The second son, Seol Muryeon, was in critical condition.

An unexpected event—and one that simply couldn’t be allowed to happen at this time.

Yet if he looked more closely, the reason behind it made sense.

A meeting. Bingbaek Gorge.

Just from those two terms, it was clear.

Not long ago, the Viper Valley infiltrated the Snow Mountains to produce poison.

Unwi had identified the plot, and the other northern heirs had gone with the White Falcon Guard to eliminate the threat.

Unwi had designated the most likely hideouts—and the group Muryeon led had gone to Bingbaek Gorge.

And who was Seol Muryeon?

A genius rivaling even the eldest, Seol Horyeong. A man obsessed with cultivation.

If the “Thousand-Year Serpent” was hiding in Bingbaek Gorge, there was no way he would have left it alone.

As its name implied, it was a serpent that had lived a thousand years. Not a normal beast—this was a spirit creature.

Even consuming a five-hundred-year-old serpent granted resistance to all poisons. A thousand years? That went without saying.

In his past life, Seol Muryeon had died about a year and a half from now.

But now—he was on the verge of dying immediately.

There was no ambiguity in why Seol Yeonhwa had sent this letter to Unwi.

He was the first to pinpoint the Viper Valley’s infiltration.

He was also the one who identified the existence of the Ice-Venom Erosion Poison.

And now, everything depended on him.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep