Chapter 189. The Traceless Blade Technique

Namgung Jin realized that the Four Directions Hall Lord was feeling a strange sense of guilt.

“It’s fine. You arrived just in time.”

When he quickly answered to ease that guilt, Peng Sihyeon finally turned to examine the rock wall.

“Did you break the passage?”

Namgung Jin shook his head with a grim look.

“It’s Cold Iron. Not even a single crack forms.”

“Cold Iron?”

The Four Directions Hall Lord’s eyes narrowed—not in doubt, but in awe. His expression said she couldn’t believe it, yet the corners of her lips twitched with delight.

‘Why does that make her happy?’

Namgung Jin soon understood why.

“All this is made of Cold Iron? No, how is it even possible to forge it like this? Cold Iron is difficult enough to melt, yet someone managed to fuse this much of it into a single slab? Even the Murim Alliance couldn’t amass this much Cold Iron!”

“……”

So yes, she was truly pleased.

Peng Sihyeon seemed almost thrilled by the sight of Cold Iron rolling into her hands.

“Can we… take it with us?”

Namgung Jin gave her a hazy look.

“Yes… well, I suppose there’s no real reason we can’t. But wouldn’t it be troublesome to carry away something bound by a formation we haven’t undone? We don’t know how it works… if we handle it wrong, it could open a link to the Central Plains. In that case, it might be better to leave it in the Outer Regions, or sink it into the sea.”

Suddenly, the Four Directions Hall Lord Hall’s eyes changed.

“That won’t do.”

Perhaps it was just his imagination, but Namgung Jin caught a glint of greed in those eyes. Peng Sihyeon, gathering her internal energy, lowered her stance by a hand’s breadth.

Ssshhh.

The moment Peng Sihyeon moved her foot, Namgung Jin flinched and stepped back in alarm.

Traceless Blade Technique.

A blade art said to leave no trace behind—nothing but air.

A devastating martial art of the Peng Clan, so powerful that everything caught within its reach was reduced to nothing.

By her stance alone, Namgung Jin realized that Peng Sihyeon was about to unleash the Traceless Blade Technique.

The Namgung Clan Head had once warned him—if a member of the Peng Clan bends their knees and twists their feet in the direction of the Eight Trigrams, avoid the fight at all costs.

That was the stance taken before executing the Traceless Blade Technique.

Her front foot, once extended toward the South Gate, shifted toward the Great West.

Adjusting her power to match the range set by the Cold Iron, Peng Sihyeon gathered her strength.

Before Namgung Jin could even retreat far, Peng Sihyeon had already concentrated her energy. Then, propelled by her qinggong, she unleashed the Traceless Blade Technique.

Kwoooom!

The stone chamber shook violently, boiling water erupting to the ceiling. Namgung Jin stabbed his sword into the ground to steady himself.

It felt as if every tooth in his mouth had been knocked out—the ceiling crumbled, spitting out chunks of rock.

Boom. Boom. Kwooom. Boom.

Dodging the falling stones, Namgung Jin rushed toward the passage. The ceiling there had already caved in, leaving a clear space before the Cold Iron.

Standing before it, his lips trembled.

“Hall Lord..!”

A deep crack had formed across that once unbreakable Cold Iron.

Few blacksmiths in the world could even handle Cold Iron, a mineral that could only be refined through special techniques.

Yet before the power of the Peng Clan, even Cold Iron yielded.

Namgung Jin’s jaw hung open until Peng Sihyeon flicked her hand.

“Step back for a moment.”

Without gathering her internal energy, she simply swung her blade with pure strength.

Boom! Kwoooom! Boom!

From afar, the Black Tortoise Pavilion Leader’s exasperated voice echoed.

“Hall Lord! Please, go easy! My ears are ringing!”

But Peng Sihyeon didn’t stop. She kept swinging her blade with abandon.

She wasn’t cutting the Cold Iron directly; instead, her blade struck the rock wall madly, sending up clouds of dust.

At last, unable to withstand it, the Cold Iron slab broke free.

Splash!

With a satisfied expression, Peng Sihyeon lifted the Cold Iron from the water.

“Hall Leader! I think I’ve found the perfect gift to celebrate your promotion.”

“Huh?”

“As a present for your appointment as Deputy Hall Lord, I’ll forge you a fine personal blade!”

Peng Sihyeon, who had been laughing heartily, suddenly grew serious. Her gaze shifted toward Namgung Jin.

“…… But come to think of it, you were the one who discovered this Cold Iron. It’s not my place to decide how it’s used.”

Namgung Jin was about to tell her it was fine—but he closed his mouth. There was something he had been meaning to ask the Four Directions Hall Lord.

“The Cold Iron doesn’t matter. But…”

A desperate plea—one far more valuable than any piece of Cold Iron—trembled on his tongue.

“If you don’t mind, Hall Lord, there’s something else I wish to ask of you.”

“What is it?”

In a low, tense voice, Namgung Jin made his request.

“Please tell me what Brother Cheong-hae was doing while he was with the Four Directions Hall.”

The brightness in Peng Sihyeon’s face dimmed.

He knew it was an uncomfortable subject, but Namgung Jin didn’t back down.

“I want to know what happened to Brother Cheong-hae. Why he was being hunted by the Blood Sect, and what exactly was he doing to make them target him.”

“……”

“If I know that, I’ll understand what Brother Cheong-hae wanted to tell the Namgung Clan, and I can finish what he started.”

Silence settled over them.

No sound of battle came from above, where the Four Directions Hall had gone to subdue the Han Clan’s martial artists.

Listening to the faint ripple of water, Peng Sihyeon turned her gaze toward the opposite entrance. Namgung Jin followed suit.

He felt the presence of dozens approaching.

“This isn’t the time for that conversation.”

Peng Sihyeon propped the Cold Iron plate against the wall as she spoke.

Namgung Jin assumed she was avoiding the question.

Suppressing his disappointment, he drew his sword.

Then, something strange reached his ears.

“I’ll tell you later when things calm down.”

Namgung Jin’s eyes flicked back to Peng Sihyeon.

Moving her blade as though unfurling a ceremonial flag, she spoke in a firm, deliberate tone.

“Young Lady Tang should be arriving soon. Let’s clear the path first, then we’ll talk.”

That was permission.

Neither the Four Directions Hall nor the Four Seasons Hall ever shared their internal affairs with other branches.

After Namgung Cheong-hae’s death, the Namgung Clan had lodged several protests, but the Four Directions Hall had remained silent. Many Alliance members had died during the Four Directions Hall missions, yet none had ever been told what those missions were.

For her to promise to share internal matters—it was an unprecedented decision.

Namgung Jin straightened his stance, pressing down the pounding in his chest.

Whether the ones approaching were Blood Sect assassins or worthless noble scum, he didn’t care.

He would cut down every last one of them—so he could finally hear her answer.

* * *

So-hwa climbed swiftly, her boots finding footholds along the jagged edge of the cliff.

“Aaaagh!”

Screams echoed from below—members of the Red Blood Hall plummeting to their deaths.

With their flesh melted and their arms hanging in tatters, those climbing the cliff could hardly move at full speed.

But not all of them were so helpless.

Kaang. Kang.

The sound of metal spikes being hammered into rock pierced her eardrums.

Feeling the heavy scent of blood and the heat rising beneath her, So-hwa quickened her pace.

Just a hand’s span from the summit, she lifted her head.

Almost there.

Then, she felt a surge of heat rising from below. Reflexively, So-hwa pulled her body back.

Kwaaang!

A steel spike slammed into the spot where she had just been.

“Haa.”

Eyes blazing with rage met hers.

It was the Blood Sect member who had taunted her earlier in front of the passage.

His once-burned hand had healed completely—he yanked the steel spike free, the embedded metal seeming to have been one of his throwing spikes.

Kwaak!

The moment he retrieved his weapon, he lunged.

So-hwa dodged as fast as she could, but he was faster.

“Ugh!”

A spike struck her in the side. Perhaps because he had held back his strength—or because of the thick layers of her padded coat—it didn’t pierce too deep, but the flesh split wide open.

Drip.

Blood and shreds of her torn purple robe hit the ground.

As the Blood Sect member pulled back his spike, So-hwa leapt upward.

Ta-at!

She barely reached the top and froze for a moment.

The cliff didn’t seem all that high—she had been climbing from halfway up the mountain—but the side that faced the sea dropped straight down, a sheer abyss.

Thick layers of snow had frozen solid; one misstep could send her sliding all the way to the bottom.

Thud.

So-hwa turned her gaze toward the source of the sound.

Through the descending view, she saw the black sea below.

On the pitch-dark surface, faint flickers of light wavered—an icebreaker.

Turning back inland, she saw the city outside the Ice Palace. But wrapped in steam and darkness, its state was impossible to discern.

She wasn’t worried about those she’d left behind. She had entrusted the Cold Iron passage to them; at worst, they would retreat toward Hubei.

Even the Main Blood Hall Lord, still locked in battle with the Red Blood Hall Lord beneath the cliff, would be fine. Haerak would subdue the enemy soon enough and catch up.

‘I just need to take care of myself.’

Resolute, So-hwa removed her purple cloak and hung it on a jutting rock. It fluttered wildly in the wind.

Then, another boom resounded from the sea.

Whooom.

The closer it came, the faster her heart raced.

The darkness before her eyes, the roar in her ears, the mingled chill and heat clawing at her skin—everything was disrupting her focus.

Forcing herself to stay calm, So-hwa straightened her sleeves and assessed what weapons she still had.

Almost all of her hidden weapons and poisons were spent. She had one small dagger, a few throwing stars, a vial of paralytic toxin, and…

Her fingertips brushed against a wooden case. Stroking it gently, So-hwa turned her gaze back to the sea.

Behind the ship, shards of ice and churning waves were scattering in all directions.

Whooom.

At that moment, a Blood Sect member who had climbed the cliff appeared before her.

Boom! Kwaaang!

Moments later, more Blood Sect members reached the top and surrounded her.

“One of your arms belongs to me.”

The Blood Sect member grinned as he spoke, and the sound of labored breathing stirred around them—the others were laughing too, following their superior’s lead even while gasping for air.

So-hwa fixed her gaze on the Red Blood Hall member approaching her. Through the torn fabric of his robe, the freshly healed flesh beneath was visible.

“I can understand your recklessness in swallowing the Blood Demon’s blood. When one’s martial cultivation is weak, it’s natural to cling to corrupt arts like that.”

She loosened her crossed sleeves. The hand that slipped down was hidden beneath the long cloth.

“But tell me, did you know that once you drink the Blood Demon’s blood, your life no longer belongs to you?”

“Ha! You worry over nothing. So long as we do not defy his will, there is no danger to us.”

Sometimes, martial artists consumed yin elixirs to deepen their Ice Arts, or yang elixirs to amplify their Extreme Yang Body.

Since the Blood Arts had been founded by the Blood Demon himself, it was no surprise his followers would use his blood to enhance their power.

So-hwa’s eyes swept the surroundings.

Dozens of Blood Sect members clung to the cliff face like spiders, all staring at her.

Some, like the elite Red Blood Hall martial artist before her, had healed completely. Others still dripped blood from their sunken cheeks and unclosed wounds.

Just as elixirs varied in potency depending on one’s cultivation and constitution, the Blood Arts seemed to differ in effect based on the martial artist’s level.

And So-hwa knew—no matter what, she couldn’t break through them all.

She turned her gaze toward the only direction free of hostile presence.

The frozen sea. The icebreaker.

Kwaaang.

Even that distant surface looked ready to shatter.

Even if the Fourth Seat happened to see her signal, they might not be able to reach the island.

“Tsk. You keep staring that way, but there’s no escape. Give up.”

So-hwa lifted her eyes back to the front.

The Red Blood Hall elite, clearly done with stalling, thrust his spike forward. Enraged, he wasn’t trying to capture her—he meant to kill.

When the spike came within a hand’s breadth, So-hwa flicked a dagger.

It only grazed the back of his hand; the thick, blunt spike didn’t slow in the slightest.

Kwaak.

Like a fisherman spearing his catch, the Blood Sect member drove the spike into So-hwa’s waist.

“Let’s go down before the hound gets here. Through the passage outside the palace—uh…”

His words broke off. His body went rigid.

The paralysis.

So-hwa seized the Blood Sect member’s hand. He realized too late what she had done and tried to throw her off—but his body was already stiff.

Kwaak!

The moment she pulled the spike free, she plunged it deep into the Blood Sect member’s chest.

Clutching the man’s hand wrapped around the weapon, So-hwa whispered.

“Don’t let go.”

Then she pressed her body close and shifted her weight.

With that small motion, both their bodies toppled backward.

“Leader!”

The Blood Sect members shouted in panic, but the Leader and the woman had already vanished beyond the edge of the cliff.

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