A realm beyond Hwagyeong.

Chun-bong scratched her chin before speaking.

“They often call it Hyeongyeong or Ban-shin-ji-gyeong—the Half-God Realm. There are only a handful of martial artists at that level in the entire martial world, you could probably count them on one hand.”

“Is it really that rare?”

“Of course. Hmm…”

Chun-bong tilted her head as if reconsidering her answer.

“Actually, if you really searched every corner, there might be more. Some ancient masters from generations ago could be living in seclusion somewhere.”

“By now, wouldn’t they be too old to still be alive?”

“At Hyeongyeong, there’s no limit to their lifespan. As long as their mental fortitude holds up, they can live forever. Or so I've heard, anyway. But that aside...”

She wrote the word Hwagyeong on the ground, then added another beside it.

‘Jowagyeong’—The Harmony Realm.

“It means the stage where one harmonizes with the qi of nature. From what I’ve heard, masters at this level can control qi far beyond their own body.”

One of the most iconic skills at the Hwagyeong level is Igi-eogeom—controlling the sword with qi. This technique involves the fragmentation of one’s will and mastery over the qi of nature, and is said to be the entry point to this skill.

“How do you know all this?”

“My father told me.”

“I see.”

Seo-jun grew curious and asked, “By the way, what’s your father’s level?”

“He was at the threshold between Chojuljeong and Hwagyeong.”

“Was he the strongest in your family?”

“No, the strongest in our family was an ancestor. I used to call him grandfather, but...”

Chun-bong gazed blankly into the distance, a sad smile crossing her face.

“Grandfather was a master of Hyeongyeong. His title was the Divine Sword of Geumga, a true god of the sword.”

“Oh… um…”

Seo-jun wanted to ask how in the world someone managed to annihilate the Geumga family despite such a master, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

Instead, he gently patted Chun-bong’s head, and she let out a small laugh.

“So, you’re wondering why the Geumga family was destroyed, huh?”

“What? You can read minds too?”

“You’re too obvious.”

Chun-bong chuckled and explained.

“One day, my grandfather just vanished. He wasn’t attacked, so we assume he ascended. Unfortunately, at the time, my father was in a vulnerable state, focusing on reaching Hwagyeong. Someone must have leaked that information, and we were attacked at our weakest moment.”

“Whoever did that deserves to be killed.”

“Yeah, torn to pieces.”

Chun-bong gritted her teeth, anger evident.

Seo-jun picked her up and rocked her gently, and she burst into laughter near his ear.

“Alright, enough. That was a long time ago.”

“Come on, let me comfort you.”

“Shut up.”

Still giggling, Chun-bong leaned close to his ear and whispered.

“Anyway, if you’re ever in trouble, just let me know. Even though I’m just my grandfather’s disciple by title, my status isn’t bad. Besides the leader of the Martial Alliance, there aren’t many people in the orthodox factions higher than me in rank.”

Of course, practically, it didn’t mean much, but it could still earn her some respect.

“Hmm, so basically...”

Seo-jun mentally calculated.

Does this mean Chun-bong’s just a kid, but Geum Hee of the Divine Sword of Geumga is seen as a senior citizen?

“Wait! Chun-bong! You’re actually an old lady, aren’t you?!”

“You bastard.”

And then he got smacked.

According to Chun-bong’s further explanation, even though Geum Hee held a high status, she wasn’t really treated as an old-timer. Geumga was not a sect but a family, and inter-family rankings didn’t seem to matter as much. Rankings were more like calling each other “father” or “brother” within the same family.

Of course, if someone declared themselves a disciple of the Sword God, very few would dare to dismiss that. Seo-jun, somewhat satisfied with the explanation, pondered Chun-bong’s words as they returned to the inn.

“Hyeongyeong.”

Minds Are Swords. A realm where the mind becomes one with martial arts.

Famous techniques like Simgeom—the Mind Sword—are used by martial artists at the Hyeongyeong level.

No Sword in Hand, Sword in Mind.

Just hearing it gave off an aura of overwhelming coolness.

No sword in hand, but a sword in the heart.

You’d give one profound line of dialogue, unleash your Mind Sword, and everyone around would be awestruck.

Of course, that was all far beyond his reach at the moment.

Forget Hyeongyeong, he needed to focus on figuring out Chojuljeong first.

“Hmm… Chojuljeong.”

“Don’t rush it. The more you hurry, the slower you’ll progress.”

“No, I just think the term sounds… provocative.”

“…You idiot.”

Honestly, he had been thinking about it for a while.

A Chojuljeong beauty. How was this not punishable by law for being too suggestive?

Of course, that was nonsense.

“Anyway, the preliminaries are next week, right? I should spend some time training until then.”

“Need help?”

“Of course, you’re training with me, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

Chun-bong snorted, then grabbed Seo-jun’s hand tightly.

“I’m holding your hand so you don’t get lost.”

“Yes, ma’am. If you say jump, I’ll jump.”

“Mmm, see that you do.”

“Aye-aye, captain.”

And just like that, their training plans were set.

"Jo-mun-do-seok-sa-ga-e."
“If you learn the Way in the morning, you may die content in the evening.”

Right. If I can just touch my soft little Chun-bong’s cheeks in the morning, I could die happily in the evening.

“Mmm. Very nice. Feels good.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m checking your condition.”

By this point, Dr. Geum Chun-bong could tell how someone was feeling just by squeezing their cheeks.

Seo-jun, satisfied after thoroughly kneading Chun-bong’s cheeks through her mask, let out a contented sigh.

Chun-bong frowned at him.

“How do you manage to pull this crap every single day?”

“Because that’s who I am.”

“Ugh.”

Seo-jun and Chun-bong left the inn.

Today was the day of the martial arts tournament preliminaries.

So it wasn’t surprising that as soon as they stepped outside, the streets were overflowing with people. Seo-jun smacked his forehead.

“Wow… This is a bit much.”

“Yeah. It doesn’t look like we’ll be able to get through easily.”

“Would spectators please follow the rules and move in an orderly fashion!”

It seemed like members of the Huashan Sect were trying to direct the crowd, but it wasn’t very effective.

“This isn’t a normal day, after all. Should we travel by the rooftops?”

“Yeah. I see some people already doing that.”

Several martial artists were already zipping across the rooftops.

Nodding in agreement, Seo-jun picked up Chun-bong.

“Let’s go, Geum Chun-bong!”

At last, the long-awaited martial arts tournament was about to begin.

When they arrived at the preliminaries location, the area was relatively quiet.

Thanks to the Huashan Sect members controlling the flow of spectators, the area wasn’t too crowded.

“Seventy-eight. Your number is written over there. Please head that way.”

“Okay!”

The token they received for passing the log-cutting test had numbers written on them, and it seemed they were now dividing participants into groups.

“What’s your number, Geum?”

“One hundred twenty-five.”

“Holy crap.”

Wasn’t this too many participants? Seo-jun sighed.

“I’ll head over now.”

“Yeah. Go win, Geum Chun-bong.”

“Sure thing. You win, too.”

“Of course.”

It had been a while since Seo-jun and Chun-bong acted separately.

Clenching his trembling hands, unable to suppress his excitement, Seo-jun headed toward the banner marked with the number seventy-eight.

“Is this it?”

While he was looking around, a man in a blue robe called out to him.

“If you’re number seventy-eight, come this way.”

“Oh, right.”

There were already five people gathered in front of the man. Judging by their tense expressions, they were all participants.

As sharp glances were exchanged, Seo-jun casually plopped down on the ground.

“Excuse me, how many more people until we start?”

“There are eight in group seventy-eight, so we need two more.”

“I see.”

The Huashan Sect member seemed a bit stiff. The last one I met was a bit more friendly, I think.

While Seo-jun sat there idly waiting for more participants, a man came running over from a distance.

“I’m here for group seventy-eight!”

“Stand over here.”

Now there were seven.

Although the last person hadn’t arrived yet, the Huashan Sect member decided to speak up.

“Looks like one person will have a bye. We’ll proceed to the arena.”

Following the martial artist, they soon arrived at a neatly constructed arena.

It was clear they’d spent quite a bit of money on it, based on the materials used and the structure itself.

‘This isn’t even Huashan, yet they built something like this in the city?’

Well, considering Huashan Sect’s status as a powerful organization, it wasn’t too surprising.

“We’ll determine the bye by drawing lots. From left to right, you’ll be numbers one through seven.”

The Huashan Sect member pulled out a container, shook it, and drew out a stick. The number on the end was seven. Seo-jun, who had been standing at the far right, scratched his head.

“Ah, I didn’t really need this.”

In fact, it felt a bit disappointing.

As Seo-jun clicked his tongue, the man next to him chuckled and patted his shoulder.

“You’re lucky, young man. But I doubt you’ll last long. Haha!”

What’s with this guy?

Seo-jun stared at him as the Huashan Sect member matched the other six people for their first round.

It seemed like they were rushing through the preliminaries, given the sheer number of participants.

“Seo Bok-woo and Myung Ju-am, step forward. Remember, no lethal techniques allowed, and if you do…”

After a brief explanation, the match began.

It seemed like each group had a Huashan Sect member ensuring safety. Judging by their skills, these members were likely peak-level martial artists.

Which meant Huashan Sect had over a hundred peak-level martial artists.

‘They’re really quite large, huh.’

While Seo-jun was lost in thought, the first match ended.

“Winner: Seo Bok-woo! Next up…”

It was the loudmouth’s turn.

“Park Ihong and Dam Jeil, step forward. Same rules as before. Once again…”

So his name was Dam Jeil. How could someone be named “Jeil”? Did he have a younger brother named Dam Jei?

“Dam Jeil? Is that the Dam Jeil from Madanhyeon?”

“Paklyeokpado Dam Jeil! Damn it. Guess this tournament’s already over for me.”

Surprisingly, it seemed the guy was somewhat famous.

The other participants’ morale visibly dropped.

“Begin!”

As soon as the referee gave the signal, Dam Jeil rushed forward.

Despite his bulky frame, he moved with surprising speed.

Boom!

“Ugh…!”

“Haha! Just surrender already!”

Each swing of Dam Jeil’s massive blade sent his opponent reeling.

Then, in an instant, Dam Jeil’s eyes gleamed as he thrust his blade forward.

“Hurk…!”

The sword stopped just short of his opponent’s throat, and the man collapsed in defeat.

“I-I surrender.”

“Haha! Too easy!”

“Winner: Dam Jeil!”

As Dam Jeil let out a thunderous laugh, Seo-jun scratched his head.

‘He doesn’t seem that strong.’

Honestly, what’s with these nicknames? Are they just giving them to anyone?

‘Who knows.’

These martial artists were hard to figure out.

Anyway, since he used a sword…

Should I use the Wang Family Sword Technique?