Namgung Su-a stood in the training ground, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

Yongbong Gathering. Round of 32.

She calmed her nerves, grounding herself in the moment.

"It’s fine."

Though she had rarely shown her face outside the family before, that didn’t mean she had to keep hiding. It was just a matter of nerves, nothing more.

Standing before a crowd and revealing herself.

Relaxing her stiffened lips, Namgung Su-a drew her sword.

Shing—

As the long blade emerged, Cheongsong smiled faintly, placing a hand on the hilt of his own weapon.

"Please go easy on me."

“Heh, sure. But don’t think I’ll hold back just because you’re a friend of Myeong.”

“Of course not.”

Once both sides were ready, the referee raised his hand.

“Begin!”

At the referee’s signal, Namgung Su-a charged forward.

Clang—!

Her long sword scraped across the ground as she surged ahead. Twisting her body mid-motion, she swung the massive blade in a wide arc.

Crackle—!

A faint electric current sparked in the air, drawing a grin from Cheongsong.

“As expected!”

Click! His thumb nudged his sword from its sheath, and in one swift motion…

Clang!

The forceful strike from Cheongsong’s blade collided with Namgung Su-a’s greatsword.

Boom!

The impact sent Namgung Su-a airborne. Her figure drifted gracefully through the air, almost floating, drawing an exclamation of admiration from Cheongsong.

“They call you the Flower of Namgung, but it feels like I’m watching a butterfly.”

He laughed heartily and kicked off the ground. Thud-thud-thud! His feet struck the air as he ascended, pulling his sword back.

“Hup…!”

Then, the Cheongpung Swordsmanship unfolded.

Like a rushing blue wind, his fluid, uninterrupted swordplay surged toward Namgung Su-a.

Facing the tempest, she gripped her greatsword with both hands, her demeanor steady. Both fighters remained suspended in the air, locked in their duel.

Namgung Su-a’s eyes opened slightly, revealing her vivid blue irises.

Crackle—!

A blinding flash tore through the atmosphere.

Boom—!

A thunderous roar followed, blasting Cheongsong backward. His figure crashed into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Namgung Su-a twisted her body mid-air multiple times before landing softly on the ground.

"I can reach it."

Her azure gaze lifted to the distant horizon. The darkened sky. The castle shrouded in clouds. The bundles of blue lightning contained within.

Standing confidently before others still didn’t come naturally to her. She had never dwelled on the reason—it seemed intrinsic, part of her nature.

But now that she had stepped forward, there was no turning back.

“Well…” Cheongsong’s voice emerged as the dust settled. He appeared with a smile, brushing dirt off his clothes.

“What is it about Namgung blood that fascinates me? Myeong was extraordinary, and now you, too, Lady Namgung.”

Whoosh!

As his energy flared, the winds surged around him. The blue aura wrapping Cheongsong shifted, and a crimson hue began to rise from his sword.

Cheongpung Jeokha Swordsmanship.

An advanced form of Cheongpung Swordsmanship, one Cheongsong had only recently mastered. Even with his limited proficiency, its power far surpassed the original technique.

Adopting its starting stance, Cheongsong prepared himself.

“I’m coming.”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Thud!

Cheongsong launched himself forward.

Facing him, Namgung Su-a inhaled deeply.

"The point of my mental horizon…"

Somewhere far off. A goal she must ultimately reach.

Imagining it, embodying it, she imbued her sword with lightning.

Crackle—!

Azure electricity coiled around the greatsword as it swung in a broad arc. Cheongsong, undeterred, met the strike head-on.

Boom!

The clash sent shockwaves rippling through the air. Cheongsong skillfully diverted the force mid-air, circling persistently like a lingering twilight.

Namgung Su-a moved as if the greatsword were an extension of her own body. At times, it seemed she wielded the blade; at others, it felt as if the blade guided her.

Vaulting high using the greatsword as leverage, she spun mid-air and raised the weapon overhead.

Flash Lightning Blue Thunder Technique.

A foundational skill created by Seo-jun, embodying the essence of lightning.

"Faster and more intense than anything else."

Whoosh! Deep azure energy surged along the blade.

What followed was Thirteen Lightning Strikes.

Crackle! The azure energy transformed into concentrated lightning.

To follow Seo-jun’s teachings, one must first understand his vision.

The lightning Seo-jun imagined had always been inspired by Namgung Su-a. The storm he envisioned now materialized within her sword.

“Haaah…!” Channeling every ounce of her strength, Namgung Su-a swung her greatsword.

The blade descended along the path of the Sovereign Sword Form, aimed directly at Cheongsong’s head.

Kraaack!

Countless bolts of lightning rained down. The unique pressure of the Sovereign Sword Form manifested as an overwhelming electric storm.

Against the unrelenting blue fury, Cheongsong laughed and infused his sword with the fiery red glow of dusk.

“I won’t lose…!”

At the moment the two swords collided, Namgung Su-a saw it.

A needle-thin gap. A flash of blue lightning within.

For a fleeting instant, her vision went white, as if her soul had been snatched away.

Flash—!

Before she realized it, she was beyond the wall.

Behind her, the barrier crumbled. She gazed at the shattered remains of Cheongsong’s sword and at the additional blade blocking her greatsword.

Smiling faintly, she asked, “How was it?”

“Incredible,” Seo-jun replied with a grin, standing before her, having intercepted the strike.

“Congratulations. You’ve made it.”

Now, she could wield it.

Life and Death Breakthrough Technique.

The supreme martial art that pierced through the meridians of life and death.

Namgung Su-a had finally reached the threshold of transcendence.

++++

 

As soon as Namgung Su-a’s match concluded, so did the Round of 32 in the Yongbong Gathering.

Before the Round of 16 could begin, a four-day break was announced. Seo-jun and his companions left the training ground, pondering how to spend their time.

“Today’s match was truly impressive,” Cheongsong remarked with a broad smile, clasping his fists in salute.

“I was lucky,” Namgung Su-a replied humbly. “To be honest, I haven’t fully grasped the core of it yet….”

Cheongsong shook his head at her words.

“This Cheongsong doesn’t believe my training is weak enough to be overcome by mere luck. Congratulations.”

“Heh, thank you.”

After the brief exchange, Cheongsong introduced a man who had accompanied him.

“Myeong, this must be your first time meeting him as well?”

The man offered a slight bow, his tone flat and unenthusiastic. “Well… I’m Eun Wi-ryong of Jeomchang.”

His voice was listless, devoid of energy. It wasn’t that he disliked the Yongbong Gathering; rather, he simply seemed eager to leave.

True to that impression, Eun Wi-ryong made a brief introduction, exchanged quick pleasantries, and left shortly afterward.

Cheongsong watched him go with a wry smile. “He used to be so full of spirit back in the day.”

Namgung Myeong tilted his head. “Is something wrong with Jeomchang?”

“No, nothing like that. He’s just… wandering a bit, I suppose.”

It wasn’t uncommon.

Those raised in the prestigious Sixteen Great Houses often found themselves immersed in martial arts from an early age. At some point, however, many lost their sense of purpose and began to drift.

Questions plagued them: What do I truly want? Is this path of martial arts the one I should continue to walk?

Surprisingly, this was a dilemma faced by more martial artists than one might expect.

Listening to the conversation, Seo-jun reflected to himself.

“So it’s basically a career crisis, huh?”

If he were to compare the martial arts path to modern times, it was probably akin to pursuing medical school—there was no greater prestige in Zhongyuan.

In the end, they were just teenagers caught between dreams and reality.

Some of them, perhaps, hadn’t even found a dream yet.

“Adorable,” Seo-jun muttered with a chuckle.

They were like little kids, after all.

“Ah, youth. What a time,” he added, shaking his head with amusement.

Watching him, Chun-bong sighed deeply.

“There he goes again, thinking about something idiotic.”

By now, it was obvious without even asking.

++++

 

The excruciating meeting began once again.

But today, it was different.

The agenda was fresh and urgent:
How should they respond to the audacious and heinous actions of the North Sea Ice Palace, which had brazenly infiltrated Hanam to assassinate the Imperial General?

“This matter must not be taken lightly. The fact that those Black Lotus scoundrels succeeded in carrying out an assassination in Hanam is a disgrace to the righteous martial world!”

About thirty to sixty minutes into the meeting, progress remained stagnant.

Everyone agreed that the situation was dire, but they lacked any concrete information about the assassin’s methods.

How had such a martial artist infiltrated Hanam, assassinated the Imperial General in such a short span of time, deceived countless martial artists, and vanished without leaving a trace?

It was, as they said, a mystery that even ghosts would find confounding.

“I wonder if we should even continue the Yongbong Gathering,” remarked an elder from the Tang family, his voice cold. “What will you do if the younger generation ends up slaughtered en masse?”

The Admiral of the Dongchang faction added, “And what does Shaolin intend to do about the fact that the Imperial General was assassinated in Hanam, under their watch?”

The Yongbong Gathering was hosted by Shaolin, and the assassination had occurred within their territory.

Though the Admiral’s words seemed accusatory, the Abbot remained unperturbed.

“If the Third Prince had been assassinated, Shaolin would, of course, have taken responsibility,” the Abbot replied.

“What does that even mean…?”

“Is Shaolin also supposed to guard the Imperial General? Wouldn’t that, in fact, be an insult to the General himself?”

“Abbot! How can you say such a thing?”

The Abbot raised a hand to interrupt.

“Furthermore, I believe it is right to continue the Yongbong Gathering. Halting it now would only lower the morale of the righteous martial world. People would claim we surrendered to the Black Lotus Sect.”

Despite his displeasure, the Tang family elder nodded reluctantly at the Abbot’s reasoning.

The Abbot continued, “One thing is certain: the perpetrator belongs to the North Sea Ice Palace and possesses the skill to assassinate the Imperial General in such a brief period.”

Turning his gaze toward the Tang elder, the Abbot added, “Elder Tang, it would be appropriate to consult you on the matter of assassination tactics.”

The Tang elder sighed.

“Assassination... yes, there are various methods. One possibility does come to mind.”

“What is it?”

“To assassinate the Imperial General within such a short timeframe is practically impossible. Only someone of the Ice Palace Master’s caliber could manage it.”

The North Sea Ice Palace Master—a martial artist of the Huajing realm and a leader within the Seven Dark Gates.

Ignoring the gazes fixed upon him, the Tang elder continued, “But I don’t believe the Palace Master would be foolish enough to infiltrate Hanam personally.”

Most of the room nodded in agreement.

“In that case, the perpetrator was likely someone raised from the start to kill the Imperial General.”

Martial artists’ sensory perceptions are not perfect.

Being human, they cannot process all information at all times. Sensory perception distinguishes the familiar from the unfamiliar.

It’s possible to miss familiar presences entirely.

This is the basis for one assassination method: raising an assassin specifically to align with the target’s preferences and have them infiltrate over time. Once the assassin forms a close bond with the target, the opportunity to strike presents itself.

This method, requiring years or even decades of investment, is rarely used due to its high failure rate. Assassins often form genuine relationships with their targets, which complicates the execution.

“But Elder Tang, how do you think the assassin escaped through the encirclement?”

“That, I cannot say. Perhaps their stealth techniques are unparalleled.”

“Hmm…”

Few seemed convinced by the Tang elder’s suggestion.

At that moment, Seo-jun, who had been quietly listening, spoke up.

“Judging from this incident, it seems the Black Lotus Sect has an exceptional assassin. Couldn’t we investigate their past activities for clues?”

His recent feats had given him a stronger voice in such discussions.

The assembly found his idea plausible and turned to Hong Anggae, as the Beggars’ Sect was renowned for its intelligence network among the Sixteen Great Houses.

“Similar incidents, huh…”

Scratching his head, Hong Anggae glanced at a Hua Shan elder.

The elder sighed deeply before speaking.

“Some of you may already know… Recently, Elder Jongin has gone missing.”

“Elder Jongin? Are you referring to Jongin of the Ten Thousand Demons Suppression?”

“Yes.”

“Are you saying Elder Jongin was assassinated by the Black Lotus Sect?”

Just as planned.

Seo-jun smiled slyly.

“Well…” the Hua Shan elder hesitated before continuing, “While most traces of martial arts at the scene were erased… based on the remaining sword marks…”

“Why are you hesitating?”

After a brief pause, the Hua Shan elder finally revealed, “Hua Shan has concluded that the marks were left by the Imperial Cloud Divine Sword.”

Gasps filled the room.