Book 8 Chapter 1

Soothe the Soul Ceremony (鎭魂祭)

- Incense carries souls within smoke and sends them off on the wind.

Placed on the red altar,

The incense stick in the bronze censer burns itself,

Turning into smoke and ascending to the heavens on the wind.

Within the quietly burning incense smoke, lie the earnest wishes of many people. A fervent desire for the souls of the departed to safely ascend to their resting place, carried by the fragrant incense smoke!

Incense, holding thousands of wishes, burned its life to transport twenty souls. In the training grounds outside the Hall of Soothing Souls (鎭魂殿), where the altar was set to comfort the spirits of fallen warriors, hundreds of martial artists stood in formation, parading. Over hundreds of warriors, all clad in pure white robes like the first snow, honored the souls of their fallen comrades. The sight was so solemn it evoked a sense of grandeur. No one dared to laugh or chat. Without even the slightest movement, they stared intently into the Hall of Soothing Souls with burning eyes. Gazing at the twenty memorial tablets on the altar, the warriors suppressed the raging fury within their hearts, their fiery gazes blazing.

Like any soul-soothing ceremony, the overall atmosphere within the ritual hall is usually bleak and gloomy. However, this place possessed a markedly different atmosphere from other funeral sites. The air surrounding the training grounds was tense, like a drawn bowstring. And that tension contained a chilling malevolence that could chill a person's heart. The air pressing down on their shoulders was unbearably heavy.

This was a very special place that could never be called an ordinary funeral home. In a typical funeral home, one would not expect to see white mourning attire, white headbands, and sharp, gleaming swords and weapons. Yet, here, everyone, without exception, carried weapons, and their weapons now contained a cold, deadly aura.

"Grrr… I'll get them…"

Inside the Hall of Soothing Souls, an old man standing behind the elder officiating the ritual clenched his fist and let out a low groan of fury. It was Master Jang Wi-yeom, known as Unhae Muyoung, who normally taught the art of stealth and infiltration. Seeing the corpses of the warriors he had trained, he felt as if his own child had been brutally slain and returned cold, and his cooled blood boiled hot.

The power of his fury surged, making the passage of time seem insignificant.

"Is this the devastation after thirty years…?"

Next to Jang Wi-yeom, unable to contain his anger, a white-bearded old man whose beard reached his chest let out a low sigh. He continuously stroked his beard as if to soothe himself. For him, it was a way to manage his murderous intent and anger.

"There has been no such incident in thirty years… Who dared to commit such a reckless act against our Cheonmu Academy? A complete annihilation… it's too unreal to believe…"

Seong Cheong-ju, the Sword Master (劍老師) who had spent half his life teaching swordsmanship to disciples at Cheonmu Academy, let out a long sigh filled with deep sorrow.

Behind the twenty memorial tablets lay twenty coffins, all empty except for one. The bodies of all but one had not even been recovered. Perhaps the tragic reality of not being able to retrieve even their disciples' bodies further inflamed the fury of these martial elders. If only they could have at least recovered the bodies… they were now angry at themselves for failing even that.

The entire atmosphere of the soul-soothing ceremony was grim.

The face of Cheonmu Academy's head, Cheolkwon Ma Jin-ga, who was presiding over the ceremony, was noticeably grim. The only reason he could contain the lava-like anger boiling in his chest was due to his immense patience. Considering his position, despite his surging anger, he could not express it directly. His supreme status in the martial world had made him someone who could not carelessly express his joys and sorrows.

One must not carelessly express their emotions simply because of a high position. It is a grave mistake to mistake having a high position for having such a right. Those with higher positions than others must be even more skilled at controlling their emotions and be more cautious.

This is because the influence they have on their surroundings is so great that the emotions of those around them can be swept away by their emotional changes. There is the danger that even a trivial word or deed could ignite public outrage in the martial world.

He was not so incompetent as to be unaware of this. Therefore, he was quietly, but more strongly than anyone else, suppressing his anger within.

Although the relationship with the dark sects had been strained recently, after the Great Bloodshed of Ten Thousand Calamities (天劫血洗) a hundred years ago, the dark and righteous sects maintained a cold and hypocritical smile on the surface, even if they harbored deep resentment within. For nearly a century, they had maintained a state of cold war, and thus, the incident of a whole unit being annihilated was an enormous event.

A tense peace, characterized by duplicity and forced smiles, had persisted for nearly a hundred years, maintained with bloodless facades. Of course, there had been occasional significant incidents that brought a storm of bloodshed to the martial world, but the righteous and dark factions had never directly clashed. If one were to count even those minor incidents, the recent peace could be considered the peace of the last thirty years.

Even as they harbored resentment, shuddered with fear, and sharpened their blades inwardly, they outwardly displayed bright smiles, and the righteous and dark factions performed a false peace. However, a false peace was a thousand times better than a bloody and brutal reality, so everyone remained silent.

They all pretended to ignore the embers burning within them. A spring that is forcefully compressed will eventually rebound even more forcefully! Perhaps the martial world was now experiencing that rebound.

In the last thirty years, no direct attack had been made on a unit directly under Cheonmu Academy, let alone other minor factions. Cheonmu Academy was a sanctuary that even the most radical extremists of the dark sects dared not touch!

That pride had been wounded again after thirty years.

Frankly, Ma Jin-ga was at a loss as to what action he should take.

The anger of the people of Cheonmu Academy was sky-high, but they could not directly protest to the Black Heaven Alliance. It was not a lack of courage. It was not a disadvantage in strength. This was because, in terms of symbolism, an equally significant event, if not more so, had occurred to the core pillar of the dark sects, the Black Heaven Alliance.

The death of the eldest grandson of the "God" of the Dark Sects, the Sword God Demon (武神魔) Gal Jung-hyeok, Gal Hyo-bong of the Bloodstream Sword (血流刀)!

The fact that Cheonmu Academy's sword was involved was something that could not be overlooked. Even if they protested their innocence and cried foul play, without evidence, the situation would turn against them. It was truly maddening for those being accused.

Even if they wanted to resolve it cleanly without any repercussions, it was now close to impossible due to the tangled web of grievances. If it became further entangled, it was as clear as daylight that another bloodbath would sweep through the martial world.

As if indifferent to Ma Jin-ga's burning anxiety, the mournful sound of scriptures continued to echo in the solemn ritual hall.

With a heart tormented by great worry, Ma Jin-ga looked around. As expected, the faces of the higher-ups were far more serious than those of the disciples parading in the training grounds.

Although no one spoke directly, it was evident that they were all contemplating how to handle this grave and momentous situation.

They were in a situation where no one dared to speak to another carelessly. They did not want to see innocent blood spilled by touching a situation that could explode at any moment.

As Elder Un-heo of the Wudang Sect, who was presiding over the ritual, recited scriptures, the clear sound of scriptures carried on the wind, echoing across the training grounds.

Un-heo Jin-in continued to proceed with the soul-soothing ceremony, unperturbed by the heavy atmosphere. He had the important duty of moving on to the next part of the ritual.

As the incantation for soothing souls was added to the somber atmosphere, the air in the hall became even heavier.

"Appease the spirits!"

As Elder Un-heo, who was presiding over the ritual, called out the next order of business, over a dozen musicians entered, carrying various instruments such as the zither, flute, and reed pipe. The Hall of Soothing Souls was a very spacious place, providing ample room for the mixed-gender musicians to take their positions. As the musicians formed a circle, the center naturally remained empty.

Tring! Tring!

The clear sound of bells!

All eyes were drawn to one spot.

A woman, adorned in a delicate yet resplendent robe of five-colored silk and bedecked with various gold and silver accessories, walked forward. Her neck was adorned with a necklace of five-colored jewels, and her slender, milky-white wrists and ankles were adorned with golden bracelets with silver bells. Her appearance was so beautiful and mysterious that it evoked the illusion of a celestial fairy descending to the mortal realm.

For a moment, a chilling silence enveloped the hall. Everyone was speechless, staring intently at her exquisite beauty. Pure and radiant brilliance, noble dignity, dazzling appearance, skin as white and lustrous as white jade.

A beauty so dazzling it could blind people! Celestial beauty!

She was Na Ye-rin.

"Oooooooh!"

People's mouths dropped open. Sincere exclamations burst from their parted lips.

Even her usual, simple martial attire, which prioritized functionality, could not conceal her beauty. That was impossible. But now, adorned with the finest silk, the finest craftsmanship, and the finest accessories, she was beyond worldly beauty. It was understandable that people were losing their senses and were captivated.

Although her attire was ostentatious, entirely unsuited for a soul-soothing ceremony, no one expressed any dissatisfaction. They all knew that this was an integral part of the ritual. Far from being dissatisfied, they were enthusiastic. Even if they couldn't outwardly express it during the ceremony, they were channeling it inwardly.

Everyone in the hall was captivated and simply gazed at her graceful and delicate steps as she walked.

The Soul-Soothing Sword Dance!

A dance performed with a sword to comfort the souls of deceased warriors!

Chaaaaararaaarang!

Her beloved sword, Okryeong, was drawn from its scabbard with a clear and distinct clang. The milky-white blade, imbued with a chillingly dazzling sharpness, sparkled brilliantly, shattering the sunlight.

"Clang clang!"

Then, the musicians began to play.

Swoosh!

In time with the musicians' performance, Na Ye-rin drew a silent sword stroke in the air. It was as if only she and her sword existed in this world.

At first, the sword movements were slow to the point of being boring. Each swing seemed to take a year. However, as the melody crescendoed, her sword movements gradually quickened, as if responding to the music. Her beloved sword flashed with a brilliant light, scattering pure and clear radiance in the air. The sword and the melody became one, creating a magnificent harmony.

The flowing sleeves that draped down to the floor began to swirl in a spiral, fantastically wrapping around her body. The sleeves, flowing fiercely on the wind, blurred the vision of the onlookers. Na Ye-rin's body began to spin like a top. White robes fluttered around her.

When a celestial fairy descends to the mortal realm and dances, who can help but be mesmerized by her beauty?

The sword, gracefully swimming through the air, drew a flowing spiral like a whirlwind. It was a beautiful dance, as if painting on a blank white canvas. Sharp sword energy traced white paths through the air. A chilling aura flowed along the sword blade held in her delicate hand.

The cold energy emanating from Okryeong formed white robes that swirled around her. Amidst the music reaching its peak, Na Ye-rin's sword dance continued to accelerate, heading towards its climax. The onlookers had moved beyond mere observation and were deeply engrossed in the sword dance. Their hearts pounded wildly with each of her movements, and their blood flowed faster as they were mesmerized by her sword dance. Unknowingly, they were drawn into the sword dance, becoming excited. The hall grew increasingly heated.

A sword dance so beautiful it brought tears to the eyes, transforming the world into white. A cold sorrow breathed from the tip of the sword as it slashed through the air. The music filling the Hall of Soothing Souls made the onlookers feel a heart-wrenching sadness. And Na Ye-rin's absolute beauty, which sublimated that sorrow into whiteness.

Everyone was captivated, speechless, by the poignant emotion that made even the air hold its breath. Her body began to spin in ever-increasing spirals.

The musicians playing the music were also lost in her sword dance, playing with all their might. Sweat flew through the air from their soul-burning performance, and her dance, as if in response, gradually moved towards its climax. Na Ye-rin was now spinning so rapidly that it was difficult to follow with the eyes. It felt as if the wind were wrapping around her body. As she spun like a top, a beam of sword light shot horizontally from her body.

Zeeeeeeeeeng!

A single sword stroke that vibrated the air.

With that single sword stroke, which seemed to cleave the sky and earth in half, her dance ended.

"Ding!"

The music stopped.

A hollow silence descended. No one dared to break the enchanting silence first. Everyone was still lost in the rapture of moments ago. The silence lasted longer than expected. And after a moment!

"Woooooaaaaaaah!"

A thunderous, enthusiastic roar erupted from the hall. The Hall of Soothing Souls was a melting pot of emotion, a mixture of excitement and fervor. It was enough to blow away the sorrow and anger that had pervaded the hall.

"Woooooaaaaaaah! Long live Cheonmu Academy! Long live! Long live!"

With the resounding cheers, a fighting spirit ignited.

Gongson Il-chwi left the Hall of Soothing Souls with heavy steps after the soul-soothing ceremony concluded. Gongson Il-chwi, the Elder Council Leader and Sword Venerable (劍尊), who was attending the largest soul-soothing ceremony in thirty years, moved as if wearing shoes of a thousand pounds, his complexion as grim as that of a corpse.

The Hall of Soothing Souls (鎭魂殿) is a place meaning to soothe spirits, held when deaths occur in the line of duty, not from natural causes. It is where soul-soothing ceremonies are held to comfort the spirits of fallen warriors, as in this case. Places for rituals for those who died of natural causes are separately designated as the Hall of Mourning Souls (弔魂殿).

The roles of the Hall of Mourning Souls and the Hall of Soothing Souls are fundamentally different. If the Hall of Mourning Souls is merely a place to honor the souls of the deceased, the Hall of Soothing Souls not only honors the souls of the departed and soothes their grievances but also serves to ignite the fighting spirit of the living.

Since ancient times, large-scale soul-soothing ceremonies have harbored the purpose of fueling the hearts of the enraged allies and boosting their morale.

However, even so, it was not a situation where war could be initiated.

Tap, tap!

Deep anger was etched into Gongson Il-chwi's every step. A slight self-reproach and an unprecedented, endless fury towards the enemy! The earth cried out and trembled with each step he took.

He looked up at the clear, cold sky without a word. The deep blue sky filled his aged eyes.

"Did I kill them?"

It felt like losing limbs from his body. It had been a long time since so many subordinates, who had always assisted him and whom he treated like his own limbs, had died at once. His heart ached as he thought of those who could not leave their names behind in life and could not even leave their bodies in death.

This is because they were intelligence operatives. Whether righteous or dark, intelligence operatives never left their names behind alive. They were always people who lived in the sun's shadow and the night's darkness, and secrecy was their greatest concern. However, if they died, they should at least have their names left behind. That was what it meant to be righteous. In the dark sects, the deaths of intelligence operatives or spies would have been buried in darkness, but those who claimed to be righteous could not do so. Even if they had their names erased and their existence wiped from the world, it was the same.

"After thirty years… will the martial world be swept by a storm of blood again?"

It was not an exaggeration to say that this was the first crisis since the Great Calamity of Feathers (天劫羽) thirty years ago, known as the War of Feathers. The atmosphere in both the righteous and dark factions was unsettling.

After the bloody nightmare of the Great Bloodshed of Ten Thousand Calamities (天劫血洗) a hundred years ago, the righteous and dark factions had maintained a semblance of peace, bickering occasionally but getting along reasonably well. However, seventy years later, the precarious peace of the martial world, maintained through a delicate tug-of-war, was struck a heavy blow by an unexpected opponent. The hidden enemies who had successfully ambushed for seventy years were the remnant followers of the Heavenly Calamity Lord, the Heavenly Calamity Feathers (天劫羽).

Thirty years ago, there was a large-scale battle with the Feathers, known as the Operation to Annihilate the Heavenly Calamity Feathers (天劫羽). This was a large-scale military action colloquially known as the "Feather Plucking Operation."

What do "Feathers" signify? Here, "Feathers" refers to the cursed name in the martial world! It is a collective term for the remnant forces and hidden followers of the Heavenly Calamity Lord. Even though the actual ruler and everything of the Heavenly Calamity Lord, the Heavenly Calamity (天劫) Blood God (血神) Wi Cheon-mu, had disappeared and his life and death were uncertain, the Heavenly Calamity Lord had not completely disappeared and had left behind persistent remnant forces. They were the Heavenly Calamity Feathers! They were collectively named "Feathers" because they were detached from the main body.

Despite their spiritual leader's disappearance and the absence of their hierarchy, their resistance was so fierce and covert that such facts were questionable. This covertness was the greatest enemy of the righteous sects. Enemies in the open are not to be feared, but a silently flying knife from the darkness, no matter how few in number, is sufficiently threatening.

Finally, based on the treaty signed a hundred years ago, the righteous and dark factions agreed to form a joint front and launched a large-scale search operation for the Feathers. A massive expulsion operation involving nine-tenths of the intelligence organizations of both factions was carried out. It is said that there was an immense, unseen sacrifice in the invisible intelligence industry at the time. However, this sacrifice was not announced. They were born in darkness, lived in darkness, and returned to darkness. Leaving behind a single piece of information exchanged for their lives!

Thus, after two years of a large-scale search operation, the stronghold of the Heavenly Calamity Feathers was revealed, and as a natural consequence, a large-scale suppression operation was launched. It was a commemorative righteous-dark joint operation that unfolded again after seventy years.

Colloquially known as the Feather Plucking Operation!

However, even with a joint front between the righteous and dark factions, not everything went smoothly. Many mountains remained to be climbed. The Heavenly Calamity Feathers' resistance was surprisingly fierce. Both righteous and dark factions suffered immense damage. However, most of that damage was not from direct confrontation with the Feathers. It was damage inflicted by colleagues who had their backs. Therefore, the damage was incredibly devastating and heart-wrenching.

By then, the forces of the Heavenly Calamity Feathers had infiltrated deep within the righteous and dark factions. It was a foregone conclusion that distrust among colleagues would sprout, regardless of whether they were righteous or dark. With the cost of vast amounts of fellow disciples' blood and sacrifice, the Second Joint Righteous-Dark Alliance finally succeeded in eradicating the Feathers. However, the damage was agonizingly severe. And it left indelible scars and fear in the martial world. The terrifying reminder that the Heavenly Calamity Lord had not completely disappeared from the martial world! They had left their continued existence in the most violent, noisy, and brutal way possible. It was as if they had smeared a forgotten nightmare with blood.

Clench!

Gongson Il-chwi clenched his fist so tightly that his flesh bled. Within it remained the trace of the last blood shed by Cheonri Chujong Sudokgo, the last remnant of his life.

'Wait!'

With his resolve hardened, Gongson Il-chwi headed towards his quarters.

Booo!

Bilyu-yeon's cheeks were swollen from an unexpected gust of wind.

"Why… why are you doing this?"

Namgung Sang, who was watching, was sweating profusely on his forehead. His vision suddenly became bleak.

Seeing his cheeks swollen for a while, it was clear that dissatisfaction was gradually building up within him. Namgung Sang, who had been by his side for a year and a half, could instantly grasp his senior brother's condition.

'Oh no! This is bad!'

A loud warning sounded in Namgung Sang's mind. In such situations, it was best to quickly retreat more than a hundred paces away from Bilyu-yeon for his own safety, but he couldn't back down now. The sense of crisis that an uncontrollable situation could occur if his dissatisfaction and irritation continued to build and explode overwhelmed him. Such an unfortunate event had to be prevented at all costs. That was his current duty.

To effectively deal with the crisis and resolve the situation, he first had to trace the cause of the incident. While the ceremony was proceeding in the Hall of Soothing Souls, Bilyu-yeon's mood had shown no change. His mood began to change only after Miss Na Ye-rin's enchanting and even sacred sword dance. Even when Na Ye-rin appeared, Bilyu-yeon showed no particular emotional change. In fact, he even seemed happy to see the beautifully adorned Na Ye-rin. But after the sword dance ended, he remained in this state. Namgung Sang could not recall the intermediate process. Because, though Jin-ryeong would be furious if she knew, he himself had been so captivated by Na Ye-rin's sword dance that he couldn't think of anything else. Of course, this was a top-secret matter that absolutely must not be revealed to Jin-ryeong.

When Na Ye-rin's sword dance ended with the final sword chime, Namgung Sang felt as if he had awakened from a dream. The remnants of wistfulness still faintly lingered in his heart.

It was at this moment that he noticed the sulky expression on Bilyu-yeon's face. This meant that Bilyu-yeon was expressing dissatisfaction with Na Ye-rin's sword dance.

'What could he possibly be dissatisfied with about such a beautiful and even mystical sword dance?'

It was an act that ordinary human common sense could not comprehend. Thus, Namgung Sang, without fear and unconsciously, let his thoughts slip out.

"Senior Brother? What has been bothering you for a while now?"

As soon as he spoke, Namgung Sang realized his mistake. His approach was too direct. But the die was already cast.

"I don't like it!"

Bilyu-yeon said in a petulant voice.

"No, what? Are you saying you don't like Miss Na's beautiful and mystical sword dance?"

Tap!

Finally, Bilyu-yeon gave Namgung Sang a knuckle rap on the forehead.

"How could you ask something so absurd, you idiot!"

His tone suggested it was ridiculous to even ask such a question. So, it meant he didn't have a direct complaint about the sword dance.

"Then what exactly are you dissatisfied about?"

Rubbing his still throbbing forehead, Namgung Sang made a pitiful face. Dealing with an unpredictable human was always extremely tiring in many ways.

"I don't like it!"

Bilyu-yeon's swollen cheeks showed no sign of deflating.

"So, what exactly is this dissatisfaction?"

Frustrated, Namgung Sang patted his chest.

"She's too beautiful!"

Bilyu-yeon's answer was simply that.

"How can that be a reason to be angry? Isn't anger a rightful expression of emotion towards something crooked and unjust?"

The reason Bilyu-yeon gave was utterly unreasonable.

"But she's so, so beautiful, it's a waste to see her alone!"

His voice remained petulant.

"Huh?"

Namgung Sang's face contorted strangely as he heard Bilyu-yeon express his dissatisfaction with a sulky expression.

"Usually, people say it's a waste to see something alone, don't they?"

"No, why? Why should I have to endure the irrationality of sharing the beauty of what is mine with others?"

In short, he absolutely did not want to share the joy that would double and triple by sharing. The fact that Na Ye-rin's beauty pleased the eyes of others was unacceptable. But there was something else to address first.

"But she's not yet Senior Brother's!"

The idea of Na Ye-rin of Bingbaek Peak belonging to any man would have enraged not only hundreds of Cheonmu Academy disciples but also thousands of male martial artists.

"It's just undecided! It's already scheduled!"

Bilyu-yeon replied with a petulant expression. It seemed he wanted to claim exclusive rights to Na Ye-rin's beauty.

"They say it's impossible to obtain the heart of a beauty. Isn't that so?"

The naive Namgung Sang, after starting to date Jin-ryeong, dared to act as if he knew about romantic relationships.

"Don't you know the saying that impossibility exists to be made possible? Perhaps I am the only one in this world who knows the softness and sweetness of her lips!"

"Yes?"

Namgung Sang's eyes widened.

"Why are you so surprised?"

"Is… is what you just said true?"

"Do I look like I have the leisure to be joking around with you now?"

"But how? How could that be possible? How could such a thing have happened?"

Gongsang's mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"You kissed Ling too, so why are you so startled?"

Namgung Sang's face instantly turned red.

"Th-that's different from this situation!"

He desperately wanted to claim a distinction. But it seemed his thoughts and philosophy were not working at all.

"It's the same! You can kiss Jin-ryeong as you please, but I can't? Where in this world is there such an absurd and irrational law? What's different about it?"

"St-still, it is definitely different."

Unfortunately, Namgung Sang was never a match for Bilyu-yeon in terms of verbal sparring. Namgung Sang was still Bilyu-yeon's meal.

"The one who always stays one step ahead eventually becomes the ultimate winner."

He spoke with the smile of a victor, his tone like that of a seasoned professional.

'The topic seems to be a bit off…'

Namgung Sang let out a sigh without realizing it.

"Hoo… I suppose even if I become the public enemy of the Bingbong Yeonghua Guardian Corps and all the male disciples within Cheonmu Academy, and my life is threatened, I have nothing to say."

Namgung Sang, even at this point, innocently had no idea why so many men harbored malice towards his senior brother. In truth, Namgung Sang knew absolutely nothing about these matters, to the point where he could be friends with an idiot in this regard.

"Whoever marks first, claims it!"

Where did that absurd confidence originate? He was still a person unfathomable by common sense.

"Here, the location of where one marks is more important, I think…"

Namgung Sang muttered to himself, only for himself to hear. He was already beyond the danger zone, and he wanted to avoid being scolded by his senior brother if he spoke loudly.

At this moment, someone far away was watching Bilyu-yeon's childish behavior with a contemplative gaze. It was Qing Hen, one of the two paragons of the Gu Jeong Hoe, and his eyes were filled with deep doubt. The Bilyu-yeon he was seeing now was drastically different from the formidable figure he had shown previously.

'What on earth is that person's true identity?'

Qing Hen recalled the unbelievable event he had witnessed that day. Just thinking about it made his palms sweat.

'Which is his true form? Which of what he is showing now and what he showed that day is his true self? Was what I saw that day not a dream?'

Qing Hen, Baek Mu-yeong, and the sixteen Vermilion Bird Squad members, after returning from Mount Wudang, remained silent, as if by prior agreement, exercising their right to remain silent in response to the constant barrage of questions from people. Everyone's heart was the same.

'I don't want to be a liar and a fool!'

This was their common desire. Therefore, they could not speak even if they wanted to. They knew too well that the moment they spoke, they would be branded as braggarts and liars.

'How did you manage to send back the fearsome Iron Leged Demonic Horse Brigade?'

'I truly respect you. How did you defeat the Iron Leged Demonic Horse Brigade?'

'Did they return peacefully? I heard they never turn back their banners until they have annihilated their enemy?'

The ceaseless barrage of questions. But there was not even a tiny shred of a detail to answer with.

"What was the strategy?"

'Strategy, what strategy…!'

"What martial arts did you primarily use?"

'Martial arts, what martial arts…!'

"What type of martial arts were effective against them?"

'Not a single thing…!'

And,

"What exactly happened that day?"

"Please tell us!" "Please tell us!" "Please tell us!"

However, due to the predicament of not wanting to be branded a liar, Qing Hen had to keep his mouth firmly shut despite the flood of questions pouring in from all directions like a river in flood during the rainy season. Even though his ears were aching from the incessant chatter.

"Hoo…"

A deep sigh escaped his lips naturally.

The unforgettable events of that day, the scene of that day, the divine power of that day… and the recklessness of that day!

The events of that day were still as vivid as if they were imprinted in his eyes.

An image clearly etched in his mind like a brand! It was certain that he would not forget it for a long time, if ever. The pages of memory in his mind began to turn again.