Chapter 506
I had sensed Moon Kyung approaching.
After seven days and nights of grueling—no, bowel-shattering—training, my perception had sharpened considerably.
Although the system had yet to recognize an advancement in my sensory skills, I could feel that I was close. I only needed to break through the wall that stood in my way.
‘But what does he mean by four, not two?’
The question lingered only for a moment.
The Yangtze River Waterway League and the Green Forest Alliance were powerful enough that even the righteous factions couldn’t ignore them. And if there were two more groups to be counted alongside them, then the answer was obvious.
Recalling a conversation I had with Jeok Cheon-Gang in the past, I muttered under my breath.
“The Martial World Beyond Central Plains.”
A world of martial arts beyond the borders of the Central Plains.
Some referred to it as the realm beyond the Great Wall, inhabited by so-called barbarians. But Jeok Cheon-Gang had scoffed at such notions.
‘Does the Great Wall encircle the entire world? The world is vast, spanning as far as the sky itself. Each land has its own martial world.’
Perhaps because of his nature, Jeok Cheon-Gang’s views were far from the narrow-minded Sinocentrism of the old scholars.
His broad perspective wasn’t just a result of experience from the Great Demonic War—his predecessors, the previous masters of Yeolhwa Sect, had also contributed to his knowledge.
Of course, those so-called “records” were more like personal diaries written for their own amusement rather than for future generations.
‘They were quite something.’
I recalled some of the documents I had read in Yeolhwa Sect’s archives.
XX Year, X Month, X Day — Third Sect Leader, Cheon Bong.
‘I’m sick of the Central Plains. War rages in every direction, and the martial world is a mess. So, to broaden my horizons, I traveled to India.’
‘After a long journey, I arrived at some river called the Ganges. It’s not as grand as the Yangtze, but still quite wide. Anyway, if any future Yeolhwa Sect disciples come here, wash yourself in the river first. Don’t ask why, just do it.’
‘I was sightseeing when a group of monks suddenly surrounded me, chattering in a language I couldn’t understand while brandishing weapons. So, I beat them up.’
‘Later, a translator from the Central Plains happened to pass by and, horrified, told me that these monks were from something called the “Little Thunderclap Temple.”‘
‘Judging by the name, I thought it was like Shaolin, but these monks were downright violent.’
‘They came back with reinforcements, so I crippled them all and burned down their weird-looking temple. It was quite a sight to behold.’
XX Year, X Month, X Day — Fifth Sect Leader, Song Hak.
‘I have always deeply respected our third sect leader, Cheon Bong, so I decided to follow in his footsteps and explore both the Central Plains and the martial world beyond.’
‘Beyond the scorching desert, I fought against the Mad Storm Society. Then, I ventured to Tibet and pulled a pillar from the Potala Palace.’
‘The entire Tibetan army was enraged and chased me down.’
‘But who am I? I am Song Hak, the Ghost Flame Fist, the fifth sect leader of Yeolhwa Sect.’
‘Without a scratch, I… managed to escape and return safely to the Central Plains.’
‘To the future heirs of Yeolhwa Sect, remember this well: If you face a hundred elite warriors, fight them head-on. If it’s a thousand, use Phantom Ghost Steps to escape. If it’s more than that, retreat and fight another day.’
‘Of course, if you’re stronger than me, just fight them all.’
‘Oh, and if you ever go to India, make sure to bathe in that river called the Ganges. Twice.’
XX Year, X Month, X Day — Ninth Sect Leader, Gu Jincheon.
‘I went to the southern jungles and exterminated the Five Poison Sect.’
‘I traveled to Persia and met men wearing strange turbans instead of hero’s headbands.’
‘They called themselves Muslims and claimed to follow a prophet.’
‘When I asked to meet this prophet, they told me he was already dead. I couldn’t understand why, so I asked again. They drew their swords.’
‘I had no choice but to send them to meet their prophet personally.’
‘My next destination was the Ice Palace in the North Sea, but everything was covered in ice and water, so I just went back.’
‘Future successors, that one’s on you.’
‘Oh, and I finally learned the name of that river—Ganges. If you ever visit India, wash yourself there. No excuses.’
XX Year, X Month, X Day — Twelfth Sect Leader, Han Shin.
‘I, a foolish disciple, followed in my ancestors’ footsteps and traveled to India. Upon arrival, I immediately jumped into the Ganges and began washing myself.’
‘As I was shampooing my hair, I saw corpses floating downstream.’
‘When I moved elsewhere to rinse, I noticed feces drifting past me.’
‘Curious, I went upstream and found hundreds of people dumping bodies and relieving themselves into the river.’
‘What in the actual hell is wrong with this place?’
Even now, rereading these records left me speechless.
The previous sect leaders had rampaged across both the Central Plains and foreign lands, breaking everything in their path.
And despite everything, they all insisted on bathing in the Ganges—clearly just hazing for future disciples.
After Han Shin’s “unpleasant experience,” there were fewer records on the martial world beyond the Central Plains. However, once trade routes reopened, more information about foreign martial arts began to trickle in.
And now, the two factions Jeok Cheon-Gang had just mentioned were among those closest to the Central Plains—both geographically and politically.
“The Northern Sea Ice Palace and the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace.”
Even their names reflected their distinct identities.
As Jeok Cheon-Gang introduced them, Moon Kyung smiled brightly and nodded.
“Yes, that’s right. My master told me about them. He even visited long ago and confirmed that they’re just as formidable as any major sect in the Central Plains.”
I would bet my entire fortune that he went there to kill people.
As Moon Kyung spoke, Jeok Cheon-Gang and I exchanged knowing glances.
Sensing our skepticism, Moon Kyung’s eyes narrowed.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“…Huh? Oh, nothing.”
“Ahem. It’s nothing. Truly befitting of a healer, always rushing wherever the sick are in need.”
It was obvious that Jeok Cheon-Gang, having benefited from Moon Kyung’s skills, was playing along to keep him in good spirits.
Sensing our reactions, Moon Kyung, as if he had never left his role as a young physician, continued speaking.
“My master once said that even during the Great Demonic War, the Demonic Cult’s first targets for recruitment were those two factions… Is that true, Jeok Dae-Hyup?”
“Mm? Hm.”
Jeok Cheon-Gang answered with a displeased expression.
“It’s true. To the Demonic Cult, the sects of the so-called ‘unorthodox martial world’ were all branches from the same root, so they naturally tried to recruit them. If the Northern Sea Ice Palace had marched south and the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace had headed north, the Great Demonic War would have taken a very different turn.”
However, neither of those factions accepted the Demonic Cult’s invitation.
The Northern Sea Ice Palace remained as isolated as ever, cutting off all external contact, while the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace, being geographically closer to the Central Plains, weighed its options and ultimately sided with the righteous sects.
“At first, the Beast Palace warriors only pretended to fight, but later, they became a great help. The beasts they brought with them were each as strong as several elite warriors, and their trained sky eagles managed to intercept the secret messages the Demonic Cult was sending across the land.”
The Southern Barbarian Beast Palace was practically the sworn enemy of modern-day animal rights activists.
For generations, they had captured, trained, and tamed the beasts of the southern jungles, even basing their martial arts on the movements of these creatures.
“Wait a minute. Didn’t you say you were close with someone from there?”
I asked as a sudden thought crossed my mind.
Jeok Cheon-Gang furrowed his brow.
“Who?”
“The palace master. The Beast King.”
“The Beast King? Ah, you mean the Savage Beast King?”
“Yeah, that guy.”
The Savage Beast King was the lowest-ranked among the Ten Kings, but also the most unique.
Not only was he the leader of the native Miao tribe of the southern jungles, but he was also the ruler of the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace.
He had earned his place among the Ten Kings due to his martial prowess and contributions during the Great Demonic War, but many viewed his appointment as an honorary title given to a foreigner.
Because of this, even within the righteous sects, his name was rarely mentioned.
Some even mocked the decision, claiming, “Why elevate some southern savage instead of one of our own?”—thus sparking rumors that the Savage Beast King was undeserving of his title.
“I only met him a few times, nothing more.”
“But didn’t he personally visit you?”
“That much is true. One day, this half-naked, dark-skinned guy showed up at my doorstep, and I almost greeted him with a Flame God Palm.”
For some reason, Mu Song, who had been standing tensely nearby, widened his eyes in shock.
“Is that really true?”
“Do you think I’d start making up stories at my age?”
“No, no, it’s just surprising. My master mentioned the Savage Beast King before, saying he’s incredibly arrogant and only shows respect to the Martial God…”
“Hah! Has the Sea King gone senile already? That fool probably offended him first.”
Jeok Cheon-Gang clicked his tongue in irritation.
“That man may look like a brute, but he shows respect when it’s due. If he were just some muscle-headed savage, how could he have united the entire Miao tribe?”
That was a fair point.
Even minor martial sects with only a few dozen disciples struggled to survive, constantly forming and disappearing due to lack of successors. Yet, the Savage Beast King ruled over thousands of Miao warriors.
“So? What did he want?”
I asked, prompting Jeok Cheon-Gang to stroke his thick red beard.
“Nothing much. He just came in speaking politely, bringing up the past connections between our sects.”
“Past connections?”
“Hah, you ignorant brat. Of all people, you should know this!”
I flinched as Jeok Cheon-Gang suddenly raised his voice.
Jeez, old man, why are you flooring the gas pedal all of a sudden?
After a brief scolding, he continued in a gruff tone.
“Over two hundred years ago, the Fifth Sect Leader of Yeolhwa Sect led a campaign to eradicate the Five Poison Sect of the southern jungles.”
“Wait… does that mean—?”
“At the time, the southern jungles had a power balance like a three-legged cauldron. The Five Poison Sect was the strongest, followed by the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace, and lastly, the Poison Valley.”
“But once the Five Poison Sect was destroyed, the Beast Palace took over?”
“Exactly. They even absorbed the Poison Valley, becoming the undisputed ruler of the south.”
“Damn. That’s wild.”
“And because of that, the Savage Beast King has always held Yeolhwa Sect in high regard. It was part of the reason he joined the righteous sects during the Great Demonic War.”
For a moment, I was too engrossed in the story to notice the shift in Jeok Cheon-Gang’s tone.
“…But did you just speak informally to me?”
“……I will correct myself. That was unintentional.”
