Chapter 525
The surroundings were silent.
Just an hour ago, the Leader’s Hall had been bustling with people coming and going, but now, only one person remained.
“The years truly pass quickly.”
Ma Jong-hak, murmured softly.
His gaze, fixed on empty space, seemed to be tracing distant memories. Memories so old that few even remembered them anymore.
‘They’ve all gone, haven’t they?’
Among those who shared the same memories as Ma Jong-hak, only a handful had lived to the end of their natural lifespan.
Most had fallen in nameless plains and fields, never to rise again.
The monstrous war known as the Great Battle of Justice and Evil had reaped countless lives, and those who survived were heralded as heroes.
‘But in the end… it’s happening again.’
Enough time had passed for the land to change fourfold.
The world had found peace, and the agony and sorrow endured in the vortex of war had dulled with time. The righteous sects of Murim sang songs of their victory.
And yet, under the eternally blue sky, a dark cloud had appeared—Dark Heaven.
‘Peace is over.’
The snot-nosed children who once failed to comprehend the horrors of war had grown into middle-aged men. The hot-blooded youths who had drawn their weapons with righteous fervor had become old men.
And those born after the war had come seeking not righteousness, but glory.
Their lives, personalities, and purposes were all different.
And Ma Jong-hak knew better than anyone—there was no one else but him. He had to lead them all. He had to fight once more. He had to defeat Dark Heaven, which sought to plunge the world into chaos.
It was then that a quiet voice escaped from between Ma Jong-hak’s firmly closed lips.
“I often wonder…
Can I truly do this?”
It was not a mere soliloquy.
Both Ma Jong-hak and the one silently standing guard by the door had long known the truth.
A robust elderly man—Thousand-Faced Fox, Song Ho—answered as he stepped forward.
“You can.”
Tap.
The sound of his prosthetic leg striking the floor echoed louder than expected. Between his flowing white hair, his seasoned eyes shone with a resolute light.
“No, you must.”
“I know.”
Ma Jong-hak let out a small sigh.
“But all my life, I’ve only ever known the sword. Because of that, I was given the empty title of Sword Star.”
“And it is precisely because you are the Sword Star that everyone believes in you.”
“The qualities of a warrior and a leader are different. I was never even the head of a single sect.”
“You were not unqualified. You simply chose not to.”
Song Ho’s words were true.
When the Great Battle of Justice and Evil ended and the previous sect leader of Mount Hua passed away, all the disciples of the sect had expected Ma Jong-hak to take the mantle.
“But you refused. In the end, the Azure Sky Sword King took up the position.”
“It was the natural choice. He was more suited to lead Mount Hua than I was. And…”
Ma Jong-hak ran his fingers over the beloved sword at his waist before continuing.
“I simply loved the sword.”
Song Ho, who had been silently observing him, suddenly spoke.
“I wonder if I ever mentioned this to you.”
“About what?”
“That even he had the same doubts once.”
“Are you referring to… the Martial God?”
Song Ho gave a slight nod.
“The world saw him as flawless.”
“I know. The Martial God was exceptional in every way—no, he was overwhelming.”
“But he, too, was human. And in the end, he prevailed. For some reason, when I look at you now, I see the same figure.”
At that moment, Ma Jong-hak’s body stiffened slightly.
He silently stared at the old warrior before him, then, after a moment, he spoke.
“Master Song.”
“Yes?”
“It is… truly a fine day.”
“The sky is clear.”
“May I ask the time?”
“It is noon. Everyone is waiting for one man.”
“Then I am late.”
“You are not. It is only the beginning.”
Ma Jong-hak turned his head.
Through the wide-open window, the blazing sunlight poured in.
‘Yes, it truly is a fine day.’
He repeated the words in his heart as he gazed upon the vast blue sky, then slowly turned around.
And in that instant, Song Ho realized—
The young man standing before him was no longer just a warrior.
“Lord of Hidden Shadow Pavilion.”
A quiet voice penetrated his ears.
The Hidden Shadow Pavilion was directly under the Leader’s Hall, and there was only one person who could command its master.
Taking a deep breath, Song Ho brought his hands together in a respectful palm-fist salute.
“Song Ho, Lord of Hidden Shadow Pavilion. I await the orders of the Alliance Leader.”
In the next moment, Ma Jong-hak’s lips parted.
And the words that flowed out marked both the beginning of the New Murim Alliance and the first command of its new leader.
“Let us raise the banners.”
Song Ho’s eyelids quivered.
Then, with a voice as powerful as the young man’s own, he responded.
“By your command!”
—
I lifted my head and gazed at the sky.
Above the vast blue expanse, the sun had already risen to its peak, radiating intense heat.
Not a single gust of wind stirred the air.
A thought flickered through my mind.
‘It’s hot.’
Hot, but not stifling.
It wasn’t simply because I had reached the pinnacle realm, attaining the state of imperviousness to heat and cold.
Even now, I felt the heat—not from the sunlight, but from the overwhelming energy filling the air.
One could call it momentum—the sheer presence of countless warriors gathered below.
Beneath the towering platform, an innumerable number of Murim warriors stood, their intense presence stilling even the wind.
The heat that rose like shimmering waves in the air burned hotter and fiercer than the rays of the sun.
And through that searing heat, at last—
The one they had all been waiting for appeared.
Step. Step.
The sound of steady, powerful footsteps resounded in their ears.
Even that alone was enough to send shivers down their spines and awaken their senses.
Even the wandering warriors who had been drunkenly causing havoc just the day before, even the righteous and unorthodox martial artists who had been at each other’s throats, now swallowed their dry saliva.
All because of the overwhelming presence of a single man.
Sword Star, Ma Jong-hak.
One God, Three Stars, Ten Kings.
If the Nine Great Clans and the Five Noble Families were the fifteen pillars supporting the world, then the owners of those titles were the heroes who had reshaped the current Murim.
Ten Kings ruled the land, and above them, an unreachable sky where the Martial God reigned supreme.
Within that sky, three stars shone.
And among them…
‘The brightest star of all.’
Sword Star, Ma Jong-hak.
Also known as the Greatest Sword Under Heaven.
Shff!
Thousands of martial artists instinctively parted to form a path.
No cheers, no exclamations.
Some were stunned by Ma Jong-hak’s youthful appearance, while others trembled at the overwhelming pressure emanating from him.
But none dared to voice their shock or question it.
‘No, it is unquestionable.’
That path was meant for one man alone.
And as the giant strode through the human curtain and ascended the high platform, his calm gaze swept across the gathered warriors.
“You have all waited long.”
The platform was a place reserved for the chosen.
Seated there were the heads of the great sects and noble families, the famed warriors and masters who had earned their names regardless of birthright.
‘Jeok Cheon-Gang and I, as well as the Taewon Jin Clan, are no different.’
If the figures standing upon this platform were to form the core of the New Murim Alliance, then Ma Jong-hak was its foundation and its head.
Without hesitation, everyone, including myself, rose from our seats and offered a palm-fist salute toward him.
Dozens of voices spoke at once, yet their words were as one.
“We greet the Alliance Leader.”
Even Jeok Cheon-Gang and Cheongpung, seated beside me, maintained solemn expressions and paid their respects.
Ma Jong-hak, watching this, gave a faint smile before nodding and turning away.
And in the next moment, every martial artist present—numbering in the thousands, perhaps even tens of thousands—heard it.
The voice of a giant, shaking the heavens and the earth.
“Peace is over.”
The very air surrounding us erupted.
The towering trees quivered, and the bodies of the warriors gathered below stiffened like statues.
The Ma Jong-hak who stood there now was no longer the man known for his eccentricities.
The words he now spoke, infused with unprecedented power, left no room for doubt.
“War has already begun, and another Hundred Thousand Demon Army marches toward the Central Plains.”
There may have been those who had never witnessed the Great Battle of Justice and Evil, but none were ignorant of its horrors.
The eyes of the elder warriors shone with fear and fury, while the younger martial artists trembled with an unexplainable shiver.
“Dharma King Gwang-do.”
At Ma Jong-hak’s call, the monks of Shaolin murmured a sacred chant under their breath.
“Poison King, Tang Sa-mun, and the Heavenly Thunder Nun of Emei.”
The venomous green glow in Thousand Venom Asura, Tang Sa-duk’s eyes flickered, and the Emei Sect’s nuns shed silent tears.
“The blood that first flowed from Shanxi has reached Henan, and now it has spread to Sichuan and Hubei.”
In just over a year, countless lives had been lost.
Venerable warriors once praised by all, and even young martial artists who had yet to bloom, fell without ever realizing their full potential.
‘The Eight Heavens Gorge.’
Even now, if I close my eyes, I can still see it.
How many warriors perished in that narrow canyon in Shanxi?
Who were the ones who fell in Henan, Sichuan, and Hubei?
I never knew their names, nor the dreams they had in life.
But I knew why they raised their swords.
‘To protect what they held dear.’
A surge of unparalleled energy erupted from Ma Jong-hak’s entire being.
A violet aura, originating from his Heavenly Purple Divine Art, rippled over his shoulders like rolling waves.
“Take up your arms and fight.”
It was not just his tone or momentum that had changed.
The Ma Jong-hak standing here now was no longer just the Sword Star or the Greatest Sword Under Heaven.
He was now the Alliance Leader, the one who would lead all of Murim.
“For the family who shares your blood.
For the brothers and sisters who have fought beside you.
And for—”
Ma Jong-hak’s voice erupted like thunder.
“For the Murim we live in, raise your weapons!”
A titan’s roar shook the heavens. A spine-chilling tremor surged through the gathered warriors.
The martial artists, who had been holding their breath, now let loose an earth-shattering battle cry.
“Waaaaaaah!”
“For the extermination of demons!”
Shing! Shing! Shing!
The world was bathed in light as countless weapons caught the reflection of the blazing sun.
“Waaaaaaah!”
“For righteousness!”
Shing! Shing! Shing!
The entire battlefield gleamed, a sea of swords and spears glittering under the midday sun.
And as Ma Jong-hak gazed at the breathtakingly solemn sight before him, he reached down and grasped the colossal banner at his feet.
Murim Alliance (武林盟).
Three mighty characters written with an unyielding brushstroke.
The moment that banner was raised, a new era would begin.
But then, Ma Jong-hak did something that no one had expected.
“Grandmaster Jeok, will you lend me your aid?”
The murmurs of the crowd grew tangible—a ripple of confusion and intrigue.
And then, Jeok Cheon-Gang, who had been silently watching Ma Jong-hak, suddenly spoke.
“Is the banner too heavy?”
“It still feels that way.”
“Then it is heavy for this old man as well. And hands are always better when they are many.”
At that moment, I realized what I must do.
Following Jeok Cheon-Gang’s gaze, Cheongpung and I stepped forward.
Together, we grasped the banner.
And with all our strength, we raised it high.
And that was the birth of the Murim Alliance.
