Chapter 541
Henan was a land with a long and storied history.
It was home to great ancient cities like Kaifeng and Luoyang, which had served as capitals for several dynasties. With four famous mountains, breathtaking natural landscapes, and countless historic and scenic spots, there was much to see.
As such, people visited year-round, and naturally, there were plenty of establishments for lodging and entertainment, like inns and brothels.
However, the old innkeeper, who had been running the place for three generations, could confidently say that the streets had never been this crowded before.
‘W-what in the world…’
What reflected in the stunned eyes of the old innkeeper was a literal sea of people—an overwhelming crowd fitting to be called a human mountain and ocean.
“Hey, wait! Don’t try to cut in line!”
“Hey now, who keeps pushing?!”
“You little mutt have been giving me a cocky look for a while now. Do you need a visit to the undertaker to come to your senses?”
“What was that? You cheeky little vagrant…”
“Haha. Everyone’s full of spirit. I like it.”
“Like it? It’s been noisy since earlier. I can’t stand it.”
A wandering warrior, resembling a wild wolf, and a man who seemed to hail from a prestigious family glared at each other with sharp eyes.
A middle-aged man with graying hair laughed heartily at the scene unfolding before him, and a woman whose age couldn’t be guessed clicked her tongue.
Adding to the commotion were countless others whispering and watching from a distance.
‘W-what in heaven’s name is going on here…’
Amidst the chaos, a voice reached the ears of the half-dazed innkeeper.
“You don’t have to worry so much.”
“Pardon?”
“Not there, over here.”
Startled, the innkeeper turned again and saw a man.
Unlike the others standing in line, the man was seated leisurely at a table, sipping on a drink.
“They all have their own reasons. It’s not likely any real disturbance will occur.”
A small build, unruly white beard, and a red face from drink.
He wondered if the man was a martial artist, but he looked just like a regular drunkard. The innkeeper cautiously leaned in and whispered.
“W-what in the world is happening here?”
“People gathering to start their own success stories. You must’ve heard the song too. Entering the Twin Dragon Pavilion of the Murim Alliance—”
As a cheerful tune slipped from the old man’s lips, the innkeeper, who instinctively bobbed his shoulders, widened his eyes.
“Ah. That place—was it called the Twin Dragon Pavilion?”
“Bingo. The young Pavilion Lord of that Twin Dragon Pavilion is staying right here.”
“Whoa.”
The innkeeper let out a gasp.
He had known that the guest staying in the annex was a young martial artist with quite the reputation, but he hadn’t imagined it was the famed Pavilion Lord of the Twin Dragon Pavilion himself.
“That’s why so many martial artists are showing up. But even so, I didn’t expect this much…”
“Heh. It’s a rare opportunity. Not many places accept people regardless of their background, gender, or age.”
“That’s true. I heard even someone in their eighties can apply.”
The old man quietly replied.
“I was planning to apply myself.”
“Haha, you’re quite the joker.”
“Did that sound like a joke to you?”
“Pardon?”
“I asked if that sounded like a joke.”
The laughter stopped instantly. The innkeeper stared at the old man with trembling eyes.
“S-so, Elder, are you saying…”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
The old man wiped his drink-soaked beard with his sleeve. As he moved, a glimpse of an old sword guard peeked out from under his robe.
“I am also a martial artist. Just like them. And unlike you.”
“Gasp.”
“No need to be so frightened. I don’t lay hands on civilians.”
The old man added quietly, as if deep in thought.
“Unless I really have to.”
There was no trace of drunkenness in his gentle voice now, and his fleeting gaze was that of a ferocious beast.
Just as the innkeeper instinctively stepped back, a presence descended the stairs.
Step, step—someone’s footsteps echoed. The old man’s eyes gleamed.
“So it begins?”
He wasn’t the only one who sensed it. From the dozens of martial masters who had lined up to the crowd of onlookers ten times that number, silence fell instantly as one person emerged.
“How many have… Oh, geez, you startled me.”
As the young man, Hyuk Mujin, appeared, a faint sense of disappointment passed over the crowd’s faces.
However, the top-tier martial masters, who had already sensed his aura, murmured calmly.
“He’s not the Blazing Fire Dragon.”
“Sending a lackey instead? Acting like a boss already?”
“He’s pretty good for a lackey. At his age, that kind of aura puts him above most second-generation disciples from prestigious sects.”
“I agree. If he’s with the Blazing Fire Dragon, it makes sense.”
Voices murmured all around. Hyuk Mujin, who looked displeased by the noisy crowd, cleared his throat.
“Ahem. I bring orders from the—no, from the Pavilion Lord. We’ll now begin the interviews. I’ll call names one by one, so please follow me in the designated order.”
To reach the pinnacle meant being acknowledged as a master throughout Murim.
Those confident in their own skill clicked their tongues at the thought of waiting longer, but none voiced open complaints.
The thirsty dig their own wells. Having come this far, they had no choice but to endure.
“We get it, so stop with the chatter and start calling names.”
At the gruff words of a middle-aged wanderer, Hyuk Mujin widened his eyes.
“Oh, for real.”
“What are you babbling about?”
“Ah. It’s nothing really. The Pavilion Lord told me that anyone who speaks rudely or uses informal speech when first meeting others should be automatically disqualified. I didn’t expect to use it so soon either.”
“…What?”
“Let’s see here. You’re Master Nokwisan of Black Blood Blade, right? You can head on back now.”
The middle-aged vagrant known as Black Blood Blade blinked silently before shouting.
“What kind of bullshit rule is that?!”
Hyuk Mujin pulled out a bamboo slip from the pouch at his side and nodded.
“It says so right here.”
“I waited an entire hour!”
“Oh no, how unfortunate.”
“You brat! Acting so arrogantly just because you’ve got a powerful backer—do you really think you’ll walk away unscathed?!”
“I think I probably will.”
“Y-you little—!”
“If you keep this up, our Pavilion Lord might come down personally and shout, ‘You brat!’ at you.”
What kind of guy is this?
Not only Black Blood Blade, but even the onlookers were left with their jaws hanging open.
Black Blood Blade was a well-known powerhouse even among the most unruly vagrants.
If not for his foul temper, he could’ve become the head of a sect and grown it into a respectable mid-tier school—at least, that was the public consensus.
Yet despite the oppressive aura he exuded, Hyuk Mujin didn’t even flinch.
“You’re disqualified. Please leave.”
But considering everything he had gone through following Jin Taekyung and the kinds of lunacy he’d seen, this was nothing for Hyuk Mujin.
Even someone with Black Blood Blade’s notorious temper was at a loss for words at his calm demeanor.
“Hah! Hahaha!”
Rumble!
A thunderous laugh erupted from somewhere, shaking the air and making the ground quiver.
The faces of the martial masters in the crowd stiffened as they recognized the source of the overwhelming aura.
‘What terrifying inner strength…!’
‘A level or even two above mine.’
‘W-what is this…’
All gazes turned toward the old man who had, just moments ago, been leisurely sipping on alcohol. Now, he slowly rose to his feet.
“Don’t make such a fuss. Have some sympathy for the innkeeper, won’t you?”
He looked toward the trembling innkeeper with a gentle smile. Amid those gazes fixed on him, a scream-like voice rang out.
“Th-that’s Il Yangno!”
Il Yangno. Just those three syllables were enough.
A martial artist who had once dominated an entire era. A monstrous figure who incinerated countless foes with his powerful Scorching Yang Energy. That was the man known as Il Yangno.
With the sudden appearance of a peak master of such caliber, the entire gathering fell silent.
‘Is it really Il Yangno?’
‘Why would that old monster be here…?’
No one in the area could compare to the name Il Yangno. In fact, even if everyone present teamed up, there was no guarantee they could defeat him.
There was but a single wall. But the gap between peak and absolute peak was vast and insurmountable.
Step. Step.
Il Yangno walked forward at a relaxed pace through the silence, smiling as he faced Hyuk Mujin.
“Go deliver a message. This old man requests an audience.”
Another ripple of shock swept through the crowd. It wasn’t just anyone—it was Il Yangno himself.
That someone so unrestrained, an absolute master, would place himself under a mere boy like the Pavilion Lord of Dragon Pavilion was already shocking. But to show such respect?
“A-ah, yes. Please wait a moment.”
Flustered, Hyuk Mujin turned to leave and failed to notice the flicker of sinister heat in Il Yangno’s eyes.
‘Yeolhwa Sect. Yeolhwa Sect, huh. Finally, an opportunity presents itself to this old man.’
Blazing Fire Dragon Jin Taekyung? The truth behind the rumors didn’t matter.
He was just a brat barely past his coming-of-age. Il Yangno had no intention whatsoever of respectfully serving someone so young.
But…
‘The secret art of the Yeolhwa Sect, passed down to only one person in each generation. That, I will make mine no matter what.’
Il Yangno had spent his life pursuing strength, but had never reached the pinnacle of Scorching Yang Energy.
But if he could obtain the Yeolhwa Sect’s martial arts, then it was possible. He could claim the title of strongest in the world.
‘According to reliable rumors, the Fire King Jeok Cheon-Gang has no intention of joining the Twin Dragon Pavilion. That leaves only the young disciples and the rest of the riffraff.’
The moment Twin Dragon Pavilion received a mission and left Henan would be the time to strike.
Dark Heaven? Murim Alliance? What did the fate of the martial world matter to him? The corners of his wrinkled lips twitched.
“Heh. Hehehe.”
Before Il Yangno’s eyes, the five characters for “Strongest Under Heaven” were already gleaming.
He was eighty-five years old.
His name was Won Cheol.
His title: Il Yangno. His martial strength: Absolute Peak.
A flawless profile, lacking in nothing.
But the thoughts of the newly appointed special examiner who had suddenly been assigned to him—were far different.
“That look in his eyes just screams backstabber waiting for a chance.”
“…Sorry, what?”
There was no need to repeat himself.
The moment Jeok Cheon-Gang said those words, he was already closing the distance and slamming his fist into Il Yangno’s jaw.
Whooosh—an overwhelming force of blazing heat that could reduce everything in its path to ashes.
Il Yangno hastily crossed his arms to defend, but the difference in power was stark.
‘That’s not going to work.’
Even within Scorching Yang Energy, there were levels.
If Il Yangno’s flame was ordinary fire, then Jeok Cheon-Gang’s was molten lava. The gap between them was made clear in an instant.
Crunch. Crack!
With the sound of bones shattering, Il Yangno’s pupils lost focus.
Watching the scene unfold, I cried out in sympathy.
“No! Our ace—!”
But once Jeok Cheon-Gang began throwing punches, he didn’t stop.
Crack! Crack-crack! Crack-crack-crack!
Arms, legs, stomach, back, face.
Like someone proudly showcasing his regained youth, each punch was infused with powerful energy and landed squarely all over Il Yangno’s body.
With each hit, waves of visible Scorching Yang Energy burst outward.
‘Whoa, seeing that firestorm in person…’
Wait, was this a hip-hop audition or something?
Il Yangno, the one who didn’t receive a necklace, lost consciousness without even managing a proper counterattack.
With a dull thud, he crumbled to the floor like burnt ashes. Jeok Cheon-Gang, staring down at the fallen Il Yangno, suddenly muttered.
“Now I remember. This bastard is the one who once tried to steal the sect’s martial arts.”
“…Well, I guess it’s fortunate you had a reason. I seriously thought you’d gone mad, Elder.”
“As long as you realize it eventually, that’s good enough. I don’t want to see this bastard’s face again—get rid of him.”
Il Yangno’s body—no, his limp form—was barely carried away before chaos broke out outside.
Glancing out the window, I saw terrified applicants activating their movement techniques as they fled in all directions.
“…No fucking way.”
Do you know how much effort went into preparing this audition? It’s completely ruined now.
Jeok Cheon-Gang, receiving my resentful glare, replied bluntly.
“What, you want a medal or something?”
“Couldn’t you have gone a bit easier? Just coveting martial arts isn’t a crime punishable by death. It’s not like he did anything yet. You could’ve just quietly disqualified him.”
“Click click. Naive little thing. Guys like that always end up causing trouble. Better to stamp out a spark before it becomes a blaze.”
“…Most people say to uproot weeds.”
“Weeds can be left alone, but a spark? That’ll burn down a mountain.”
What is he, the president of the forest protection society?
Just as I was muttering in disbelief—
“And also…”
“What now.”
Jeok Cheon-Gang jerked his chin toward the window.
“When someone leaves, someone else is bound to show up.”
“Huh?”
—
A person’s gait is one of the most telling indicators of their character.
Especially for martial artists, more information than expected is often revealed through how they walk.
Those who rely on brute force tend to walk heavily and roughly.
On the other hand, those trained in elegant techniques or skilled in assassination may move so silently that their footsteps are barely heard.
In that sense, the steps of the person currently climbing the stairs weren’t just loud—they were practically screaming their presence.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
‘Damn, that’s some sound.’
The stairs, each designed solidly, creaked and vibrated with every heavy step—enough to make an ordinary person’s heart drop just from the sound alone.
Jeok Cheon-Gang, who had somehow procured a flask and was now sipping from it, spoke with a serious look.
“Dark Heaven. Those bastards are going too far. They’re not just making people—they’re making monsters now. What trick did they pull this time?”
“…Excuse me?”
For a second, I had no idea what he was talking about.
Then I realized and quickly waved my hand.
“Sorry to interrupt, but the guy coming up now isn’t with Dark Heaven.”
“Hm. Even so, he seems dangerous enough. The moment he walks in, knock him out. We can hand him to the Murim Alliance and get something for it.”
“…I told you, he’s not from Dark Heaven. And besides, you already smashed the door, remember?”
“What?”
