Deep into the night, the silence of the office was broken only by the rhythmic scritch, scratch of a brush moving ceaselessly across paper.

Seated at his desk, Bu Eunseol was attempting to translate the chaotic storm of knowledge in his mind into a cohesive system. He was organizing the manuals of the various Righteous martial arts he had witnessed within the Martial Emperor’s Secret Vault—a treasure trove of four-hundred-year-old wisdom.

History remembered the Martial Emperor, Seop Mu-heun, as a dominator of the Murim who had perfected simple Righteous arts to exert overwhelming power. However, having absorbed the essence of the Secret Vault, Bu Eunseol realized this was a fundamental misconception.

The Martial Emperor’s true genius lay in the Qi of Thirteen Provocations.

It was not merely a collection of techniques, but a catalyst that fused disparate Righteous arts into a singular, fluid mass, creating an entirely new form of combat. Furthermore, like the Divine Demonic Emperor, Seop Mu-heun had pursued the tempering of the spirit—without which he could never have penned the Martial Emperor’s Silent Awakening, a supreme True Mental Cultivation Art.

Bu Eunseol expressed these doctrines not with characters, but with abstract lines and shapes, filling page after page.

This was, after all, the Demonic Palace. Even though the Martial Emperor was a figure from four centuries past, the Palace would never tolerate its Squad Captain researching the manuals of the man once hailed as the First Person of the Righteous Faction.

“Squad Captain? Are you unwell?”

When Bu Eunseol failed to emerge from his office for two full days, his squad members grew restless. Finally, Myo Cheon-woo pushed open the door.

“Bu Eunseol. I’m entering.”

The intrusion went unnoticed. Bu Eunseol remained lost in his trance, waving his hands in the empty air and drawing bizarre geometries with his brush.

“He is training.”

Realizing their leader had fallen into a state of deep enlightenment, Myo Cheon-woo immediately issued a gag order to the Deathly Shadow Squad.

“The Squad Captain is in critical cultivation. No one is to approach the pavilion.”

From that moment, a heavy silence descended upon Bu Eunseol’s quarters. Before he knew it, three days had evaporated.

Bu Eunseol stared at the forty books he had filled with cryptic diagrams. Something was coalescing in his mind, teasing him, but it refused to take solid form.

“Is it still limited to only two kinds?”

Shaking his head, Bu Eunseol rose from his seat. As he did, his left hand instinctively traced the trajectory of the Separation of Heaven and Earth—a move from the Orchid Flower Buddhist Blood Hand. Simultaneously, strength flooded his legs, executing the Ba Bridge Severed Current of the Thirty-Six Shadowless Kicks.

Crack.

The chair beneath him sheared cleanly in two, as if struck by an invisible blade.

Had any martial artist witnessed this, they would have leaped back in shock. He had merely combined a hand technique and a kick, yet the synergy had generated a sharp, tangible blade of true energy.

“Too weak.”

Bu Eunseol examined the destruction with a dissatisfied scowl. The synergy was there, but it was imperfect.

Most of the arts stored in the Secret Vault were fist, palm, and footwork techniques.

“Fist, palm… and footwork.”

A realization struck him. Bu Eunseol unleashed the Tiger-Claw Mighty Fist with his left hand while simultaneously threading his steps into the Ten-Thousand Serene Divine Footwork.

Then, the anomaly occurred.

In the midst of the dual execution, a third technique naturally surfaced in his mind—the doctrine of the Cliff-Shaking Heaven Hand Technique.

Flash!

As he executed the three moves in a single breath, Bu Eunseol drifted to the left, and a sharp, spontaneous energy erupted from his right hand.

Clack.

The porcelain vase resting on the side table split perfectly in half.

By weaving three distinct martial arts together, he had created a state where offense and defense were exquisitely harmonized.

“So this is what he meant by perfecting the art…”

Bu Eunseol finally grasped the terrifying principle of the Qi of Thirteen Provocations. It wasn’t simply about learning specific arts; it required the simultaneous, independent operation of the limbs to deploy offensive and defensive maneuvers as a unified whole.

“But executing footwork, kicks, and different fist arts consecutively is nearly impossible.”

He had only just managed to combine the three simplest manuals from the vault. To fully exert the profundity of the Qi of Thirteen Provocations, two impossible conditions were required: a deep mastery of Righteous arts sufficient to apply their core principles, and the ability to move four limbs with complete independence. This was incomparably more difficult than the Divided Mind Dual-Application Technique.

Martial Emperor.

He was truly a ruler who governed the very concept of martial arts.

“I can never learn this in a short time.”

For the first time, Bu Eunseol felt the imposing height of the wall before him. Until now, he could mimic any art and grasp its essence instantly. But the Martial Emperor’s legacy required a foundation he did not yet possess.

Is this the difference between Demonic and Righteous martial arts?

Demonic arts were pragmatic, designed for rapid acquisition and lethal efficiency. Righteous arts, however, withheld their true power until one had painstakingly mastered every nuance of their essence.

Mm.

With a short groan, Bu Eunseol moved again, his body brushing past the office pillar. Outwardly, it appeared to be the ordinary Three Talents Footwork. In reality, he had layered the Single Flash Across the Nine Provinces and the Water Dragon Palm within the movement.

Swish.

A deep, razor-sharp scar appeared on the thick wooden pillar.

“So this is why rumors spread that the Martial Emperor perfected only ordinary martial arts.”

The Qi of Thirteen Provocations blended the techniques so seamlessly that they lost their distinct characteristics, becoming invisible to the untrained eye—much like the stealth arts of the Deathly Shadow Squad.

“There is no end to this path.”

Bu Eunseol shook his head. He had stumbled upon a supreme power, but raising it to the Realm of Great Origin would take a lifetime.

“I have no choice but to graft them in actual combat.”

An ordinary martial artist would train in seclusion for years. But Bu Eunseol had a goal. Rather than letting time slip away in meditation, he would temper his steel in the fires of real combat. It was a thorny road where a single slip meant death, yet he stepped onto it without hesitation.

***

Bu Eunseol finally broke his four-day seclusion.

Emerging into the sunlight, he found the Deathly Shadow Squad gathered at the training ground. The sight of their Squad Captain—a young Grandmaster capable of facing the Beggar King alone—devoting himself so feverishly to training had lit a fire under them.

The members of the First Team, led by Won Se-mun, now exuded the sharp, disciplined energy of peak swordsmen. The Third Team’s skin flowed with a strange, metallic luster, evidence that their Dark Poison Demonic Art had exceeded the fifth stage; ordinary blades would not even scratch them.

But the most significant transformation lay with the Second Team.

Once specialists in lightness skills and hidden weapons who avoided frontal clashes, they had now evolved. Having absorbed various arts from Bu Eunseol, they moved with the confidence of all-weather warriors, refusing to be pushed back even in a chaotic melee.

“Squad Captain, you’re out?”

As Won Se-mun and Jo Nam-cheon rose, the resting members scrambled to their feet.

“Don’t mind me. Continue.”

Waving a hand, Bu Eunseol passed the main grounds and headed to the bamboo forest behind the quarters. There, the Second Team led by Wi Cheon-gyeong, along with the Fourth and Fifth Teams under Myo Cheon-woo and Yoo Woon-ryong, were in the midst of training.

Mm.

Watching them, Bu Eunseol narrowed his eyes.

This side isn’t ready yet.

His gaze fixed on the teams led by Myo Cheon-woo and Yoo Woon-ryong. Their personal martial prowess was outstanding, but they were geniuses who had never taught others. They struggled to lower their standards to match the ordinary members, resulting in a disjointed and frustrating curriculum.

“Squad Captain.”

Wi Cheon-gyeong, having finished instructing his own unit, approached the bamboo grove and clasped his hands.

“Have you finished your seclusion?”

“I merely pondered some enlightenment for a while.”

“I see. By the way…” Wi Cheon-gyeong lowered his voice, glancing toward the struggling squads. “Shouldn’t you help them a little? The new members’ dissatisfaction is rising.”

“That friction is also training,” Bu Eunseol replied firmly. “It is hard now because they do not understand each other’s temperaments. But once they survive this process, the bond will be unbreakable.”

“…Indeed.” Wi Cheon-gyeong nodded in admiration. If the leadership intervened too early, true unity would never form.

“That’s it for today!”

“Dismissed!”

Myo Cheon-woo and Yoo Woon-ryong ended the session simultaneously. As the exhausted members dispersed, Bu Eunseol turned to leave.

Thud, thud, thud.

Heavy footsteps pounded against the earth. A burly man rushed up to Bu Eunseol in a single breath—Han So-woong.

“Squad Captain! A warrior from the Solitary Brightness Pavilion is looking for you.”

“The Grand Commander must be calling.”

“That’s not it…” Han So-woong hesitated. “He requested your presence at the Small Training Ground in front of the Heaven-Quakering Hall.”

“The Small Training Ground?”

Bu Eunseol narrowed his eyes. The Heaven-Quakering Hall was reserved for ceremonial events, and its training ground was typically used for formal investitures, not practice.

“Understood. I will go.”

Descending from the bamboo forest, he found a warrior in black martial attire waiting politely. It was Wi Chung of the Solitary Brightness Pavilion.

“Squad Captain.”

“What is the matter?”

“The Grand Commander has summoned you,” Wi Chung said, bowing his head. “He ordered that you must bring your weapon.”

“Weapon?”

Though the intent was unclear, Bu Eunseol nodded shortly.

“Lead the way.”

Guided by Wi Chung, Bu Eunseol arrived at the Small Training Ground near the Western Gate. Despite its name, it rivaled the large training grounds of most sects, its floor paved with pale yellowish-brown stones rather than the usual bluestone slabs.

Step.

As Bu Eunseol entered the arena, an old man with neatly combed silver hair stood tall in the center, hands clasped behind his back.

The Grand Commander. The Darkness King, Yeop Hyo-cheon.

“Deathly Shadow Squad Captain Bu Eunseol greets the Grand Commander.”

As Bu Eunseol bowed respectfully, Yeop Hyo-cheon slowly turned.

“You stir up wind and clouds every time you venture into the Gangho.”

When Bu Eunseol had returned from the Martial Emperor’s Secret Vault, Yeop Hyo-cheon had been occupied with a high-level meeting. Their debriefing had been brief.

“I heard you encountered Bukgung Ryeong on your way back.”

“That is correct.”

“How were you able to escape his hands?” Yeop Hyo-cheon asked, a faint smile playing on his lips. “The reports say there were only traces of his Internal Style Projectile Qi, and then he vanished.”

It seemed the Demonic Palace search party had failed to locate the Vault, likely because the entrance had sealed itself underground after Bukgung Ryeong smashed through it.

Strange. Did he not monitor my movements this time?

Yeop Hyo-cheon, along with the Divine Demonic Emperor, usually watched his every move. Yet now, he asked for details as if he truly knew nothing.

Seeing Bu Eunseol lost in thought, Yeop Hyo-cheon’s smile deepened.

“Is that a story you need to curate before telling?”

“No. I was thinking of something else for a moment.” Feeling a chill, Bu Eunseol answered immediately. “When he learned I fought the Beggar King fairly, he stopped his attack.”

“I see.” Yeop Hyo-cheon nodded, as if expecting as much. “Bukgung Ryeong. That man is impatient and imprudent, but he is one of the few proper figures in the Righteous Faction.”

“I am curious.”

“About what?”

“Since you said he stopped, you must have exchanged moves with him.”

“I…”

Bu Eunseol intended to speak honestly—I did not fight him. I merely dodged a couple of his projectile attacks.

But the words died in his throat. Yeop Hyo-cheon extended an arm, his eyes gleaming with a sharp, terrifying light.

“Let’s see it.”

“See what?”

“Your skill.”

Bu Eunseol’s heart hammered against his ribs.

Darkness King Yeop Hyo-cheon.

Holding the head seat among the Four Gods and Seven Kings, his martial arts were said to rival the Three Demons and Three Venerables. Such a supreme master wanted to spar with him.

How could he refuse?

“Then, I will commit this rudeness.”

As Bu Eunseol politely clasped his hands, Yeop Hyo-cheon spoke solemnly.

“No need for manners.”

The air in the training ground grew heavy.

“Show me your skill properly.”

“Understood.”

Bu Eunseol reached over his shoulder, his fingers closing around the hilt of the Dark Sword.