Chapter 26. Sword Demon Enters the Murong Sect 

Liaoning Province could be divided into three major regions:

The northwestern area with many hills and plateaus.

The vast central plains.

And the northeastern mountainous areas formed by the Changbai and Tianshan ranges.

Among these, Shenyang—the provincial capital located in the central plains—was an ancient city boasting a long history and rich tradition.

“Wow! That’s Shenyang Imperial Palace! They say it was expanded from an ancient palace of the Yan Dynasty. It’s the second-largest after the Beijing Forbidden City!”

Zhegala Hyun shouted to Hoyeon, pointing out of the carriage window.

Hoyeon glanced at the palace and murmured, “…They fixed it?”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“Hehe, so dull. I heard the Great Hall and Cheongnyeong Pavilion were half-destroyed 300 years ago by some villain called the Sword Demon.”

As Zhegala Hyun chattered away, Hoyeon looked out the window.

The streets of Shenyang didn’t seem much different from how he remembered.

‘That building is in Eastern-style, and that one… Russian-style?’

Some structures had exotic designs rarely seen in the Central Plains.

That was because Dalian Port, an ice-free harbor, lay at the southern tip of Liaoning. Various foreign groups had come for trade.

‘Speaking of the East, I remember those Yumsalmun bastards. Chasing those leech-like pests all over was exhausting.’

He had damaged the historic palace a bit in the process, but wasn’t it worth it if he got rid of the pests?

“W-Whoa! Hoyeon! Look! Golden hair!”

“Must be someone from Russia. Maybe mixed blood.”

“I’ve never seen hair like that before! Is that how people feel when they look at me?”

Zhegala Hyun clung to the window, face lit with excitement.

Over the past month, they had grown quite close—comfortable enough to speak casually.

Though, in truth, Hoyeon hadn’t changed. It was Zhegala Hyun who had dramatically opened up.

‘Come to think of it, she said she was of the Manchu people, right?’

Seeing her fascinated by the foreigner, Hoyeon nodded slightly.

‘Minority tribes from the borders often face discrimination in the Central Plains.’

As a daughter of the Zhegala family, she might not have been openly looked down on, but there were likely some cold stares.

‘Did she want to escape the Zhegala family because of that? Hm, was it really just that simple?’

Hoyeon suspected there was a deeper reason.

But unless she said it herself, he had no way of knowing.

‘Well, at least she seems brighter now. A month ago, she looked like death.’

Just as Hoyeon smiled at the sight of Zhegala Hyun’s twinkling brown eyes admiring the city…

“Young master, we’ve arrived.”

“Really?”

At the words of Geuk Jiryang, leader of the Iron Sword Unit, Hoyeon craned his neck to look outside.

What caught his eye was a massive gate built in the architectural style of ancient Shenyang palaces.

At its center bloomed a golden chrysanthemum, and above it hung a signboard written in bold, imperial brushstrokes:

[Murong Clan (慕容世家)]

“So this is the Murong Clan…”

The chrysanthemum—symbol of the Murong Clan.

Staring at the imposing gate that showcased the clan’s influence, Hoyeon’s eyes narrowed.

“They’re considered the strongest clan in the world, right?”

“You could say that. The Sword Emperor, Murong Sangcheon—one of the Ten Great Masters—still serves as the Supreme Patriarch.”

Zhegala Hyun nodded and explained.

“Thirty years ago, he persuaded the Hundred Families to break away from the Martial Alliance. Since then, they’ve been known as the strongest clan in the world.”

Hoyeon’s lips twisted into a smirk at her explanation.

“Hmph.”

He had vowed to restore Namgung to the top.

Which meant he’d have to bring down the current champion.

‘Sword Emperor? The emperor of the sword, huh?’

With a meaningful grin, Hoyeon murmured to himself:

‘If he’s the Emperor (帝), I’m the Demon (鬼). Let’s see who’s scarier, shall we?’

It was at that moment that the Sword Demon stepped through the Murong Clan’s front gate.

Meanwhile…

“Hup! Cha-ha!”

Slash—!

In the training yard, a man was performing a blindingly fast sword form.

His movements were swift and sharp, fluid yet fierce.

It was the Murong Clan’s famed technique, said to chase even the soul of its opponent—

Soul-Chasing Quick Blade (추혼쾌도).

Whoosh!

White energy burst from the man’s blade mid-routine.

“Cha-hap!”

Slice—!

In a blink, the man vanished and reappeared several meters away, striking in a flash.

Ghost Flash (유령일섬).

Splatter!

Blood sprayed.

The target, split clean in two, was a sparrow perched on a tree branch.

Flap flap!

Frightened by their friend’s death, the other sparrows flapped away in a panic.

“How dare a lowly beast look down on me? Insolence must be punished.”

Flick!

The man flicked blood from his blade, smiling with arrogance.

He was a strikingly handsome man, but the twisted grin on his lips gave off an eerie, dangerous vibe.

His name: Murong Cheol, second son of the Murong Clan.

Alongside his older brother Murong Hu, he was the top candidate for the next clan head.

Clink!

As he sheathed his sword, a man in black silently dropped from the air and knelt behind him.

“The Zhegala and Namgung clans have arrived.”

“Namgung, huh? Who came?”

“Namgung Hoyeon. The youngest son.”

“Hmm? Not Namgung Cheonggang?”

“No.”

Murong Cheol frowned deeply.

“What kind of stunt are they pulling? Do they think the Hundred Families Sword Meet is a joke?”

This year’s event was special.

It was the first time it was being held at the Murong Clan—the world’s top clan.

And it would also determine the clan’s next successor.

Relentless Contest (무휴쟁봉).

A battleground to prove the Sword Emperor Murong Sangcheon’s ideology: that endless competition breeds growth.

And yet Namgung had sent the younger brother instead of their most promising talent?

“This is irritating. Are they hiding Namgung Cheonggang’s strength for the Yongbong Gathering? Has Namgung fallen so far that they resort to cheap tricks?”

“That may not be the case.”

“What?”

Murong Cheol’s eyebrows shot up at the unexpected contradiction.

The black-clad man quickly explained.

“According to the latest intel, Namgung Hoyeon is considered the greatest genius of all time.”

“Hah! What? Greatest of all time?”

Murong Cheol laughed like it was a joke, but the man continued.

“On the way here, he killed Mak Cheonak—the disciple of Galsanho, the Overlord of the Crescent Moon. Mak Cheonak had recently reached the Peak Realm.”

“He killed the disciple of one of the Twelve Kings?”

Murong Cheol’s smile faded.

“How old is this Hoyeon?”

“Sixteen.”

“Sixteen? And he defeated a Peak Realm martial artist? Do you expect me to believe that?”

“There were no reports of energy bursts. At best, he’s probably an elite first-class.”

“That’s even more ridiculous. A first-class defeating a Peak Realm? What is he—a demon swordsman of death?”

“…”

As Murong Cheol mocked, the kneeling man remained silent.

Murong Cheol clicked his tongue.

“Tch. Whatever. Just another brat to keep an eye on. He’s young—if we poke him, he’ll show his hand. What about the Zhegala Clan?”

“Zhegala Hyun came personally. She truly is a beauty worthy of being called a phoenix.”

The man spoke almost admiringly, but Murong Cheol just shook his head.

“A woman cast out and sold by her clan isn’t worth much. What matters is Zhegala’s support. Any word from the strategist?”

“…Not yet.”

“Heh, what’s taking the Ghostly Strategist so long? Don’t tell me he thinks I’m less capable than my brother?”

Crack!

Gripping his sword sheath, Murong Cheol’s pride was clearly wounded.

“If he wants to get the best deal, he’d better decide fast. Send someone to Zhegala Hyun. Tell her to accompany me to tomorrow’s first gathering.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the third son?”

“Murong Hak is at Yeonundang.”

“Heh. Tell that bat-faced bastard this—if he’s too slow to choose, he’ll fall and crack his skull while walking the tightrope.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, and kill the pet our fourth brother adores. I want him to show up tomorrow with puffy eyes.”

“Understood.”

Step—!

As the black-clad man vanished, Murong Cheol looked down at the halved sparrow.

“This year’s Sword Meet will be my stage. I’ll prove that I—not my foolish brother—deserve to be the next clan head!”

Crush!

Eyes filled with ambition and bloodlust, Murong Cheol stomped on the sparrow’s corpse.

Tweet…

A lone sparrow, having lost its mate, cried mournfully from above.

Meanwhile…

Step, step, step.

Hoyeon wandered around the Murong estate, having slipped out of the guest quarters at Yeonundang.

“Tch tch. Kids these days trying to act like adults already… The world’s doomed.”

He had left because the Yeonundang was already full of political factions. Power struggles and recruitment wars had begun.

“Brats still wet behind the ears acting all high and mighty.”

― Now you understand how I felt? You’re acting just like them.

“What nonsense! I’m one of a kind.”

― Huh? You were a scholar now?

“…Old man, jokes really aren’t your thing. Stick to Confucian sayings.”

Chatting with the Thundercry Sword, Hoyeon looked around.

The neatly maintained gardens and ancient Yan-style buildings created a peaceful ambiance.

‘The Murongs always took pride in their descent from Yan royalty. Arrogant pricks—just like the Namgung.’

If Namgung reigned in the south, then Murong ruled the north.

The two had always been rival noble clans.

Originally, Namgung was always half a step ahead. But after the Sword Demon Massacre 300 years ago, the tables turned.

And after the Sword Emperor led the Hundred Families’ independence, Murong overtook Namgung entirely.

“Those bastards. They hid like turtles during the Yumsalmun purge…”

Hoyeon had only visited Liaoning twice in his Sword Demon days.

Being on the frontier, it wasn’t easy to reach.

As a result, the Murong Clan was one of the least affected by the massacre.

‘Tch. If I’d known this would happen, I would’ve flattened them back then.’

Clicking his tongue in regret, Hoyeon looked at the elegant buildings and muttered meaningfully,

“Should I go ‘greet’ them properly?”

― Don’t you dare!

“It was a joke. Can’t you tell the difference between teasing and serious talk, old man?”

― You were totally serious! Don’t think I don’t know you, you little rascal!

“Baseless accusations. 300 years of talking to yourself really fried your brain, huh?”

― What?! Say that again?!

Step, step, pause.

As Hoyeon bickered with the Thundercry Sword, he suddenly noticed something strange.

“Hm?”

A small boy was crouching on the ground, trembling in fear.

His face was obscured by messy hair, giving him a shabby appearance.

He clutched a gray cat tightly and, with a resolute look, gritted his teeth.

“Uuuuugh!”

Whoosh!

The boy raised a dagger high into the air—

Hoyeon’s eyes narrowed sharply.