Chapter 55
Truth Revealed (3)
“…What I’ve told you is a reconstruction based on the traces left behind. We can’t be sure everything happened exactly that way that day.”
With that, Namgung Hwang finished his long account.
Even after his grandfather’s story had ended, Namgung Hyuk remained silent for quite some time.
The revelation that his father, Namgung Cheol, had lost his life because of the very man he’d tried to save — Namgung Mugang — left him speechless.
“That man… killed my father…!”
Unconsciously, murderous intent welled up within him.
But if his grandfather’s story was true, Namgung Mugang was a victim as well.
Namgung Hyuk forced himself to calm down and asked again.
“Then what happened to the man who kidnapped the young master?”
“…When I arrived with the Amcheon Squad, we managed to save Mugang by a hair’s breadth. But the culprit escaped.”
“Was that fiend a member of the Demonic Cult—the Phantom Demon?”
“You already know of him?”
There was no point hiding it.
Namgung Hyuk told his grandfather everything he had learned through the Red-Faced Mask.
After listening in silence, Namgung Hwang spoke gravely.
“Yes. The one who kidnapped Mugang and annihilated the Hwangsan Sect was indeed the Phantom Demon, one of the Nine Demon Lords.”
At that, Namgung Hyuk exhaled slowly.
The true culprit… turned out to be one of the Demon Sect’s heads.
He felt a pang of guilt for having even briefly resented Namgung Mugang.
At the same time, pity filled him.
A once-promising young successor… why had he fallen so far from grace?
He had lost the woman he loved despite defying his clan to be with her.
And under the Demon’s machinations, he had, in madness, struck down his own childhood friend and kin.
The trauma of that alone was unimaginable.
But why… why did the Phantom Demon do all this? What did he want?
Namgung Hyuk had to know.
“What was it that the Phantom Demon demanded?”
“That is not something you need to know.”
Namgung Hwang’s voice was firm.
Even to Namgung Hyuk, who had uncovered so much already, he would reveal no more.
If even his grandfather refused to speak, then the secret must be extraordinarily dangerous.
That brought to mind what his great-grandfather, the Sword King Namgung Bi, had once said:
“He sacrificed himself not only for our clan, but to save all of the martial world.”
If the secret was hidden even from Namgung Hyuk, it could only mean it was tied to something vast and perilous.
Namgung Hyuk recalled an old family legend.
“Grandfather once led the campaign against the Demon Sect…”
The story of how the Sword King had traveled all the way to the Heavenly Demon Cult’s base deep in the Tianshan Mountains and personally slain its cult master was one every Namgung descendant knew by heart.
What if, back then, he brought back something critical from the Demonic Cult and hid it within the Namgung clan? Then everything would fit.
Whatever that “something” was, it had to be of value beyond life itself.
Otherwise, why would the Phantom Demon, after his sect’s collapse, risk everything to abduct the Namgung heir?
Still, this was only conjecture.
He could try to force the truth out of his grandfather, but…
No. That’s not what I wanted to know.
It wasn’t worth prying into a secret his grandfather clearly meant to guard.
There were more important matters now.
The Phantom Demon…
As that name crossed his mind, Namgung Hyuk clenched his fists tightly.
“Are you thinking of revenge?”
Namgung Hwang’s voice broke the silence.
Namgung Hyuk couldn’t immediately answer.
Knowing the killer’s identity, how could he not crave vengeance?
Even now, just recalling that name sent fury coursing through his veins.
But…
Could I even find him, hidden somewhere in this vast land?
The Central Plains were enormous, and its people countless.
Finding a Demon who had concealed his identity so well might take a lifetime.
And would it be right to throw away his new life—this second chance, blessed with his past-life memories and awakened abilities—for revenge?
“You already know this,” Namgung Hwang continued. “The path of vengeance is long and bitter… and in the end, only emptiness awaits.”
His calm admonition struck deep into Namgung Hyuk’s heart.
“Think carefully—whether that is truly what your father, Namgung Cheol, would have wanted.”
“……”
“As the man who sent your father into danger, only to see him die in my son’s stead… that is all I can say to you.”
Namgung Hwang rose to his feet.
It was clear he meant to return to the Martial Alliance.
As he turned, Namgung Hyuk blurted out,
“Are you not going to ask why I’ve learned a sword art so similar to the Imperial Sword Form?”
“That’s unnecessary. I know now that you did not steal our family’s secret art.”
He looked back at Hyuk, his gaze softening slightly.
“Train it well. Perfect it. If you do, that sword art of yours may one day surpass even the Imperial Sword Form.”
Namgung Hyuk’s chest tightened.
That meant… his own creation was greater than the clan’s signature technique.
As his grandfather prepared to leap away, Namgung Hyuk sent a silent transmission.
—“The technique left behind by Namgung Hyul in his later years is called Heavenly Thunder Energy (Cheonraegi). The manual is kept in Changmun Pavilion. Please find it.”
Namgung Hwang’s figure soon vanished into the distance.
Namgung Hyuk, instead of following, collapsed backward onto the ground.
“…I’m exhausted.”
But though he said that, his face was peaceful.
His grandfather’s words had freed him from the chains of vengeance.
Not that he had abandoned revenge entirely—he had simply chosen not to let it consume his life.
Even if I don’t chase him down myself… if fate wills it, I’ll meet the Phantom Demon again someday.
Whether soon or far in the future, that meeting would come.
Until then, he would live his life toward his chosen goal.
“…Though I suppose I’ll have to rename the technique.”
Calling his creation Imperial Sword Form no longer felt right.
After a moment’s thought, he murmured softly:
“Imperial… Invincible Sword Thunder. Yes, that will do.”
Imperial Invincible Sword Thunder (帝王無敵劍雷).
Thus, the new name of Namgung Hyuk’s sword art—born from gathering all the Namgung clan’s swordsmanship into one—was set.
* * *
A massive parade ground filled the horizon, lined with countless banners.
There stood row upon row of martial artists in various dark-colored robes—the warriors of the demonic path.
Today was the founding day of the Evil Alliance (Sado-ryeon, 邪道聯).
Bwoooom—!
With a deep, resonant sound, the enormous crimson gates marked with ghostly masks swung open.
Beyond them, a man emerged, striding down the red silk carpet that stretched between ranks of kneeling warriors.
“……”
Clad in majestic robes, his eyes gleaming with sharp, cold light—it was Im Ubaek.
His overwhelming presence silenced the tens of thousands assembled.
All eyes followed as he ascended the grand staircase before him.
‘……’
‘……’
To either side of the steps stood the heads of the Eight Demonic Sects—those who now comprised the new alliance.
Step by step, Im Ubaek climbed higher, utterly unfazed by the mix of awe and hostility directed at him.
At the top stood the grand hall that would serve as the Evil Alliance’s heart—the Overlord’s Palace (Paewangjeon, 霸王殿).
From the beginning, when Im Ubaek had built the fortress Paechonseong here in Yongmun, this building had been constructed on a massive, almost ostentatious scale.
And until today, not once had he used it.
Step.
Finally, he reached the summit.
At his sides stood two men:
One, a middle-aged man with flowing crimson hair and a ferocious aura—the Blood Saint (Hyeolseong).
The other, an elderly figure, his face a map of scars—the Battle King (Tuwang).
Together with Im Ubaek, they had forged Paechonseong with their own hands.
Flap—
Im Ubaek turned, his sleeves rippling.
“Listen, all of you!”
His deep, resonant voice, infused with inner strength, carried across the vast field.
All eyes fixed upon him—the very image of an absolute ruler.
“You all know who I am—Im Ubaek, master of Paechonseong!”
There was not a soul present who did not know the name.
The foremost figure of the demonic path, one of the Ten Grand Masters of the martial world, and now the lord of this citadel.
“I have long grown weary of the demonic world as it stands.”
A wave of murmurs spread through the ranks at his startling declaration.
Before the noise could settle, his voice thundered again:
“It is full of men who only seek to fill their bellies, fighting amongst themselves without purpose or conviction—forever bowing to the orthodox sects!”
Harsh, merciless words.
The faces of the sect leaders twisted with displeasure.
But among the younger warriors below, eyes began to burn with fervor.
He was giving voice to their unspoken resentment.
“Thus, I built Paechonseong and made uniting the demonic world under one banner my life’s goal!”
How much blood had he shed for that dream?
Im Ubaek had never once hesitated, never once regretted his steps.
And now, the fruit of his ambition lay before him.
“Today, that dream is finally realized. Truly… I am pleased.”
But he was not done yet.
“From this day forward, the Evil Alliance shall represent the entire demonic world—and never again will we cower before the orthodox sects!”
“WAAAAAH!”
Cheers erupted, fists raised in the air.
Im Ubaek’s vision for the future was everything they had yearned for.
“And furthermore—”
He raised his voice, his gaze like lightning.
“We shall plant the banner of the Evil Alliance upon the northern plains—and make the righteous sects kneel at our feet!”
It was a declaration of war against the orthodox world.
The entire arena roared.
“SA! DO! RYEON!”
“WAAAAAA!”
Not only the warriors of Paechonseong, but even those from the newly joined sects shouted in unison, worshipping him as their sovereign.
Everything was unfolding exactly as he and his strategist, Sa Majun, had planned.
Later, when the ceremony was over, the Overlord’s Palace held its first grand council.
“Be seated, everyone,” Im Ubaek commanded, looking down from his throne.
The gathered were formidable—
the heads of the Eight Demonic Sects,
the elders and guardians of Paechonseong,
and the leaders of its many divisions.
But unlike the frenzy outside, the air inside was tense and calculating.
“So, all that remains now… is war with the righteous.”
The man who spoke had a flowing black beard so splendid that people nicknamed him “Beautiful Beard Duke.”
He was Meng Wonhui, the Lord of the Black Blade Palace (Heukdogung).
“Let my Black Blade Palace take the vanguard.”
He spoke confidently.
He himself was a top-tier master, and his sect commanded hundreds of elite blade-wielders.
“What nonsense. That honor belongs to my Iron Blood Sect—our cavalry is unmatched!”
The retort came from Dam Baekjin, who had succeeded the previous Iron Blood Sect master, a man who had refused to join the alliance.
Why were they so eager for the first charge?
Because in the coming war between the orthodox and demonic factions, the vanguard would earn the greatest glory—and, afterward, the largest share of power.
Pathetic, Im Ubaek thought coldly.
The very sort of greed he despised most—the kind of self-interest that had rotted the demonic world from within—was on full display.
Still…
Even vermin like these have their uses in war.
Oblivious to their lord’s disdain, the hall grew louder with squabbling voices.
Thus, from the very day of its founding,
the Evil Alliance began its bold march forward—
and the clouds of war gathered over the martial world.
