The Greatest Sword of Mount Hua prepared the greatest meal of Mount Hua at the greatest manor of Mount Hua.

One duel victory got me a meal, tea, and even a duel venue. A man who eats and drinks without paying, even when he has money—that’s what it means to be one of the Four Great Villains.

In any case, this is why strength is everything.

While drinking tea, Sambok’s expression was unusually dark. As I kept staring at him, Sambok opened his mouth.

“Lord of the Sect.”

“What.”

“Then I’ll return and make my report.”

“Alright.”

“Ah, should I stay a few more days before heading back? The scenery’s nice.”

“No.”

“So I go immediately?”

“You have to. Knowing the personalities of the ones under the Cult Leader, they’re probably calculating the return time between Mount Hua and your cart’s average speed down to the quarter-hour. Before you know it, just by being late, you’ll have become a criminal.”

“That’s true.”

Sambok let out a sigh, then looked toward the Pavilion Lord.

“I have something to say to you, Pavilion Lord.”

“Speak.”

“In any case, you gave your word, so I’ll report that the duel will take place here. I’m only saying this just in case, but if it ends up being for nothing, I probably won’t survive. I don’t know when the Cult Leader will arrive, but a promise is a promise—so let’s meet again.”

The Pavilion Lord nodded, then looked around at all of us and said,

“A promise is a promise. I’ll keep it. But I have something to ask of you all...” 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

He continued.

“May I spectate the duel? If you all permit it, and the Cult Leader agrees as well, I would very much like to watch. If so, you could stay here for ten years and I wouldn’t mind at all. How could I not crave the chance to witness a battle among those called the Three Calamities?”

My eldest brother answered,

“We’re fine with it, but we don’t know how the Cult Leader feels. We’ll only know once Sambok reports back.”

Sambok said,

“I’ll convey the Pavilion Lord’s request. Still... you’ve got guts. Most would find an excuse to leave. Aren’t you afraid?”

The Pavilion Lord stroked his chin.

“I’ve committed no crimes against the Cult Leader. I rarely step into Jianghu, so I’ve made no enemies. And even if I watch the duel, I have no plans to speak of it.”

My eldest brother said something frightening.

“You might be able to watch, but you could also get caught up in the aftermath and die.”

To that warning, the Pavilion Lord muttered in response.

“Even so, I must see it. When else would such a chance come?”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Honestly, if I were the Pavilion Lord, I’d say I wanted to watch the duel too. This is the chronic affliction of martial artists. It’s hard to resist the urge to watch a good fight.

Sambok stood.

“Then... one last question before I go. What’s your training plan? I’m just curious.”

I told Sambok my plan.

“I’ll climb Mount Hua from time to time to meditate and regulate my qi. After coming down, I’ll train. The rest is free time. Nothing special. Training is always the same. Just repetition. Although... it’d be nice if Mount Hua had a waterfall.”

“A waterfall? Why?”

“If you get hit on the crown of your head, it clears your mind. Great for overcoming deviation.”

Sambok chuckled and said,

“I’ve learned something new. Then I’ll take my leave.”

“Go.”

After barely earning one meal, Sambok left the manor. That was our farewell.

I turned to the others drinking tea with me and said,

“I’m heading out for a bit. Going up Mount Hua.”

The Lecher replied,

“All of a sudden?”

“Just want to pay respects to the mountain. Exchange some air. It’s best to go up not knowing anything.”

My eldest brother asked,

“Planning to come down today?”

“If I like it, I might sleep on the mountain and come down tomorrow.”

Since training is a personal matter, I didn’t ask how my eldest brother or the Lecher planned to train. They could go up Mount Hua like me, or just stay here at the manor.

Times like this call for solitude, so I rose and headed up Mount Hua, as if trailing after Sambok’s departure.

With my hands behind my back, I climbed.

I had no intention of using light footwork, so I walked slowly, taking in the mountain’s scenery. The path was flat at first, but the slope grew steep, and before long, there were no people in sight.

Climbing a mountain is simple.

Just keep going higher.

Since I knew martial arts, cliffs didn’t pose a problem. Now and then, I’d scan for the summit, spot the next highest peak, and move toward it.

I planned to reach the very top of Mount Hua.

Sheer cliffs jutted out like long slashes across the land, stitched together like fragments of Manjang Gorge. Whenever I encountered these, I had no choice but to use Jeunjong.

It wasn’t as treacherous as Manjang Gorge, but it was still a difficult climb.

I thought the first peak I reached was the highest, but from the top, I’d always see an even taller one. Each time, I descended and climbed again.

It was like cultivation—certain levels only become visible once you've reached a certain height.

This kind of climbing felt like training itself.

To reach higher ground, you can’t only ascend—you have to go down and up again repeatedly. That thought occurred to me.

You have to accept the dips in order to reach the true peak.

The reason it’s hard to reach the summit is because you can’t identify it at a glance. I reached what I thought was the summit, then descended again and climbed to a peak that stood taller than the rest.

By the time I got there, I was relying on moonlight—and I realized: there was no higher peak than this one.

Mount Hua was full of rugged contours and jagged cliffs.

It wasn’t that one could learn swordsmanship atop Mount Hua. Mount Hua itself felt like a swordsman. Facing that swordsman meant your skills had no choice but to improve.

At the place closest to the falling stars, I sat cross-legged.

Each time the moonlight escaped from the clouds, I caught glimpses of the mountain’s face—but honestly, there wasn’t anything particularly special.

Just that the air was incredibly cold, and the wind blew relentlessly. It was far from a tranquil place.

In short: cold and lonely.

Reaching the top always leads to this.

To excel at something, you have to increase the time you spend alone for it. There’s no helping it. That’s why sect leaders and heads of factions often go into seclusion.

When you have many subordinates, you also have many screw-ups.

There’s a servant named Chilbok—he beat up an elder. A maid named Yeohong ran off with a disciple in the middle of the night. Life’s little disasters. Get too caught up in them, and you’ll have no time left to train.

That’s why people shut themselves away to train.

Just like the Cult Leader did in my past life.

To grow stronger, you have to dive into loneliness—and survive without losing your mind. Only then can you return in one piece.

I sat on Mount Hua, watching the stars fall, then closed my eyes and began unqi-joshik.

I deliberately started with Moonlight Cold Heart Technique.

Even while sitting still, the summit was cold. As I trained the cold-type technique, the place stopped feeling like Mount Hua and started to feel like a snow-covered peak. The deeper the night grew, the colder it got. Eventually, my lower abdomen grew so cold that I nearly shat out the food I ate at the manor—only then did I finish the session.

I was holding the posture of a sage, seriously cultivating unqi-joshik, but—

I couldn’t dare take a shit atop the sacred summit, so I switched to Golden Tortoise Free-Wandering Technique instead.

Then it hit me anew.

Once the threat of diarrhea passed, I felt warm inside.

A person must keep their belly warm.

It’s something I learned through martial training—some forms of diarrhea are caused by heart demons.

It’s called “heart-demon-type diarrhea.”

In other words, anxiety and tension from mental states can make you shit yourself. If you don’t experience that, it means your mind is stronger. A solid mind equals a solid bowel. As soon as I realized this, I suddenly worried I might be entering Deviation.

Time passed—not sure if I was cultivating or researching the nature of diarrhea.

After finishing Golden Tortoise Free-Wandering, I opened my eyes.

It was so dark, I couldn’t tell if I was awake or dreaming.

The reason for the darkness became clear: black clouds had gathered, and rain began to fall.

Well then, even if I had shat myself, the rain would’ve washed it away.

Human worries are so pointless.

Diarrhea is nothing.

Since I was already soaked, I prayed for a full downpour—and the heavens answered, dumping buckets of rain.

Thanks to that, I got thoroughly soaked.

Training Hundred Battles Tenfold Technique in the rain—could lightning strike ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) me dead?

A martial artist’s worries never end. We’re always reaching for more power. I continued my cultivation of Hundred Battles Tenfold atop a mountain during a thunderstorm.

You damned lightning...

Let’s see who wins—you or me.

I even prepared to accept it into my danjeon the moment it struck me. But it never came. I did flinch every time thunder cracked, but I am not a man who fears.

Startled and afraid—those are two different things.

When I opened my eyes again, dawn had broken. Night and day were changing shifts as usual, and I stood witness.

“...Another hard day’s work.”

I congratulated the shift change. It was time to train Zaha Divine Art, but strangely, I didn’t want to close my eyes.

Because then I wouldn’t see this beautiful view.

The sky’s color changed by the second—so beautiful, so constant in its motion.

Where do the stars go when they stop watching the night? When did that unwavering light start illuminating all creation each morning?

Enchanted by the beauty, I briefly forgot to train.

Instead of accumulating qi, I breathed in rhythm with the waking world. Each exhale expelled murky energy from within. Each inhale welcomed the mountain’s breath into my lungs.

I inhaled deeply—and exhaled even longer.

Not to grow stronger, but because I couldn’t bear to miss this transformation of heaven and earth. I breathed with my eyes open.

There may not be many chances to see this again.

So I stored it in my eyes, my heart, the scent of the air, and its mood.

I wasn’t extremely happy or sad—but I felt incredibly at peace.

Strangely, I felt no fear—neither before climbing nor now. Zaha Divine Art is unlike other techniques. It’s a method that finds its own path. If I receive the stream of the Heavenly Pearl through the channels carved into my body, that alone becomes training.

I watched the world and cultivated Zaha Divine Art with open eyes.

Where I thought I was at the first stage, I now grew into the second—though without clear separation, it simply felt like light was seeping into my danjeon.

I welcomed that light.

Some forms of internal energy build like towers—easy at first, but harder with each layer.

But Zaha Divine Art wasn’t like building a tower at all.

With each breath, the circulating light of unqi-joshik clearly illuminated my danjeon.

I thought of the sea.

I tried re-defining this strange and difficult art.

The stream-like power I received earlier, I imagined as stored in a great ocean-shaped vessel, resting in the lower danjeon.

The breath-based energy I’d accumulated from watching the twilight—I stored in the upper part of my danjeon.

Breathe, organize. Organize, breathe.

I repeated this until the world was fully lit.

By doing so, I grew accustomed to cultivating Zaha Divine Art. The energy gathered through regular meditation I stored low; the energy from breath-based focus, I stored high.

Water flows downward, and breath doesn’t naturally settle below.

Yet somehow, this distribution formed a kind of taegeuk—heaven and ocean shaping the once-chaotic force of the Heavenly Pearl into a balance of yin and yang.

It would take time and practice, but this felt like the right path.

Unlike the Heaven-Piercing Sun-Moon Radiance, this power would flow in a different direction.

I had grown again. I’d grown last time too—but this time, I was certain. And perhaps because it came with clarity, I wasn’t even thrilled. Just quietly pleased that something unknown had become known, something difficult had become understood. It was enjoyable.

But my real dilemma was emotional. Human.

Would the Cult Leader spare my life?

That was my first concern. The second was connected:

Would I... be able to spare the Cult Leader?

These questions were more difficult than any martial training. And through them, I realized something else.

The Cult Leader had been wondering the same all along.

That’s likely why he hasn’t killed me yet.

So here’s my conclusion.

The Cult Leader had been waiting for another dragon from the beginning. And now, I realize—

He wasn’t the only dragon anymore.

After countless errors, I too had transformed the Heavenly Pearl into a taegeuk.

And I too had become a dragon.