The leaders of each faction reconvened in the Namgoong Clan’s Celestial Hall after a day’s pause.

A great round table had been placed at the center, with no seat of honor.

When all had gathered, Namgoong Mucheon raised his hand, and Namgoong Clan warriors set a scroll before each leader.

The leaders looked at one another in puzzlement, then unfurled the scrolls.

[Great Asura Blood Sect]

“That is the name they are called by.”

The leaders studied the characters written on the parchment with strange expressions.

It was the first time any of them had heard the name “Blood Sect,” yet they faintly recognized what it must mean.

It could only be the term used the night before by the Sect Leader of Mount Hua and the Abbot of Shaolin to describe that hidden faction.

“...”

Namgoong Mucheon slowly swept his gaze across the assembly.

Now that he had stepped into Heaven Beyond Heaven, there was no need to make them read aloud the words on the page.

Having already discerned the aura of the Blood Sect through Mangwol, Mucheon’s eyes could read every flow of qi before him.

Thankfully, not a single leader carried Blood qi.

“Has anyone here ever heard this name?”

No answer came.

“Then, what of the name Hwaoru?”

“Last night, we heard it from the Sect Leader of Mount Hua and the Shaolin Abbot.”

One of the leaders responded, and the rest nodded in agreement, some hinting they had known it earlier.

Since all were aware, lengthy explanation was unnecessary.

Mucheon gave a short nod and continued.

“The true scale of the forces gathered under this name Great Asura Blood Sect is beyond our reckoning. Their goal, too, is unknown. What is clear is that they intend to topple the martial world as it stands.”

Tension rippled across the leaders’ faces.

Mount Hua, Shaolin, and the Namgoong Clan—three of the most influential powers present—had already been shaken.

That the Blood Sect had infiltrated all three meant there was every likelihood their agents lay hidden within the remaining clans and sects as well.

In other words, just as Mucheon said, the enemy had already sunk its fangs into the orthodox martial world.

“We do not have much time. Beyond the Blood Sect, the Unorthodox forces are moving faster, consolidating strength and expanding their reach.”

The recent rumor that the river confederation Surochae had come under the Sado Union was enough to set the martial world of the Central Plains ablaze.

The era when the world was spoken of as divided between Righteous and Demonic alone was already past.

Until now, the two had maintained balance only because neither trespassed upon the other’s domain.

Now it was Righteous, Unorthodox, Demonic—

and with Blood added, four powers would vie for dominion of the world.

“The age of quiet prosperity has ended. Now is the time we must unite to defend our world.”

All eyes fixed on Namgoong Mucheon.

In their steady gazes lay their respective resolve and determination.

“The Martial Alliance is not for the sake of one man or one clan. It shall exist for all of us.”

An order to safeguard the peace of the martial world and establish a new balance.

“All decisions of the Martial Alliance will be made by consensus and by vote.”

A faction leaning to no one side, advancing the Middle Way.

“So then, the moment has come to decide.”

Mucheon slammed his palm upon the round table.

“What say you of the Martial Alliance?”

__________

Part Two, Chapter Seven. The Greatest Under Heaven Martial Tournament

__________

“Have you heard the rumor?”

“What rumor?”

A tavern on the southern border of Henan.

The place bustled with chatter, each table brimming with its own gossip—yet when one listened closely, all spoke of but a single subject.

“The Martial Alliance. The great clans and sects banded together into one order!”

“Of course I’ve heard. Who hasn’t by now? Everywhere you go, it’s all anyone talks about.”

And at the seat of Alliance Lord sat none other than Namgoong Mucheon, the Heavenly Dragon Sword Emperor.

When that news broke, the world was thrown into turmoil.

For many had expected the Shaolin Abbot, Thousand-Handed Buddha Beopgong, to take the position.

“They say the Martial Alliance is hosting the Greatest Under Heaven Martial Tournament.”

“A tournament?”

Indeed, the very first act of the newly founded Martial Alliance was to announce a grand tournament.

“Word is, anyone who has trained in martial arts may participate.”

“Then the prize money must be enormous!”

“The prize is not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“They say the champion of the tournament will be granted the title of Lord within the Martial Alliance.”

The Alliance had established four great martial divisions.

Each division would be subdivided into several units, but the champion would be granted the rare honor of leading one such unit under the Chief Division Lord.

“Then every martial man under heaven will throw themselves into the fray. Hah! If only I had stuck with training in my youth.”

“Didn’t you say you studied swordsmanship at the military hall? What was it—Six Harmonies Sword?”

“Three days in, I quit. My hands were torn open, my body felt beaten to a pulp. Martial arts are not for ordinary men.”

The man shook his head, shuddering.

At a corner table, a lone figure in a bamboo hat, eating noodles while listening to the banter, gave a soft chuckle and set his chopsticks down.

He pulled two iron coins from his sleeve, set them upon the table, and rose without a sound.

Meanwhile, within the Namgoong Clan’s Clan Head’s Residence, a meeting was underway concerning the construction of the Martial Alliance headquarters.

The one entrusted with the architectural designs was Jegal Myeong of the Jegal Clan—renowned across the realm as peerless in mechanical arrays and formations.

Namgoong Mucheon stroked his chin.

“The Martial Alliance shall represent the entire Central Plains. It must be vast and splendid enough to be seen by all, yet impervious to intrusion.”

Namgoong Cheonghae nodded.

“Then the key lies in formations and mechanical arrays.”

Cheonghae himself was adept in those arts, and assisted Jegal Myeong directly.

Alongside them were Moyong Clan’s Moyong Seohan, Shaolin monk Do San, and talents from the Qingcheng and Hengshan Sects.

“We should devise a formation visible even from outside the walls,” Jegal Myeong remarked.

The others turned toward him in astonishment.

“Such a formation exists?”

Jegal Myeong, unfazed, replied flatly.

“If it does not, we shall make it.”

“...What?”

Creating formations was no simple matter—let alone one that projected its effect outside the fortress walls. By all reason it was impossible.

But Jegal Myeong only furrowed his brow, as though puzzled by their surprise.

“Why such faces? Is it not normal to craft what is needed? Do not fret. I will make it.”

His certainty allowed no thought of failure.

Namgoong Cheonghae could only click his tongue in awe.

So indeed, genius is another breed altogether.

No envy stirred in him.

Every man has his own stride.

Instead, he felt gratitude at being able to work beside such a talent.

A little insufferable, perhaps. But if asked, he does explain... in his own way.

Though Jegal Myeong often scoffed at why something couldn’t be done, the methods he then revealed were always astonishing.

Cheonghae quietly edged closer to him, intent on learning all he could and putting such knowledge to use in strengthening his clan’s defenses.

[As instructed, rumors of the tournament have been spread across the realm. Within a day or two, there will not ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) be a soul in the Central Plains ignorant of it.]

Fwoosh—

The letter from the Hao Sect Master burned to ash in the fire as Seolhwa allowed herself a faint smile.

In recent years the Hao Sect had expanded swiftly until there was no corner of the Central Plains without its eyes and ears.

Through it, she could regulate the very flow of information, hindering or hastening rumor alike.

It was by the Hao Sect’s hand that news of Mucheon’s death was stilled, and by their hand that word of the Martial Alliance spread in an instant across the realm.

On the table, the Imoogi sprawled on its back, tail swishing as it savored sweets. With a sudden roll, it spoke.

In just days, the creature had grown plump again, near to the form it held before its incarnation.

[Now that the tournament is known, every famed martial artist will surely flock to it.]

Seolhwa brushed the ashes from her fingertips.

“Exactly. That is why we hold it.”

It had been her proposal to hold the tournament.

Its purpose, twofold.

First: to draw out hidden masters scattered across the land and recruit them into the Martial Alliance.

Second: to use the tournament as pretext to summon countless mid and minor factions across the Central Plains.

[Yet there is one matter uncharacteristic of you.]

“Uncharacteristic?”

[Why leave the Wudang Sect alone?]

The Wudang Sect had remained utterly silent, even as news of the Alliance and the tournament swept the world.

[How can you leave them be? To overcome the Blood Sect, more strength is needed, is it not?]

The martial might of Wudang was counted among the greatest of the orthodox path.

But Seolhwa shook her head.

“The Wudang Sect is beyond saving.”

[Beyond saving? Have they already fallen to the Blood Sect?]

“Perhaps.”

To say they had been “defeated” was not quite right.

They had succumbed to the Blood Sect’s scheme—but in the end, the choice had been their own.

In time, we shall meet them again.

And it would not be in friendship.

“For now, there is nothing more to be done.”

She rose and took up her upright sword.

“Which means our focus must be the tournament.”

The Imoogi tilted its round head.

[Will you compete as well?]

“Of course.”

Its head cocked further.

[Why trouble yourself?]

“Why? Do you think opportunities to cross blades with such variety come often?”

[Then... how far do you intend to go?]

“What sort of question is that?” Seolhwa’s brows curved low.

“If I enter, then I intend to win.”