Yu Gang was born with innate talent for the martial path.

If not for No Mun’s affair, his name would already have resounded across the realm.

No Un did not wish Mount Hua’s ties to shackle his steps.

If possible, he wanted the ties to No Mun forgotten as well—so Yu Gang could begin anew, with new ties and new arts.

“...Thank you, Sect Leader.”

Because he understood that heart,

Yu Gang had to keep pressing down the feelings that kept welling up.

A smile spread at the corners of his mouth—

A smile in which sorrow and relief were mixed.

“Thanks to you, I’ve set down one burden.”

Watching the clear light flicker in Yu Gang’s eyes, No Un asked with a pained look,

“You say one—so it sounds like you haven’t set them all down.”

“I...”

Yu Gang curled his fist.

“I still want to know. I have to know.”

Why No Mun had brought him to Mount Hua.

Why, intending to annihilate Mount Hua, he had not killed Yu Gang in the end.

Why he had sought Mount Hua’s annihilation at all.

“If that is your will, how could I stop you? If that is the direction you must go, I’ll respect it.”

“...Thank you.”

“Then you entered this tournament for that reason as well.”

“Yes.”

“I see. So it is.”

No Un nodded slowly.

He wanted to stop him—but Yu Gang’s resolve, chasing No Mun even into the tournament, was firm.

“Do your utmost and come to harm not at all. I’ll be cheering you on from afar.”

“Thank you, Sect Leader. Then, I’ll take my leave...”

“Have you no lingering attachment to the main sect?”

“...Pardon?”

“I noticed you used ‘plum’ in your epithet.”

Snow-Plum Sabre.

Snow for “snow,” plum for “plum,” saber for “saber.”

When he’d named the hawk, “Snow-Plum” had been drawn from the character he most longed to see.

A wish—that even a hawk flying high could freely see those it missed.

Ah.

At registration, with no name springing to mind, he’d simply borrowed it.

Yu Gang asked, flustered,

“Did you perhaps recognize me?”

“How could I not? How long do you think I’ve watched you? Your former seniors all knew as well.”

Back during the preliminaries—

“Did you watch that swordsman Snow-Plum Sabre fight earlier?”

“I did. That was Senior Uncle Yu Gang, wasn’t it?”

“Right? I thought so too! It’s been ages. Let’s greet him later!”

“Yeah! But we can’t call him Senior Uncle anymore, right? So what do we call him?”

Yu °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° Gang’s mouth fell slightly open.

“...Pardon?”

They all knew it was me...?

“Jin Ye seemed to have realized much from watching your swordsmanship. She said she would redouble her training.”

Yu Gang’s mouth fell wide open.

Jin Ye had been his quarterfinal opponent—his former junior.

During the bout she had shown no sign of recognizing him.

She knew? Even before they crossed blades...?

Yu Gang couldn’t help his shock.

Seeing him stand there stunned, No Un chuckled softly.

“Greet them later. They’ve all missed you very much.”

“...Yes...”

****

“The main sect will no longer refer to that boy as an expelled disciple. Mount Hua sincerely congratulates Snow-Plum Sabre Yu Gang on his victory.”

At No Un’s defense of him, the restless mood flipped to favorable in an instant.

Four years earlier, No Un had already revealed what had happened within Mount Hua; everyone knew those events were not Yu Gang’s fault.

The leader of Mount Hua spoke in his favor.

He was a disciple of Ouyang Do.

On top of that was the superb skill he had proved in the tournament.

Opinion tilted toward his having ample qualification to take a Division Lord’s seat in the Martial Alliance. Yet—

“How will he prove he’s Elder Ouyang Do’s disciple?”

“Whatever the case, we cannot hand a Division Lord’s seat to one who left his sect so readily!”

Some still sent distrustful looks at Yu Gang.

“Did you not see the inner force with your own eyes? As all know, it was Elder Ouyang Do’s!”

“Even so, that does not by itself make him Elder Ouyang Do’s disciple!”

As voices rose over Yu Gang’s appointment, the hall split in argument.

Despite No Un’s aid, a few stiff-necked martial men took issue with Yu Gang having left his sect.

And though his arts were Ouyang Do’s, there was no formal proof he was Ouyang Do’s disciple.

At last, someone even barked at Yu Gang—was Ouyang Do truly alive?

[What are you doing, leaving my disciple standing there?]

Heaven and earth rang—lightning-like sound boomed across the arena.

“!”

“Hu—hup...!”

Six Harmonies Voice Projection.

And strong enough to resound across the entire Alliance grounds.

[Since when did I become someone who must prove to you lot that I’m alive?]

“Elder Ouyang Do?”

Martial elders on the pavilion, onlookers, even Yu Gang on the platform—all turned heads, seeking the voice’s owner.

But no one found him.

“Heh-heh-heh...”

The same voice, as if spoken beside their ears, sounded then—

From within the watching crowd.

“I only meant to see if my disciple was doing well.”

Those nearby who recognized the voice were first to step aside and clear a path.

As the ring of people opened at once, two figures came into view.

“So it comes to this after all.”

One wore shabby clothes with ripped-off sleeves; the monk beside him lacked a left arm.

The monk in robes removed his bamboo hat and shook his head.

“I said we should sit quiet and watch.”

The shabby man also tossed his hat aside with a grumble.

“How could I sit still—when my disciple trembles in fear like that?”

“How is that trembling? To my eyes he looks perfectly fine.”

“My disciple’s a talkative child by nature. But when he keeps his mouth shut like a mute before absurd accusations, that’s proof he’s afraid—what else?”

Bickering as they went, the two stepped up onto the platform.

They merely walked up slowly, yet no one blocked them or dared speak.

“Master. Venerable Gong Cheon.”

Yu Gang clasped his fist toward them.

Seop Mugwang, too, bowed with keen interest, and the martial elders on the pavilion rose to their feet as one.

“So—victory.”

Ouyang Do patted Yu Gang’s shoulder—thunk, thunk.

“If you’re my disciple, this much is only proper.”

“Thank you.”

Ouyang Do turned toward the pavilion.

“Well, then...”

From his body, a sunlike qi rose in slow waves.

“Which fool asked whether I’m alive?”

Those who had doubted his survival coughed and averted their eyes.

As Ouyang Do’s gaze swept over them—

“We greet Elder Ouyang Do and the former Abbot, Unfeeling Overcomes Buddha.”

Namgoong Mucheon stepped forward and offered a bow.

“Receive the respects of your juniors of the martial world.”

When Namgoong Mucheon clasped his fist to the two, those of lower seniority than Ouyang Do and the former abbot followed suit and saluted.

With a broad smile, Namgoong Mucheon continued,

“To see you both so hale—it is a great blessing upon the martial world.”

“No need to raise us up. As I said, we only came to watch my disciple cross blades.”

Ouyang Do stepped to Yu Gang’s side and set a hand on his shoulder with a crisp tap.

“This stout lad is the disciple I took in my twilight years. I’d meant to take no disciples at all—but his talent tempted me; I couldn’t let him slip away.”

A ripple ran through the pavilion.

That Yu Gang was Ouyang Do’s disciple had been suspected—but the reclusive Ouyang Do appearing in person to acknowledge it changed everything.

“I value this boy dearly. I trust you’ll look upon him with broad generosity. He may be my disciple, but losing such a talent would be a loss for you too, wouldn’t it?”

Spoken with a smiling face—but carrying solid weight.

From the highest-standing master alive—who would gainsay it?

“You’ve taken a truly excellent disciple.”

“With your word, Elder, we expect great things from Snow-Plum Sabre.”

“Heh-heh-heh, if we count by seniority, being Elder Ouyang Do’s disciple makes him of our standing, does it not?”

In an instant, the mood tilted.

No one any longer doubted that the champion, Snow-Plum Sabre, was Ouyang Do’s legitimate disciple—or claimed he was unfit to be a Division Lord.

It seemed the current would flow neatly into celebrating Snow-Plum Sabre’s ascent to the Alliance’s Division Lord seat when—

“Kyaaaaa!!”

“U—uwaaah!! It’s the Sado Union!!”

Screams burst from within the press of spectators.

Whoosh—

The first to react were Ouyang Do, Gong Cheon, and Namgoong Mucheon.

Shhick— fwoosh— phaaak—!

From three directions centered on the platform, a saber and sword flashed and a palm thundered.

The fierce winds they raised scythed through the crowd for a breath—

Vwooom—

And in an instant, dozens of people lifted into the air, caught in their hands.

“Kyyaaaa—!”

“Grrrkk!”

All who hung there had eyes gone red, veins bulging as if to burst.

They writhed in midair, making strange noises, and the crowd screamed without understanding.

“Aaagh!”

“W-what is that!”

Whup— vwoom—

The three flung those they held toward the platform.

Thud! Thud—! Thooom!

Already there, Shaolin’s Abbot Beopgong and Precept Hall Master Beopseon slammed them down with inner force, pinning them fast.

“They bit people! There are injured here!!”

“Kyah!”

“Chief Division Lord!”

At Namgoong Mucheon’s shout—

Tak— tadat!

Seop Mugwang and the four Division Lords led the Alliance’s strike corps into motion.

Yu Pyo’s Suzak Division restrained those writhing on the platform; the other three divisions plunged into the crowd.

“Move the wounded!”

“Protect the people!”

The strike corps swiftly contained the chaos and evacuated the injured.

Seeing order snap back into place in moments, Namgoong Mucheon shouted again,

“Chief Division Lord! We must check the situation outside the grounds right—”

But his words never finished.

Namgoong Mucheon, Ouyang Do, and Gong Cheon turned their gazes to one point at the same time—and Beopgong and Beopseon followed.

They all looked the same way—toward the sky above the arena’s gate.

A colossal shadow appeared, backlit against the sun, swallowing the light.

A black mask and a black long robe.

Hem trailing the color of blood.

The chief of those who carried darkness with them—the dark-path blades.

“Sh—Shadowless Demon God!”

A panicked cry rang across the arena.