Chapter 25

Yang Yeom charged with a speed that far surpassed that of his younger brother, Yang Hak, swinging his wooden sword with force.

But in the end, Yang Yeom was no different. Against Yang-hwi, he too was defeated in the blink of an eye.

Thud!

As Yang Yeom collapsed to the ground, the referee rushed over to check his condition and shouted,

“Victory goes to Young master Yang-hwi!”

Pride and satisfaction filled Baek Heon-So’s face as he stood beside the stage, while Yang Garyung—master of the Yang Martial Clan—sat fuming in silence, his face flushed red.

Both of his sons had been humiliated by a single opponent in mere seconds. The reputation of the Yang Clan had hit rock bottom.

And yet—

Yang-hwi had no intention of stopping here.

This wasn’t just a competition. It was a calculated display of force.

‘I’ll crush the pride of Suhoji Assembly so completely that they won’t even dare challenge our clan again.’

He raised his voice to the crowd.

“Is there no next challenger? I welcome anyone who wishes to give me guidance. Please step onto the stage.”

-Silence.

For a brief moment, not a single soul moved—until the largest boy in the entire hall stepped forward.

“Cheol Byeong-hu of Yuhang Escort Agency. I’ve come to test your skills.”

He was built like a grown man, likely already at the upper age limit of fifteen just by looking at him.

“I look forward to it,” Yang-hwi replied politely.

As the two closed the distance to greet one another, Cheol Byeong-hu leaned in and muttered under his breath.

“A brat with nothing between his legs has quite the mouth on him. Time to teach you some manners.”

It was a filthy provocation.

“Trying to rile me up? Must be scared of losing face if you’re already resorting to cheap tricks.”

Yang-hwi chuckled faintly and replied just as quietly,

“So that’s why your mother has a thing for unripe fruit.”

Cheol Byeong-hu blinked, confused—then his face contorted in rage as the insult hit home.

“You little bastard!”

Before the referee could even raise his hand, Cheol Byeong-hu charged in, face flushed with fury—

Vmmmmm!

A sound like a swarm of bees—and then, in a blur, Cheol Byeong-hu went flying off the stage.

“Cheol Byeong-hu violated the rules and was subdued by Baek Yang-hwi. The victory goes to Baek Yang-hwi!”

Even the oldest contestant had been taken down in an instant.

Now, an eerie silence descended over the grand hall. It wasn’t awe anymore—it was fear.

Yang-hwi curled his lips into a satisfied smile.

‘This should be enough to spread word across every corner of Akan-hyeon—that our clan has a sleeping dragon in its midst.’

He’d stopped hiding his strength, finishing every opponent in a single strike—all to stir up rumors.

So they dared try to sever his clan’s ties with the Jegal Family?

It was only because they’d underestimated them. He was going to make them regret even the thought.

‘As long as Uncle Jegal stays with us, I can take bold action without worrying about consequences. This is our chance.’

Suhoji Assembly was a coalition of small sects that profited through escort work, guards, and martial mercenaries.

And if today’s events started making the rounds?

Their clients would turn their eyes toward the Baek Clan.

It would be a sign that even reformed outlaws—Dark path—could be molded into proper warriors under the Baek banner and sent into real operations.

‘If that happens, not only will our reputation rise, but our clan’s profits will soar. Two birds with one stone.’

Yang-hwi stepped down from the stage and spoke,

“It seems there are no further challengers. Should someone surpass my record of victories, I’ll gladly return to the stage.”

The excitement from earlier had cooled into ash. The remaining contestants had lost their will to fight. Even the referee and host stood frozen, unsure how to proceed.

Then—

“Hahahahahaha!”

A booming laugh echoed through the hall.

“Yang-hwi! That was quite the performance!”

The voice belonged to Jegal Seon.

“To think I might taint your skill with my crude little wager… I’m relieved it pleased your eyes instead, Uncle,” Yang-hwi said respectfully, offering a formal martial salute.

“So then… may I take it that our wager is settled in my favor?”

The bet between Yang-hwi and Jegal Seon had been simple: to win the martial tournament.

To clarify the outcome, Jegal Seon stood from his seat and addressed the crowd.

“Fellow guests and esteemed martial friends! Having witnessed the talents of our young ones today, does anyone here dispute that my nephew Yang-hwi is the rightful champion?”

Silence again.

No one offered a word of disagreement.

Jegal Seon nodded, as if he’d expected no less.

“Then I, Jegal Seon, declare you, Yang-hwi, the champion of the Yuhang Martial Tournament!”

Though Jegal Seon was neither the host nor a member of Suhoji Assembly, no one raised any objection to his declaration.

Everyone understood the reality—that his very presence here was akin to a top-ranking scholar mingling with country schoolboys in a shabby rural classroom. The difference in stature was that wide, and that deep.

After all, the Jegal Clan was a family that commanded the entire realm. Compared to them, the minor sects huddled in the corner of Akan-hyeon were ants under a mountain.

Truth be told, if not for Baek Mu-ryang, Jegal Seon wouldn’t have even bothered stepping foot in such a backwater place.

****

Back at Baek Family Estate, Baek Mu-ryang returned with his disciples and children, voice booming with cheer.

“We’ll be hosting a feast with my brother—everyone, get ready!”

The estate’s banquet hall quickly filled with food and drink. Baek Mu-ryang and Jegal Seon sat at the head, surrounded by their children.

“Brother,” Jegal Seon said with a chuckle, “you surprised me today. With such talent in your child, the Baek Clan’s future looks bright as the full moon.”

“As if we could compare to the Jegal Clan,” Baek Mu-ryang replied. “From what I hear, your eldest son is a prodigy—the greatest talent of his generation.”

And that was no exaggeration. Jegal Seon’s firstborn and Jegal Seolha’s older brother, Jegal Mun-han, was widely praised as a once-in-a-generation genius, hailed as a future master among masters.

“Haha! So the rumors made it this far.”

Jegal Seon then turned to Yang-hwi with a smile.

“As promised, since you won the tournament, you’ve won our bet. I’ll grant what you asked. But first, answer me this—just one thing.”

“I can answer ten, Uncle,” Yang-hwi replied confidently.

Jegal Seon’s question was simple.

“Why did you do it? Today, you revealed overwhelming talent. Forgive me for saying this in front of your father, but the brilliance you displayed could easily make your clan a target.”

Yang-hwi already knew that. And he’d done it anyway.

The reason was simple. It was something he’d decided the moment he turned back time.

“A while back, Father once told me his dream was to restore our clan to its former prestige as a noble house.”

Baek Mu-ryang blinked, confused.

“Did I?”

Of course, he didn’t remember. It was something from Yang-hwi’s previous life. But Yang-hwi pressed on without hesitation.

“Yes. You said it while drinking one night, seated across from me. From that moment on, it became my dream too. To raise our clan back to greatness. That’s all there is to it.”

A simple answer—but it was enough for Jegal Seon.

“Ho! You’re more dangerous than I thought. Talent and insight, all in one!”

Genius never stays hidden for long. Like a needle in a pocket, it always pokes through.

So why hide it?

Better to rise above them all—not just a crane among chickens, but a dragon among them.

To become the center of attention. To be the flame that draws all others close.

That was Yang-hwi’s ambition.

“A noble house,” Jegal Seon mused, “must bring in many under its banner and rule with law and honor. You mean to become the very foundation of such a house, don’t you?”

Yang-hwi bowed with a formal martial salute.

“Just the immature dream of a young man. If I’m mistaken, Uncle, I ask you to correct me.”

“You’re not mistaken. But I worry for you. The path you’ve chosen… is the kind that often breaks before it reaches the end.”

Those who stand out attract enemies.

There’s a reason people say time is the greatest enemy of all heroes.

But Yang-hwi only smiled—full of self-assurance.

“If it breaks, it simply means it wasn’t meant to reach the end.”

He would do whatever it took to elevate the Baek Clan to the greatest noble house in the world.

If he wanted to lay that foundation within this lifetime, he had to take risks.

“...You’re right, nephew. You’re absolutely right. Then I suppose it’s time to discuss your reward.”

Jegal Seon was grinning from ear to ear now.

He still remembered when Yang-hwi had first made his request—and burst out laughing at how bold it was.

Because Yang-hwi, not even knowing Jegal Seon’s true purpose, had asked for just one thing—

To walk the path ahead together.

Jegal Seon felt genuine delight at Yang-hwi’s request—and the reason was simple.

“Tell me, Yang-hwi. Did you figure out this uncle’s true purpose?”

“It was nothing more than a guess… based on shallow thoughts,” Yang-hwi replied modestly.

Jegal Seon looked at his brilliant nephew with eyes full of curiosity and admiration—this boy hadn’t stopped impressing him since their first meeting.

“Then let’s see if your guess is right. Speak.”

Yang-hwi took a short moment to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“You mentioned earlier that you stopped by our clan while on an errand—with Seolha in tow.”

“And you assumed there was a reason I brought her along.”

If Jegal Seon had a goal, it surely had something to do with Jegal Seolha.

‘In my previous life, Jegal Seolha died young. Her death left Uncle devastated… He secluded himself for years.’

Yang-hwi turned his gaze to Seolha. More accurately, he honed his energy perception, focusing on the strange qi radiating from her.

As if sensing the scrutiny, Seolha slowly turned her head—her face obscured behind a silk veil, but their eyes met.

‘Just as I thought. That aura… it’s not something a normal body would carry.’

Yang-hwi spoke again.

“My guess is that Seolha was born with a unique constitution—or rather, a special condition—that requires something equally special to manage or treat.”

In this world, all matter originates from the primordial source, divided into yin and yang, and forming the triad of heaven, earth, and man.

These energies shape people, and some are born with rare traits or physiques because of it.

In other words: special constitutions—or enhanced meridians.

Some well-known examples include the Nine Yin Severed Veins, Heavenly Martial Body, or the Heavenly Demon Physique.

‘What could hers be? The aura is yin-heavy, but… no, it’s not the Nine Yin Severed Veins.’

The Nine Yin trait is frigid and cold, but Seolha’s qi—though yin-based—was not icy. It was something else.

‘Not cold… More like—’

Just then, Jegal Seon’s voice broke the silence. His eyes were sharper now.

“Yang-hwi. Your insight truly leaves me speechless. You’re exactly right. I came to Baekga Estate to search for the Eumhu.”

“Eumhu? Brother… Surely you don’t mean that Eumhu—the Pacheon Eumhu?!”

Baek Mu-ryang stood up in shock, shouting the name aloud. Jegal Seon nodded solemnly.

“Yes, Brother.”

The Pacheon Eumhu—Heaven-Breaking Sound Queen—was one of the legendary Ten Supreme Masters of the Martial World.

She was a master of Sound Arts and famous for possessing the fastest body movement technique in the world—an absolute powerhouse.

“According to the findings of our clan’s intelligence network, the Eumhu’s last known location was near Gokyeol Mountain, right here in Akan-hyeon.”

Jegal Seon gently held his daughter close.

“Our Seolha… If she wants to overcome her cursed fate, she must become the Eumhu’s disciple.”

And at that moment—

With the mention of “Pacheon Eumhu,” all the pieces clicked into place in Yang-hwi’s mind.

And the truth he arrived at was… overwhelming.

‘Wait… Don’t tell me—Jegal Seolha was the Soul-Enchanting Demon Queen?!’

About ten years from now, in his past life, a terrifying sorceress appeared in Hubei, where the Jegal Clan resided.

She was known as the Soul-Enchanting Demon Queen—a dark master of soul-capturing arts who charmed and enslaved martial artists, plunging the region into chaos.

“Rumor had it that her powers stemmed from being born with the Peach Blossom Constitution.”

The Peach Blossom Body: a constitution where seductive qi naturally dwells in the upper dantian, luring others even without intent.

In extreme cases, just hearing the voice or glimpsing the face could incite irresistible desire.

‘If her upper dantian is constantly infused with that seductive qi, it makes sense she noticed my spiritual probe earlier. It all adds up—Jegal Seolha definitely has the Peach Blossom Constitution.’

That would explain the veil she always wore—and why she had never spoken a word.

That yin-heavy yet feverish qi that made her feel overheated rather than cold…

The answer was clear.

Jegal Seon was searching for the Pacheon Eumhu, the master of sound arts, to teach his daughter to suppress the seductive energy buried in her voice.

‘Then… in my previous life, what if Seolha didn’t actually die? What if Uncle’s long seclusion wasn’t from grief—but something else entirely?’

Perhaps they failed to find the Eumhu.

And knowing Jegal Seon’s temperament, he likely did everything he could to save his daughter from her cursed fate.

If, as a last resort, he turned to demonic arts like soul enchantment—and that led to disaster…

“It’s only speculation… but it fits too well to dismiss.”

If so, Yang-hwi’s role wouldn’t end at merely traveling with the Jegal family.

There might be something even more important he needed to do.

‘I’ve never attempted this, not even in my past life… but if I’m right…’

He recalled the mantra of the supreme inner cultivation art he developed through countless studies and near-insane devotion.

A method that embraced and harmonized all energy under the heavens.

‘It just might be possible.’

---The End Of The Chapter---

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