“Stop.”

As Gyo-ha and Moon Ryang approached, the leading warrior barked coldly.

“Are you the thieves who raided the Yeo-un Merchant Guild?”

At his words, Gyo-ha and Moon Ryang frowned.

“The thieves are the Yeo-un Merchant Guild. We only came to take back my belongings.”

“Ridiculous.”

It wasn’t the warrior at the front.

A middle-aged man stepped out from behind him.

It was a middle-aged man with a stylish beard.

The way he appeared from the rear, and his looks, were somehow familiar.

“You bastards. What did you do to my father?”

“Ah.”

Gyo-ha and Moon Ryang nodded at the same time.

He resembled Bang Ho-gwak of the Yeo-un Merchant Guild. Unlike Bang Ho-gwak, his jawline was sharp, so they hadn’t recognized him at a glance.

He was clearly Bang Sa-hyeok, said to be Bang Ho-gwak’s first son.

The one slated to be the Justice Gate’s next elder.

Bang Sa-hyeok soon shook his head.

“We can ask after we seize them. Bind the thieves!”

“Yes!”

Srrrk.

The warriors drew their swords as one. Their movement, smooth as flowing waves.

Though they were foes, Gyo-ha was impressed.

He hadn’t felt this from guards or wanderers.

One by one, there were wanderers and guards as strong as these.

But none of them had this same unity.

The strength of a group, not individuals.

It was possible because they were a single sect.

Gyo-ha’s eyes gleamed.

In this moment, luggage and manual vanished from his mind.

Koong!

When his fists met, it sounded like rock falling.

“I’ll go first.”

It was a notice, not a request.

Before Moon Ryang could answer, Gyo-ha leaped toward the warriors.

“Mm.”

Moon Ryang nodded and followed Gyo-ha.

“Ah, hell. I don’t even know anymore.”

Jong Dae-woon adjusted his iron fan grip.

And the fight began.

---

Blades flashed from all sides.

But Gyo-ha could tell.

“They’re not aiming for the vital points.”

So the Orthodox are Orthodox. They truly meant to subdue them.

But.

Koong.

Gyo-ha stepped in.

He hurled himself through the incoming blades.

At the daring move, the attackers’ swords wavered.

Blades grazed his skin and blood flecked, but Gyo-ha did not blink.

He only accelerated.

Kwaang!

He swung, and the warriors fell back.

“…Huh? It got blocked?”

Two fell, but the power wasn’t what he’d expected.

Overlapping swords. Gyo-ha looked, intrigued.

It was closer to technique than martial art.

But the remaining warriors stared at Gyo-ha in shock.

Even blocking with layered blades, two had been flung away.

Behind the startled men, a roar rang out.

“What are you doing! Form the sword formation! They’re thieves. Move as if you’ll take a limb or two!”

It was Bang Sa-hyeok.

At his roar, the warriors’ eyes changed.

An edge settled onto their blades.

But.

“A limb or two, huh.”

Gyo-ha’s body spun.

“That won’t be enough.”

His rear foot kicked away a flying edge.

Chaeng!

A sword shattered.

There was none of the weight of his iron shackles, none of the keenness of the Darkshadow Mountain Ghost, none of the ferocity of the Human-faced Spider.

Its killing intent was lower even than his master Yun Heo’s fist.

“…Even counting that big sister as an exception.”

His foes until now had not been easy.

Naturally, there was no way Gyo-ha could enjoy this.

He did not even have his iron shackles, so his body was light.

He twisted only his upper body to evade the blades.

He flicked a sword aside with his elbow, and the attacker stumbled back.

A gap opened in the sword formation.

Gyo-ha stepped in without missing it.

At that moment.

A sword aimed for Gyo-ha’s neck.

Silent and swift.

The blade sliced his hair and passed.

And before he knew it, Bang Sa-hyeok stood before him.

He stared at Gyo-ha with a cold gaze.

Gyo-ha felt his cheek burn.

“I didn’t dodge it completely.”

He wiped the blood from his cheek and brought it to his mouth.

It was instinctive, but the others flinched.

But Bang Sa-hyeok instead stepped forward a pace.

Unlike the others, killing intent clung to his blade’s tip.

With just one man added, the formation’s mood changed.

One destined to be an elder of a sect.

He was certainly no riffraff.

A first-rate warrior.

As he stepped, the warriors took the four quarters of north, east, south, and west.

He had experienced a combined formation fighting wanderers before.

Attacks meshing in unity.

It was quite troublesome.

But these were different.

“Huh?”

Realizing the anomaly, Gyo-ha blinked. His body was heavy.

As if he wore the iron shackles.

A sticky aura wrapped his body.

A combined formation wasn’t merely moving in unison.

It hindered the flow of qi aligned to the Eight Trigrams.

“So there’s this kind of thing.”

Gyo-ha gave a short murmur of admiration.

But that was all. So what of it?

Gyo-ha’s eyes gleamed.

The pressure on his body was almost welcome.

The iron shackles were already part of his life. He had worn them longer than not.

They weren’t real shackles, so he couldn’t use their weight to attack, but this level of pressure was always there.

And Bang Sa-hyeok’s killing intent?

Thanks to it, Gyo-ha’s nature was waking.

Until a moment ago, the foes had seemed unwilling to fight, so it hadn’t been fun.

But now it was not.

A chill ran.

When a blade grazed his nape, gooseflesh rose.

Ordinary people would flinch in such moments.

But Gyo-ha was different.

He threw himself toward the other blades.

As if—

Relishing that sensation he’d just felt.

He swung a fist at the warrior on his left.

Thung!

The warrior hastily blocked and staggered back.

Gyo-ha’s fist followed him.

Meanwhile, another to the side thrust a sword at Gyo-ha.

A blade aiming for his flank.

Gyo-ha caught it in his armpit. But while engaging the warrior, he couldn’t fully clamp it.

The oblique blade bit into his flesh.

And then.

Chaeng!

“…!”

“…Huh?”

The blade snapped.

The retreating warrior, the one about to swing, and the one who thrust—all froze.

Even Bang Sa-hyeok, setting his stance, stopped and stared wide-eyed.

Under their gaze, Gyo-ha awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

“…Mm, was the sword old?”

He hadn’t expected it to break like this. He only needed to hold it for a moment. He had acted, ready to take some injury.

Naturally, blood ran from his armpit.

But the wound was shallower than he had expected.

Unconsciously, Bang Sa-hyeok glanced at the sword’s owner.

The warrior shook his head in haste.

There was nothing wrong with the sword.

Bang Sa-hyeok knew that too, but looked without thinking.

At that moment, with a koong, a vibration rose from the ground.

It was Gyo-ha. At the sight, Bang Sa-hyeok came to.

“He’s trained in external arts. Don’t be careless because of his looks.”

“Yes!”

They formed the sword formation again.

At “looks,” Gyo-ha glanced at his muscles, but that wasn’t what they meant.

It was the faint internal energy he gave off.

Gyo-ha soon nodded and moved again.

A new man joined the gap in the formation.

But a sword formation couldn’t be swapped like parts with cleverness alone.

They trained to fight in any slot, but no formation was perfect.

There were positions and partners one was used to.

A very faint gap.

Gyo-ha did not miss it.

“Where do you think you’re going!”

But they knew that as well.

As Gyo-ha bore into the weak point, blades flew from both sides as if waiting.

The two of them, aimed not for his flank like before, but his back.

An attack he could not block.

Even if he evaded, one would land.

But Gyo-ha chose differently.

Puk, puk!

Edges pierced the hide of his back.

But Gyo-ha did not so much as twitch.

No, he ignored the thrusting swords and looked only forward.

The foe before his eyes.

They weren’t the only ones who had gauged an opponent with that last exchange.

Gyo-ha knew his own body, and the level of the warriors.

This level of attack could split his hide, but it was hard to pierce bone and muscle to reach his organs.

Sure enough, the blades slowed as they pushed in.

And Gyo-ha moved faster than they thrust.

The startled foe stumbled back and misstepped.

Peok!

Gyo-ha’s fist smashed into his face.

Just now was somewhat.

Shallow.

Gyo-ha’s eyes gleamed. It wasn’t because he was falling.

But there was no way Gyo-ha hadn’t accounted for that.

He felt something else.

Of course, that didn’t mean the foe was fine.

He hadn’t delivered the full shock, but it was enough to put him out of the fight.

“You bastard!”

A sword came from the side.

Different from the ones that stabbed his back.

Bang Sa-hyeok had come to Gyo-ha’s side before he knew it.

His sword was a threat even to Gyo-ha.

His torso had already tilted. Turning it back was hard.

But.

He already knew.

That he was lurking for a chance.

And that he’d quietly closed to his side.

He knew it all.

But there was something Bang Sa-hyeok hadn’t realized.

Gyo-ha’s specialty was not only his fists.

Whirik.

His body dropped as his lower half rotated.

At the same time, his foot targeted Bang Sa-hyeok’s temple.

As Bang Sa-hyeok hurriedly raised his sword, the foot changed direction.

His leg folded, hooking Bang Sa-hyeok’s sword.

He had aimed for this from the start.

Bang Sa-hyeok yanked, but the blade wedged between thigh and calf did not budge.

The moment he poured internal energy into his arm, Gyo-ha’s twisted torso moved.

Pat!

Blood sprayed the air.

Three lines appeared on Bang Sa-hyeok’s chest as he fell back.

A claw art.

It was Darkshadow Mountain Ghost’s Ink Blood Claw.

Falling back, Bang Sa-hyeok realized he no longer held his sword and flushed.

He glared at Gyo-ha with enraged eyes.

But the trembling of his pupils could not be hidden.

He could not believe he had yielded ground.

His internal energy was, at best, third-rate.

Even trained in external arts, he could not rise far beyond that level.

Because the human body had limits.

That was why many sects prized internal arts over external ones.

He was even younger than himself.

Soon his gaze went to Moon Ryang behind.

‘Heretical arts.’

His face twisted.

‘Right, so it was heretical arts! He’s trained in heretical arts!’

Else it made no sense.

The disciples beside him also changed expression.

Wariness and disgust.

Even the Murim Alliance had proclaimed that those who trained in heretical arts must be eradicated.

It was to check the Unorthodox Sects’ unsettling moves.

Even before, views of heretical arts were poor, and hostility was steadily rising.

Naturally, their looks were not kind.

But.

Koong.

Something thudded down behind.

They turned to see Moon Ryang sheathing his blade.

Moon Ryang let seep a chill baleful aura any trained fighter could feel.

It was well known his martial art was heretical.

Knowing it changed nothing.

It wasn’t only Moon Ryang.

“Ugh. My clothes are all torn.”

Jong Dae-woon, on the verge of tears, dusted off his outfit.

No one had died, but groans spilled from all around.