The dawn over Anhui Province was bitterly cold, the air thick with rolling fog.
But colder still was the crushing pressure of sword energy radiating from the Namgung Clan — the undisputed lords of Anhui.
Before the towering gates of that magnificent estate, a single figure stood in silence, barely breathing.
Pung Hyeon.
"…Of all the people on Master's debt list, the second stop just had to be the Namgung Clan."
He pulled a battered leather notebook from inside his robe.
*The Cheonroe Sect Registry of Debts and Obligations* — left behind by Cheonbija, the 126th sect master and history's most accomplished disaster.
His first stop, the Gwak family, had been almost accidental. He'd wandered in chasing rumors of a thousand-year snow ginseng and stumbled out with the thing in his pocket.
The Namgung Clan was different.
It was because of a single sheet of paper hidden in the very last pages of the ledger.
【My beloved disciple,
The only thing you've ever learned is how to run. If you want to survive in the martial world, your safest bet is to visit the places our sect has already been. No need to go making new victims.
Below, I've listed the items you'll need, in order.
Follow that path, and you'll see the world — and come to understand the true worth of the Cheonroe Divine Steps.
I'm off to find a way to overcome the Reverse Aging flaw, the one weakness of the Cheonroe Divine Steps.
Live a happy life.
Goodbye.】
The short version:
*I'm going on vacation. You go run for your life.*
Pung Hyeon still hadn't gotten over the shock of reading that letter for the first time.
In the end, he was the one who had to stand in his master's place as a target for the entire martial world.
To survive, he had to run.
To run, he had to get stronger.
And to get stronger, he had to steal the treasures his master had so thoughtfully arranged for him.
Every last bit of it — a scheme cooked up by one old geezer who'd gotten himself a young body and wanted to spend it eating well and doing nothing.
*That twisted old geezer planned this from start to finish. Every single piece of it.*
That night, Pung Hyeon drank hard liquor for the first time in his life.
One bottle.
Two bottles.
Three bottles.
Then he collapsed like a man who'd been hit over the head.
When he woke up the next day, he accepted reality.
If he couldn't escape, the only option was to survive.
Just three days ago, the first theft at the Gwak estate had been completely rewritten — thanks to Jegal Yeon, the Alliance's chief strategist, and Mageon of the Beggars' Sect.
Pung Hyeon had stolen one thousand-year snow ginseng. But the martial world had already decided it was something else entirely: *a righteous warning from a hero who came to judge the hypocrisy of the orthodox sects.*
No matter how loudly the Gwak family cried foul, it didn't matter.
The world had already made Pung Hyeon a hero.
And Pung Hyeon had taken note.
*Actually, this works out perfectly. If everyone in the world is convinced I'm some noble hero, they'll assume everything I do has a righteous purpose. I'll milk this reputation for everything it's worth and disappear before anyone figures it out.*
His goal this time was simple.
Minimize risk. Don't die.
To do that, he needed something worthy of the body the thousand-year snow ginseng had given him — something that would let him keep surviving.
A legendary sword said to be sleeping in the Namgung Clan's treasury.
The Thunderclap Blade.
Imbued with the energy of thunder, it was exactly the kind of weapon that would push the Cheonroe Divine Steps to their full potential.
Get that sword, and he could run faster. Survive longer.
With his master's creditors liable to come at him with drawn blades at any moment, that was the most urgent thing on his list.
"Brother Pung — are you seriously planning to walk straight through the Namgung Clan's front gate?"
A trembling voice from behind him.
The youngest elder in the Beggars' Sect, and the single greatest contributor to spreading every one of Pung Hyeon's moves across the martial world in the most sensational terms possible.
Mageon.
He was addressing Pung Hyeon — who was younger than him — with the full deference owed to a great hero.
"The Namgung Clan is the foremost sword clan in the world. Clan Head Namgung In's swordsmanship alone is terrifying, but their wards and perimeter defenses are on a completely different level from the Gwak estate. And yet here you are, no disguise, no plan, just walking straight up to the front gate…"
"Mageon."
Pung Hyeon spoke calmly.
"If you want to catch a tiger, you have to walk into the tiger's den."
He looked composed on the outside.
Inside was a different story.
*The back walls are crawling with ward energy — way too dense. Walking in through the front as an honored guest is actually the safer play, you oblivious Beggars' Sect idiot.*
"If the Namgung Clan is a sword house built on hypocrisy, then I'll simply walk up and step on its head."
"Ohhh…!"
Mageon's eyes lit up.
He immediately produced a brush and began writing.
【Pung Hyeon of the Cheonroe Sect declares solo frontal assault on the Namgung Clan's main gate — to shatter their hypocrisy once and for all!】
Pung Hyeon closed his eyes for a moment.
*Here we go again…*
And then it happened.
CREAK—
The Namgung Clan's massive red gates swung open.
From within the fog, nearly two hundred white-robed warriors fanned out in formation on either side.
And at the center of it all, a woman stepped forward — radiating a presence so refined it seemed to freeze the very air around her.
The Namgung Clan's most treasured daughter.
A sword prodigy the martial world watched with bated breath.
The cold beauty, Namgung Ryeo.
With Clan Head Namgung An in closed-door cultivation following a brutal battle against an unorthodox faction master, she had emerged in his place — the strongest sword wielder the clan had to offer.
As the silver mist parted, her figure came into sharp focus.
Her black hair, catching the first pale light of dawn, cascaded like silk past her waist. Her skin was white and clear as a snow-covered peak, without a single flaw. Her eyes were long and narrow, cold and imperious — yet the irises within them were deep and vivid as obsidian that had swallowed starlight.
Beneath the clean line of her nose, her red lips were as lovely as a single plum blossom settling on snow. Each step she took carried the quiet grace of something carved from white jade.
She wore not a single ornament, and yet she commanded every eye in the courtyard.
Like a sword-bearing celestial maiden descended into the mortal world.
Among warriors, a saying had circulated for years:
【To speak of beauty in the martial world without naming Namgung Ryeo is to be blind. To speak of the sword without naming Namgung Ryeo is to have no sword at all.】
The blue-and-crimson blade at her hip gleamed cold in the early morning light.
"You're Pung Hyeon of the Cheonroe Sect?"
Her voice was clear and bright.
But the chill beneath it was sharper than a winter gale.
Pung Hyeon swallowed without thinking.
*Okay. She is absolutely, devastatingly beautiful.*
For a moment, words failed him.
*Is she actually a celestial maiden? Like, genuinely?*
Namgung Ryeo looked down at him with ice in her eyes.
Then, slowly, she laid her hand on the hilt of her sword.
SHING.
The blade slid free of its scabbard, and a clear, ringing note of steel filled the air.
Pung Hyeon's assessment updated immediately.
*Scratch that. Not a celestial maiden. That's a bandit chief with a sword. A pretty bandit chief. One graze from that blade and my head is coming off.*
But his face showed nothing.
Only the serene smile of a hermit who had transcended all earthly concerns.
"They say the Namgung Clan stands first in the world, and its women's swordsmanship stands first in the clan."
Pung Hyeon said it easily, without hurry.
"Your reputation reached me even on Mount Tai."
Namgung Ryeo's eyebrow shifted, just slightly.
"I heard you were a swordswoman of pure intent — not a trace of selfish motive in your blade. So why do you greet a guest with killing intent?"
"A guest?"
The corners of Namgung Ryeo's mouth went cold and hard.
"I have no reason to receive as a guest someone who tramples a clan's honor and dresses up theft as justice."
Her hand tightened on the hilt.
SHING.
The sword's edge split the fog, its killing intent razor-sharp.
The warriors held their breath.
Mageon trembled with excitement.
But inside Pung Hyeon's head, there was only one thing: how to stay alive.
*She's drawing her sword the second she sees me? Do I break left? Right? No — focus. Run through the Grass-Skimming Step core teaching. Now.*