CFZ

A massive shadow loomed, covering the sky.

Beneath it, Cheonma (Heavenly Demon), clad in a black robe, descended slowly.
A man wearing a cracked mask and standing with his hands clasped behind his back gradually approached the ground.
The gathered warriors below fixed their gazes on Cheonma with intense focus.

“That man…!”
“How dare he shamelessly show himself here again…!!”
Clang—!
Swish—!!

Every martial artist drew their swords simultaneously, and murderous intent filled the air.
It was a moment of extreme tension.
Everyone seethed with rage, ready to cut Cheonma down at any moment.

[Heh.]
Yet, Cheonma merely let out a quiet chuckle as if enjoying the sight.
“…Cheonma.”

At this, the Sword Saint furrowed his brow deeply.
The others shared his fury, but the pressure emanating from him stood out the most.
As if prepared to cut Cheonma down at once, the Sword Saint channeled his emotions into his aura.

“I thought you had long fled, so what brings you here now?”
At the Sword Saint’s words, Cheonma tilted his head slightly.
[I had no intention of appearing like this, originally….]

Swish—
Cheonma descended a little further.
He was now well within range for the Sword Saint’s blade to reach him.
[But I grew curious about your impressions. Tell me—what do you think?]

A hint of laughter ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) colored his voice.
[Of the gift I prepared?]
“…Tsk.”

The mocking tone made the Sword Saint grind his teeth.
A gift?
“It certainly made us feel many things. Very many, indeed.”

It was likely a gift they would never forget for the rest of their lives.
Bzzz.
The Sword Saint’s sword hummed faintly.

The sound resonated with the emotions imbued within it.
“Cheonma. You’ve made a mistake.”
Whoosh—!

A breeze stirred, carrying the chill of autumn as it began to circle around the Sword Saint.
“Revealing yourself here like this is no different from declaring your intent to die.”
The Sword Saint, brimming with fury, prepared to strike.

“I will cut down the traitor who attacked Hanam—!”
Yet, just as the Sword Saint leaped forward, his eyes narrowed, and his body froze.
Someone had stopped him.

The Sword Saint immediately turned to look at the one who intervened.
“…What do you think you’re doing, Plum Blossom Immortal?”
Plum Blossom Immortal Do Hua.

He stood with his hand pressing down on the Sword Saint’s shoulder.
Scattered killing intent hung in the air, yet plum blossoms gently descended among it.
Strangely enough, Do Hua seemed to be calming not just the Sword Saint but also the surrounding aura, diffusing it.

As the air began to circulate slightly,
“…Plum Blossom Immortal…!”
The Sword Saint glared at him with burning eyes.

His expression demanded an explanation—why was Do Hua stopping him when their enemy stood right before them?
To this, Do Hua replied,
“Leader. Please, calm yourself.”

“…What? How can you expect me to—!”
“If the Leader cannot remain calm, others will die. I beg of you, look at the forest, not just the trees.”
“…!”

Do Hua’s heavy tone, devoid of any laughter, caused the Sword Saint to momentarily glance back at Cheonma.
There must be a reason for Do Hua’s words—so the Sword Saint judged.
When he turned to scrutinize Cheonma again, it didn’t take long for him to realize.

“Cheonma…!”
[What seems to be the problem?]
Only then did he notice it.

Cheonma had unclasped his hands behind his back.
His right hand was extended toward something.
It was aimed at none other than the refugees gathered nearby.

Cheonma’s outstretched hand spoke volumes.
It was a silent warning.
Any reckless action could lead to harm befalling the refugees.

It was an implicit threat.
“…That wretched bastard!”
“After turning Hanam into this state, does he intend to claim more victims?!”

“They’ve done nothing wrong!”
The warriors exploded with anger.
[How amusing.]

But Cheonma, finding their reactions trivial, spoke with a laugh.
[Like drowning men in a dried-up well, desperately debating the remnants of righteousness. Don’t delude yourselves.]
Rumble—!!

As his voice continued, a demonic beast hovering in the sky let out a low growl.
[I may have allowed this situation to unfold, but can you truly claim to be blameless?]
Hanam’s fall was undeniably Cheonma’s doing.

And yet…
The Murim Alliance, which prided itself on maintaining Zhongyuan’s peace and honor—
If they had crumbled so easily from a single disturbance…

[Arrogant.]
Could the Murim Alliance truly be free of fault?
The question caused faces to twist, but no one voiced opposition.

They all knew.
They were starting to realize their own failings.
[You were arrogant and filthy.]

[Disappointing. Even if you’d lost your former glory, I thought you could still provide some amusement…. But even that was too much to hope for.]
Cheonma’s condescending tone grated on their ears.
The Sword Saint ground his teeth fiercely.

He wanted nothing more than to charge forward and sever that detestable head from its body.
To silence that vile mouth.
But he couldn’t.

Was it because Cheonma was threatening the refugees?
No.
Under normal circumstances, he would have cut Cheonma down before anything could happen.

Yet now, the Sword Saint hesitated.
The refugees’ lives? They were important.
However—

‘Dealing with the traitor comes first.’
Eliminating a rebel who had challenged the Alliance required sacrifices.
That was the Sword Saint’s resolve.

But it wasn’t the refugees that troubled him.
‘I can’t see it.’
What unsettled him was that he couldn’t gauge Cheonma’s strength.

Even as he focused his senses on the man floating above,
‘…Why can’t I sense anything?’
The Sword Saint felt nothing from Cheonma.

‘How can I… feel absolutely nothing?’
It was as if Cheonma existed yet didn’t.
Breaking out in cold sweat, the Sword Saint felt an overwhelming dread.

Even the weakest opponent should emit some trace of presence.
This could only mean one thing.
The difference between their levels was so vast that he couldn’t perceive Cheonma at all.

‘Impossible…!’
The thought crossed his mind, but he couldn’t accept it.
How could such a thing be?

His gaze shifted sideways.
There stood Heavenly Lord (Cheonjon), one of the Three Masters, silently observing Cheonma.
He could clearly sense Heavenly Lord’s immense presence—yet Cheonma’s presence was nonexistent?

‘It’s sorcery.’
It had to be.
It was impossible otherwise.

But even as he tried to convince himself…
‘Still….’
A sliver of doubt crept in.

What if this so-called Cheonma truly was a monster beyond comprehension?
What if the reason he descended so confidently, even after the barrier was lifted and they were freed—
‘Was because he could slaughter everyone here single-handedly?’

It was an absurd thought, yet that minuscule possibility kept gnawing at the Sword Saint’s mind.
And—
‘Yes.’

Watching the Sword Saint hesitate, Gu Yangcheon quietly stifled a laugh.
‘Stay like that.’
It was exactly the reaction he wanted.

Seeing the hesitation, the uncertainty mixed with anger—
That inability to act rashly without fully understanding the enemy.
This was precisely the outcome Gu Yangcheon had aimed for.

“Hooo….”
He continued to steady his breathing.
His heart felt like it was being crushed, but he had to endure it.

‘…My body’s in shambles, and even this is hard.’
The Cheonma floating in the air wasn’t some substitute acting on his behalf.
It was a creation forged purely from Authority.

Specifically, the Authority of Wind he had absorbed from Mang.
Gu Yangcheon had used it to manifest Cheonma.
‘…I practiced this endlessly, and now of all times, my body’s in this state.’

The ability to create whatever he envisioned—
As long as it was something he understood in detail, he could make it a reality.
That was the power of Wind.

When he first obtained this Authority, Gu Yangcheon had thought:
‘If I use this right… it could be a game-changer.’
He knew he’d acquired an exceptionally powerful Authority.

He’d been devastated when he gave up his regeneration ability to Woo Hyuk, but he’d tried to console himself—
At least he still had the Wind.
It was enough to be worth it.

The power to create anything he knew in detail—
It was such a ridiculously overpowered ability that once he mastered it, he began crafting this plan.
Three conditions had to be met:

First.
Could the Wind create a human form?
Second.

Could the form it created produce a voice?
Third.
Could it maintain its presence—

‘For at least half a quarter-hour?’
He had to fulfill all three conditions.
Night after night—

Even if he drained his energy completely, he trained and honed this Authority.
Eventually, he succeeded in creating Cheonma’s form and sustaining it for half a quarter-hour.
‘…But pulling it off in real combat is another story.’

Right now, even lasting half of that time was proving difficult.
It wasn’t just about creating a human body—
The created form had to move naturally.

Breathing, subtle movements, flowing hair—
Everything had to be precise and realistic.
He had to pour all his focus into maintaining it.

Mentally, it was exhausting.
‘…This is insane.’
The effort required far exceeded the strain he’d felt when breaking through the barrier earlier.

Compared to this, the barrier was child’s play.
His body, already battered from combat, was rapidly depleting what little reserves he had left.
While the Authority didn’t rely solely on Qi, the strain was still overwhelming.

‘If I lose focus even for a second, it’ll fall apart.’
He had to endure.
If it collapsed now, everything would be over.

After all the hell he’d gone through to get here, he couldn’t let it fail.
Vrrr—!!!
Suppressing the rising blood, he forced it back down and kept the Authority stable.

Meanwhile, Cheonma’s mouth continued to move.
[Justice has already crumbled to dust. Do you still believe yourselves righteous?]
[You’re wrong.]

[If justice is supposed to be rooted in virtue and unity, then you are unworthy of it.]
[Arrogant, narrow-minded insects—desperate to preserve your positions, you’ve long since forgotten your purpose.]
The end was approaching.

Feeling his limit, Gu Yangcheon hunched slightly.
‘Not yet.’
Just a little longer.

He only needed to hold out a little longer.
[You are not justice.]
There were still words that had to be spoken.

[Today, I have confirmed it.]
He poured every ounce of strength he had into this.
Cheonma’s voice rang out even clearer.

[The world I will create has no place for you.]
His words struck like thunder, causing the warriors to erupt in whispers.
Their tension soared.

No one knew what Cheonma would do next, so they remained on high alert.
At the height of this unnerving atmosphere—
[However.]

Cheonma suddenly lowered the hand he had pointed at the refugees.
Eyes widened.
What was he planning now?

[I will grant you a single act of mercy.]
Mercy?
The gathered warriors stared in confusion.

Then—
Swish.
Cheonma raised his hand again and pointed at the martial artists.

He seemed to be singling someone out.
As if compelled, the crowd followed the line of his pointing finger.
It landed on a young man.

A man who was slumped over, breathing heavily.
Clearly, his body was in tatters.
Even as he struggled to stay upright, his bloodshot eyes fixed firmly on Cheonma.

[You there. What is your name?]
“…”
Cheonma demanded his name.

And the young man, though his voice trembled, replied:
“…Gu… Yang…cheon.”
His voice was broken and ragged, but he forced it out.

[Gu Yangcheon. I see.]
As if committing it to memory, Cheonma continued.
[For an insect’s struggle, it was quite a spectacle. Among these worthless worms, I suppose you’re a rare gem.]

Hiss—!!
As he spoke, Cheonma’s body began to rise higher into the air.
[For today, I will let this pass. Crushing insects would only sully my mood, and I’m in rather high spirits right now.]

His voice dripped with confidence—
He could wipe them all out, but he wouldn’t bother this time.
[So when I return next time, make sure to entertain me a little better.]

With those parting words, Cheonma began to ascend slowly into the sky.
“…Cheonma! Are you trying to run away again…!”
The Sword Saint couldn’t contain himself and raised his voice once more.

Rumble—!!!
“…!”
“Huff!”

At that moment, a sudden flash of light burst forth.
Thunder roared, and explosive lightning Qi surged through the air.
It came directly from Heavenly Lord.

The deafening sound forced everyone to cover their ears.
But that wasn’t all.
“T-That….”

Someone gasped, staring toward Cheonma.
The lightning Qi unleashed by Heavenly Lord—
Had pierced through Cheonma’s torso.

Had Cheonma fallen to Heavenly Lord’s ambush?
Hope surged, and the warriors began to feel a wave of exhilaration.
But—

Hssssss….
“Huff!”
“No… no way!!”

To their horror, the gaping hole in Cheonma’s torso began to regenerate.
Flesh filled the void without a trace of damage remaining,
And his robes repaired themselves as though nothing had happened.

The grotesque, almost supernatural sight—
One of the onlookers whispered as though in disbelief.
“…Is he… really a god?”

Under normal circumstances, someone would’ve dismissed it as nonsense.
But no one said a word.
That was how shocking it was.

[Hmm.]
Cheonma casually brushed his hand over his previously pierced torso and turned to Heavenly Lord.
Was he finally going to fight?

Everyone held their breath, anxiously waiting for what would happen next.
[How disappointing.]
Yet Cheonma spoke only those words before continuing to rise into the air,

As if the attack had never happened.
Rumble—!
Along with the enormous being looming above,

Cheonma disappeared into the sky.
The massive figure vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Everyone was left speechless, stunned by the sudden end of the encounter.

“Cough—!!”
Then, someone collapsed, coughing up blood.
“So Yeomra!”

It was So Yeomra—Gu Yangcheon.
He staggered, black blood spilling from his mouth, and the martial artists immediately rushed to him.
They checked his condition urgently.

“…He’s lost consciousness.”
“Call for a healer—quickly!”
The warriors scrambled, acting swiftly.

Gu Yangcheon wasn’t the only concern—there were numerous others injured, and order needed to be restored.
Even amidst the chaos, they forced themselves to move forward.
Yet one person—

The Sword Saint—remained rooted in place, silently staring at Gu Yangcheon.
His expression twisted as though in conflict,
And his eyes lingered on Gu Yangcheon.

He stood there, radiating faint heat from his sword,
Watching intently until Heavenly Lord finally approached Gu Yangcheon.
With an unreadable look in his eyes.

   *******************
   
Three days had passed since the attack on Hanam.
Though it wasn’t a long time, Hanam had seen too much devastation in that short span.

The chaos began with the assault that left the town in ruins.
Most of the inns were destroyed, and merchants, as well as countless others, lost their homes and livelihoods.
The damage was so extensive that clearing the debris alone was expected to take several more days, and full restoration might take years.

The victims who suddenly found themselves homeless and jobless cried out in despair.
But there were those who stepped forward to offer aid—
The Baekhwa Trading Company and the Jangwon Trading Company, known as the great merchant guilds of Zhongyuan.

They acted swiftly, setting up tents for the refugees and distributing food supplies.
They also promised to provide temporary shelters free of charge until rebuilding efforts were complete.
This eased some of the immediate concerns—

But while monetary damage could be addressed,
The deeper wounds remained.
The attack had claimed lives, including several high-ranking figures.

First, the Murim Alliance’s Eight Sword Divisions.
Three division leaders had died.
The casualties included the commanders of the Ilryong Division, the Pungryong Division, and the Cheollyong Division.

The official report from the Murim Alliance stated that:
The Ilryong Commander died valiantly, holding back a high-ranking officer of the Demonic Cult who led the attack.
The Pungryong Commander sacrificed himself, burning his soul to dispel dark sorcery and save the Leader and others.

The Cheollyong Commander perished in honorable combat, taking his enemy down with him.
The loss of these leaders alone was enough to send shockwaves—
But even greater news followed shortly after.

“The Blade King has fallen….”
“…What? That can’t be true, can it?”
The Blade King, Peng Zhou, the head of the Hebei Peng Clan—

He had also lost his life in the attack.
“This is ridiculous… A man as powerful as the Blade King—how could this happen?”
“They say the same Demonic Cultist who killed the Ilryong Commander also took down Peng Zhou.”

“…How strong could they possibly be?”
“Peng Zhou was injured and being supported by the Flying Saint when the ambush occurred.”
“The Flying Saint tried to resist, but… he couldn’t protect the Blade King.”

“What kind of monster kills a father right in front of his child? That’s beyond cruel!”
The Blade King, Peng Zhou, was slain.
The Flying Saint, heavily wounded, remained unconscious and unable to speak.

The villain who killed the Ilryong Commander and the Blade King—
People began to call this merciless figure the Demon Spear.
“What is this world coming to…?”

The speaker’s voice trembled with sorrow.
“As if losing so many noble men wasn’t enough… now even calamities have begun to descend….”
“Calamities? Are you talking about the White-Rank beasts?”

“Yes… Damn it, we’ve barely managed to deal with the Red-Rank beasts, and now this?!”
The room fell silent.
White-Rank beasts—

To many, this was the most terrifying revelation of all.
It had been three years since the first Red-Rank beasts appeared.
Even though methods to subdue them had been discovered, it was still a struggle.

And now, White-Rank beasts had emerged.
“Those who witnessed it said it was like facing a disaster from the heavens.”
“If we hadn’t stopped them in time… Hanam might have been wiped out entirely.”

No one dared to argue.
“Truly… it’s a miracle we survived.”
“Yes… We owe everything to him.”

At the mention of “him,” a faint relief spread across the room.
Three division leaders and a king had died, yet the people somehow felt reassured.
“They say heroes appear in times of chaos. Isn’t that exactly what’s happening now?”

“…You’re right. A hero.”
“Even the Demon Lord of this era acknowledged him, didn’t he?”
“Is that true?”

“Yes. My nephew is part of the Alliance’s forces—he confirmed it. That damn Cheonma, the Demon Lord himself, acknowledged him.”
The one who brought Hanam to ruin—
The one who summoned White-Rank beasts and manipulated monstrous creatures as if the Murim Alliance was his plaything—

Cheonma.
His infamy was spreading throughout Zhongyuan.
And yet—

“He saved my life.”
“He saved me too. I would have died buried under rubble.”
“I was nearly killed by a demon, but he saved me as well.”

Amidst terror and despair, people found solace by recalling his actions.
“So the rumors were all lies. They always slander heroes.”
“They said he was a lecher, ill-tempered—well, the scary face part is true, but still.”

“I feel guilty for believing such nonsense….”
“At least we know better now.”
“Yes. In these dark times, it’s a blessing to have someone we can trust.”

Their voices grew lighter, their expressions more at ease.
Everyone was thinking of the same man.
The one who had saved lives as buildings collapsed and screams filled the streets.

The one who didn’t hesitate to step into the rampage of monsters, risking his life.
The one who rescued the Leader and others alongside the Pungryong Commander, even after exhausting himself in battle.
A man whose overwhelming strength defied his young age—

Who wielded his power not for himself, but to save Hanam.
The man whom even the Demon Lord Cheonma had acknowledged.
The hero of this era.

And just as they reflected on his deeds—
“Ah, did you hear? The Alliance is changing his title to honor his achievements.”
“His title? What do you mean?”

“Prepare yourselves. His new title is….”
As laughter and chatter filled the ruined city,
In a quiet corner of the Baekhwa Trading Company—

A woman walked gracefully down a corridor.
Dressed elegantly and carrying a small basket of food, it was Moyong Hee-ah.
She stopped in front of a door.

Knock, knock.
Her pale fingers tapped gently, but no response came from inside.
Was no one there?

No.
Moyong Hee-ah didn’t believe that.
“Sir, it’s time to eat.”

She called out softly, but still received no answer.
“Hmmm.”
What should she do? Moyong Hee-ah hesitated for a moment.

Was he pretending to be asleep?
Surely not—he always responded quickly when called.
So this was just stubbornness—refusing to come out.

Not that it mattered.
She had her ways.
“Hmm… Hehe…”

Suppressing a giggle, Moyong Hee-ah steadied her voice.
“Star King.”
The moment the words left her lips—

“It’s time to eat—”
Clang—!
The door burst open, revealing Gu Yangcheon.

Moyong Hee-ah beamed.
“See? You should’ve come out sooner.”
But Gu Yangcheon, seeing her smile,

“…Please… Please stop calling me that.”
Let out a long, weary sigh.