“Which color do you think suits me better?”

In Geom Mugeuk’s hands were two armors.

In his left hand, the Cheolbigap (Iron Secret Armor); in his right, the Hwayanggap (Splendid Sun Armor). Both were treasures that martial artists of the rivers and lakes would risk their lives to claim.

“Shouldn’t you prioritize function over color?”

Hwi’s cautious answer made Geom Mugeuk shake his head firmly.

“You do not understand! No matter what, style must come first. Imagine it—during a life-or-death battle, your cloak flutters aside, and the armor underneath is revealed!”

He lifted an armor he had tossed aside for demonstration.

“Now imagine you’re wearing something dull like this underneath! Ah, I’d rather just get stabbed and be done with it.”

Geom Woojin looked at his son with a mixture of exasperation and disbelief.

“I can’t choose because of you, Father.”

“Because of me?” Geom Woojin asked, puzzled.

“The Cheolbigap you picked first is the most stylish. I simply cannot find one better. So… wouldn’t you consider letting your son have one?”

Of course, Geom Woojin wore a look that said “not a chance.”

“I will find it myself. Something even cooler, something truly outstanding.”

Geom Mugeuk resumed his selection of armors. After choosing again and turning around, he asked:

“Which of these do you think is better?”

But Geom Woojin was already guiding Hwi’s choice. He knew well that if left alone, Hwi would never decide.

“Try this on.”

“I’m fine, Grandmaster.”

“Try it on.”

“All right.”

As Hwi donned the armor, Geom Mugeuk shook the garment in his hands.

“There’s someone here! Did you, by chance, put on armor that automatically hides itself?”

Geom Woojin ignored him, focusing solely on Hwi.

The armor he chose for Hwi was the Muyounggap (Shadowless Armor), the lightest armor available. It was perfect for Hwi, who valued stealth and speed.

“It suits you well.”

Hwi’s gaze trembled as he looked at Donggyeong. Not because of himself in the Shadowless Armor, but because reflected in the mirror was the Grandmaster’s satisfied look.

“I don’t know if I deserve something so precious.”

“Take it.”

“All right.”

Of course, Hwi’s selection wasn’t limited to just armor.

Knowing that Hwi would pick the worst if left to choose, Geom Woojin personally handed him a weapon as well.

“Lift this.”

It was a dagger, cold enough to cut flesh, bone, and even the heart of a man, with inscrutable inscriptions engraved on its handle.

“An extraordinary dagger.”

“This is Jinheon (Soul-Calming).”

Hwi froze at the name. He had heard of Jinheon before—a dagger of supreme renown known to all who used such weapons. It was said to surpass even the Cheonaedansim, which Geom Woojin had first chosen.

“Why didn’t you pick Jinheon for yourself, Grandmaster?”

“You’ve seen me use a dagger? Instead, you wield one, don’t you?”

Hwi realized that although Geom Woojin had seen Jinheon first, he had deliberately chosen the second-best Cheonaedansim for him.

‘Grandmaster!’

Geom Woojin extended Jinheon, and Hwi accepted it respectfully with trembling hands.

“Now, infuse your internal energy. You know, the first time is important.”

Hwi cautiously channeled his energy into Jinheon.

Vrrr—

The dagger vibrated in response, recognizing its new master.

“Ah!”

Hwi, usually restrained, could not hide his admiration this time. Even with just a single infusion, he could feel the dagger’s excellence. It was unlike anything he had wielded before, instilling a confidence that no one could defeat him with it.

‘Let’s do well together.’

Hwi strapped his original leather belt over the Shadowless Armor, holding several daggers and other mysterious items. After drawing one dagger and placing Jinheon in its slot, he bowed politely to Geom Woojin.

“Thank you, Grandmaster.”

He said nothing more. Words could not express his emotions.

“It suits you. Look around and take whatever you need.”

“This is enough.”

Hwi’s firm tone left no room for further insistence, and Geom Woojin did not press.

After taking care of Hwi, Geom Woojin finally turned to his son.

He expected Geom Mugeuk to sulk, thinking his father would not choose for him.

“Well? What do you think?”

Geom Mugeuk had already donned a full set.

“I’ve matched the color with Father’s armor and decided on the Heukryongbigap (Black Dragon Secret Armor).”

A superb choice—the armor included wrist guards, a hip pouch belt, knee and elbow protectors, and even hand guards for martial arts. Everything wearable was equipped.

“Father told me to be fully prepared.”

Geom Woojin stared at him.

“I didn’t say you had to wear four layers though.”

Geom Mugeuk flinched.

“You didn’t… master the martial energy to talk to the armor as well?”

“You don’t need to. Just by looking at Donggyeong, anyone can tell.”

Standing before Donggyeong, Geom Mugeuk looked bulkier than usual—it was obvious he wore layers.

“It’s noticeable.”

Indeed, Geom Mugeuk had layered four armors.

“Who are you preparing this for?”

“For these precious items… who else but someone special? And as Father said, I was going to wear this Black Dragon Armor myself. The Ssangrang (Twin Wolves) as well.”

Upon close inspection, the Black Dragon Armor bore a dragon design, and the Twin Wolves on the wrist guards depicted majestic wolves.

“I’ve even sacrificed style to wear them.”

When Geom Mugeuk tried to remove the armors with a pitiful look, Geom Woojin said:

“Leave them. Since you’ve worn them, take them.”

Geom Mugeuk’s face brightened.

“As expected! Father is the best!”

He removed the layered armor and protective gear, carefully taking only the finest pieces. He wore the Black Dragon Armor and Twin Wolves while neatly folding the rest.

Geom Woojin silently observed, even letting him slip in the Hyeolpunggwanghwi Sword among the armors unnoticed.

Next, Geom Mugeuk brought the special martial uniform he had set aside.

“Now, wear this over the armor.”

Made from celestial silkworm silk, the uniform was not as extraordinary as supreme-grade treasures, but far superior to ordinary martial uniforms: lighter, tougher, and breathable.

Father received the finest, next went to Hwi.

“I don’t like this color.”

Hwi thought quietly:

‘No need for that. I’ve already lost to the Little Pill Master.’

Finally, all three stood before Donggyeong, properly outfitted. Though in different colors, the uniforms bore the same patterns, looking like disciples from the same sect. Of course, Geom Mugeuk had not made his father his master.

“From now on, you will be First Senior. Father, looking younger, will be Second Senior. Hwi, you are Grand Senior. Seniors! Move out to the busiest market street in Junggyeong. The juniors will line up.”

At that moment, Geom Mugeuk saw the two, each smiling differently in Donggyeong.

Yes, smile. Live like that. I will keep making you laugh—even with lame jokes or wild antics. Even as we laugh, time marches on. No time for frowning.

Father strode toward the cave entrance and commanded Hwi:

“Later, move everything left here to Cheonma Repository.”

From the entrance, the scent of blood was thick.

Entering the manor, Jeonha-gun, Great Master of Malma, furrowed his brow. The smell of blood outside suggested many had perished.

The martial artists guarding the entrance bowed respectfully.

Jeonha-gun led his forces inside.

A middle-aged martial artist waiting in the courtyard was Juwol (Zhou Que), head of the Junggyeong branch of the martial alliance.

“Welcome, Great Master Jin.”

“Long time, Master Juwol.”

Juwol treated him with utmost respect. Though not formally named successor, it was certain Jeonha-gun would become the next Alliance Master. His reputation was steadily rising through the Malma campaign.

“What happened?”

“An incident occurred at this Yunmyeong Manor, so we ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ hurried to seek your help, Great Master.”

Normally, local branches would handle incidents first. Being summoned directly indicated a serious matter.

“Please, come in.”

As Juwol led him closer to the building, the smell of blood grew stronger.

“Yunmyeong Manor is renowned even in Junggyeong. Its master valued negotiation, earning widespread respect among martial artists here.”

Inside, the place was drenched in blood, splattered everywhere.

“It seems they were ambushed.”

A trail of blood ran along the hallway.

Clearly, Juwol’s usual approach had changed. Claiming it was an ambush implied the perpetrator remained unknown.

Usually, help from Malma was requested when a powerful known enemy appeared. Here, the culprit was unknown, yet they called for him. Why?

The answer became clear upon entering the main hall—blood covered everything.

Jeonha-gun’s gaze fixed on the back wall. Words were written in blood.

“Madou Cheonha (The World of Demonic Path).”

Four characters, enough to shock the Great Master of Malma the most.

Jeonha-gun asked, staring at the blood:

“Where are the bodies from Yunmyeong Manor?”

He needed to verify if they were affected by martial energy.

“There are none.”

He quickly looked at Juwol.

“No bodies?”

“Yes, not a single one. Judging by the remaining blood, survival seems impossible.”

Jeonha-gun looked at the wall again.

“Who would carry away the corpses? It must be the work of the demonic cult.”

Juwol’s conclusion prompted him to ask calmly:

“If someone left your name on the wall, would it be your doing?”

Juwol was taken aback. He had expected Jeonha-gun to assume demonic cult involvement.

“Who would dare impersonate the demonic cult?”

“Previously, there were cases of impersonation. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

Juwol refrained from further argument.

“Understood. That was reckless of me.”

Whether by a true demonic martial artist or a frame-up, this was no trivial matter.

Jeonha-gun instructed:

“Immediately sound the alarm. Deploy all branch martial artists. Request cooperation from nearby branches and thoroughly check anyone leaving Junggyeong.”

“Understood.”

Juwol ran outside to execute the orders.

Jeonha-gun exhaled lightly, staring at the blood-inscribed words.

“Madou Cheonha.”

Naturally, one person came to mind. Seeing ‘madou’ made it obvious.

‘Where are you now?’

The carriage continued south.

“Ah, saying goodbye to Junggyeong like this.”

Soon, they would leave the city.

“Really not staying? Just three more days. Junggyeong’s women are said to be beautiful.”

Geom Woojin quietly said:

“Waiting for Sima Gunsa.”

At last, his usually unamused father had replied. Geom Mugeuk seized the opportunity.

“You don’t understand Sima Gunsa’s mind. He’s relishing this rare freedom. Though he prefers authority, sometimes he wants to enjoy the world without it. Stretching in front of Cheonma Hall every morning, thinking, ‘Grandmaster’s not here, wonderful!’ Just three more days in Junggyeong, Grandmaster, that’s all he wants!”

A faint smile appeared on Geom Woojin’s lips, as if recalling Sima Myung.

At that moment, the carriage slowly stopped.

“Ah! Only Hwi understands me! Turning the carriage, I see?”

Of course, Hwi was the one who stopped it.

“There are martial artists controlling the road ahead.”

Peering out, Geom Mugeuk saw the carriage and people lined up.

In the distance, martial artists were questioning passersby. Dozens, not just a few—it was not a routine inspection.

A Tongcheongak martial artist, disguised as a passerby, handed Hwi a folded note and vanished.

Hwi relayed the message to Geom Mugeuk.

He unfolded it and read. His playful expression vanished instantly.

“All the disciples of the righteous sect at Yunmyeong Manor have gone missing, and the words ‘Madou Cheonha’ were left in blood on the wall.”

At that moment, Geom Mugeuk saw the chill crossing his father’s eyes. Someone had left a message that could not be ignored.

Quietly, Geom Woojin closed his eyes and murmured:

“Turn the carriage around.”