The White-Robed Scholar glared at me, his face hardened.

“How do you know about the Swift Party?”

I looked at his expression and laughed.

This man was both my benefactor—who threw the Golden Nine Free-Wandering Manual at me—and the very cause of my madness.

If I hadn’t learned the Golden Nine, I probably would’ve been beaten to death somewhere in Jianghu.

At the same time, this bastard was the root of my torment.

The Golden Nine Free-Wandering Manual was deceptively easy at the beginning, but as one progressed to the mid and later stages, it became terrifyingly difficult. He was the one who gifted me internal deviation over and over.

I survived because of him, and I suffered because of him.

“Scholar, you say you know Jianghu so well?”

He took a deep breath, suppressing the rage that welled up within him.

“Better than you think.”

“Yeah?”

“I know far more than you could imagine.”

I responded with a faint smirk.

“How impressive. But what good is all that knowledge? You don’t know why I know the Swift Party. You don’t know how I learned the Golden Nine. You’ll never understand the stories of people you think are mere insects.”

“Master of Haomun, are you asking me to kill you right here?”

“I’ll say it clearly. You can’t kill me. And I’m not saying that because I’m holding information over your head. It’s already too late. Because of the Moonlight Cold Heart Technique you gave me, I completed a divine technique on my own.”

“Divine technique?”

That was a reckless bluff, too.

I kept my face blank, hiding everything. Every move I made so far had been a gamble—mentioning a master, invoking the Swift Party, claiming I completed a divine technique. None of it was entirely true. But I had no choice.

Because a fight was inevitable.

As he tried to discern whether my claim about a divine technique was true or not, I glanced around the library.

“Could it be the divine technique I created is already here too? If there’s nothing new under the heavens, maybe I independently reinvented the same thing. Don’t you think?”

“Check for yourself.”

Based on what I understood about the White-Robed Scholar, I kept probing him for weaknesses.

“You must’ve created a new martial art yourself, right? With all the techniques in this library, how could you not?”

I pointed at him.

“I think you’ve probably created the greatest martial art in history. Obviously. Wait… now that I look around, I’ve found a major flaw in your library.”

He responded instantly.

“What is it?”

I deliberately wandered about, sighing dramatically.

“You’re not perfect.”

“What’s missing? Tell me.”

“Three things.”

He laughed.

“Three? That can’t be. This place doesn’t just have the lost arts of the Hundred Schools—we even collected techniques from sects that were wiped out. Sure, some meaningful solitary arts exist in Jianghu, but eventually, I’ll absorb those too.”

“That so?”

Suddenly, goosebumps ran down my body.

Was it just my gut feeling?

I had a chilling thought.

Maybe… the reason he infiltrated the Martial Alliance in my past life was because he wanted to learn Six Combat Blade, the secret art of Im Sobaek.

Not just any technique—but the personal, untaught martial art of the Alliance Leader.

Im Sobaek had never passed it on to anyone. No matter how brilliant the Scholar was, there was no way to get it. And maybe—just maybe—the only reason Im Sobaek had survived both past and present was because of that unique technique. If he never taught it, Six Combat Blade would vanish with him.

Still, out of respect, I didn’t bring it up.

“Look around. Nowhere in here is there any Buddhist martial art. That’s the first thing.”

The Scholar nodded.

“I’m aware of that. What are the other two?”

I couldn’t win against the Scholar with lies alone—I had to mix in some truth.

“You have no Vajrayana techniques.”

“Isn’t Vajrayana just a sect of Buddhism? How can you separate the two?”

“The origins are similar, yes. But when it comes to martial theory, their paths diverge entirely. If the Grand Master of the Mixed Vajrayana School ever appears, they’d rival the top ten of the Three Talents. You can’t dismiss them so easily. In terms of martial arts alone, they’re a major pillar.”

I silently apologized to Gwangseung. He was the Grand Master of that school. I was name-dropping for the sake of pressure.

The Scholar replied,

“I’ve heard that school is very closed off. But I can’t easily believe there’s such a master. And the third?”

I looked around.

“As you probably guessed—Kunlun. There’s nothing from Kunlun here. Nowhere. Not a trace. Buddhist, Vajrayana, Kunlun—all missing. But still… this collection is impressive.”

I clapped sincerely toward him.

“You’re a rare genius under heaven.”

I deliberately spoke as if praising a subordinate. And I kept watching his expression. The moment I praised him, his face lit up with a smile.

This lunatic. He’s actually enjoying this crap.

The White-Robed Scholar got up and approached me.

“That’s truly astonishing. A mere Jomsoi from Ilyang County knows so much about Jianghu? I’m honestly impressed. There are few in Jianghu I can properly discuss martial theory with.”

As he looked around the study, he nodded.

“You’re right. No Buddhist, Vajrayana, or Kunlun techniques. Do you know why?”

“It was difficult to acquire, wasn’t it?”

“Those people would rather die than give up their martial arts. But once the old man of Kunlun falls, Kunlun will weaken. That’s the time to strike.”

“How long do you plan to wait?”

“We’ve grown accustomed to waiting.”

He sighed and continued.

“You know why Buddhist monks are so difficult to deal with? They’ve detached from the mundane. No family. No money. No greed. They have no real weaknesses. But the most important thing is…”

“What?”

He grinned at me.

“We don’t know exactly what kind of masters exist in Buddhism. Even we can’t tell. Do you think we haven’t tried? Since the First Emperor’s time, our biggest failure came from meddling with them. And in the end…”

He faltered.

“…Ah, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

While he sighed, I tried to piece it together. At some point in the past, they must’ve challenged the Buddhist sects and got annihilated. He was about to say they prepared a counterbalance—but caught himself.

I watched him closely and said,

“So in the end, you had to create a rival power to stand against Buddhism. To keep hounding them from different angles.”

“……”

“Did you pick a demonic sect and turn it into the Demonic Cult? If you want to weaken one religion, the only way is to empower its opposite. Stir them up, let them fight each other. Polar opposite doctrines make for easy conflict.”

The Scholar stared at me, dazed.

“You really are someone I can have a proper conversation with. That’s exactly it.”

I nodded.

“Buddhism preaches compassion. The Demonic Cult thrives on cruelty. That’s the contrast. But human affairs never go /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ as planned. Now things start making sense.”

“What do you mean?”

I looked at him and smiled.

“You planned to pull the strings—but the Demonic Cult got too big. That’s why you backed the Third Young Master. Nothing works better than internal conflict. It wasn’t the first time, either. Previous succession disputes were even worse. You people really messed up Jianghu.”

The Scholar laughed.

“…That’s our job.”

I watched his back as he turned.

“Even if Cheonak is one of your people—he couldn’t kill the Cult Leader. No one knows how much the Cult Leader really understands, but Jianghu isn’t as complex as your schemes. No matter how much research and experimentation you do, the strong win. That’s all.”

I didn’t know whether this man was the mastermind or not. But one thing was clear—neither the Cult Leader nor Im Sobaek was under anyone’s control.

The Scholar sat back down.

“…I really don’t know what to do with you. You know far too much. You’re clearly in another league compared to my disciples. Though, of course, that doesn’t mean you can beat them. Just like you said.”

He struck a spot on the table irritably—and a section of the wall flipped open.

Two men emerged.

“…You called, Master.”

The Scholar pointed at me.

“This is Yi Zaha, Master of Haomun. Show proper respect.”

The two bowed to me with fists cupped.

“Master of Haomun, I am Ogum.”

“Master of Haomun, I am Yukdo. I’ve heard much of your name.”

I gave them a once-over and nodded.

“Yeah. Nice to meet you. You must be the seniors ranked just above Chilgyeom. He’s mentioned you a lot.”

“He has?”

“He doesn’t seem like the type to talk carelessly…”

I launched into a barrage of nonsense.

“He says your skills are decent but your personalities are absolute trash, so he doesn’t want to call you seniors. That was you two, right? Ogum and Yukdo. Said you looked like squid and cuttlefish. Nice to meet you. You do look funny.”

Ogum and Yukdo exchanged looks and laughed in disbelief. Their ease of expression made it clear—these were strong disciples, close to the top.

The Scholar spoke again.

“Master of Haomun, I’ll give you a choice. Prove just one of three things, and I’ll treat you as a guest. I’m giving you this out of recognition that you may be a once-in-a-lifetime genius. But if you can’t prove even one—you’ll be treated as a slave. Be grateful I’m even sparing your life.”

Ogum and Yukdo were already blocking the path to the cliffside exit.

I asked,

“Isn’t it a bit extreme—guest to slave? What are the conditions?”

He picked up a brush and began writing.

“First: how you learned the Golden Nine Free-Wandering Manual.

Second: how you know about the Swift Party.

Third: prove the divine technique you mentioned actually exists. I’m not asking you to demonstrate the technique that wiped out the Demonic Cult’s army—just verify it. You called it a divine technique, so it must be.

Ogum. Yukdo.”

“Yes, Master.”

“If he fails to answer, spare his life. I’ll try to salvage him. But don’t let your guard down—he’s strong.”

“Understood.”

I raised my hand.

“Hold it.”

Honestly, Ogum and Yukdo weren’t the problem. The real threat was the Scholar launching a sneak attack mid-fight. In a space this small, three-against-one would be tough even for me.

I asked him,

“If I show you the divine technique, then what?”

He nodded.

“If what you demonstrate is worthy of being recorded in history—then of course, I won’t kill you. That’s our mission. Prove your worth.”

I pointed at him.

“Confirmed.”

And then, from his own mouth, he said what I had been suspecting.

“It better be at least on par with Im Sobaek’s Six Combat Blade.”

“Of course it should be.”

I chuckled, my shoulders trembling. Honestly, I could die here. But because the Scholar was mad in just the right way, he gave me a narrow path forward.

The problem was how narrow that path was.

A divine technique…

There was only one technique I had that could be called that.

It wasn’t complete. I’d barely started it.

I inhaled deeply, then clasped my hands behind my back and stared at the Scholar.

“……”

He asked,

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up. I’m concentrating. I’m an emotional person. Which means… the martial art I created is emotional, too.”

He scribbled that down and replied,

“An emotional martial art? There’s really something wrong with you.”

I answered, sincerely.

“There is. Scholar, do you know why I’m not normal? Do you know why people say I’ve always been half-mad?”

The Scholar laughed.

“How would I know? Maybe you’ve just always been crazy. Isn’t that right?”

I spoke, my tangled emotions sinking into a quiet sadness.

“It’s because of you.”

My previous life flashed by like a lantern show. A life I couldn’t live properly because of this bastard.

I remembered Sam Bok’s words when he checked on me at the Thousand Mile Inn:

‘Master, something’s not right about you.’

It felt similar—but different. I was calmly descending into madness.

Suddenly, it felt like something veiled my vision. The colors of the world shifted.

I looked at the Scholar with a neutral expression.

The Scholar stood up.

“…What the hell is that martial art?”

I couldn’t even tell what was happening to me.

All I felt was power rising from the Heavenly Pearl.

But Ogum and Yukdo’s expressions mirrored the Scholar’s—they were visibly shaken.

Apparently, my eyes no longer looked normal.

I answered his question.

“This is… Purple Mist Divine Art.”