Chapter 165: Thinking of the Sword

To be precise, challengers were arriving one after another every day for Baek Moo-jin, who was busy beyond belief constructing the sect’s buildings. As time passed, they came not only from Shaanxi’s masters but also from Sichuan, Shanxi, Henan, and Hubei. This was partly because Baek Moo-jin had left the door wide open, but also because his fame for successively defeating the Nine Heavens Society, the Iron Blood Sect, and the Demon Cult was spreading far and wide.

Those seeking to make a name for themselves.

Those consumed by delusions of grandeur, convinced they were the world’s greatest.

Those seeking to learn a move.

Those sent by their sects, concealing their true identities.

Even hidden masters of the Black Path and the eccentric disciples of the Samadhi Sect…

But when Baek Moo-jin finally arrived at the site where the sect’s building was being constructed, everyone had to hold their breath and keep a low profile.

The Fist King was hauling a massive tree.

The Sword King was splitting the wood with the Sunlight Sword.

What a shocking sight!

But an even more shocking scene awaited. Whenever Yi Neung-so, who claimed to be the world’s most notorious villain, made an appearance, he would intimidate or play tricks on those who came seeking Baek Moo-jin. Most people would quietly turn back after just stepping through the gate. Despite this, quite a few remained, watching cautiously.

This was because Baek Moo-jin, for reasons unknown, welcomed and accepted each of them individually with hospitality. Moreover, he had even made a promise.

“Once the construction is complete, I will accept your challenge.”

Truthfully, most of them weren’t even worthy opponents for Baek Moo-jin. Yet, he intended to accept their challenges. His purpose wasn’t to determine a winner or loser, but to revisit his sword techniques from the very beginning.

It stemmed from a peculiar dilemma arising because Baek Mujin’s own physique had grown too formidable before he could elevate his swordsmanship to a higher realm.

Simply put, Baek Moo-jin was too powerful.

If he created sword techniques matching his true strength, his disciples would have no room to learn. They would need to possess the same level of internal energy he had… but who could possibly reach that realm? Therefore, Baek Moo-jin intended to start with the most fundamental sword techniques.

Anyway, once Baek Moo-jin agreed to the duel… something ridiculous happened.

Those who had flocked to challenge Baek Moo-jin transformed into construction workers, hauling bricks, carrying pillar timber, splitting wood like a woodcutter, or crafting the bluestone slabs for the floor. While there was a separate construction supervisor, the martial artists’ dexterity and martial prowess were so high that they could assist the work far more swiftly than ordinary laborers.

It was a bizarre spectacle, one that made one wonder if any other martial arts sect in the world had ever been built this way. The laborers Hong Yugang had hired with money and a hundred martial artists were working together to construct Baek Moo-jin’s sect.

Yet the one doing the most work, taking on the impossible and dangerous tasks, was none other than the sect’s master, Baek Moo-jin himself.

2.

“It looked like martial arts masters were building a kingdom.”

This was the testimony of those who witnessed Baek Moo-jin building his sect with their own eyes. Construction meant laborers hauling building materials, people swarming to erect pillars, and mobilizing ladders and all manner of tools to build.

But here, Baek Moo-jin’s martial prowess was working wonders. His innate lightness skill was exceptionally high, and his cultivation depth was extraordinary. Tasks requiring dozens of people were effortlessly handled by Baek Moo-jin alone, causing people to frequently gasp in amazement.

The specially crafted roof was so slippery that even most martial artists would struggle to stand on it, yet Baek Moo-jin completed it as if walking on level ground and was already moving on to the next building.

Whether they came to challenge him or simply to watch the spectacle, day after day, spectators were mesmerized by Bai Wuzhen’s marvelous skill.

Originally, Baek Moo-jin envisioned a sect of immense scale, so no one could fathom when the construction might ever end. Yet, if there were a history of construction, it would be rewritten at this very moment: Baek Moo-jin’s sect-building effort achieved unprecedented speed, precision, grandeur, and perfection, defying all expectations.

Baek Moo-jin worked on building the house until sunset, only then brushing off his hands and leaving the construction site.

The afternoon was reserved for spending time with the challengers.

Among them were underlings sent by the Chief of the Undercover Mages, subtly mixed in, along with figures from other sects who had come to observe Baek Moo-jin.

Baek Moo-jin had no intention of singling them out.

He set one rule, however.

He would treat them to dinner or drinks, then send them back in the evening.

This place was meant to be where Baek Moo-jin established his sect; he had no intention of running it like a clan and accepting guests indefinitely.

Having grown accustomed to this, when the bell signaling the wine hour (7 PM) rang, they formed ranks and vanished like a retreating army, creating a surreal spectacle.

Only then could Baek Moo-jin face Jin So-hye and his companions in the now-quiet sanctuary.

The Martial King spoke.

“I never dreamed the martial world harbored such strange individuals. Why on earth would they challenge us? It seems few here are worthy opponents. Still, shall we accept?”

Baek Moo-jin nodded.

“That’s my plan.”

Seo Mun-geuk exclaimed in astonishment.

“Why on earth?”

“To learn a thing or two.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

He intended to refine his sword technique through real combat, observing which movements were efficient and optimized. A man so determined to create martial arts like this was probably rare in the world. But Baek Mujin was serious.

“They might have been sent by nearby sects… I also spotted quite a few from the Sima Oeddo faction. Some of those undercover mages I faced before were there too. Who knows? There might have been some from the Bicheon faction mixed in as well.”

“Heh heh heh… So it seems all the martial heroes of this age have gathered to help establish your sect together.”

“Yes, and they’ll refine my sword techniques too. Anyway, they’ve waited long enough, so I should let them spar with me once. They need something to gain from it.”

“Hmm.”

Seo Mun-geuk, Do Wang, Kwon Wang, and Jin So-hye looked at Baek Moo-jin as if to say, What on earth is he talking about?

Baek Moo-jin said.

“I plan to use wooden swords, but there will be casualties.”

“Over a hundred people?”

At that, Baek Moo-jin grinned.

“I’ll hold a hundred-man free-for-all. You may fight simultaneously or take turns. With over a hundred participants, a truly diverse array of martial arts and weapons will appear. I must observe each one closely to deepen my understanding for the sword techniques I’m developing.”

It was a truly astonishing approach.

He intended to refine his sword techniques using the insights gained from sparring with a hundred opponents.

Though the Sword King and Fist King were seasoned veterans, Baek Moo-jin’s thinking was unlike anything seen in the martial world before, leaving them in awe. Given Baek Moo-jin’s character, his words were far from empty boasts. Perhaps the very fact that such a diverse array of masters had sought him out was itself a kind of divine coincidence.

Kwonwang said.

“This should be quite a spectacle. When do you plan to do it?”

“I’ll do it first thing tomorrow morning.”

Could even Baek Moo-jin pull off a battle against a hundred opponents? He knew some masters among the hundred white-robed figures would be mixed in… Was he saying he’d face them all simultaneously?

Yet the others, having witnessed Baek Moo-jin’s profound martial prowess thus far, felt anticipation rather than worry.

Meanwhile, Baek Moo-jin was preoccupied with a completely different concern.

He had no intention of using Ice Magic at all.

This White-Cloaked Martial Arts was solely for refining his sword techniques.

He intended to pass this sword technique down to his descendants.

Yet Baek Moo-jin spent the day here without any particular preparation, simply mingling with people, eating dinner, drinking wine, and letting the day pass.

3.

As soon as the sun rose, precisely one hundred and seven martial artists came to find Baek Moo-jin again. They intended to spend the day helping with the construction work once more. However, when they arrived at the blue stone martial arts platform they had laid out, they all stopped in their tracks simultaneously.

Baek Moo-jin sat comfortably on the stage, dressed in attire unlike his usual style—a neat white robe unlike any they had seen before. The group led by the Martial King had taken seats behind him, as if waiting to watch the martial arts display.

The gathered crowd exchanged glances before addressing Baek Moo-jin.

“Master Baek, are you not conducting the ceremony today?”

Baek Moo-jin nodded and replied.

“Thanks to your help, we finished much sooner than I expected. Today, I’ll participate in the martial arts contest as you all wish.”

“There are over a hundred of us. Who will you fight?”

When one man asked, Baek Moo-jin quietly replied.

“I will fight all of you. A round-robin is fine, or you may all challenge me at once. Those who wish to fight, please gather around the martial arts platform. Those who do not wish to fight may stand back and watch.”

At his words, the crowd surged forward and took their places around the stage. Baek Moo-jin stood alone on the vast stage.

Someone called out.

“Lord Baek, please state the rules.”

Baek Moo-jin nodded and replied.

“There are none. Do as you please. You may come up one at a time, or if you have companions, you may come up together.”

“Huh…”

A moment of silence hung in the air.

Baek Moo-jin was surrounded by a hundred people. Standing on the martial arts stage, Baek Moo-jin held a wooden sword he had carved himself.

The murmurs of the crowd grew louder.

“A wooden sword… That’s a bit much.”

“A wooden sword against a hundred men?”

“A wooden sword against a hundred men? Truly unheard of.”

Baek Moo-jin looked around, wooden sword in hand.

“Alright, let’s begin.”

At his words, a man stood up and stepped onto the duel platform.

“Are you sure wooden swords are acceptable?”

Baek Moo-jin nodded. The man, who had taken a fighting stance, charged forward. In an instant, Baek Moo-jin, still holding his wooden sword, precisely stabbed the man’s wrist.

With a single strike, the man’s hand swelled up, causing him to drop his weapon. Another man stepped forward from the opposite side.

Baek Moo-jin charged at the approaching man’s chest at tremendous speed and thrust his sword in.

Thud!

The man who had charged flew instantly off the stage.

They charged onto the stage one after another, like a group of assault troops. But Baek Moo-jin made no other movements, relying solely on his lightness skill and thrusts to pierce his opponents’ openings with a single sword strike each time.

His movements were monotonous, yet no master could block them.

Both the spectators and the victims were equally bewildered.

Yet Baek Moo-jin faced dozens of opponents with just one technique, as if practicing thrusts.

His movements were nothing special.

He moved with footwork, thrusting into his opponent’s arm, neck, chest, or abdomen as the situation demanded. Yet his internal energy was profoundly deep, and his lightness skill so high that no man could block a single strike.

Who could have predicted the White Man’s martial arts would unfold like this? Those who had been waiting for an opportunity began to advance in groups of three or four, launching coordinated attacks.

Yet Baek Moo-jin glided across the stage, methodically neutralizing each opponent with the tip of his wooden sword.

Baek Moo-jin paid no heed to his opponents’ lower martial arts levels.

He was gradually refining his sword technique to its simplest form. The White Martial Arts Tournament was essentially Baek Moo-jin’s training ground. Then, when a master skilled enough to deflect Baek Moo-jin’s strike stepped forward, Baek Moo-jin began to unleash his cutting techniques.

But as Baek Moo-jin swung his wooden sword, cracking sounds erupted from all around, followed by the successive sounds of bones snapping.

Along with that, the screams gradually grew louder.

This was a martial arts contest.

Baek Moo-jin wasn’t the type to go easy on his opponents, and with over a hundred charging at him in a wheel formation, he intended to break the will of those who challenged him.

As Baek Moo-jin moved, swinging his wooden sword, thuds echoed as opponents were struck in the abdomen, shoulders, or back, collapsing to the ground.

Then, when he deliberately delivered a light blow with his wooden sword to the abdomen of someone deliberately rolling around on the stage, the startled crowd began to retreat from the stage.

Baek Moo-jin had made his intentions perfectly clear.

He was saying that if they remained on the stage, he would attack.

Then, those without the will to fight or who were injured began leaving the stage, while increasingly skilled individuals climbed up and started unleashing attacks.

Chaos erupted.

At that moment, Baek Moo-jin’s movements changed once more.

Following thrusts and slashes, he unleashed a swift sword technique. More precisely, it was a move where the attack path appeared to split into two—a phantom image created by his sword energy and the real blade flying simultaneously. Those who had managed to hold their ground until then were struck down by dozens of attacks in a relentless onslaught. Within half a moment, only a dozen or so remained. Most had been sent flying, unable to block a single strike.

Yet those who remained were holding out surprisingly long, blocking the wooden sword.

But Baek Moo-jin’s movements were also growing faster and faster.

Another half-hour passed, and the dozen dwindled to five. When even the five were reduced to three…

Baek Moo-jin began channeling his inner strength into the wooden swords.

Among the hundred masters, there were those who could match Baek Moo-jin, even if only slightly.

There was one swordsman and two dagger-wielding thugs.

The Kwonwang, who had been watching, recognized the remaining men’s sects and mentioned them.

“Masters of the Taebaek Sect, the Heaven-Conquering Sword Sect, and the Ten-Extreme Sword Sect. It’ll be tough with wooden swords.”

When Kwonwang mentioned their sects, the three men, feeling inwardly ashamed, suddenly stopped moving and looked at Baek Mujin.

“Master Baek, take up your sword.”

Baek Moo-jin looked at the three and replied.

“It’s fine.”

The moment Baek Moo-jin saw the three masters, he realized their simple wooden sword attacks would be no match for them.

‘My training only goes this far.’

From now on, he had no choice but to subdue them by appropriately displaying his martial arts. Baek Moo-jin charged at the three first. Even as he unleashed attacks upon them, Baek Moo-jin began to worry about the martial arts he would pass down to his descendants.

Subduing them himself was exceedingly easy.

But how could his disciples possibly emulate him? Thanks to his internal energy, Baek Moo-jin’s sword thrusts and withdrawals were already on a different level from ordinary masters. If he focused his intent and channeled his energy, he could even deflect enemy weapons with a wooden sword.

Only then did Baek Moo-jin use his palm to seize the enemy’s weapons, flicking them away with his finger infused with inner strength, swiftly subduing the masters of the Taebaek, Cheon-geuk Sword Style, and Sipjeol Sword Sect. Yet, his mercilessness remained unchanged this time too. Soon, the short screams of the three burst forth, each clutching a part of their body as they collapsed to the ground.

After defeating over a hundred opponents in succession, Baek Moo-jin sat cross-legged on the martial arts stage with a troubled expression, set down his wooden sword, and fell deep in thought.

Then, the Martial King rose from his seat.

He had risen to tidy up the surroundings, anticipating that Baek Moo-jin would be deep in thought over the insights gained from this sparring match. Before long, Kwon Wang, seemingly forgetting his own fame and status, was walking alongside Baek Moo-jin, supporting him as he made his way.

As Kwon Wang stepped forward, he spoke in a stern voice.

“There will be no more duels for the time being. Everyone, please return.”

Dowang also walked out, clicking his tongue. Watching the crowd disperse, he stood beside Baek Moo-jin and spoke quietly.

“Did you think creating a sword technique would be easy?”

Baek Moo-jin nodded solemnly and replied.

“It is difficult. Far more than I imagined…”

Then Dowang offered some timely advice.

“The movements are simple. You’ve chosen the right path. Anyway, when teaching sword techniques to disciples, the lower the level, the better. You can’t impart everything you know from the start. It’ll actually work out well. Divide the sword techniques by level and create stages. Take it step by step.”

“Hmm… I understand.”

Dowang nodded and said.

“Then ponder it some more.”

Dowang looked around and said.

“Everyone, please enter.”

The remaining members all vacated the area.

Baek Moo-jin, inspired by the King’s words, was mentally sketching a sword technique for beginners right there. He intended to name the technique after his own sword name.

Thus, Baek Moo-jin contemplated the sword techniques for those who knew nothing, comparing them to his own sword, which had reached an unimaginably high realm. At some point, Baek Moo-jin found his understanding of the sword gradually expanding. Observing the field of sword techniques from its foundations to its highest realms, Baek Moo-jin’s thinking was, in fact, breaking free more freely.

It was a strange phenomenon.

Baek Moo-jin was a man who, no matter what action he took, would first grow stronger himself or gradually deepen his understanding of martial arts.

Thinking of the Sword End