After the battle, Lee Do-hyeon was exhausted, both physically and spiritually. Awakening the Ego Blade had drained all of his mana and stamina, and in the world of Murim, where mana recovery was especially difficult, he quickly reached his limit. Now, all that remained was the fact that he didn't even have the strength to support his own body.
Han So-yeon and Baek Wol-hee could not hide their deep concern as they watched him weaken. Knowing that a place of recovery was nearby, they made a quick decision.
"We can't leave Lee Do-hyeon like this," Han So-yeon said firmly, her eyes resolute.
Baek Wol-hee nodded. "You're right. We have to bring him to the recovery site. It's our only hope."
At that moment, Cheong Un-jin approached. He, too, grasped the gravity of the situation. Baek Wol-hee turned to him and said carefully, "Cheong Un-jin... please don't tell anyone where we're going. We can't risk having our location exposed."
Cheong Un-jin gave a deep nod, his expression resolute. "Of course. For Do-hyeon's sake, I'll do whatever it takes." He immediately began scanning the surroundings, helping to ensure their safe movement.
As they carried Lee Do-hyeon toward the hidden refuge, conflicting emotions swirled in the hearts of both Han So-yeon and Baek Wol-hee. Seeing him collapsed, helpless, made them feel his pain even more acutely. It also forced them to confront the reasons behind his relentless sacrifice. Lee Do-hyeon was no longer just a comrade-in-arms. They both realized their feelings went far deeper, more complicated than they had ever admitted—even to themselves.
The sound of water dripping through cold stone echoed softly within the cave. It felt like a distant whisper, urging them to pause and reflect. Baek Wol-hee took a deep breath, feeling a subtle tremor in her fingertips. This dark, hollow space—she silently wished—might become their shelter, even if only briefly.
Han So-yeon gently laid Lee Do-hyeon down. Staring at his worn face, she whispered, "Please rest here... we're right by your side. Don't worry." Her voice was quiet but full of resolve.
Baek Wol-hee sat beside him and took his hand. The chill in his fingertips said everything. It told of countless battles endured, of how long and painful his journey had been. A sorrow buried deep inside her heart welled up—along with regret for never speaking her feelings. But now, she wanted to give him her truest self.
"We still have something to do," Baek Wol-hee said to Han So-yeon, her voice calm but unwavering. "We have to protect him. That's what matters now."
Han So-yeon nodded slowly. "Yes. There's no use hiding it anymore. The feelings we've carried... they weren't just for a fellow warrior. If it's for Do-hyeon, I'm ready to do anything."
Baek Wol-hee's hand trembled as she brushed over the scars on his body. Each mark was a story—of pain, of loneliness, of sacrifice. Her chest tightened with guilt and an overwhelming desire to shield him from any further harm.
"These wounds... they must have hurt so much," she whispered. Her fingers traced his skin slowly, as if trying to share in his pain. She could never truly feel what he had felt, but she could imagine how tired, how isolated he must have been.
Han So-yeon reached out to gently brush his face. With all her heart, she connected to him, willing his healing. The love she held inside for Lee Do-hyeon was now undeniable. And so, she made a silent vow.
"Do-hyeon... we're here. You're not alone. We'll never leave you."
Their eyes met briefly in the darkness, and in that quiet cave, their feelings burned like a fire. Though they had long kept Lee Do-hyeon in their hearts, it was only now that they realized they had shared the same love all along.
"We have to tell him," Baek Wol-hee murmured, her eyes filled with quiet determination.
Han So-yeon nodded. She reached into her heart and pulled her emotions to the surface.
Their hands gently touched Lee Do-hyeon's body, sharing their warmth with him. In that moment, what they wished for—more than anything—was that the depth of their hearts might reach him. It was a moment of unity, not just physical, but of souls.
A soft flow of warm mana began to stream from Baek Wol-hee's fingertips, gently wrapping around Lee Do-hyeon's cold skin.
Han So-yeon leaned her body close to his chest. Her breath touched his neck, as if to ease his pain with the entirety of her being. Baek Wol-hee held his hand and whispered softly, "Do-hyeon... we'll protect you. We're here."
Together, the two women shared their warmth and hearts, spending that time wholly connected with him. In this small, hidden cave, they passed along the love and devotion they had long hidden. Their connection surpassed the physical—it was a merging of spirit.
It felt to them as if their bodies were melding, their emotions igniting into something beyond words. The warmth from their hands spread through Lee Do-hyeon's body, breathing life into him once again.
Time passed.
Lee Do-hyeon's breathing gradually steadied. A hint of color returned to his face. His eyelids began to tremble.
Han So-yeon and Baek Wol-hee watched as he stirred, their eyes growing misty with relief.
"Do-hyeon..." Han So-yeon whispered, brushing his face.
Baek Wol-hee gently held his hand. "We'll protect you now. It's our turn."
Lee Do-hyeon's eyes slowly opened. He looked at the two women by his side and, though still struggling for breath, smiled faintly. He could feel the love and devotion they had poured into him—and with it, he found strength for what lay ahead.
"Thank you..." he said, voice hoarse, gripping their hands.
That warmth, passed from them to him, became the breath of new life.
Though Murim's chaos still loomed ahead, in this moment, the three of them focused only on each other. Their love and sacrifice had begun to restore him—and had become his reason to move forward.
He would no longer fight alone.
Their bond would be the strength that carried him through every hardship to come.
***
Chapter : Cheongpunghoe's Independence and the Schemes of the Orthodox and Unorthodox Factions
A heavy silence hung over Cheongpunghoe.
Moon Hee-seok, their leader, stood over a map, releasing a long, weary sigh. Once again, the orthodox and unorthodox factions had pushed them to the frontlines against Magyo. They called it recognition of merit, but deep down, he knew—this might be another trap. Another performance where Cheongpunghoe was cast as both hero and scapegoat.
"Will our efforts truly be acknowledged this time?" Moon murmured, glancing at his comrades. His eyes reflected doubt, fatigue, and a growing sense of resolve.
"We might be nothing more than tools again," said Seo Jin-young, his fellow leader. Her voice was cold, edged with quiet sorrow. "But stopping now isn't an option. If we want to stand on our own, we have to show what we're capable of."
Moon nodded. He knew she was right. Unless Cheongpunghoe achieved a decisive victory over Magyo, they would forever remain puppets of the larger factions—never truly their own force within Murim.
"Then we'll confront Magyo head-on and make them recognize our strength. No matter what." His voice was firm, his resolve absolute.
Their members rallied, the tension in the air sharpening into determination. Cheongpunghoe had no more ground to retreat.
Meanwhile, the leaders of the orthodox and unorthodox factions watched in secret. To them, Cheongpunghoe was a pawn, sent to bleed and exhaust itself in battle so the larger factions could maintain control.
"If they pour everything into this fight, they'll lose the strength to stand as an independent power," one orthodox elder said with a cool smirk.
"Exactly," another added from the unorthodox side. "If they fail, they're finished. If they succeed, they'll be too weakened to matter. Either way, we win."
As Cheongpunghoe marched toward Magyo's stronghold, confident in their mission, their so-called allies were already writing their obituary.
But Magyo was not blind. The Heavenly Sword Demon King had already seen through the ploy.
"They're coming," she said, her voice like a blade in the dark. A crooked smile tugged at her lips. "Do they really think they can rattle us using Cheongpunghoe? Fools."
She turned to Heukyeom, the leader of the Black Flame Sect under Magyo.
"It's time we show them what true power looks like. When Cheongpunghoe arrives, bleed them dry—then spread chaos among the orthodox and unorthodox."
"Yes, my lord." Heukyeom bowed, his eyes burning with violent intent.
As Cheongpunghoe approached the stronghold, their steps were firm with resolve. But the enemy's response was... odd. Instead of counterattacking, Magyo held the line—defensive, disciplined, unmoved.
Moon Hee-seok sensed something was off. "They're not fighting back. They're stalling…"
Then, she appeared.
The Heavenly Sword Demon King descended onto the battlefield like a shadow drawn in blood.
"Welcome, Cheongpunghoe," she said, her tone calm, her gaze mocking. "Did you come to fight us? Or were you simply lured here by the schemes of your so-called allies?"
Moon's brows furrowed. "What are you saying?"
She laughed softly. "What do you think the orthodox and unorthodox factions want? You spend your strength here... they take the credit. You become weak... and they remain in power."
Her words cut deep. And Moon knew then—they'd walked straight into someone else's game. But retreat was not an option. They were already committed.
"We walk our own path!" he shouted, raising his sword. "We'll defeat Magyo and prove our worth!"
The Demon King nodded, raising seven floating blades with a flick of her hand.
"Very well," she said. "Let's see if you can pay the price."
Her Seven Sword Dance lit up the sky. The Black Flame Sect surged forward. Cheongpunghoe responded with everything they had—but Magyo's force was overwhelming. Slowly, surely, Cheongpunghoe was being pushed back.
Moon realized the trap had closed. They believed this would be their moment of recognition. Instead, it was a brutal lesson in the cold politics of Murim.
"We can't end it here…"
He charged the Demon King directly, but her blades danced effortlessly through the air, deflecting his strike like it was nothing.
"You're not ready to face me," she said, meeting his eyes with chilling indifference. "You're still just a pawn."
Around them, Cheongpunghoe's warriors fell one by one.
They had given everything—and still, they were losing.
In the distance, the orthodox and unorthodox leaders received the news of Cheongpunghoe's retreat with thinly veiled glee.
"They were never more than tools," one muttered.
"And now they've been spent."
But in that bitter defeat, Cheongpunghoe found something stronger than pride—clarity.
Moon Hee-seok stood amidst the wounded, his voice quiet but steady.
"No more. We'll no longer serve others' ambitions. If we want to change Murim, we must walk our own path."
Their bodies may have been broken, but their will had never been sharper.
And standing behind them now… were Cheonuhoe, Lee Do-hyeon, and the alliances that were slowly forming in the shadows—forces that would reshape Murim not with schemes, but with purpose.
A new storm was rising.