The feast lasted long into the night.

  Wine, laughter, and the clash of friendly sparring filled the dark mountain air, but Baek Sungho remained watchful even amidst the celebrations.

  He knew peace never lasted long in Murim.

  Especially not for demons.

  At the break of dawn, a disciple sprinted across the courtyard, his face pale as ash.

  "C-Cult Leader! Emergency!"

  Sungho set down his tea calmly. "Breathe, child. What is it?"

  The disciple dropped to one knee, pressing his forehead into the stone.

  "A warrior... A Heavenly Warrior from the Pure Sky Sect approaches. Alone. He demands... a duel."

  The courtyard stilled.

  Even the hungover Elders straightened, cold sweat running down their backs.

  The Pure Sky Sect — one of the Five Great Orthodox Sects — famed for producing some of the strongest warriors in the world. A Heavenly Warrior was no idle threat.

  They were legends. Capable of turning rivers with a palm, crushing mountains with a fist.

  Baek Jin, standing at Sungho’s side, growled low in his throat. "They want to humiliate us."

  Sungho only smiled.

  "Of course they do. What else could they do?" he said pleasantly, rising to his feet.

  Baek Jin hesitated.

  "Leader... allow me. You shouldn't lower yourself—"

  Sungho shook his head.

  "I must go myself. The Demonic Cult stands behind me, and I behind them."

  He adjusted his robe, smooth and unhurried, as if preparing for a stroll rather than a battle.

  Then he beckoned lightly.

  "Come, everyone. Let’s greet our guest properly."

  At the Cult's outer gates, the Heavenly Warrior awaited.

  He was tall and broad-shouldered, with silver hair tied high, and wore white robes embroidered with golden clouds. His arms were crossed, his gaze contemptuous.

  "My name is Yu Wonsang," the man announced, his voice carrying like a thunderclap.

  "Disciple of the Pure Sky Sect, seventh generation. Heavenly Warrior Rank."

  His eyes swept across the mass of black-clad cultists.

  "I have come to offer your so-called Cult Leader a merciful death."

  Murmurs rippled through the Demonic Cult. Some disciples’ hands crept to their swords, others gritted their teeth.

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  Baek Sungho, walking calmly through the crowd, only smiled wider.

  "Ah, welcome, Wonsang-nim. I apologize — I was delayed by breakfast."

  Yu Wonsang sneered.

  "Save your false politeness. Draw your weapon and die with what dignity you can."

  Sungho chuckled softly.

  "I have no weapon," he said, raising empty hands. "If you truly wish to fight, you'll have to endure my fists."

  The Cult gasped. Even Baek Jin muttered a curse under his breath.

  Unarmed... against a Heavenly Warrior?

  Yu Wonsang scoffed. "Arrogant to the end."

  Without waiting, he surged forward, the ground cracking beneath his feet.

  His qi howled like a storm, forming the image of a white tiger snarling in the air behind him — a signature manifestation of his power.

  Sungho only stood there, his robes fluttering.

  When Yu Wonsang's palm strike descended like a mountain —

  Sungho stepped forward.

  One palm, gentle.

  One step, light as a feather.

  Their qi collided.

  BOOM!

  A shockwave exploded outward, flattening trees, sending lower-ranked disciples tumbling back.

  Dust engulfed the field.

  When it cleared—

  Yu Wonsang stood frozen, veins bulging in his forehead. His wrist... was firmly caught in Sungho’s hand.

  Sungho's voice was quiet, almost apologetic.

  "You shouldn't show such anger in a duel. It clouds the heart."

  With a soft push —

  CRACK!

  Yu Wonsang’s arm shattered at the elbow, bent grotesquely backward.

  The proud Heavenly Warrior let out a hoarse scream, stumbling back.

  Sungho didn’t pursue.

  He simply folded his hands politely behind his back.

  "You came to offer me death," he said calmly. "I offer you mercy instead."

  Wonsang gritted his teeth, humiliation burning brighter than pain.

  "You... you demon bastard!"

  Sungho bowed slightly.

  "Indeed. But even demons have pride."

  He turned to Baek Jin.

  "Escort our guest to the healer. Bind his wounds. Return him to the Pure Sky Sect with a letter of thanks."

  Baek Jin's mouth twitched.

  "As you command, Cult Leader."

  As Yu Wonsang was dragged away — half-delirious, half-sobbing — the disciples stared at their leader with something deeper than loyalty.

  They stared with awe.

  Baek Jin approached Sungho privately.

  "Leader... you shattered a Heavenly Warrior’s arm with a single move," he said gruffly. "Yet you are only listed as Grandmaster Rank."

  Sungho sipped his tea.

  "I have no need for titles."

  "But... how strong are you, truly?"

  Sungho smiled mysteriously, his eyes reflecting the stars.

  "If the heavens send another warrior," he said softly, "perhaps I will show you."

  Far above them, hidden by the night, the world stirred.

  Because Baek Sungho was no ordinary demon.

  He was a man walking toward the unreachable peak:

  The Eternal Martial Deity.

  And nothing — not Orthodox Sects, not ancient legends — would stop him.