—White-Haired Rakshasa, Seo Mun-Hwarin. Kidnap me.

This was the best plan I could come up with.

I had no confidence in persuading Seo Mun-Hwarin. I also had no confidence in deceiving the Murim Alliance Leader.

So, the only thing left for me to do was to overshadow this entire situation with an even bigger issue.

What mattered most was that Seo Mun-Hwarin did not join the Black Lotus Sect—that, no matter the trials ahead, she would not give up and would instead live a proper life.

Of course, upon hearing my sound transmission, Seo Mun-Hwarin reacted as if I had just exposed her greatest secret.

“Hiccup!”

Halfway up the Battle stage, she suddenly let out a hiccup.

Her wide, trembling eyes quaked as if an earthquake had struck her soul, her lips opened and closed soundlessly, and her fingers twitched, itching to clamp my mouth shut before I could say anything else.

Her expression smoothed out, and soon enough, her lips moved as she replied through sound transmission.

—W-What nonsense are you speaking of? This one no idea what you mean!

Oh?

So her face had calmed down, but her mind was still in complete chaos.

Outwardly, she maintained her indifferent stance on the Battle stage, performing a proper bow. Meanwhile, she continued to send sound transmissions at a rapid pace.

—I know everything. And by the way, not only did you respond through sound transmission, but you also referred to yourself as ‘This one’ instead of this humble one.

—Nngh?!

Seo Mun-Hwarin smacked her own lips as if trying to punish them for their betrayal.

Her abrupt action drew the attention of both the referee and the audience. Realizing her mistake, she hurriedly performed another bow, pretending nothing had happened.

After that, the Murim Alliance master serving as the referee began explaining the rules of the Battle.

I only half-listened, letting his words pass through one ear and out the other, while I focused on sound transmission once more.

Since I could no longer call her the Ironblood Hall Master, and she disliked the title White-Haired Rakshasa, I figured the safest choice would be to simply call her senior.

It was just a pseudonym, but after traveling together for so long, I had gotten used to calling her by name.

—Senior Seo Mun-Hwarin . I understand this must be overwhelming. But please, for the sake of the time we’ve spent traveling together, just listen to me for a moment.

—Why are you speaking so formally? It’s creepy. And yes, I did slip up and call myself 'This One', but what does that have to do with this White-Haired Rakshasa nonsense? Sound transmission isn’t a skill exclusive to peak-level masters, you know.

She rubbed her arms as if trying to shake off an unpleasant chill.

Since she had outright referred to herself as a demonic cultist while denying it at the same time, it was clear she planned to feign ignorance until the end.

Technically, she wasn’t wrong—sound transmission required exceptional internal energy control rather than a high cultivation level.

But I had expected this much.

If I could have simply talked her into reason, I wouldn’t have needed this elaborate plan.

Since persuasion wasn’t an option, I had no choice but to set up a different strategy—one that involved me getting kidnapped.

—If you want to feign ignorance, so be it. But just know this: I am aware of why you entered the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering.

—My name is Seo-rin, not Seo Mun-Hwarin. And my only purpose here is to gain experience and make a name for myself.

—As I mentioned before, the Murim Alliance Leader is seated in the VIP section above us. He is probably already suspecting you.

—And why should that matter? I am not this Seo Mun-Hwarin person, so I have nothing to hide.

—You may believe you can conceal yourself, but you will fail. Your identity will be exposed to the entire world, and you’ll be branded as a disgraceful fugitive with no place left to go.

—That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?

She pouted slightly, looking rather dejected.

Now that I had made my point, I got to the real issue.

—That is why you must kidnap me.

—What?!

—Your cover is going to be blown anyway. But if you take me hostage and release me after some time, I can vouch for you. I can say that Seo Mun-Hwarin was a good person at heart.

—I told you, I am not Seo Mun-Hwarin. And besides, what difference would that make? A single person’s claim won’t overturn the entire murim’s judgment.

—The murim as a whole? No. But the Tang Clan is a different matter.

Seo Mun-Hwarin had no intention of avoiding the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering.

Which meant she had no way to avoid the Murim Alliance Leader’s scrutiny.

When her identity was revealed, people would undoubtedly react with shock and condemnation.

And if she kidnapped me—the Tang Clan’s future son-in-law—it would only make things worse.

But what if I returned unharmed?

What if I claimed that Seo Mun-Hwarin had helped me rather than harmed me?

What if I testified that she truly wished to leave her past behind and start anew?

Other factions might not believe me, but the Tang Clan would.

Because I was already one of them.

The Tang Clan repaid both grace and grudges in full measure.

If I asked Tang Jincheon to give Seo Mun-Hwarin a chance, he might hesitate—but he wouldn’t refuse outright.

Of course, at first, they would be wary of her. Even if they provided her with accommodations, they would keep a close eye on her.

But I knew the truth.

I knew that Seo Mun-Hwarin was not the villain that murim rumors made her out to be.

Given enough time, the Tang Clan would slowly come to accept her—just as they had accepted me and Seol Lihyang after we left the Ironblood Hall.

—So, Senior Seo Mun-Hwarin . Kidnap me. Leave the rest to me.

The referee was almost finished explaining the rules.

The crowd’s excitement over the first match of the tournament was building.

And the Murim Alliance Leader’s suspicions were deepening.

It was time for a decision.

Seo Mun-Hwarin subtly shook her head—so faintly that only I could notice.

—I appreciate the thought, but I told you, I am not Seo Mun-Hwarin. I am Seorin.

…Is that so?

She said nothing more and simply assumed her stance.

Seeing her prepare to fight, I let out a bitter chuckle and sent one final sound transmission.

—But you will end up kidnapping me.

If she had agreed willingly, that would have been ideal…

But if she refused to cooperate, I had no choice but to force her hand.

I squared my stance, making sure she saw my movements clearly.

Left foot forward, knees slightly bent.

The key was to keep my soles pressed to the ground while lifting my heels just a fraction—allowing me to explode forward at a moment’s notice.

This stance had been adjusted to fit my style, incorporating elements of Ghost Shadow Steps—but its foundation was unmistakably Thunderclap Steps.

And if there was anyone who could recognize Thunderclap Steps, it was the person who had taught it to me—Seo Mun-Hwarin herself.

At first, she seemed uncertain. But then, her mouth fell open in shock.

“T-That’s…!”

The moment her stunned voice escaped, the match began.

Daaang!

I didn’t answer her.

Instead, I charged.

Kwaang!

The ceremonial gong rang loud enough for the audience to hear—

But an even louder boom erupted from beneath my feet.

A burst of internal energy propelled me forward like an explosive cannon shot.

And it didn’t stop at just one step.

Kwaang! Kwaaang! Kwarung!

A series of internal energy bursts erupted beneath my feet.

It was Thunderclap Steps—or at least, something close to it.

The sound was a little dull, likely because it had been mixed with various other techniques.

Still, in terms of speed, it was nearly on par with the original Thunderclap Steps.

Four steps.

Just four steps were all I needed to cross the vast Battle stage and arrive before Seo Mun-Hwarin.

She still wore a dazed expression.

I took advantage of the moment, slashing upward with my sword, which had been hanging low at my side.

Sswaeek!

The blade, now wrapped in a crimson sword aura, shot toward her neck at blinding speed.

But—

Tap.

Seo Mun-Hwarin, her hand cloaked in an even darker crimson internal energy, casually struck my sword with a single palm.

My trajectory was instantly thrown off-course.

She had used only the bare minimum amount of fist energy to block, effortlessly inserting her hand into the sword’s path and deflecting it.

It was a blow that hadn’t even required her full strength.

Of course, that was to be expected.

She was a Flowering Stage martial artist—the very wall I had failed to surpass.

I had never intended to win this fight in the first place.

Ever since I lost my cultivation and had to rebuild from scratch, I had known all too well that insight remains, even when power is stripped away.

So victory was never my goal in this Battle.

My purpose was simple—to show her what I had inherited from her.

That alone would be enough to force Seo Mun-Hwarin into kidnapping me.

“Where did you learn that footwork?!”

“You know exactly how to make me talk, don’t you?”

I smirked and began swinging my sword in earnest.

A downward slash. A diagonal cut. A horizontal sweep.

There was nothing particularly flashy about my movements.

No extravagant techniques, no overwhelming force—just an unbroken series of basic sword strikes.

Yet, each one was aimed precisely at her weak points. Each one followed the exact trajectory needed at the exact moment.

This nameless sword art, like Raging Wave Death-Stealing Art, was an amalgamation of various sword techniques I had pieced together.

Ordinarily, such a patchwork style should have been crude and ineffective.

But thanks to my understanding—and Seo Mun-Hwarin’s teachings—it had become something deadly.

Yes.

In a way, this was a sword forged from everything I had learned from her.

From the skills she had imparted to me.

From the battles I had fought for her vengeance.

Seo Mun-Hwarin’s expression grew more and more conflicted as she deflected each of my strikes.

“This sword… Who taught you this?!”

“I can’t say.”

I shook my head slightly and pushed my internal energy even further, activating Raging Wave Death-Stealing Art.

The sword aura wrapped around my blade surged, expanding in size and unleashing a ferocious presence.

At the same time, I could no longer suppress the killing intent embedded within the technique.

A chilling aura, honed through countless battles and deaths.

Of course, for someone like Tang Sowol or Seol Lihyang—or Seo Mun-Hwarin—this level of killing intent was no threat.

It wasn’t about martial prowess.

It was simply that they knew why I had come to wield such an aura.

Still, for Seo Mun-Hwarin, the fact that I could wield restrained killing intent rather than raw, unhinged bloodlust seemed to strike a different chord.

“…You’ve gone this far?”

Muttering under her breath, she reached out once more.

Just as before, she aimed a fist at my sword path.

But this time, something changed.

Even before our weapons physically clashed, our respective sword aura and fist aura met mid-air.

And at that moment—

Seo Mun-Hwarin’s crimson fist aura trembled, then took on a distinct form.

—Qi Manifestation.

A technique that only those who had reached the Flowering Stage could wield.

A symbol of absolute martial dominance.

Her manifested qi did not deflect my sword.

It pulled it in instead.

I didn’t resist.

Allowing myself to be drawn in, I stepped closer.

Seo Mun-Hwarin, her face still complicated, pressed a finger against my pressure point.

Tuk.

“…It seems you got your way in the end. Now, close your eyes for a moment.”

A surge of internal energy sealed some of my meridians.

My eyelids grew heavy against my will.

I could have resisted if I truly wanted to—but I didn’t.

My vision blurred.

In the distance, I saw the Murim Alliance Leader abruptly rising from his seat.

I saw Seol Lihyang attempting to rush onto the Battle stage, only for Tang Sowol to stop her.

Ah.

I had told Tang Sowol about my plan, but I had forgotten to inform Seol Lihyang.

Well, she’d figure it out soon enough.

With that last thought, my vision faded into darkness.