Chapter 93

Luoyang.

A city with thousands of years of history, filled with countless tales of joy and sorrow.

When its name is called, a myriad of nicknames follow.

The Ancient Capital of Nine Dynasties. The Center of the Earth. The Peony City…

Sima Guang, the historian of the Northern Song Dynasty, once praised Luoyang in his *Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Governance*:

“If you wish to understand the rise and fall of ancient and modern times, go to Luoyang.”

Just as the various nicknames cling to Luoyang like tags, the city has experienced every possible rise and fall a city could endure.

And now, Luoyang, having overcome its decline due to the neglect of the Yuan and Ming dynasties, is enjoying a new era of prosperity.

Once a place where the power of the state was absolute, leaving no room for martial sects to intervene, Luoyang now faces a vacuum as the government turns its back. Like air rushing to fill a void, martial sects have seized the opportunity to fill that gap.

Enter, the Martial Alliance.

Established 50 years ago in the wake of the chaos caused by the Blood Sect, it became the headquarters of the martial world.

“Though with the rise of the Black Martial Alliance, that’s become a thing of the past.”

With the emergence of Dan Un-ak and the creation of the Black Martial Alliance, the once all-encompassing Martial Alliance lost its influence over the Black Path and shrank into a coalition of the White Path Martial World.

Still, the Martial Alliance is the Martial Alliance, and Luoyang is Luoyang.

Though Sukcheon County, where the Black Martial Alliance is based, has grown exponentially compared to its former self, it still pales in comparison to Luoyang.

*Dong! Dong! Dong!*

As Namgung Woo and his party entered Luoyang, the majestic sound of drums began to echo. Namgung Woo turned his head to locate the source of the sound.

A massive pavilion stood in the heart of the bustling central district—the Drum Tower. A landmark of the era, it symbolized the grandeur of a major city, with drums that sounded to mark the hours.

“It feels like the city is welcoming us,” said Yang Jeong, his eyes captivated by the dazzling streets of Luoyang, like a country bumpkin visiting the capital for the first time.

Perhaps because they had just arrived at the peak of the city’s vibrancy, Yang Jeong hadn’t yet noticed.

“Though the gazes don’t seem particularly friendly,” remarked Geumshin.

Only after hearing Geumshin’s words did Yang Jeong notice the quiet, persistent stares directed at them from the Changcheon Pavilion. He quickly adjusted his posture, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword before stopping awkwardly at his waist.

Namgung Woo, walking at the front, quietly spread his senses. Amid the ordinary auras of the common folk, he detected the sharp energy of martial artists.

*Thud. Clatter. Tap, tap. Rustle. Swish.*

The distinct sounds of footsteps closed in from all directions.

Their appearances varied. Some wore proper martial attire, while others were shirtless or clad in armor over their chests and shoulders.

Their weapons were equally diverse. Swords and sabers were the basics, but there were also those wielding spears, which were strictly regulated by the government.

Some, like Geumshin, carried staffs or short rods, while others wielded unique weapons like chain whips or meteor hammers. Axes, shields, and single-handed swords were also in the mix.

It was a veritable exhibition of every weapon under heaven. Yet, there were also those who carried no weapons at all, relying solely on their bare hands.

Not part of a unified organization, they emerged from different directions, eyeing each other cautiously.

It seemed they had all been pursuing Namgung Woo and the Changcheon Pavilion, only to coincidentally cross paths.

After a brief standoff, the subtle power struggle beneath the surface seemed to conclude as a middle-aged martial artist with a double-edged spear strapped to his back stepped forward.

Even to Namgung Woo, this man stood out as one of the strongest among those surrounding them—at least among those present.

“Are you the young hero Nam Woo?”

Namgung Woo responded lightly to the martial artist’s question.

“Lacking in manners, aren’t you?”

Arrogant? Not quite. Namgung Woo had to act this way now. He was no weakling begging for help.

He was the leader of the Changcheon Pavilion and the prospective head of the Namgung Family, determined to rebuild it.

Thus, he could not afford to be looked down upon.

The middle-aged martial artist’s eyebrow twitched at Namgung Woo’s words. Narrowing his eyes, he exhaled a frustrated breath, as if exasperated.

“Good. A late-blooming prodigy should have that kind of audacity. I am Cheok Mu-hong of the Ilrigeumyeongsak. Satisfied?”

Though Cheok Mu-hong introduced himself, Namgung Woo didn’t respond directly. Instead, he shifted his gaze to scan the surroundings.

Even without doing so, he could sense the movements of those around him through his Azure Tranquility Eyes and keen energy perception. But Namgung Woo deliberately moved his head—a show of force.

“You didn’t come here just to ask for my name.”

These people had gathered knowing full well who Namgung Woo and the Changcheon Pavilion were.

It would be naive to think they came merely to hear a name. Moreover, an undeniable competitive spirit radiated from them.

“Want to see for yourself? Whether it’s true or not?”

Namgung Woo had heard on the way that the Martial Alliance had announced a grand meeting. He had expected many martial artists to gather.

But even without the meeting, something like this would have happened.

Since the Martial Alliance established itself in Luoyang, the city had gained another nickname:

Martial Village.

A village where martial artists from all over the world gather.

Here, martial prowess is akin to one’s identity. Even those from established sects cannot avoid this rite of passage when first setting foot in Luoyang. Every martial artist must prove their worth before entering this city.

Those with strong sects or families backing them gather among themselves to conduct their initiation rites, but the Changcheon Pavilion is, after all, just a group of wanderers.

Even if there are members from the Hapbuk Paeng Family, as long as they belong to another organization, they are merely members. While targeting Paeng Ha-ryeong personally would be burdensome, targeting the Changcheon Pavilion as a whole is a different matter.

If the Hapbuk Paeng Family were to intervene over a dispute with the Changcheon Pavilion without Paeng Ha-ryeong being harmed, it would be like smearing their own reputation.

A renowned group of wanderers with no need to worry about consequences. How tempting must the Changcheon Pavilion appear to those seeking to flaunt their martial skills and chase fame?

“Tch! No wonder there are so many open spaces…”

“Either they’re out of touch with reality, or someone’s egging them on from behind.”

Yang Kwae spat out his words roughly, unable to shake off his wanderer habits.

And Myorin, beginning to reveal her true, fierce nature.

As the two began to amplify their energy, the martial artists surrounding them also stirred with restless energy.

The open spaces scattered throughout Luoyang were essentially arenas for martial duels.

Those who enter Martial Village, Luoyang, must prove their strength.

“I heard there’s an initiation ritual in Luoyang, but it seems quite rough.”

“It’s an excellent tradition. This is the martial world, after all.”

Paeng Ha-ryeong and Geumshin stood their ground firmly, showing no signs of backing down. Geumshin seemed almost eager, ready to draw his staff at any moment.

“Let’s move. This doesn’t look good in the middle of the street.”

At Namgung Woo’s suggestion, Cheok Mu-hong accepted and said,

“There’s a decent training ground nearby. I’ll guide you there.”

Upon arrival, the training ground was already packed with spectators.

It seemed they had planned to bring them here all along.

A quick glance around revealed what looked like a festival. Vendors sold food, and betting tables were set up as people clamored to place their wagers.

“So this is Luoyang.”

A city where martial artists are more common than anywhere else.

A city where the lives of martial artists have become the daily norm, blending seamlessly with the common folk.

Namgung Woo truly understood that this was Martial Village, Luoyang.

“Alright then, let’s see that legendary strength of yours that took down the Five Tones Demon Lord.”

As if volunteering to go first, Cheok Mu-hong stepped onto the training ground.

But Namgung Woo had no intention of stepping forward himself.

Facing such individuals directly would undermine the purpose of creating the Changcheon Pavilion.

“Geumshin, feeling restless?”

“I’ve been waiting.”

“Go enjoy yourself.”

Namgung Woo’s command.

It was the moment the Changcheon Pavilion declared its arrival in Luoyang.

§

Near the training ground where the Changcheon Pavilion’s initiation was taking place, a group of people watched from the window of an inn.

“Cheok Mu-hong of the Ilrigeumyeongsak. I heard he’s quite strong. Who do you think will win?”

“Of course, that Geumshin guy. His fighting spirit is extraordinary. With his short hair, is he from the military?”

“Don’t you know? Geumshin of the Changcheon Pavilion. A former monk from Hwaseong Temple.”

“A monk? That guy? Hah, even the teachings of Buddha have fallen.”

Dressed in neat, uniform green martial attire with the character for “Alliance” embroidered on their chests, they were martial artists from the Martial Alliance.

“But is it true? That Nam Woo guy… he looks so young. Did he really kill the Five Tones Demon Lord?”

“I find it hard to believe too, but the Jegal Family confirmed it, and there are too many eyewitnesses to dismiss it.”

“Wasn’t the Five Tones Demon Lord older than the head of the Heonwon Family? Maybe he just got weaker with age.”

“Don’t judge by age alone. Have you forgotten the case of Hagyeong Jinin?”

“Hagyeong Jinin was from the Nine Sects, wasn’t she? A masterpiece forged by the former head of the Cheongseong Sect. But that guy…”

The Martial Alliance members spoke without lowering their voices, and naturally, their conversation reached those seated inside. Drawn by the discussion, someone stood up and approached the group.

“Excuse me, who are you talking about? I’d like to join the conversation.”