TSBIRBV Ch 317

Chapter 317. The Bird Leaves Its Nest (9)

“Then, let us begin the Murim Alliance Council.”

The Alliance Leader’s voice filled the grand hall as he slowly swept his gaze around the chamber.

To his right sat the elders dispatched from the Nine Great Sects; to his left, the heads of the Five Noble Clans.

One after another, weighty topics surfaced in their discussion. As this was the regular council, all the matters were of grave importance—countermeasures against the growing strength of the Demonic Faction, the disposition of the captured Nomad bandits, and the evaluation of the Alliance’s recent movements.

As the discussion reached its height, the Alliance Leader spoke again, calling upon one man.

“This next issue was brought forth by the Head of the Peng Clan of Hebei.”

A tall man rose to his feet—pale-faced and slender, his frame gave the impression of frailty rather than strength. This was Peng Muguk, the younger brother of the fierce tiger Peng Munhyeong.

“There has been an alarming increase in pirate activity along the Yangtze River,” he began.

“They plunder indiscriminately—merchant fleets and civilian vessels alike. The losses grow heavier by the day. It is said now that one in three who set sail on the Yangtze never return. Their cruelty knows no bounds. The Alliance must act before it’s too late.”

At this, Hwangbo Yakrin, Head of the Hwangbo Clan, opened his mouth.

“The Green Forest bandits in the mountains and the water bandits along the Yangtze have always plagued us. But now, with the rise of Great Tiger Stronghold and Black Wolf Stronghold, the people’s resentment grows louder by the day.”

Peng Muguk’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He had mentioned river pirates, yet Hwangbo Yakrin had deliberately folded in the mountain bandits of the Green Forest, blurring the focus of the problem.

It could have been mere political maneuvering—a way to temper another clan’s influence—but it irked him nonetheless, like a splinter beneath the nail.

Well… it’s not as though he’s wrong.

Whenever the martial world falls into unrest, demonic cultivators rise, bandits multiply, and the suffering of the people deepens.

But Peng Muguk had not expected a resolution in one meeting; he chose silence.

Just then, a martial messenger of the Alliance entered, bowing deeply before approaching the Alliance Leader. In his hands was a bamboo scroll sealed with urgency.

Upon reading it, the Alliance Leader’s brow furrowed slightly.

Rolling the scroll closed, he set it down and spoke, his tone grave.

“You may recall the recent incident of the death of Baekyang Zhenren of Kunlun.”

His eyes gleamed sharply.

“The murderer has been located in Fujian Province.”

A murmur rippled through the room.

“The murderer…?”

Whispers broke out like a sudden windstorm.

During the Dragon–Phoenix Assembly, Baekyang Zhenren had come to Wuhan—likely to check on the disciples of his sect who had fallen early in the competition.

But the man who left the inn to “meet an acquaintance” was later found as a cold corpse.

The Murim Alliance was thrown into chaos.

Though Kunlun’s influence had waned somewhat over the years, it remained one of the Nine Great Sects, a cornerstone of orthodox martial society. Baekyang Zhenren had been a disciple of the previous sect leader and senior uncle to the current one.

And to have such a man slain within Wuhan—the very heart of the Murim Alliance—was an intolerable disgrace.

The scene bore traces of a fierce battle. The investigation team dispatched by the Alliance found remnants of the Tai Chi Sword technique, San Gong poison, and an insignia of the Jinju Family at the site.

“Who was it?” someone demanded.

“It was… Yonghyeon Zhenren of Wudang.”

“Yonghyeon Zhenren?!”

“What nonsense is this?”

All eyes turned to the Wudang elder representing the sect at the council. The old Daoist closed his eyes and muttered softly,

“Amitabha…”

There was no hint of protest in his face.

That silence alone spoke volumes—it meant the claim was true.

“The Sword Saint of Wudang—how could he commit such an atrocity? What motive could he possibly have had?”

Outrage filled the room as martial leaders rose from their seats, speaking over one another.

The Alliance Leader’s expression showed faint exhaustion.

Of course, Yonghyeon Zhenren had not been suspected at first.

He was the Number One Sword of Wudang, a man of impeccable conduct—what reason could he have had to murder a fellow grandmaster of Kunlun? There was no known grudge, no conflict.

The initial theory had been this:

The true culprit had sought out Yonghyeon for some business, only to encounter Baekyang Zhenren by coincidence. Baekyang had been poisoned by San Gong poison and killed, while Yonghyeon, incapacitated, had been taken away.

Then, an unexpected witness appeared.

“The former Elder of the Alliance will explain this matter,” said the Alliance Leader.

He gestured to his attendants.

“Bring in Kang Uk!”

An old man, long confined in the side chambers, entered the hall.

Though his energy center had not been destroyed, he looked withered—his face deeply lined, dotted with age spots.

Only his eyes remained sharp and alive.

“Elder Kang…?”

“What connection could he have with Wudang’s Sword Saint?”

Ignoring the whispers around him, the old man waited calmly until granted permission to speak.

“Silence,” ordered the Alliance Leader. The room quieted instantly.

“Elder Kang Uk, speak your testimony regarding Yonghyeon Zhenren.”

“I… was blinded by greed in my final years,” the old man began, his tone heavy with remorse. “I accepted payment to falsely accuse one of the Dragon–Phoenix participants.”

A ripple of unease moved through the chamber.

“But,” Kang Uk continued, “the Jinju Family was not my only employer.”

A murmur spread.

Fixing his gaze on a martial leader whose expression showed dawning realization, Kang Uk spoke slowly and clearly.

“After his disciple, Cheongyong Dojang, was defeated, Yonghyeon Zhenren of Wudang came to me in secret.”

Gasps filled the room.

Kang Uk restrained a bitter smile.

“He wished for me to ensure that Je Haryang would never again set foot in the Dragon–Phoenix Assembly—or anywhere else in orthodox Murim.”

Even from his prison cell, Kang Uk had remained aware of the shifting tides of the world.

A few days earlier, he’d heard of Baekyang Zhenren’s death—and of Yonghyeon’s disappearance.

This is it, he’d thought, seizing his chance. He demanded to see the Alliance Leader, claiming to know who had killed Baekyang.

He testified that Yonghyeon Zhenren was the murderer.

None knew that his “testimony” was born not of truth, but of resentment.

During his imprisonment, Kang Uk had relived that fateful day countless times, tormenting himself with one thought: If only Yonghyeon had helped me then…!

That hatred had festered and grown, feeding on his regret.

He had wanted to see how long that “pure” and “righteous” man could keep his noble facade intact.

And now, fate had delivered him this chance—Yonghyeon vanished under suspicious circumstances.

Heaven’s punishment. Yes… this is divine justice.

Heaven had done its part; now Kang Uk would do his.

He bribed his guards and secured an audience with the Alliance Leader, offering information in exchange for leniency.

There, he revealed the “truth”: that the real instigator behind the false charges against Je Haryang had been Yonghyeon Zhenren himself.

“What grudge could such a renowned swordmaster bear toward a mere low-ranked cultivator?” someone demanded.

Indeed, Je Haryang—known as Cheonroe Unryong, the Thunder Dragon—had competed unaffiliated. Though prodigious, he was but a young late-stage disciple. It was unthinkable that the Sword Saint of Wudang would meddle in such a trivial matter.

“Unless…”

Kang Uk’s voice grew deliberate.

“You recall, perhaps, another late-stage disciple—twenty years ago—by the same name: Je Haryang of Kunlun.”

Recognition dawned across the hall.

As the legend of Cheonroe Unryong spread, so too had tales of that earlier genius—Kunlun’s Cloud Dragon, Je Haryang.

It had become a favorite topic among martial scholars.

Not because the current Je Haryang was extraordinary, but because the man from twenty years ago had been a legend among legends.

Barely past his twenties, that young cultivator had accomplished deeds countless in number—saving a village in Qinghai from the assassin Tal Biryeong, risking his life to recover an elder lost in a cursed gorge, uncovering and capturing the mad alchemist Sama Ryeon who had poisoned the wells of Jangsa City.

He had once personally destroyed Black Wolf Stronghold, years before Cheonroe Unryong and Peng Munhyeong had annihilated Black Spear Stronghold, because one of its bandits had murdered a courier whose daughter had begged him for help with a single flower in her hand.

He had even infiltrated Red Dragon Stronghold to rescue villagers taken hostage—one of whom turned out to be a retired Grand Chancellor of the Empire.

That act earned him imperial recognition: summoned to the palace, pardoned from execution, and rewarded with gold—gold that he immediately distributed to rebuild the ruined villages.

His life had been a tapestry of heroism and sacrifice, so pure it verged on myth.

No wonder the new Je Haryang’s name stirred such nostalgia. People couldn’t help but ask—where was that man now? Why had he vanished?

Neither the Beggar’s Sect nor the Hao Clan had answers.

This rumor should’ve died by now, the Alliance Leader thought grimly. Yet it only grew, fed as if someone kept adding wood to the fire.

And now, thanks to it, Yonghyeon’s supposed motive was clear.

Few in power were unaware of how much he had once resented Kunlun’s Je Haryang when he was still “Wudang’s Rising Dragon.”

And now, his own disciple loses to another man of the same name?

Even the proudest saint might lose his composure.

Kang Uk continued, relentless.

“The jade medallion of the Jinju Family, found beside Baekyang Zhenren’s body—was first in my possession. I gave it to Yonghyeon Zhenren. He wanted insurance, proof that I would not betray him.”

He had rehearsed this moment for days, polishing his words in the darkness of his cell.

He pieced together facts, suspicions, and fragments of truth until they sounded seamless.

“I believe Baekyang Zhenren discovered the medallion’s existence and secretly summoned Yonghyeon to question him—and paid for it with his life.”

“…Indeed. He did leave without saying where he was going,” confirmed one Kunlun elder.

Cold and calculating even in grief, he spoke without hesitation—after all, the dead could no longer protest.

“The Wudang Sect should have shown restraint, considering Kunlun’s generosity…” someone muttered bitterly.

Heaven truly favors me, thought Kang Uk, fighting the urge to smile.

It was all conjecture, stitched together—but Kunlun’s interjection gave his story momentum.

“Why didn’t you reveal this connection during the previous investigation?” asked Peng Muguk sharply.

“Because Wudang holds great sway in the Alliance,” Kang Uk replied. “To accuse their foremost swordmaster would have only worsened my sentence.”

He shook his head, feigning regret.

“Yonghyeon must have thought leaving the medallion with me would keep me silent—so the blame could be shifted onto the Jinju Family.”

His tone grew heavy.

“My foolishness has brought ruin upon one of the greatest pillars of Kunlun. I repent deeply.”

“That’s enough,” said the Alliance Leader curtly, cutting him off.

Kang Uk bowed his head, eyes downcast.

With a sigh, the Alliance Leader gestured for the guards to escort him away.

“I believe the matter is now clear,” he declared.

To sentence the Sword Saint of Wudang, the foremost sword sect under heaven, in the name of the Murim Alliance—such a move required undeniable justification.

Fortunately, though the evidence was thin, suspicion was abundant. And now they had a witness.

Wudang had initially tried to shield their own, but once Kang Uk’s testimony leaked, they sent an urgent dispatch agreeing to the arrest—on the condition that a Wudang representative accompany the interrogation.

The Alliance accepted.

“Yonghyeon Zhenren has been located in Fujian. Our trackers are already en route. He will be brought here soon.”

The Alliance Leader’s gaze swept the room before nodding to Zhuge Yunhye, the strategist of the Zhuge Clan, who took up the next issue.

“Lately,” she said, “numerous heretical cults have begun to emerge across the martial world.”