The Murim Alliance strike forces were handpicked elites. Especially the squad masters were all from the Nine Great Sects or the Five Great Families. They had properly mastered their sect's secret arts from a young age and were masters who had roamed the Central Plains, experiencing all kinds of trials and tribulations.
Jin Tae-chul, too, as if proving his survival so far wasn't a coincidence, deftly faced the black-clad man while urgently assessing the situation. Four of his subordinates who had dismounted with him were also engaged in fierce battle with ruffians around the main road. At a glance, it was far from easy; the number of ruffians outnumbered them by three.
To minimize losses, he had to finish things in a single breath and go help them. Jin Tae-chul unfolded his footwork, seized the black-clad man's blind spot, and unleashed a dazzling Plum Blossom Sword. At the tip of the swift sword that had reached a realm, the phantom sword bloomed like white plum blossoms scattering in the fading twilight.
Until now, nine out of ten who had faced this plum blossom had their heads severed or collapsed spewing blood. The might of a secret art imbued with supreme principles was that overwhelming. Clang, clang, clang!