The banners of Cheonwoohoe flew high.They were the rising stars of the Murim.But the higher they rose, the deeper their shadows stretched.
Behind closed doors, the elders of Jeongpa held a secret meeting.
"They began as a refuge for the weak.Now, they threaten the very foundation of our teachings."
Another nodded grimly.
"If Cheonwoohoe becomes the new center, Jeongpa's legacy dies."
Then a third elder, voice cold, made the move.
"A direct attack would rally sympathy around them.No—we strike from within. Quietly."
They dispatched agents trained in subterfuge—not to kill, but to whisper.
At the same time, Sapa made their own play.
"They parade as protectors of the weak… but power is all they crave.Let's feed their illusions until they rot from the inside."
Their spies were chosen for subtlety—not just to gather intel, but to plant unrest.To divide. To poison.
The Cheonwoohoe training grounds remained busy, blades clashing and feet pounding.But beneath the surface, something was… off.
"I heard some of the Sapa guys are pushing others around.Why aren't we doing anything about it?"
"If this were Jeongpa, retaliation would've already come. Why are we so soft?"
The whispers began.And the infiltrators fanned the flames.
"Maybe our ideals are a little... naive?""If we want to survive, we need real strength. Not just philosophies."
Soon, frustration turned into open doubt.
One afternoon, tension finally snapped.
Two trainees stood face-to-face, voices raised.
"So what, you're better than us 'cause you're from Jeongpa?"
"What the hell are you saying? I'm just following the teachings!"
Push came to shove.Others joined in.Sides were taken.
Chaos rippled through the courtyard—until a sharp voice cut through it.
"Enough!"
Baek Wolhui stepped forward, eyes cold.
One trainee shouted back.
"They're targeting us out there!Jeongpa, Sapa—they're hunting us, and we're doing nothing!"
Wolhui stayed calm.
"Cheonwoohoe wasn't built on revenge.If we fight like them… how are we any different?"
But her words didn't reach all of them.The anger ran deeper.
Lee Dohyun entered moments later.The air shifted.
Trainees fell silent—but the tension remained.
He looked at each face carefully, then spoke:
"Yes, we've been hurt. We've lost.But is hatred all we have left?Is that the only strength we seek?"
A bold trainee stepped forward.
"If not that… do we just sit back and take it?"
Dohyun nodded, then answered—not gently, but firmly.
"No.But if we fight as they do, we become what we swore to change."
His voice rose, cutting through doubt.
"Cheonwoohoe exists to make the weak strong.Not to burn down others—but to stand so tall, no one dares touch us."
Silence followed.Then… clarity.
That night, new policies were put in place.
No more infighting. All disputes must be resolved through open discussion.
Philosophy classes resumed. What Cheonwoohoe stood for had to be known, not assumed.
Combat simulations intensified. Words were fine—but strength had to match.
Wolhui addressed the trainees.
"This is not a shelter.You are here to become strong.If you can't—leave."
Weeks passed.And cracks began to show—not in Cheonwoohoe, but in the ones who had tried to infiltrate it.
Their whispers failed to spread.
Their provocations backfired.
Some spies, after watching Dohyun and Wolhui, hesitated.
Some… defected.
Lee Dohyun called them all together—spies and all.
He didn't raise his voice.
"You were sent to break us.Instead, you reminded us who we are."
A few dropped to their knees.
"We want to stay.Not as spies—but as disciples."
Others turned and fled. They weren't chased.
Cheonwoohoe didn't collapse.
It solidified.
And from the ashes of doubt, something stronger was born:
A Murim faction not ruled by tradition, nor by fear—but by those who chose to believe in something better.
***
Chapter : The Path of Masters — And the Philosophy of Cheonwoohoe
The sun beat down on Cheonwoohoe's training grounds.
Sweat flew. Blades clashed. Breath came heavy.
It was just another day.
But inside the meeting hall, something deeper was brewing.
Lee Dohyun had summoned the masters.
Veterans from across the Murim, now instructors in Cheonwoohoe, gathered in silence.On the table lay recent reports, training evaluations… and one quiet question:
"Is universal mugong truly enough?"
A master finally broke the silence.
"It's a fine foundation. Open to all.But let's be honest—it can't make a true master. Not on its own."
Another agreed.
"Jeongpa, Sapa—they've used deep, layered systems for centuries.Ours is just the surface."
Murmurs followed.
That's when Baek Wolhui spoke.
Her voice was soft, but firm.
"We're not just here to create masters.That was never the point of Cheonwoohoe."
Silence again. But now, deeper.
Dohyun stood.
"You're right," he said. "Universal mugong can't produce high-level warriors.Not by itself."
He looked around the room—at the masters, at the trainees outside the window.
"Think of it like this. In my world, we had schools—elementary, middle, high, college.What we're building here... universal mugong...it's elementary. Maybe middle school.It's not meant to go all the way."
Some raised brows. Others slowly nodded.
"But it's essential," he continued. "Without early education, most people never get a chance to grow.And without a foundation, even genius collapses."
Wolhui smiled.
"Exactly. The old master-disciple model is too narrow.It can't offer opportunity to everyone."
Outside, some trainees overheard the conversation.They, too, had started to wonder.
"I used to think universal mugong was too basic," one muttered."But maybe it's not about how advanced it is—it's what we do with it."
"We do have access to advanced techniques," another whispered."We just have to earn it."
And just like that, the doubt turned to drive.
Back inside, the masters kept talking—this time, with urgency.
"We need to expand," one said. "Deepen the curriculum.Turn this into more than just a start line."
"If we can build advanced tiers into the universal system," another added,"we can give everyone a path to mastery—not just the chosen few."
Wolhui looked at Dohyun.
"Our job isn't just to teach mugong.It's to give the weak strength… and give the strong a purpose."
Dohyun nodded.
"From now on, we'll develop new tiers.Universal doesn't mean shallow.It means open."
That evening, instructors stood before the trainees.
"Universal mugong is just the beginning," one said."Master it. Then prove yourself.And we'll open the next door."
The trainees—some skeptical before—now listened with fire in their eyes.
Cheonwoohoe didn't abandon its philosophy.It refined it.
Universal mugong became more than entry-level training.It became a philosophy:
A shield for the powerless.A gateway for the gifted.A test for the worthy.
As the sun set, Dohyun gathered the group once more.
"We dream of a Murim where the weak aren't prey.Where strength isn't hoarded.This," he said, raising his hand, "is only the beginning."
Eyes met eyes. No one flinched.
"Where you go next—that's up to you."
Somewhere deep within the halls, a trainee whispered to himself,
"I'm not here to follow a master.I'm here… to become one."