“Did you come back safely?”

“Yes, Father.”

“And you weren’t hurt?”

“Of course not. I’m a Strategist. I don’t fight on the front line.”

“A Strategist who moves with the unit becomes the enemy’s top priority target. Because if the Strategist disappears, it’s as if the unit’s head disappears. A headless unit has no choice but to suffer a sharp drop in combat power.”

“Unfortunately for them, the Evil-Smiting Corps has one more insanely smart person besides me.”

Je Gal Munho smiled.

“Commander Yeon?”

“Yes.”

Je Gal Ahyeon let out a sigh.

“He didn’t even formally study strategy and tactics, but he uses tactics that are unreal. When it comes to localized tactics... he might even be better than the scholars at the main house.”

“Everyone knows Commander Yeon is exceptional. But the enemy doesn’t. So you, as a Strategist, must always be careful.”

“They were just a band of horse bandits anyway. They probably have no record of fighting a unit that even has a Strategist attached.”

“That’s why I consider it fortunate.”

Je Gal Munho took a sip of tea.

“So—what were the Gray Wolf Band like? What impression did you get from them?”

Je Gal Ahyeon’s answer was definitive.

“Strong bastard dogs.”

In that single line, her fury and disgust toward the Gray Wolf Band poured out, raw and unfiltered.

“Weak to the strong, strong to the weak. People don’t realize how horrifying those types become when they’re dealing with the weak. But those bastards crossed the line.”

Je Gal Munho nodded.

“They made thousands of li—from Tibet to Qinghai to Gansu—their hunting ground. For ten years. If it’s stagnant water for ten years... it’s hard to even imagine how dense that evil becomes.”

“Either way, it feels damn good.”

“Hahaha.”

She’d always been a bold daughter, but he hadn’t expected her to say something like that.

Was it because she’d operated alongside the Evil-Smiting Corps? Because she’d finally stared straight into the world’s uglier face?

Je Gal Ahyeon had changed a great deal, too. Her aura was sharper than before—her strategist’s gaze, aimed at evil itself, was like a cold, gleaming sword.

“So, are you resting for the time being?”

Je Gal Ahyeon blinked.

“Who knows? If no other orders come down, we’ll probably enter a temporary rest period. Of course, I won’t be doing nothing.”

“Mm.”

“You’re entering a Councilors’ Meeting too, aren’t you, Father? Isn’t that something I should be asking you instead?”

Je Gal Munho gave a bitter smile.

“That’s true. But there’s something I wanted to say.”

“What?”

“If...”

“...?”

“...”

“Father?”

Je Gal Munho let out a heavy sigh.

“If—by any chance—Commander Yeon says to join him on another operation, I’d like you not to go with him this time.”

“What? What are you even saying?”

Je Gal Munho couldn’t understand what he was saying himself.

It wasn’t reason or logic.

It was instinct raising its head. A feeling that, when it came time to handle this Dark Path matter, Yeon Hojeong would step forward to the very front.

“I don’t know myself. But soon, Commander Yeon may win himself another assignment.”

“An assignment?”

“Yes.”

Je Gal Ahyeon smiled.

“Father. I’m assigned to the Evil-Smiting Corps. Hojeong is my friend, but he’s also my superior. If the commander orders me to go with him, I have no choice but to follow without complaint.”

“I know.”

“You know, and you still say this.”

“But I’m the Alliance of the Martial World’s Strategist. Since an Alliance Leader hasn’t been chosen yet, the ones issuing orders are the councilors. Thanks to that, your father has a bit of leverage, too.”

Confusion rose on Je Gal Ahyeon’s face.

“Why are you acting like this? It’s not like you.”

“I’m saying it because it feels that dangerous.”

“What?”

Je Gal Munho closed his eyes.

Am I worrying too much?

They were building strategies from multiple angles—plans meant to probe Yangcheon. And soon, those strategies would narrow into one.

So why?

Why did it feel like Yeon Hojeong would force his way into that strategy?

It was an absurd thought. It was true Yeon Hojeong had been moving, openly and quietly, since the Alliance of the Martial World was founded—but there had been movements elsewhere too, far beyond what he could even imagine.

There was no guarantee Yeon Hojeong would insert himself into this matter. And the Evil-Smiting Corps was an independent field force unit—not a special strike team.

So why?

For some reason, he felt like Yeon Hojeong had his eye on this.

Why do I think that? This has nothing to do with that boy.

While he wrestled with it, Je Gal Munho suddenly understood.

Mo Yonggun.

That was it.

Mo Yonggun ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) was the one who had conceived the core of this plan. And wherever Mo Yonggun was, Yeon Hojeong was always there.

Mo Yonggun and Yeon Hojeong. Yeon Hojeong and Mo Yonggun.

If one of them stepped into a place, the one standing on the opposite side would follow all the same.

It had been that way even before the Alliance of the Martial World was founded. When they toppled the Ming Clan of the Nine Provinces, those two had joined hands as well.

They were always together—giving and taking, pulling each other higher.

Demon-Sweeping Corps Commander Mo Yong-woo?

He was a remarkable talent too, but in the end, Yeon Hojeong would be looking at Mo Yonggun through Mo Yong-woo. In other words, Mo Yong-woo was nothing more than a chess piece Mo Yonggun moved.

Je Gal Munho sighed once more.

“No. Your father spoke nonsense for a moment. Forget it.”

“...Okay.”

He looked out the window.

A cold wind was blowing.

Commander Yeon. What are you moving so fast for? Is it truly to prevent power from concentrating in Mo Yonggun’s hands?

*****

CLAAANG!

Inside a sword strike that lashed the empty air, the thunderous roar of iron smashing into iron rang out.

ZZZZING! ZZZZIIING!

Mo Yonggun’s eyes shone.

A Sword Thunder that had drawn a brilliant afterimage through the air vanished in a spray of sparks.

It’s getting stronger.

Lightning radiance discharged along the length of the longsword, growing clearer by the moment.

That wasn’t all. The bolts themselves had thickened, and the electric force coiling around the blade had amplified sharply.

Without any separate refinement, the depth of his Thunderbolt Art had increased. And as the Thunderbolt Art deepened, the moment he pulled his sword-force up, the density of Thunderbolt Apex Qi rose with it.

ZZZZING! ZZZZIIING!

Staring down at the blade that flashed with menace, Mo Yonggun spoke.

“You know it’s poor manners to secretly watch another man train, don’t you?”

As if he’d been waiting, a young, vigorous voice answered.

“You knew someone was here and still ignored them, so I figured it was allowed.”

A smile touched Mo Yonggun’s lips.

“In the time I haven’t seen you, your tongue’s gotten sharper.”

“And while my tongue got sharper, your sword got sharper too.”

“Is that so? You couldn’t have read all of my skill from that spar, could you?”

“Not all of it—just a little. Back then, the density of your internal energy wasn’t this deep.”

Unbearable, truly.

Genius is genius.

To the point that he could even see the density of the internal energy held by someone above his level—how sharp did his discernment have to be?

A flicker of competitive spirit rose in Mo Yonggun.

“How about it? Since you’ve already seen my sword, will you take it once with your axe?”

“No.”

“Afraid?”

“I am. If I take that destructive lightning qi, I’ll probably be sick for months.”

“Oh?”

“You think not? There’s no way. No one’s around—if we throw down, you’re going to commit and drive it hard, aren’t you?”

Mo Yonggun laughed loudly.

“Unbearable, truly.”

WHOOOOSH.

The threatening lightning radiance slowly ebbed. And as it did, the air that had been blazing hot cooled in an instant.

SHING.

After sheathing his sword, Mo Yonggun turned.

Yeon Hojeong stood there.

“It’s been a while.”

“It has.”

“I heard you’ve been behaving yourself.”

Mo Yonggun burst out laughing.

“What can I do? Someone threw me a once-in-history headache called the Deputy Alliance Leader position and walked away. Since I never imagined that coming, all I could do was tuck my tail and go to sleep.”

Yeon Hojeong grinned.

“I’m glad it hit like a proper punch.”

“Of all the punches I’ve taken in my life, it was the one that hurt the most. For a moment, my head went completely white.”

“Then put your ambition down, and let’s join hands and cultivate the flowerbed together.”

“The flowerbed in the rear garden of the main house’s clan lord estate doesn’t even have a single weed. In the flowerbed I watch over, I don’t tolerate a petal I dislike, or a single bug.”

Yeon Hojeong gave a bitter smile.

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“So that’s why you helped? Because if Yangcheon gathers momentum, it’ll be a headache in more ways than one?”

Mo Yonggun smiled.

“No matter who becomes Alliance Leader, no matter who takes power—Yangcheon is a problem. In matters like this, shouldn’t I lend my strength as well?”

“Is that intent pure?”

Mo Yonggun answered as if it were obvious.

“Of course not.”

“I figured.”

“You and I aren’t idiots who help others with no intent at all.”

“I’m sorry, but don’t lump me in at the same level. I still have something called purity that I haven’t shown you yet.”

“Don’t make me the only villain. You are—depending on how you look at it—an even harsher man than I am.”

Mo Yonggun sat on a flat boulder. Yeon Hojeong, arms folded, leaned back against a tree.

“So. You must be tired from the road—what brings you all the way here?”

“You know, don’t you?”

Mo Yonggun watched him quietly, then let out a short laugh.

“At this rate, you won’t live out your natural lifespan.”

“Hm?”

“I know your skill. Your father knows your skill. The entire Alliance of the Martial World knows your skill. But why do you think the saying ‘geniuses die young’ exists? If you run wild without knowing your limits, one day you’ll find yourself fallen into the River of the Three Crossings.”

“That could happen.”

Mo Yonggun’s expression turned serious.

“You want to be the core of this operation?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to.”

“You need to? I don’t see it. What gift this operation—meant to stir up Yangcheon—gives you.”

“A beast doesn’t move only when it’s chasing prey. It moves when a rival predator appears, too.”

“You’re not trying to gain something—you’re trying to escape danger?”

“Yes.”

“Even if it isn’t you, there are many masters.”

“I know.”

Mo Yonggun stared up at Yeon Hojeong for a long moment, then spoke.

“I’ll be clear. The one driving this strategy is not Strategist Je Gal. It’s me. And if it’s to get what I want, I intend to accept a certain degree of sacrifice.”

“....”

“You knew?”

“If I didn’t, I would’ve gone to Strategist Je Gal. Why would I come to you?”

The corner of Mo Yonggun’s mouth lifted.

“Do you trust me?”

“I trust your ability.”

“I could pretend otherwise and throw you into a pit of death. I’ll dare to guarantee it—this time, you absolutely won’t crawl back out.”

“As if you wouldn’t.”

“And you’d still fight under my command?”

“I have to, if I want to minimize the sacrifices.”

Mo Yonggun burst into laughter.

“A perfect gentleman has arrived. Don’t act unlike yourself.”

Yeon Hojeong smiled bitterly.

“We don’t know when, or what, will happen. This time, I’m not going to make you swallow water—I’m going for ‘us.’”

“...Sounds like you mean it.”

“Then let me ask you one thing.”

Yeon Hojeong’s face turned serious as well.

“Do you trust me?”

Mo Yonggun studied him in silence, then a bitter smile touched his lips.

“I don’t trust you. But I trust your ability.”

Yeon Hojeong raised a fist-palm salute.

“I’ll be in your care. Just this once.”

Mo Yonggun waved him off.

“Go run wild. Just this once.”