SLIP.

The sound of cloth fluttering was unnaturally natural.

Mo Yonggun’s eyes gleamed.

“You’ve come.”

“I have.”

Mo Yonggun took a quiet sip of tea. Without even turning around, he carried an ease that wouldn’t vanish even if heaven and earth were turned upside down.

Janghan’s eyes flashed.

“...You’ve gotten stronger?”

Mo Yonggun let out a short, amused breath.

“Was the progress of martial arts ever something you could see at a glance, like a child shooting up overnight?”

“Your energy has become more concealed, more natural.”

“And you can feel that. You really aren’t ordinary.”

“Isn’t that why you made me the Lord of the Wild Wind Pavilion?”

“Hahaha! Looks like you’ve adapted to this life pretty well. You can even say things like that now.”

Back when Mo Yonggun and Yeon Hojeong had met over the Anhui Blood Palace incident.

The one who had come to Mo Yonggun—who had been drinking alone after sending Yeon Hojeong off—was him. The Lord of the Wild Wind Pavilion, the master of the Wild Wind Pavilion, the greatest intelligence organization of the Mo Yong Clan in this era.

Amazingly, he wasn’t a person of the Mo Yong Clan. More precisely, it was true that he had entered under Mo Yonggun and worked for the Mo Yong Clan—but calling him “of the Mo Yong Clan” would have been a stretch.

A man who took orders from Mo Yonggun alone. Another master who had killed his former self and slipped into the world of shadows, forgotten at the era’s urging.

The Lord of the Wild Wind Pavilion, Eon Jabang—the peerless fist artist and killing-arts master—was exactly that man.

“So. Why did you call me?”

“Why did I call you? Does the Clan Lord of the Mo Yong Clan need some other reason to summon the head of his clan’s intelligence organization?”

“...”

“Heh. You really don’t like jokes.”

Mo Yonggun pulled the chair beside him back.

“Sit.”

After looking at Mo Yonggun in silence, Eon Jabang sat.

Mo Yonggun’s eyes sharpened.

“Everything I told you about before—are they all prepared?”

“We’re at the final stage.”

“Well done. I knew I was right to leave it to you.”

“You called me to hear the progress?”

“That too. And there’s something else you need to do for me.”

“What is it?”

Mo Yonggun’s face turned grave.

“Tomorrow at noon, the Guizhou Merchant Guild’s trade caravan will be heading to Sichuan.”

Eon Jabang furrowed his brow.

“The Guizhou Merchant Guild?”

“That’s right. Guizhou Province’s biggest merchant house—and a money bank besides.”

“...?”

“At the moment, the Guizhou Merchant Guild’s trade caravan is at Mount Heng in Hunan. Not far from here.”

“I know that.”

“Ah, do you? Well, there’s no one who knows Hunan’s situation as well as you do.”

He spoke as if Eon Jabang weren’t someone he used.

Mo Yonggun was always like that. When he dealt with Eon Jabang, he didn’t speak in commands, but in the tone of a suggestion or a request—despite the fact that Eon Jabang was clearly his subordinate.

Strangely enough, that manner of speaking played a significant role in soothing Eon Jabang’s pride.

“So what should be done about them?”

“There’s nothing to ‘do’ about them. I just want you to make a certain deal with them.”

“What kind?”

Mo Yonggun took out a neatly folded letter from his robes and handed it to Eon Jabang.

Eon Jabang’s eyes wavered as he unfolded it.

“Aren’t they the ones you were going to deal with sooner or later anyway?”

“...”

“Take those bastards and give the trade caravan a good shaking.”

“They may be the ones to be dealt with, but... isn’t the Guizhou Merchant Guild a fairly important trading partner even for the Mo Yong Clan?”

“It is.”

“...They haven’t committed any crime.”

“They have.”

“What crime?”

Mo Yonggun’s smile turned icy.

“The crime of catching my eye.”

“...!”

“This matter—neither the Alliance of the Martial World nor even that bastard Yeon Hojeong knows the details. The only ones who know what’s really going on are you and me.”

“...”

“Quietly, now.”

“If this gets known to the Guizhou Merchant Guild’s main headquarters...”

“That will never happen.”

“You’re certain?”

“Of course I’m certain. Yangcheon will clean up what comes after.”

Eon Jabang’s eyes widened.

Mo Yonggun’s pupils slowly reddened—demonic eyes ready to commit anything for ambition.

“That puffed-up Guizhou Merchant Guild will end up begging us. With this single move, we’ll accomplish the Alliance’s mission and take a fortune, and if luck is on our side, we can even pin the Guizhou Merchant Guild down for good.”

“...”

“You should move right now.”

“Understood.”

SLIP.

Eon Jabang vanished.

Left alone, Mo Yonggun suddenly burst into loud laughter.

“Listen, Hojeong. What can I do? I’ve gotta eat, too. Even if you learn about this later, I hope you won’t get too angry. If things turn against me, I’ll just frame you as an accomplice.”

*****

KUUUURRRRMMMM.

The doors of Ink Dragon Hall opened.

Unlike before, Yeon Hojeong climbed the ninety-nine steps without hesitation. Not a trace of doubt in his stride.

“You’ve come?”

Yangcheon was the same as ever. Sitting in the enormous Grand Preceptor Chair, he looked down with an authority so heavy it made it hard to breathe.

Yeon Hojeong offered a crisp cupped-fist salute.

“Have you been well in the meantime?”

“Thanks to you.”

Yangcheon stared at Yeon Hojeong for a moment, then smacked his lips.

“Before we talk—there was an unpleasant incident with my subordinate?”

He said it brutally straight.

Yeon Hojeong smiled faintly.

“A report already went in?”

“It did.”

“Must have been sweating hard.”

Yangcheon’s gaze deepened.

“From what I hear, you don’t look very blameless either.”

“That doesn’t mean I did anything wrong. But your side clearly committed a wrong.”

“What wrong would justify killing someone from the Manor?”

“Someone from the Manor? Weren’t they that woman’s subordinates? They looked pretty loyal—like they were serving a lord.”

The corner of Yangcheon’s eye twitched.

Even if they were subordinates you commanded, those subordinates still needed other subordinates they could trust and use. Every organization in the world was built that way.

But why was it? Hearing Yeon Hojeong say it made him feel, for no reason, like he was a lord who wasn’t being acknowledged.

“The approach was wrong from the start. I’m not a person of the Manor yet, and the Lord of the Ink Dragon Manor doesn’t know what I can do, so trust isn’t there either, is it?”

“...”

“Do you understand? To put it bluntly, even if we passed each other on the road, we’re the kind of people who don’t even need to exchange greetings. If you were going to keep someone like that as an honored guest, you should have said at least one word telling your people to treat him properly.”

“...”

“If that woman looked down on us, we could just think of it as a dog barking. But the Lord of Ink Dragon Manor shouldn’t have done that.”

He didn’t shout about being wronged. He didn’t insist he’d done nothing. Instead, he delivered a rebuke in a stern voice.

If nothing else, that terrifying nerve of his—was truly unrivaled under heaven.

“So the fault lies with me?”

“Further, the responsibility to apologize lies with you.”

“Heh.”

“But I won’t accept an apology. It was just the mistake of greenhorns. I don’t think the Lord of Ink Dragon Manor is small-minded.”

Yeon Hojeong smiled.

“Even if you are small-minded, what can I do? I’ll just have to make you bigger, one way or another.”

Yangcheon stared at Yeon Hojeong, then suddenly let out a roaring laugh.

“HAHAHA!”

KUUUURRRRMMMM!

The entire Ink Dragon Hall shook as if an earthquake had struck.

It was the kind of laughter that could easily feel like a threat. And yet, in that laughter, Yeon Hojeong felt a fierce liking aimed at him.

His sense was right.

“Do you know this? I’ve seen more talented people than I can count, but I’ve never seen one like you.”

“There was no need to meet someone like me. Not when you roamed the world alone.”

Yangcheon snorted.

“What kind of false modesty is this? It isn’t like you. You can have confidence. Even setting ability aside—if there were another talent with nerve and boldness like yours, I’d welcome them with open arms.”

“That’s a shame. If I’d known your temperament earlier, I wouldn’t have needed to bother with ‘deals’ at all.”

Yeon Hojeong drew out a thick bundle of letters.

Yangcheon’s eyes glittered.

“That’s it?”

“It is.”

“Are you confident?”

“If my companions hadn’t stopped me, I was going to kill even your direct subordinates.”

If he hadn’t been confident, would he have ever planned to go that far?

Yangcheon smiled in satisfaction.

“Bring it here.”

WOOOOONG.

The letters slipped free from Yeon Hojeong’s hand, flew through the air, and dropped into Yangcheon’s palm.

Void Seizing—taken to its extreme. Yeon Hojeong hadn’t sent it. Yangcheon had plucked it from his hand.

RATTLE-RATTLE-RATTLE!

The letters floating in midair unfolded on their own.

It was a scene like sorcery. Martial arts of an absolute who stood at the pinnacle of the world—one who held a wing of the Thirteen Seats of the Sacred Heavens.

But.

As expected.

Yeon Hojeong’s eyes sank.

That sense of wrongness I felt back then wasn’t my imagination.

Yeon Hojeong could feel it clearly. The flow of Yangcheon’s power wasn’t normal.

It was a tiny gap so subtle even Yeon Wi—stronger than Yeon Hojeong—wouldn’t have noticed. A flaw only someone who stood equal to Yangcheon... no, who had even eyed a realm beyond him, could perceive.

Does he not even know himself?

It seemed that way. If he knew, he wouldn’t be sitting there, laughing and dealing with him so calmly.

A Heart Demon? No. It isn’t even a qi deviation. I can’t tell what made him like that, but...

Yangcheon read the letters floating in the air at a rapid pace.

It’ll accelerate.

Yeon Hojeong’s gaze sharpened.

The loss of Inner Qi and the instability in his energy will speed up by the day.

A problem within True Qi itself—something that couldn’t be solved through enlightenment.

And compared to five days ago, he’d visibly weakened. The actual loss of Inner Qi was likely minute—but when a crack formed in what had once been perfect, the problem stood out all the more.

He’s still strong. As I am now, even enduring five exchanges from Yangcheon would be difficult. But...

He was no longer the Fighting King.

He wouldn’t be able to wield martial arts worthy of being called “King” anymore. Yeon Hojeong knew it instinctively.

A single sliver of a flaw. That minute flaw had turned perfection into imperfection.

With that imperfection, he could no longer hold the name Fighting King.

Poisoned? Or is it a problem in the martial arts themselves?

He couldn’t tell.

A master of the Thirteen Seats of the Sacred Heavens reduced to this... it was hard to believe even while seeing it. At least in this moment, Yeon Hojeong was purely curious about Yangcheon’s condition.

He still hasn’t recognized it himself. But as time passes, he’ll feel something’s wrong. And then he’ll realize. That there’s a problem inside him.

Yeon Hojeong’s eyes dulled.

Yangcheon...

Then Yangcheon reached out and grasped the letters.

“Remarkable.”

Pure admiration rose on Yangcheon’s face.

“Did you make this alone?”

“I did.”

In truth, Je Gal Ahyeon had helped, but there was no need to say that. Yangcheon must not take an interest in Je Gal Ahyeon.

The one he took °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° interest in had to be Yeon Hojeong alone. That was the only way to minimize the danger to his companions, should anything happen.

“Truly impressive. I’m not particularly fluent in this sort of thing, but even at a glance it looks systematic, without any blockages.”

“I’m glad you see it that way. Then...”

“Wait a moment.”

Yangcheon snapped his fingers.

FSSSS.

From beyond the corridor, an old man walked in. White Rat.

“I’m satisfied. You all should review it in detail amongst yourselves.”

“We receive the Lord of Ink Dragon Manor’s command.”

White Rat took the letters and returned into the corridor. Inside, there would be a swarm of men who fancied themselves thinkers in the Dark Path.

Yeon Hojeong let out a small laugh.

“How long will I have to wait?”

“Until they finish reading.”

“That’ll take a while.”

“It will. So, while we’re at it... shall we talk a bit?”

Smiling, Yangcheon asked,

“The heir of the Ghost-Iron Sword Gate—was it truly not your doing?”