After the banquet ended, the heads of the Sado Union returned to the lodgings the Martial Alliance had prepared.

The chiefs of the Martial Alliance remained to the very end, keeping their seats.

Namgoong Mucheon said he would personally accompany the guest to the guesthouse and left together with the Sado Union Lord.

Several elders stood atop the steps of the Main Hall, watching the two figures recede into the distance.

“It seems our guess was wrong.”

“They say Namgoong Seolhwa has entered Closed-Door Cultivation, don’t they?”

“Yes. Just in case, I snuck a look at the Sado Union Lord’s nape a moment ago, and there wasn’t the slightest trace of a mark.”

The fact that there was a mark at the nape of Namgoong Seolhwa’s neck was the identifying feature the Namgoong Clan had put out when they were seeking her; everyone in the Central Plains knew this.

They didn’t know it wasn’t a birthmark but a scar—what mattered was that there was no trace whatsoever on the nape.

“Heh-heh, truth be told, saying Namgoong Seolhwa is the Sado Union Lord is absurd. How could anyone fool the eyes of the Heavenly Dragon Sword Emperor?”

“Or perhaps the Heavenly Dragon Sword Emperor knows and is overlooking it.”

All gathered turned around at once.

The one approaching them was Tang Sangcheon.

“Elder Tang, did you not see it as well? The Sado Union Lord didn’t have so much as a hint of a mark.”

“That person is not Namgoong Seolhwa.”

“Of course. Which means...”

“And likely not the Sado Union Lord either.”

“What do you mean by that?”

With a gentle smile, Tang Sangcheon looked around at them.

“How do you know they didn’t put forward a stand-in?”

Those talking stared at Tang Sangcheon with startled eyes.

Some glanced about in a hurry, worried someone might be listening.

But Tang Sangcheon went on with an easy smile, as if it didn’t concern him.

“You all saw it too, didn’t you? Most of the Sado Union hid their faces with Human-Skin Masks and masks. No one knows who lies beyond a mask.”

Which was to say, even within the Sado Union Lord’s mask, the one inside might be someone other than the Shadowless Demon God.

“B-But... if that were true, there’s no way the Alliance Lord wouldn’t know...!”

“Haven’t I just said it? I said the Heavenly Dragon Sword Emperor might know and still be overlooking it. Besides, the Sado Union Lord didn’t speak a single word today.”

“...!”

“!”

Shock piled atop shock.

The chiefs looked at one another with aghast expressions.

“C-Come to think of it...”

Had the Sado Union Lord said anything at all today?

He had only nodded at the words of Namgoong Mucheon, the Martial Alliance Lord, and had not spoken in the least.

He hadn’t even seemed to touch food throughout the banquet.

If that truly was to conceal his identity—

“If that’s the case, isn’t the Sado Union making sport of the Martial Alliance!”

They had personally invited them to the Martial Alliance, held a banquet, and welcomed them so grandly.

But in truth, the Sado Union Lord had not even responded to the invitation!

“Which is why, shouldn’t we find out?”

“How are we supposed to find out? If he just sits there without a word and then leaves like that, how are we to know anything!”

Tang Sangcheon let out a soft, heh-heh laugh.

“Don’t get so worked up.”

A gentle arc tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I have an idea.”

****

When Peng Yeopmyeong went out to the Friendly Match Grounds at the promised hour of the Rabbit, he was left speechless.

“What is this...?”

In case of unforeseen circumstances, he had, the night before, looked up the training schedules through the Patrol Unit.

He had also found the most secluded Friendly Match Grounds in the Martial Alliance and summoned the Surochae Chief Hall Lord there.

Which meant that the Friendly Match Grounds should contain the Surochae Chief Hall Lord—and only him.

Yet the Friendly Match Grounds, which should have been quiet, were filled with dozens of martial men.

“Ah, you’re here, Clan Head Peng.”

Tang Sangcheon approached Peng Yeopmyeong, who stood there in a daze at the absurdity.

“Elder Tang. What is going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to ask. How did they find out about your friendly match with the Surochae Chief Hall Lord and flock here like this?”

Now that he looked, the martial men gathered at the grounds were not only warriors of the Martial Alliance.

Clustered off to one side were figures in black martial outfits—clearly warriors of the Sado Union.

“Please win, Chief Hall Lord!”

“We’ll cheer with all we’ve got!”

Among them was Maeng Deungho, wearing the same awkward look.

Maeng Deungho spotted Peng Yeopmyeong and came over.

“Did you spread the rumor?”

At Peng Yeopmyeong’s blunt question, Maeng Deungho knit his brows.

“Why would I?”

“Then who in the world...?”

“Maybe servants overheard your conversation.”

The two turned to look at Tang Sangcheon.

“Servants, you say?”

Had servants come and gone while they talked?

They had just changed locations; perhaps things had been a bit chaotic.

“They likely didn’t mean to blow it up like this. They simply would have wanted, as martial folk, to witness a fine friendly match between worthy seniors.”

“But like this, it’s no setting for a friendly match...”

“Then do you want all of them sent away? Aren’t these juniors here to learn from you?”

Peng Yeopmyeong and Maeng Deungho looked over the martial men with troubled faces.

Gathered in little knots here and there, they all wore flushed, excited expressions, sneaking glances at the two of them, wondering when the friendly match would begin.

“Ha...”

Peng Yeopmyeong pressed a hand to his brow and let out a long sigh.

Tang Sangcheon patted his back, tap-tap.

“Since it’s come to this, show them a bout. If the Alliance Lord has anything to say, I’ll take responsibility.”

“But...”

“It’s only a friendly match, isn’t it.”

Peng Yeopmyeong’s body gave a small jolt.

Only a friendly match.

That was what he’d thought when he decided on a friendly match with Maeng Deungho.

‘I wasn’t taking it that lightly.’

He would surely get an earful from the Heavenly Dragon Sword Emperor.

But now it seemed too late to send the gathered crowd away and call it off—and Tang Sangcheon was here.

Having reached his conclusion, Peng Yeopmyeong unshouldered the saber on his back and said to Maeng Deungho,

“Let’s keep it light. Go easy, if you would.”

Maeng Deungho likewise set his spear upright and nodded.

****

KWAANG—!

Peng Yeopmyeong’s broad saber came crashing down on the Friendly Match platform where, a heartbeat earlier, Maeng Deungho had been standing.

At the same time, Maeng Deungho stamped the ground and leapt; in midair he swept the spear in a great arc.

Hwoooong—

A sound like the air itself being ripped rang in every onlooker’s ears.

Tang! TAAANG—!

Maeng Deungho’s spear chased Peng Yeopmyeong the other way, scouring every span of the platform.

KANG— KAKAKANG! KANG!

While avoiding the spear strikes that pinned as if to nail him down, Peng Yeopmyeong knocked the spear edge aside with the broad face of his saber, preventing the shaft from bending.

In the midst of trading attacks like that—

“Hup!”

As he hewed down with the spear, Maeng Deungho twisted its path with all his strength.

To change the trajectory of a great spear shaft—not a sword or saber—was something only a formidable strength could accomplish.

“!”

Peng Yeopmyeong, who had meant to flow along with familiar footwork and slip past the spear, saw it a beat late.

But his center of gravity had already tipped.

THUD—!

In the very instant he’d been unfolding light footwork, Peng Yeopmyeong planted force into his foot and stamped a true step.

It was a stamp so strong it gave the illusion the platform floor sank for an instant.

Fwhoooop—

Peng Yeopmyeong’s body folded and dropped backward, and Maeng Deungho’s spear swept so close it grazed the bridge of his nose.

At the sound of air tearing right before his eyes, cold sweat ran down Peng Yeopmyeong’s spine.

But Maeng Deungho’s attack didn’t end there.

Crrrack.

The moment the spear passed Peng Yeopmyeong, instead of reversing the shaft, Maeng Deungho passed it behind his own back and caught hold.

Then, gripping with all his strength, he made the spear’s front rebound in midair as if it had struck a wall and snap back.

“!”

Seeing the shaft whip back at him, Peng Yeopmyeong twisted his body and swung the broad saber.

TAT— VWOOM—!

His body, tilted as if he might topple, coiled fluidly in the air.

That rotational force poured straight into his broad saber.

KWAANG—!

For a heartbeat the broad saber stamped down on the spear shaft that had come burrowing in.

Kagagagak—

The great edge of the saber rode up along the spear’s shaft.

At that instant, Maeng Deungho released the spear.

In the moment Peng Yeopmyeong’s great blade came hurtling for the nape of Maeng Deungho’s neck—

Shwik—!

A short sword flashed out in Maeng Deungho’s hand at some point and lunged, as if to skewer Peng Yeopmyeong’s chest.

In that moment, both men froze where they stood.

Harsh breaths circled, and gazes honed as sharp as their weapons traded for a beat.

Then, at the same time, the two lowered their weapons and straightened their stances.

“To throw away your weapon at that moment...”

Having finished the friendly match, Peng Yeopmyeong’s expression was bright.

“I’d focused only on spear work, what with your repute for parting rivers. You struck a blind spot.”

Maeng Deungho’s face, too, was clear and refreshed.

Beads of sweat dotted his brow.

“From the instant I discarded my weapon, the fight was already lost. Clan Head Peng’s might is just as I’ve heard.”

“Haha! You flatter me! That was an enjoyable match!”

“I learned something.”

Exchanging cupped-fist salutes, the two men’s friendly match ended.

At the same time, thunderous applause and cheers erupted from both sides.

“Wow— Clan Head Peng! Magnificent!”

“Chief Hall Lord! What an incredible match!”

Amid the unending admiration and «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» cheers, stepping down from the platform, Peng Yeopmyeong felt a quiet relief.

“Good thing it was a friendly match without a decision.”

From the outset of the match, the martial men split to either side had, as it went on, cheered more and more openly for their own.

The Martial Alliance warriors cheering him, the Sado Union warriors cheering the Surochae Chief Hall Lord.

Perhaps because it was black path versus white path.

The heat of cheering for their own had risen fast, and just when he thought it was a hair’s breadth from turning unruly, the match ended.

‘If victory and defeat had been decided, this match would have swelled into a greater fight.’

Perhaps sensing the same undercurrent, the Surochae Chief Hall Lord had ended it as a friendly match without a decision.

Now that it was over, he could relax—

“A martial man throwing away his own weapon—how disgraceful!”

“!”

Startled by the shout that burst from below the platform, Peng Yeopmyeong looked toward where the voice had come.

But with the crowd packed in, he couldn’t tell who had yelled.