Chapter 1

At the construction site for the Dragon and Phoenix Assembly stadium, the outer checkpoint remained, its purpose unchanged. Though the siege by the Third Young Master’s forces had been lifted, the entire district had effectively become a colossal containment zone, and the checkpoint’s role had not diminished in the slightest.

“Halt! Halt!” the lead warrior of the Sword Clan’s checkpoint detail signaled as a group approached, intending to exit. “Present your documents and identification.”

The rebellion of the destitute laborers had been commuted; rather than the extermination of three generations of their families, they were sentenced to a lifetime of servitude. It was an act of mercy, but one that did not grant them the freedom to escape their new reality. No one was permitted to simply walk away from their penance.

“Here you are,” a woman said.

As the warrior from the Luoyang Sword Clan scrutinized the exit permits and identification cards, guards meticulously counted each person in the procession.

“The House of Benevolence?” the warrior asked, his eyes lifting from the papers.

“That is correct,” the priestess, who appeared to be the leader of the group, replied, pressing her palms together in a gesture of piety. The warrior mirrored her gesture.

“You do good work.”

“We are merely extending the grace we received from the Medicine Fairy, just as her teachings guide us,” she answered, her voice serene.

Despite the pleasantries, the warrior’s sharp gaze never ceased its sweep over the members of the House of Benevolence. He assessed every face, every cart, every shadow.

“Headcount complete!” a guard reported after a thorough search, having inspected even the insides of the supply carts where a person might hide. One by one, the other guards chimed in.

“All clear!”

The lead warrior, satisfied, returned the documents to the priestess. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“…It is nothing,” she murmured. As she accepted the papers, her fingertips trembled almost imperceptibly, a detail the warrior dismissed. The warriors of the Luoyang Sword Clan commanded a certain fearful reverence wherever they went; a slight tremor was to be expected.

“Pass!” he commanded, and his subordinates began clearing the barricades from the path.

As the lead warrior watched the House of Benevolence members depart, another warrior, dressed in a slightly different uniform, sidled up behind him.

“Are you sure they’re clean?” he asked, his voice a low, suspicious murmur.

The checkpoint leader let out a weary sigh. “You were standing right here with me, weren’t you? The papers, the identification, the headcount—everything matched their entry records perfectly.”

“But…”

The checkpoint leader shot an irritated glare over his shoulder. “What more do you want me to do? They were outsiders to begin with, and the official roster of laborers isn’t even complete yet. We have no records to cross-reference.”

At the fierce response, the other warrior took a step back, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “I am only following my orders to ensure everything is secure. No one is to escape through illicit means.”

The checkpoint leader’s face hardened. “I am a warrior of the War Department[1]. Unlike you, I am not one of the Third Young Master’s men. Do not speak to me in a commanding tone.” He punctuated his statement by spitting on the ground. “The mere fact that you people are here with us…” He glanced around at his own guards before lowering his voice to a telepathic murmur.

[And without any official orders, at that. I am already showing the Third Young Master’s faction considerable favor by tolerating your presence.]

“…I understand,” the Third Young Master’s man replied, backing down completely. “I fully comprehend your position.”

“Then find a corner to lurk in where you won’t be seen.” The words, delivered to his back, were laced with contempt.

These fucking bastards from the War Department, looking down on us… The slight was a bitter pill to swallow. Ever since the Third Young Master’s faction had been forced into a humiliating retreat from this site, a growing number of people within the Sword Clan had begun to treat them with open disdain.

“Isn’t it time for your regular report?” he snapped, venting his frustration on a subordinate who was resting in the shade.

“Yes, yes. Right away,” the man answered, sighing internally as he rose and dusted off his trousers. “Shall I report that the House of Benevolence contingent has passed through without incident?”

“Yes. Ride out at once.”

Even the horse carrying his subordinate seemed to plod away sluggishly. The sight of such listless movement caused the warrior to grind his teeth in fury. “Every last one of them, utterly undisciplined…”

He fought to quell the firestorm of anger raging within him and focused his vision, sharpening his senses to continue his watch. Those damned vigilantes, or whatever they call themselves. When I get my hands on them, I’ll personally break every bone in their bodies…!

He remained utterly oblivious to the fact that the very martial artists he was hunting for—the Spring of Luoyang Vigilantes—had just slipped past right under his nose.

***

In the outer districts of Luoyang’s city proper, the members of the House of Benevolence navigated through the bustling crowds before melting into a quiet back alley. Once certain they were unobserved, the priestess nodded to the workers.

“This should be far enough.”

At her words, the Spring of Luoyang Vigilantes, disguised in laborers’ attire, set down the heavy loads they carried and gathered around her.

“Thank you,” one of them said, his voice thick with emotion. “We will never forget this act of saving our lives.”

The priestess simply shook her head. “We are only following the teachings of our Medicine Fairy.”

“That does not lessen our gratitude,” the vigilante insisted.

A gentle smile touched the priestess’s lips. “If you must thank someone, then it is only right that you offer your gratitude to our leader, to him.”

“…He has saved us from the jaws of death twice now. Gratitude is not a strong enough word for what we owe him.”

There was no time for prolonged goodbyes.

“May the Medicine Fairy’s blessings be with you.”

With final bows, the Spring of Luoyang Vigilantes vanished deeper into the labyrinthine alleys, disappearing from sight. A short while later, just as planned, the real porters from the House of Benevolence arrived. They shouldered the abandoned loads and, appearing just as they had when they first entered the alley, made their way back to their main clan.

***

Before the memorial stele at the main stadium, the Sixth Department Head[2] of the Court of Judiciary[3] continued his solitary deductions, his mind racing.

“No, no,” he muttered, shaking his head violently. “That’s impossible…!” He looked at Yeon So-hyeon, his expression one of utter disbelief at his own conclusion. “The checkpoint would have confirmed the exact number of people, allowing only as many to leave as had entered. Besides, the Third Young Master has his own men patrolling the perimeter.” He mumbled, his face a mask of confusion, “So, if they were to switch the House of Benevolence members with the martial artists, that would mean…”

His gaze, wild and unsteady, fixed on the Grand Young Master. “It means the members of the House of Benevolence who helped them would have to remain behind…!” he cried out, his voice sharp with horror. “Those who stayed would be forced to serve a lifetime of labor in place of those martial artists!”

“Oh? Is that so?” Yeon So-hyeon feigned ignorance, his expression a perfect picture of innocence. “Serving a sentence for vigilantes who were never here to begin with? I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

The Sixth Department Head could only shake his head at the blatant denial, coming from the very man who had orchestrated such a transparent performance. “Madness. This is utter madness. The person who would order the members of the House of Benevolence to make such a lifelong sacrifice, and the fanatics who would blindly follow such an order—.”

He cut himself off abruptly as a chilling, murderous intent emanated from the woman standing a short distance away. He quickly regained his composure. “…I have spoken carelessly. I offer my sincerest apologies, my lord Grand Young Master.”

Yeon So-hyeon, however, ignored the apology and simply tilted his head. “Fanaticism?”

He turned away and approached the memorial stele, his fingers gently tracing the inscription carved into the stone’s surface. The Sixth Department Head read the words his hand was touching.

“…Spring does not simply arrive.”

With his back still turned, Yeon So-hyeon spoke, his voice low and resonant. “That’s right. Spring does not simply arrive. It must be summoned.” The boy turned back, and the sheer intensity in his gaze made the Sixth Department Head flinch involuntarily. “The people of the House of Benevolence understand this better than anyone.”

The boy sat down again at the base of the stele. “What you see is not fanaticism. It is devotion.”

A sudden awareness of being watched prickled the Sixth Department Head’s skin, and he glanced around. In the distance, the craftsmen who had been resting were now staring at them, their expressions surprisingly sharp. Though they couldn’t have overheard the conversation, they had clearly seen him shouting at Yeon So-hyeon.

“They do not do this because they believe in the promise of an afterlife, nor do they cling to faith to escape the harshness of reality.”

It was only then that he realized that it wasn’t just the craftsmen; countless laborers were watching them from afar.

“How dare you belittle their actions by calling it fanaticism?”

To be precise, they were glaring at him. It was unnervingly clear that if he made a single move that seemed to threaten Yeon So-hyeon, every one of them would descend upon him in an instant. It struck him with the force of a physical blow.

This place… it’s the very heart of the Grand Young Master’s territory.

Yeon So-hyeon smiled at the Sixth Department Head, who was now frozen, unable to even wipe away the cold sweat beading on his brow. “And I believe you, of all people, should understand the value of such devotion, Sixth Department Head.”

At those words, a muscle in the man’s eyelid twitched. “…What do you mean by that?”

Perched on the stele’s base, Yeon So-hyeon shrugged. “Are you not a man who has also sworn an oath of loyalty and devotion to this Sword Clan?”

The Sixth Department Head averted his gaze. “…It was an oath that was impossible to keep from the start.”

“Because the main clan is just that corrupt.” Yeon So-hyeon clicked his tongue and continued nonchalantly, “The Head of the Court of Judiciary[4] refuses to investigate the wrongdoings of the Yeon bloodline, citing political neutrality. Yet he conspires with the Third Young Master’s Left and Right Grand Strategists[5] to send you here with secret orders to pressure me?” His tone was light, but the accusation it carried was anything but. Yeon So-hyeon let out a low chuckle. “Political neutrality. What utter nonsense.”

The Sixth Department Head bit his lip, unable to find a retort. He knew, deep down, that every word was true. “…So what is it you are trying to say?”

Ignoring the question, Yeon So-hyeon continued with his own line of thought. “There are no martial artists here. Even if the Third Young Master’s faction presents counter-evidence, their animosity toward me makes them an unreliable source. Their claims will lack credibility.”

The Sixth Department Head’s eyes narrowed as the trap closed around him. “…And now I am caught in an impossible situation.”

If he conducted an honest investigation and reported that there were no martial artists, he would face the Third Young Master’s wrath. But if he fabricated a report, he would have to bear the full force of the Grand Young Master’s fury and retaliation.

“Impossible, you say?” Yeon So-hyeon scoffed. “No, not at all.” He rose to his feet. Standing on the altar that supported the memorial stele, the Grand Young Master looked down at the Sixth Department Head and whispered, “You have simply chosen not to choose.”

The Sixth Department Head’s expression twisted. “Are you suggesting…,” his voice dropped to a conspiratorial hush, “that I should follow you, my lord?” The revulsion in his tone was palpable.

Yet Yeon So-hyeon’s serene smile never wavered. “Tell me, in a clan like ours, how many cases investigated internally are ever truly free of politics?”

The Sixth Department Head’s mouth fell open to object, but he quickly snapped it shut. He had heard those words somewhere before.

“If you dismiss every case with a political dimension, the seditious elements within the main clan will only grow bolder. Eventually, that will directly undermine the authority of the Court of Judiciary itself.”

A half-hearted sense of justice. A half-hearted resolve. Those were his own words, spoken at a recent executive meeting of the Court of Judiciary.

“H-how could you possibly know that…?” The composed mask the Sixth Department Head had struggled to maintain finally shattered. “That was an executive meeting! The only ones present were department heads and above!”

Did this mean one of the highest-ranking officials in the Court of Judiciary was already Yeon So-hyeon’s pawn?

“What does it matter if one is a department head or an executive?” A soft laugh escaped Yeon So-hyeon’s lips. “My eyes and ears are everywhere in this clan, Sixth Department Head.” The boy’s eyes curved into a gentle crescent. “No one in the Sword Clan, no corner of its domain, can hide from me.”

The Sixth Department Head fell silent, unable to speak, unable to think.

“I understand. You must be confused. But it is the truth.” Yeon So-hyeon stepped closer, his voice a soothing, hypnotic balm. “Political neutrality ceased to exist in the Court of Judiciary a long time ago.” He stopped directly in front of the man, his words a demonic temptation. “Summer is coming to the main clan. A cruel season, the likes of which no one has ever experienced.”

With the rivalry between the Second and Third Young Masters now violently disrupted by the Grand Young Master’s entry, transforming it into a three-way war, his prediction felt terrifyingly real.

“You will soon find yourself standing naked under a scorching sun. The unbearable heat will drain every last drop of moisture from your body.”

The Sixth Department Head squeezed his eyes shut, but Yeon So-hyeon’s voice echoed in his mind. “And no one will offer you so much as a sip of water, or a sliver of shade. However…”

Yeon So-hyeon tapped the man’s chest. The Sixth Department Head’s eyes snapped open to look at him.

‘Divine Calculation. Heavenly Eye.’

Before him stood the enigmatic figure who, just months ago, had broken his seclusion without warning and now stood as a rival to the Third Young Master.

“I can be an inexhaustible river for you.” Yeon So-hyeon gestured toward the main stadium. “And I can be the immense shadow that shields you from the merciless sun.”

The colossal shadow cast by the stadium enveloped them both.

“The choice is yours.”

Yeon So-hyeon did not wait for an answer.

“But I cannot wait for long.” He walked past him, his steps unhurried. “As you well know, the current situation is… rather delicate.”

His head handmaiden followed silently in his wake.

The Sixth Department Head watched him go, his hand rising and falling, his mouth opening and closing, words failing him.

And then, finally.

“My lord Grand Young Master!”

His cry, a raw shout of capitulation, echoed across the vast, silent plaza.