“…Cutting our losses, you say?”

The atmosphere in the room plummeted, growing heavy and frigid as if a sudden frost had descended.

“Fourth Young Master.”

The representative of the Namgung Clan, his eyes sharp and unsettling, stared at Yeon Bi through a veil of tobacco smoke.

“I find myself wondering if you truly grasp the weight of the words coming out of your mouth right now.”

“Oh, I grasp them perfectly,” Yeon Bi replied. He didn’t flinch under the elder’s gaze; instead, his smile broadened. “In fact, I believe I have a much clearer view of the situation than those who are so blinded by the astronomical sums they’ve already sunk that they can no longer see the exit.”

He let his gaze wander slowly across the three men seated before him. “From where I stand, the timing couldn’t be more obvious.”

The Namgung representative fell silent, his jaw tightening as he took another pull from his cigarette. Taking the lead in his stead, the Sima representative spoke up.

“The conflict in the North has not yet reached a conclusion.”

Yeon Bi turned to him. “And your point is?”

His tone was somewhere between blunt and maddeningly nonchalant.

“My point…!” The Sima elder’s voice rose, tinged with a sudden spike of agitation. “If you expect our clans to withdraw before a final result is achieved, you must be prepared to pay a suitable price for our cooperation!”

“A price?”

Yeon Bi erupted into a booming laugh, a sound that bore a chilling resemblance to the laughter of his eldest brother, Yeon So-hyeon.

“You expect me—expect us—to pay you?”

The laughter vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Yeon Bi fixed the Sima representative with a gaze that felt like a physical weight.

“Do you truly believe we owe anything to a pack of traitors who dared to fund Yelü Nuzhucha, a pretender to the throne and a sworn enemy of the Emperor and the Central Plains?”

“Traitors…!”

Stung by the accuracy of the accusation, the Sima elder bolted upright. However, the Namgung representative held up a hand, silently commanding him to sit.

“Fourth Young Master.”

“Yes?”

Ignoring the Sima elder, who was still huffing with a face flushed a bright, indignant red, the Namgung representative spoke in a voice of chilled steel. “This is not a gathering of amateurs who waste time debating the morality of their cause. We are beyond that, are we not?”

“Hmm…”

“Everyone in this room holds the power of decision. It would be best for all involved if our conversation reflected that reality.”

Yeon Bi studied the elder’s face for a moment before giving a slow, deliberate nod. “Very well. Let’s speak plainly then.”

No sooner had the words left his lips than the Sima representative cut in again. “The Sima Clan expects the Luoyang Sword Clan to reimburse at least half of the funds we have committed to this endeavor.”

The Zhuge representative nodded in agreement, his voice hard. “The Zhuge Clan demands the same.”

The sums they had poured into the Northern campaign were staggering, a king’s ransom, and they were demanding that Yeon So-hyeon shoulder half of that gargantuan debt.

“Half, you say?” Yeon Bi’s voice was thick with mock disbelief.

“But of course,” the Sima elder replied, his expression one of shameless confidence. “Even with half reimbursed, we are still looking at a significant loss.”

“And that amount,” the Zhuge representative added, “doesn’t even begin to account for the blood-price of the lives currently at risk on the front lines.”

“Hahaha! This is getting interesting.” Yeon Bi turned to the Namgung representative, who had remained silent thus far. “And what does the Namgung Clan want?”

Fuuu…

The elder exhaled a long, slow plume of smoke into the air.

“Should our clans withdraw now, the fury of the Wudang, Mount Hua, and Emei Sects will be immense.”

Yeon Bi let out a sharp, derisive snort. “Please. They’re likely looking for the exact same exit strategy for their own expeditionary forces as we speak.”

The Namgung representative didn’t miss a beat. “Perhaps. But the fact remains that it would be our clans who abandoned them first. Therefore…” He ground out his finished cigarette. “The Namgung Clan expects the Luoyang Sword Clan to cover the ‘reconciliation costs’ necessary to appease Wudang, Mount Hua, and Emei.”

Yeon Bi leaned back, his posture relaxed. “And just how much would that be, exactly?”

“They will likely want the monetary equivalent of the lives and resources they’ve invested in their units,” the Namgung elder answered without hesitation.

Yeon Bi let out a hollow laugh. “You’re asking us to pay for the cost of raising their experts, their rising stars, and their elite warriors? Every single one of them?”

“It is a staggering sum, I am aware. However…” The Namgung representative lit a fresh cigarette and shrugged. “In exchange, our clans, along with Wudang and Mount Hua, will sever all ties with those currently in the North.”

“And the Emei Sect will likewise withdraw their advancing forces,” the Sima elder added, sliding back into his seat. “This means that even if your eldest brother were to lose his current battle, or if the conflict ends in a stalemate, the ‘Alliance’ formed by the Third Young Master will be reduced to a hollow shell.”

The Namgung representative delivered the final blow. “From your perspective, Fourth Young Master, this is hardly a one-sided loss. You are buying the collapse of your enemy’s foundation.”

Yeon Bi didn’t answer immediately.

He simply smiled.

As expected…

These men were not to be underestimated. They were the elite of their clans, cunning and ruthless. Despite Yeon Bi seizing the initiative early on, they had successfully steered the conversation toward their own demands.

But then, it wouldn’t be any fun if they were pushovers.

“And if…” Yeon Bi took a slow sip of his tea, his smile never wavering. “If we refuse this ‘deal’?”

His speech had shifted, the formal markers gone, replaced by a blunt, commanding tone, but the representatives, believing they finally had the upper hand, paid the disrespect no mind.

“Do you truly think we can simply walk away after investing such vast resources?” They pressed him, their smiles turning predatory. “Our original plan was to move within the Central Plains only after the North was secured. However…”

“…If pushed, we will have no choice but to move now to relieve the pressure on the Northern front.”

“Even if the Dread King suffers a crushing defeat in his current battle, a destabilized Central Plains will provide us with countless more opportunities.”

It was a chilling threat: if Yeon Bi didn’t pay, the Great Clans would ignite a civil war at home to save their investment in the North.

Instead of being intimidated, Yeon Bi threw his head back and roared with laughter.

Puhahahaha!

The representatives’ faces darkened. “…Fourth Young Master? Is something funny?”

“We suggest you take our warning seriously.”

Despite their glares, Yeon Bi clutched his stomach, his laughter echoing through the room until tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“Oh, gods… that’s rich.” He wiped his eyes, still tittering. “I… I can barely speak, it’s so absurd.”

Snap.

The Namgung representative’s cigarette snapped between his fingers. “Yeon Bi…!” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Do you truly wish to see this end in disaster—?”

“—The only ones inviting disaster here are the three of you,” Yeon Bi interrupted, his mirth vanishing in an instant. He leaned forward, his eyes boring into them. “Has the war in the North consumed so much of your attention that you’ve forgotten to look at what’s happening behind your own backs?”

His shift to informal speech was complete, but the representatives were too focused on his words to care about the insult.

“…Behind us?”

“What are you talking about?”

Yeon Bi gestured vaguely toward the south. “The South. I’m talking about the South.”

The representatives stared at him. After hours of discussing the Northern front, the mention of the South felt jarringly out of place.

“No… wait!”

The Zhuge representative was the first to react. His clan was located further south than the others, making him more attuned to that region’s politics.

“I… I must verify something. I will return shortly.” Without another word, he bolted from the room to contact his intelligence network through the subordinates waiting outside.

“Take all the time you need,” Yeon Bi called after him, making no move to stop him. In fact, he seemed to relish the prospect of the elder confirming the news for himself.

“…The South?”

The Sima elder, piecing together the Zhuge representative’s reaction and Yeon Bi’s smug confidence, stood up abruptly. “You don’t mean… the Heavenly Wicked Hegemons?!”

The Heavenly Wicked Hegemons.

The absolute lords of the lands south of the Yangtze River were also the maternal home of Yeon Ja-cheong, the imprisoned Second Young Master of the Luoyang Sword Clan. Their influence south of the river was said to eclipse even that of the Emperor himself.

“Are you suggesting that the Heavenly Wicked Hegemons is preparing to move?” the Sima elder asked, his voice trembling.

Yeon Bi shrugged. “Preparing? They’ve already moved.”

“What…?”

The air seemed to vanish from the room as the realization hit that while the Great Clans had been hyper-fixated on the North, a nightmare was stirring in their rear. The most dangerous, most vicious enemy imaginable was on their doorstep.

“The moment your clans start a war, or anything resembling one, within the Central Plains,” Yeon Bi continued, his finger still pointing south, “the Heavenly Wicked Hegemons will begin their march north. They are already standing by.”

The Namgung representative and the Sima elder were struck dumb, the room growing so silent that the faint sizzle of the dying spark on the Namgung elder’s crushed cigarette was clearly audible.

The doors burst open and the Zhuge representative stumbled back into the room, all eyes immediately fixing on him; one look at his face, pale as a sheet and slick with sweat, told them everything they needed to know.

“…It’s true,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “The signs were all there, signs I would have seen days ago if I hadn’t been so distracted. The Heavenly Wicked Hegemons… they are ready for war.”

“Hah!”

Yeon Bi’s triumphant laughter filled the space once more. “Do you see it now? The Heavenly Wicked Hegemons is simply waiting for you to ignite a conflict so they can march north under the pretext of ‘maintaining the peace.’ You’d be handing them the Central Plains on a silver platter.”

This time, no one dared to silence his laughter.

“So tell me…” Yeon Bi’s smile turned razor-sharp, his eyes flashing with a predatory, toxic bloodlust. “Are your clans prepared to fight us while simultaneously defending your rear from the Heavenly Wicked Hegemons? Because I can promise you this: my eldest brother and I are more than prepared to fight both of you at once.”

Silence.

There was no possible rebuttal.

The Heavenly Wicked Hegemons’ movement was a literal “worst-case scenario,” one that rendered all their previous threats moot.

“I think we all understand where we stand now,” Yeon Bi said, giving a satisfied nod. “As of this moment, your clans will withdraw from the North. No compensation. No conditions. No ‘reconciliation costs.'”

It was no longer a proposal.

It was a cold, hard notification.

“Or… you can keep dragging your feet until you’re crushed in the North, only to be crushed again by my eldest brother when he returns as the next Patriarch of the Luoyang Sword Clan.”

It was a demand they could not refuse, for with the Heavenly Wicked Hegemons looming, they had lost their only leverage.

As Yeon Bi stood up to leave, he paused as if a sudden thought had struck him.

“Oh, and regarding the Emei Sect… you don’t need to worry about them.”

The stunned representatives looked up at him. “What does that mean?”

Yeon Bi’s mouth curled into a grin that was a perfect mirror of his brother’s.

“The Emei Sect has already pledged their absolute loyalty to my eldest brother.”

Leaving them paralyzed in a state of pure, unadulterated shock, Yeon Bi offered a casual wave and strode out of the room.

“Have a lovely day, everyone!”

The door clicked shut, leaving behind a silence that felt like a tomb.