Far away, deep within the headquarters of the Unorthodox Alliance, the report arrived.

The Technique Emperor, supreme leader of the Alliance, waved a dismissive hand at his advisor. “Strategist.”

“Yes, Alliance Leader?”

“I’m too old to be squinting at ink and paper. My bones ache whenever the rain comes; my eyes aren’t what they used to be. Just read it to me.”

Despite possessing skin tighter and more luminous than a youth in his prime, the Technique Emperor complained of old age and infirmity with the enthusiasm of a hypochondriac grandfather.

Standing before him was the Chief Strategist, Shanshan of the Northern Palace, known ominously as the ‘Evil Brain.’ True to her moniker, she was a woman capable of devising the most wicked and bizarre stratagems the Gangho had ever seen. Yet, in this strictly Confucian world, she knew her place was to defer to her elders—especially when that elder signed her paycheck every month.

“As you wish,” she said, suppressing a sigh.

“So,” the Technique Emperor muttered, rubbing a nonexistent ache in his shoulder. “According to you, those hypocritical Orthodox bastards are holding hands with our wayward water bandit children to hit the Gongsun Clan?”

“That is correct. If the four Waterway Strongholds are wiped out, I fear the influence of the Unorthodox Factions in Shandong Province will disappear entirely.”

“And the bait for this trap is suspected to be a swordswoman from the Putuo Sect?”

“Yes.”

The Technique Emperor leaned back, his expression turning sour. “So, there’s nothing for us to do. We stay out of it.”

Shanshan blinked. “You aren’t going to help?”

“Don’t you young folks know how nasty the temper of those Putuo Sect nuns is? Back in my day, every time that beast of a Sword Queen whispered ‘Amitabha,’ someone’s head got split in half like a ripe melon. Mercy, my ass.”

“However, that is only the legend of the Sword Queen herself…”

“Watch your mouth. We still don’t know who the Sword Emperor is.”

The duel between the Sword King and the Sword Queen was a matter of legend, yet strangely, both masters had taken the secret of the outcome to their graves.

The Technique Emperor shivered, a genuine tremor running through his frame as an old nightmare resurfaced. “Anyway, a kid who learned under her would also chant ‘Amitabha’ before killing, wouldn’t she? Plus, those island women are strangely affectionate. They stick together like glue. If one sister dies, three more will chase you to the ends of the earth for revenge. Do you want to get ‘Amitabha’-ed by a triad of angry nuns?”

“So we really just leave them be?”

“Have water bandits ever gone extinct in the Gangho? Leave them alone, and new strongholds will pop up like mushrooms after rain. Tell them to take care of their own lives. If they win, good for them. If not, it’s fate.”

Neither faction had the slightest clue about the White Qilin Medical Pavilion’s involvement. After all, no one in their wildest dreams could have imagined that Gongsun Hyeon would go so far as to dress the Little White Dragon in women’s clothing and sit him in the center of the trap.

***

The merchant ship cut a smooth path down the Yellow River, the water parting silently beneath its hull. Standing at the bow, Gongsun Yeong outlined their itinerary with practiced calm.

“It’s nothing special. We’ll follow the current to the edge of Shandong Province and then turn back. If there are any cities worth visiting along the way, we can stop for sightseeing to maintain the charade.”

Thrum.

Jin Cheon-hee offered a silent nod, his fingers brushing the zither strings to produce a resonant, melancholy note.

“I see,” he projected his voice directly into her mind using telepathy. “Do you expect them to attack on the water, or in a city?”

Gongsun Yeong countered with a mental question of her own. “You believe they will attack, don’t you?”

“It isn’t a matter of belief. It is a certainty. But you hope they won’t.”

Jin Cheon-hee plucked another string. Whatever happened, he simply hoped the Orthodox Faction would uphold its principles. There were lines one did not cross. River pirates were scum who attacked civilians and kidnapped children to sell into slavery. In this era, children were a high-value commodity. Although the Empire had officially banned slavery, law enforcement was infinitely weaker than the steel at a warrior’s hip. One didn’t even need to cross a border; sell a child to a remote island, and they were lost to the world forever.

That was the nature of the Unorthodox Faction—turning blood into gold.

Twang.

He fell into deep thought as the melody drifted over the water.

I have connections with both the Shandong Yue Clan and the Hwangbo Clan.

He was connected to the Shandong Yue Clan through the Spear King, Ak Jin, and he had eaten from the same pot as the Hwangbo Clan during their journey to the Martial Righteous Alliance. He wasn’t afraid of making enemies, but he feared creating a grudge where friendship had once been.

Even though they are the ones in the wrong, why is it that the grudge persists?

The exorbitant price Gongsun Hyeon had paid the White Qilin Medical Pavilion included the cost of bearing that very grudge.

“I hope there is no one I know among them,” Jin Cheon-hee thought, his telepathic voice heavy.

“Are you worried the Hwangbo siblings will show up in masks?” Gongsun Yeong asked.

“It isn’t impossible.”

“No, it isn’t. And I know you don’t treat your enemies, but if they are among the attackers… will you still let them die?”

Thrum.

“…”

Jin Cheon-hee did not answer. He merely plucked the strings, letting the music fill the silence. There was a time when he enjoyed reading stories about this part of the Gangho—the clear line between Orthodox and Unorthodox, yet the messy, ambiguous mire of personal grudges. He used to find it fascinating.

Now, he realized he might soon be staring at the corpse of a friend sinking into that very mire.

Earlier, when he had asked Wang Gak-yeon about this possibility, she had paused in her maintenance of her bow, her eyes cold.

“Hey. I’m not going to hold back. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. I know you won’t show mercy.”

“That’s right. Orthodox practitioners who work with river pirates are not worthy of living.”

That was Wang Gak-yeon’s code of chivalry. She did not hesitate in the face of future vendettas, nor was she bound by sentiment. She would simply pierce the enemy’s heart with a mind as clear as a mirror.

As the bait, the preparations were flawless.

Wang Gak-yeon was a Supreme Master, Gongsun Yeong was a Transformation Realm master, and of the ten close-protection guards, five were Supreme Masters while the remaining five were Peak Masters. It was a gathering of the elite. Furthermore, three of the Supreme Masters hailed from the Gongsun Clan, while the other two were Head Escorts from the Cloud-Dragon Escort Agency.

The Cloud-Dragon Escort Agency possessed four Head Escorts, the core executives and strongest fighters of the organization. Though the Agency Head was bedridden with illness, these men would never abandon the agency. The bond forged between escorts on the long road was stronger than the camaraderie of soldiers, and given the Agency Head’s virtue, their loyalty was absolute.

Gongsun Hyeon had utilized these men without a moment’s hesitation. There were still escorts who cursed the Black Ice Poison Dragon, but she was not a woman who cared for popularity.

Jin Cheon-hee found that aspect of her terrifying. To her, reputation was just another resource. The actual goodwill would naturally flow toward the charismatic Gongsun Yeong, allowing Hyeon to embrace the role of the ruthless shadow.

***

Midnight descended on the river. On the deck, only the sound of rushing water and the zither echoed in the darkness.

Wang Gak-yeon asked if it was safe to speak, and a disguised dog gave a low bark, signaling the coast was clear. There were no eavesdroppers, and their voices would be buried by the melody of the zither. Still, she whispered, her voice audible only to the three of them.

“What are you going to do, Gongsun Yeong-eonni?”

“Hmm…”

Gongsun Yeong seemed lost in the music. If the Shandong Yue and Hwangbo Clans truly got involved, there would be no turning back.

“Well… I don’t want to see the corpses of people I know either. But they are coming to kill me, so I don’t really have a choice, do I? If my eonni tells me to go, I go. I am her sword, after all.”

“Is that all?” Wang Gak-yeon pressed. “You have no thoughts of your own?”

“Pretty much. I try not to think too deeply. I am my sister’s limbs; that is why I learned martial arts. The blood she would have to see, I see instead. The grudges she would have to bear, I bear instead. That is all there is to it.”

“And if you die?”

“My eonni will cry a lot, I guess. Who knows? The Central Plains might go up in flames.”

Oh, that’s surprisingly accurate, Jin Cheon-hee thought.

Gongsun Yeong added softly, “She may not look it, but my sister is a person who gets very lonely. She wouldn’t be able to bear it if I died. So… to bear her blood debts and to protect my own life, I have to take the head of every enemy I see. That’s all. The end.”

“Simple enough.”

“What, were you expecting me to wax poetic about a path of chivalry like you?”

Wang Gak-yeon frowned. “It doesn’t have to be that dramatic, but… Ah, I don’t know. For my part, if I see any sign that an Orthodox practitioner has colluded with river pirates, then they are no longer Orthodox. They are worse than beasts, and I will shoot them down!”

So, both Gongsun Yeong and Wang Gak-yeon had made up their minds.

Now, the only one left was him.

The two women turned their gazes toward him. He knew what the look meant; they were asking which path he would choose.

He smirked.

Whether he wanted it or not, humans were just humans. Whether they colluded with pirates or upheld justice was a matter of their own conscience. There was nothing he could do to change their nature. That was the Gangho. And that was the nature of a grudge.

Thrum.

“I’m going to be a little selfish.”

“Hmm?”

“I am a foreign princess, after all. A princess is allowed to be a little selfish.”

Just as Wang Gak-yeon and Gongsun Yeong were dressed as men, he was still dressed as a woman. The river pirates had sharp eyes; if they were going to deceive them, the deception had to be absolute.

“I may be a swordswoman from the Putuo Sect, but I could also be an assassin from the mysterious Black Sword Sect.”

“You could also be a princess?”

“Yes. I could also be a princess. In any case, I will not be the Little White Dragon of the White Qilin Medical Pavilion.”

“You mean you’ll fight without using the Profound Primordial Complete Foundation Divine Art?” Gongsun Yeong asked, her eyes narrowing.

The blue eyes were the signature of the Zhuge Clan’s techniques.

To that question, he answered without blinking. “It’s fine. I’m a princess. Even if I smash a few heads with a stone pipa, it’s fine because I’m a princess.”

At his calm, nonsensical reply, Gongsun Yeong couldn’t help but let her true thoughts slip.

“You’re insane…”

In his madness, Jin Cheon-hee had declared his intention to smash his enemies while roleplaying royalty.

Wang Gak-yeon found it hilarious and burst out laughing. “Hahaha! I like it. Princess Jin.”

Woof!

“Hwanggu likes it too.”

Hwanggu had used the Tendon Contraction Art to alter his very bone structure, growing out his fur to resemble a strange foreign sheep. Jin Cheon-hee had affectionately dubbed him an ‘Alpaca.’ Even so, a barking sheep would blow their cover, so the dog was under strict orders not to leave the ship. The same applied to Noe-jin, who had transformed his body to its limits to resemble a seagull. In that state, flying was possible, but combat was difficult, so the lightning spirit rested atop the disguised dog. His master had given no orders for reconnaissance.

“We’re moving the ship at night, but we haven’t hit any reefs,” Jin Cheon-hee observed.

“The captain is very experienced. He has sailed the Yellow River at night many times.”

“Oh… that’s not easy for a merchant captain.”

“He used to be a river pirate.”

Jin Cheon-hee’s eyes widened slightly, then he nodded. “He’s from the Cloud-Dragon Escort Agency, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. The Cloud-Dragon Escort Agency operates on virtue. They say he was moved by the Agency Head’s character and washed his hands of his past.”

Jin Cheon-hee nodded and returned his attention to the strings.

The jet-black stone pipa had been painted with a white glaze and affixed with wood, leaving no trace of its original appearance. The same was true of the Seven Silver Zither borrowed from Sama Hyeon. The warriors of the Gongsun Clan were famous for their discretion, and there was no overlap between the warriors who had transported the instruments and the team on this mission. Seeing them go to such lengths, it was clear that Gongsun Hyeon was truly thorough.

The Blue-Eyed Mad Physician was known to the world as a master of the Ice Clarity Sword and his fists. And though it was rare, there had always been masters in the vast Gangho who used a pipa as a weapon—assassins disguised as musicians were a classic trope. The fact that Jin Cheon-hee could wield one like a blunt instrument had stunned everyone, but it served a purpose.

That was why a stone pipa like this had been specially commissioned.

Where there was demand, there was supply. To put it bluntly, unless Jin Cheon-hee unleashed the visible aura of the Profound Primordial Complete Foundation Divine Art or the Supreme Unity Immortal Severing Sword, there was no way for the enemy to pinpoint his identity.