“Anyway, this is quite fascinating,” Tang Gwi-ho remarked, slowly strolling forward. His posture was utterly defenseless, practically inviting an attack, yet the Sect Matriarch Abbess Master could do nothing. She was already completely incapacitated.

“To think that the White-Haired Star of Emei, Old Gu-Poison Demoness, who has troubled our Tang Clan for so very long…”

Although Tang Gwi-ho himself was now the Deputy Head of the Sichuan Tang Clan, and the White-Haired Star of Emei, Old Gu-Poison Demoness was merely the Sect Matriarch Abbess Master of Emei, she had been infamous since before he was even born. Across the vast land of Sichuan, over such a long span of time, few could match her skill in weaving wicked schemes. Her political acumen rivaled that of the highest ministers in the Imperial Capital, and incredibly, her martial prowess had even surpassed the wall.

“And yet, for such a figure to be captured so easily.” He raised a hand clad in the Expansive Luminous Green Hide glove and playfully tapped the wrinkled forehead of the kneeling Sect Matriarch Abbess Master. “Twice, no less.”

The battle—if one could even call it that—had been brief. Victory in combat often hinged on preparation, and few families under heaven could prepare for battle as deeply and thoroughly as the Sichuan Tang Clan.

“…K-Kill me.” The words escaped the Sect Matriarch Abbess Master, one arm severed, one eye melted away. Normally, such defiance would have filled Tang Gwi-ho with a rich sense of satisfaction, but…

“Regrettably,” Tang Gwi-ho remained unexcited, “the decision of whether you live or die is not within my authority.” After all, the one who had truly captured the White-Haired Star of Emei, Old Gu-Poison Demoness twice was not him, but the Grand Young Master, Yeon So-hyeon.

Could even the Buddha’s palm hold such inescapable reach? Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon had cast a vast net, securing victory even before she arrived. Caught once, she had, even when able to escape, walked right back into his trap.

“…You bastard! You will regret letting me live!”

Though her words dripped with a chillingly profound resentment, Tang Gwi-ho merely snorted dismissively. His Shadow Corps paid her no mind either. There was no need to worry about a woman whose Danjeon was melting away from the inside.

“Commander. Loading of the nuns is complete.”

The Buddhist nuns were bound together and loaded unceremoniously into metal prison carts.

“Any dead?”

“None.”

They were valuable assets. At the very least, they needed to remain breathing until they could testify regarding the attempted assassination of Dasunrang, face investigation, and be formally executed.

“Transport them along the pre-designated route. People should already be on their way from Sichuan; you should be able to meet them midway.”

“And this one…?” A Shadow Corps member’s gaze fell upon the Sect Matriarch Abbess Master.

“Don’t worry about her.” A sly, almost sweet smile touched Tang Gwi-ho’s lips. “The Grand Young Master personally requested her of me, so I shall deliver her to him myself.”

The Shadow Corps bound the Sect Matriarch Abbess Master and gagged her with a specially designed muzzle.

“Graaaaaaah—!”

“There, there, don’t be too frightened.” Tang Gwi-ho offered a mischievous grin to the Sect Matriarch Abbess Master, who thrashed and howled like a beast. “Surely you don’t think the Grand Young Master plans to eat you, do you?”

It was merely a mocking jest from Tang Gwi-ho, who knew nothing of the Venerable One of Dark Heavens’s true nature. Yet, sometimes, the truth was closer to a joke than one might expect.

***

Clear skies stretched overhead, pristine and cloudless. Yet the cityscape near the Valley of Sins was a disaster.

Dark smoke drifted upwards here and there from lingering fires. Shattered storefronts and debris-strewn streets made it hard to believe this was Moon Palace, Luoyang’s famously prosperous district. Though the corpses had been hastily cleared, dark red bloodstains still marked the paving stones, stark evidence of the previous night’s harrowing events.

The consequences of nearly the entire Luoyang underworld mobilizing were devastating—looting, arson, murder. The damage to this district was immense, almost impossible to fully catalogue.

“There they come!” shouted a shop clerk who had been intermittently peering outside. The shop owner, who had been cleaning the wreckage alongside his staff, immediately threw down his broom.

“Let’s go see!”

Ureureu. Owner and clerks rushed down the stairs together in a clatter. The shop’s doors had long since been smashed to pieces, making the usual act of locking up completely unnecessary.

“I see them!”

“They’re coming this way!”

The streets were already packed tight with residents, creating a bustling, chaotic crowd. Most were distressed or saddened, their livelihoods shattered, their goods looted and carried away. Yet, strangely, traces of utter despair were hard to find etched upon their faces.

“Make way!”

A Luoyang Sword Clan warrior, mounted proudly on a warhorse at the very head of the procession, bellowed out the command. “Transporting prisoners!”

Instantly, a commotion rippled through the gathered throng.

“Don’t push! Stop pushing!” Some shoved desperately forward, eager for a better view. “Ah, damn it! Can’t see a thing from here!” Others were pushed back by the warriors maintaining order along the route.

But as the prisoners actually came into view, a hush fell over everyone, collective breaths held in suspense. Stripped of their fine silk robes and clad instead in worn, plain white garments, a line of figures shuffled forward, bound together rope by rope, their bare feet padding silently on the rough street. Their faces, aged seemingly ten years overnight, were bowed low in shame. Yet…

“That man…?”

“Isn’t that Elder Song, surely?”

Murmurs began to spread through the crowd. These were famous, well-known Elders of the Luoyang Sword Clan, instantly recognizable to many residents of Luoyang.

“Elder Hahu is over there too.”

These were the Elders from the Second Young Master’s faction who had carried out operations during the previous night. Captured by the War Department warriors down at the Third Dock, they were now being escorted back towards the main clan estate.

Among them, some ground their teeth, their faces flushed crimson with shame as their names were called out by the onlookers.

“This is slander! False accusation! I was merely out in the city attending to external business! That is all!” one still shouted shamelessly, clinging desperately to futile, unbelievable lies.

Others, like the stoic, one-eyed Elder Hahu, simply walked onward with quiet resignation, their expressions unreadable.

“Are those…?”

“Are those really the ones? The masterminds who controlled the underworld and caused all this chaos?”

Though they whispered amongst themselves, no one in the crowd dared to shout directly at the prisoners, not yet. Even bound and barefoot, walking the street like common criminals, they were still Sword Clan Elders. An immense, almost unimaginable chasm of status and power separated them from the common folk gathered here. The deep-rooted, immensely powerful Luoyang underworld routinely extorted vast sums in protection money from the merchants of the prosperous districts, and everyone knew that money flowed steadily upwards to their masters—the Second Young Master’s faction. Thus, in the eyes of the common people, these Elders had always seemed like untouchable beings, existing in a Heaven beyond the Heavens.

But then—

“You fucking bastards…!” Someone hurled a small stone along with the curse, the projectile flying towards the procession. The small stone missed wildly, clattering harmlessly on the ground, but the act itself was enough. It broke the spell.

“Elders of the Sword Clan…!” Another stone flew through the air, this one grazing an Elder’s shoulder.

“And you still dare call yourselves Elders of the Luoyang Sword Clan, the greatest family under heaven?! After doing this?!”

It didn’t take long for one stone thrower to become two, then three. The fear was cracking.

“Damn you all!”

Three quickly became ten, and ten rapidly multiplied into dozens.

“Rot in hell!”

The streets, ravaged by the night’s chaos, were strewn with broken paving stones, perfect as ammunition. When the crowd ignited with fury, men and women, young and old alike, launched a sudden, furious barrage of stones at the Elders.

Ppaak! A stone struck an Elder squarely on the head, splitting the skin. Blood flowed freely down his face, but Elder Hahu simply closed his eye and endured it, continuing to walk.

“Keok…!” But not everyone possessed Elder Hahu’s formidable internal energy or the superhuman resilience it granted.

Ppaak—!

“Hiik…!” An elderly Elder cried out, a sound like air escaping a punctured bladder, and collapsed onto the street as a forcefully thrown stone slammed into his shoulder.

“…Tch.” With visibly reluctant expressions, the escorting warriors stepped in, deflecting the more dangerous projectiles flying through the air. No matter how heinous their crimes, the prisoners couldn’t be allowed to be stoned to death in the street before facing proper judgment at the main estate.

“Why are you protecting them?!” The pent-up fury of the victims, who had been forced into terrified silence by their own powerlessness, finally began to erupt. This fury stemmed from the damage they had suffered and the terror they had endured without recourse.

“Are you all in league with them too?! Is that it?!”

“Birds of a feather, is that it?! Sword Clan protects Sword Clan, no matter what?!”

“If that’s the case, then you should have taken them away quietly, out of our sight!”

“Are you mocking us?! Do you think you can parade them here because we’re just powerless common folk?!”

A crowd is slow to ignite, but once lit, the flames spread with uncontrollable speed and ferocity.

“Maintain alert!” The War Department warriors hissed through clenched teeth, their hands tightening on their sword hilts, sensing the escalating danger.

“Listen, people of Luoyang.”

But the feared confrontation, the clash between the guards and the enraged populace, never happened. A deep, resonant voice cut through the rising clamor, seeming to echo directly within everyone’s mind, and the crowd’s furious actions momentarily froze in place.

“We of the Luoyang Sword Clan are neither protecting these criminals nor are we mocking you.”

“These sinners must, and will, pay the price for their actions, strictly according to the sacred laws and statutes of the main clan.”

A massive, middle-aged man approached slowly from the rear of the procession, instantly recognizable by the enormous greatsword strapped across his back.

“Pinnacle Sword Crushes Mountains!”

“It’s the Sword Clan’s Elder Yeom…!”

The crowd instantly recognized the victorious general who had personally quelled the chaos during the previous night. Elder Yeom raised a hand still crusted with the dried blood of his enemies and continued speaking to the hushed onlookers.

“As you may have heard just moments ago through the announcements, the main clan’s Grand Young Master and the Supreme Operations Council deeply feel the weight of responsibility for what has occurred, and have solemnly promised unstinting compensation and support to all affected!”

Indeed, the Grand Young Master, Yeon So-hyeon, and the Supreme Operations Council had moved with remarkable swiftness. Almost before the fighting had completely ended, they had dispatched envoys throughout the city and posted official notices, publicly acknowledging the family’s responsibility and promising full restitution. That swift action was precisely why the faces in the crowd, though somber and marked by loss, were not filled with the emptiness of utter despair.

“Undoubtedly, some among you have lost loved ones in this tragedy. I know, we know, that such profound loss cannot possibly be healed by mere monetary compensation.”

Seeing the crowd members slowly, one by one, letting the stones drop from their now-loosened hands, Elder Yeom respectfully clasped his own hands together in a formal gesture of apology. “For this, I offer you my deepest condolences and profound regret.”

His response was remarkably effective, completely defusing a situation that had been on the absolute verge of exploding just moments before, making the previous tension feel almost unreal.

“Please, I will not ask you to trust the entire main clan blindly. Not everything will change overnight, that much is certain. However,” he said, unclenching his hands, his voice carrying both humility and firm conviction, “within the main clan now, there is indeed someone you can trust.”

Elder Yeom met the eyes of the crowd directly, looking from face to face. “Is that not so?”

At his pointed question, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift occurred in the expressions of the crowd members. Then, someone in the back raised a hand high – not holding a broken stone, but a tightly clenched fist. Someone shouted out, their voice loud and clear, ringing through the momentarily quiet street.

“The Sword Clan has Grand Young Master!”

That single cry sparked a sudden, collective realization throughout the crowd. They understood, truly understood, that in this street, in this prosperous district, there was no longer any place left for the Second Young Master’s faction, which had ruled for so long through the shadows of the underworld. Though darkness might perhaps always exist wherever people gather and live, at least the organizations that wielded unchecked, absolute power with brutal impunity would finally be gone.

“Grand Young Master, Ten Thousand Years!”

It was impossible to tell who shouted it first this time.

“Ten Thousand Years!”

“Ten Thousand Years!”

The cries of “Ten Thousand Years!” spread like wildfire, echoing from street to street, bouncing off the walls of the buildings.

Somehow, observing this outpouring, the heads of the Second Young Master’s captured Elders bowed even lower than when the stones had rained down upon them mere moments before.