Chapter 25

“What are your orders, Grand Strategist?”

The question hung in the air, leaden and suffocating. The tactical reality was binary, yet devastating: if they joined forces with the collapsing Dread King and secured a victory, the Grand Young Master’s momentum would be snuffed out then and there, handing the ultimate triumph to the Third Young Master’s alliance. But the inverse was a precipice. Should they commit their main strength only to fall alongside the Dread King’s personal legion, the war would end in a total, irreversible victory for Yeon So-hyeon.

It was a choice of staggering weight, a decision that could rewrite the history of the Central Plains.

Grand Strategist Sima remained silent for a long while, his mind a whirlwind of variables. Finally, his parched lips moved. “I…”

He felt the collective weight of every eye in the camp shifting toward him. In a situation where any path led toward an unpredictable void, the same high-spirited young strategists who would normally offer a barrage of confident suggestions were now struck mute. They stood like statues, their gazes heavy with expectation as they stared at Sima, waiting for him to conjure a miracle.

“I…” Sima’s voice trailed off, his words losing their strength.

He looked past his own subordinates, his gaze searching for the other power players within the Third Young Master’s coalition. He first sought out Immortal Master Taecheong, the commander of the Wudang expeditionary force. Though the priest was a meddlesome, abrasive man who thrived on belittling others, his ancient wisdom and insight had occasionally produced strokes of brilliance that even Sima found formidable.

“What in the name of the heavens are you lot doing?!” Immortal Master Taecheong’s shrill voice cut through the air. Sima expected a lecture disguised as advice, but the priest was turned away, focusing entirely on his own disciples. “You first-generation disciples should be double-checking the combat readiness of your subordinates! Get moving!”

“O-Our apologies, Master!”

Immortal Master Taecheong remained engrossed in his inspection, never once letting his eyes wander toward Sima. “Don’t give me apologies! Give me results! I want a final status report immediately!”

Sima knew a master of the priest’s caliber couldn’t possibly have missed his scrutinizing gaze. Immortal Master Taecheong was intentionally avoiding eye contact, shielding himself behind a facade of busywork. Sima swallowed a weary sigh. Cunning old fox… he knows the responsibility of this decision is too heavy to share, so he refuses to even offer an opinion.

Sima then turned his gaze toward the Huashan Sect. Standing amidst the frantic preparations of his disciples was the Sword Monarch, the silent and stoic commander of the Huashan contingent. He stood with his arms crossed, a pillar of immovable steel. Sima held out a sliver of hope; though the Sword Monarch was a man of few words, he never shied away from saying what needed to be said.

But the Sword Monarch remained motionless, his eyes squeezed shut in deep concentration. He seemed entirely focused on honing his spirit for a potential rematch against the ‘Sword Pinnacle Crushes the Mountain,’ Yeom Gwak-chu. Even his disciples moved around him in hushed reverence, careful not to disturb his trance.

Sima’s eyes narrowed as he watched the Huashan master. Is he truly focusing on his vindication, or is he merely playing the role of a bear while hiding the heart of a fox? Is he, too, avoiding the burden of this choice?

His gaze drifted further, scanning the other faction leaders. Normally, these men would be swarming like a plague of locusts, buzzing incessantly to secure even a hair’s breadth of extra power or profit. Sima had lost count of the times he had wanted to personally silence their greedy tongues.

Yet now, they were avoiding him with an almost comical degree of coordination. They stood in distant clusters, pretending to engage in productive tactical discussions while carefully keeping their backs to the Grand Strategist.

“Perhaps we should expand the scouting perimeter further,” one murmured. “Agreed. Visuals beyond that ridge are poor; let’s confirm the terrain first…”

Sima might have laughed at the absurdity of it if the situation weren’t so dire. Behind them, the sun was sinking toward the western horizon, and the Dread King’s legion was being systematically ‘disassembled’—torn apart by the methodical, textbook precision of So-hyeon’s main host.

Sima closed his mouth. The silence of his allies was the loudest answer of all.

***

The Eastern Territories of the Empire.

Far from the frozen battlefields of the North, another leader was grappling with the exact same weight of decision.

“Sect Matriarch.”

The woman known as the Sect Matriarch Abbess Master of the Emei Sect turned. She was dressed in her traditional Buddhist robes, yet they were accented by a set of light travel armor and a pair of twin blades strapped to her waist—a jarring ensemble that signaled her readiness for war.

“Speak,” she commanded.

Before her stood a young nun, also fully armed, her face pale with the weight of her report. Sensing the gravity of the news, the Sect Matriarch Abbess Master gestured for her to approach. The young nun leaned in and whispered via mental transmission.

[(We have confirmed that the forces of Xi’an have marched north without authorization. they are launching indiscriminate attacks on the home territories of the Northern tribes.)]

[(Xi’an…?)] The Sect Matriarch Abbess Master blinked, stunned.

[(Furthermore,)] the nun continued, [(led by the Ugurai tribe, the majority of the reinforcement hosts have wheeled their horses around. They are retreating to save their homelands. The Dread King’s support is evaporating.)]

“What did you say?!”

The Sect Matriarch Abbess Master’s voice boomed, her shock breaking her composure. A ripple of unease spread through the Emei disciples gathered nearby.

“Is that truly the Sect Matriarch Abbess Master screaming…?”
“What could have happened?”

The Sect Matriarch Abbess Master ignored them, her mind racing. [(The information has been cross-checked through our merchant contacts in both Xi’an and Luoyang. It is reliable.)]

“Grrr…!” The Sect Matriarch Abbess Master ground her teeth so hard sparks nearly flew from her eyes. Why had they mobilized their elite forces and traveled all this way from their mountain home? “Even if we arrive on time, it means nothing if the Dread King’s support doesn’t materialize! A hammer is useless without an anvil!”

As the news trickled down through the ranks, the Emei disciples began to murmur in panic.

“The reinforcements aren’t coming?”
“What do we do now?”

“Sect Matriarch Abbess Master.”

A group of Emei Elders approached, their expressions grim and unreadable.

[(Given the current turn of events, it seems unlikely we will achieve our objectives by joining this fight.)]

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but the reality was undeniable.

[(There is a limit to how long we can deceive the eyes of the Sichuan Tang Clan. Had the plan succeeded and the New Martial Righteous Alliance triumphed, we could have crushed the Tangs and reclaimed Sichuan. But now…)]

The Elders turned their collective gaze toward the Sect Matriarch Abbess Master, their eyes filled with a cold, predatory pressure.

[(Sect Matriarch… perhaps it is best if we turn back now and act as if none of this ever happened.)]

[(Our sect merely expressed a general intent to join the New Martial Righteous Alliance. We never officially announced a military pact with the Dread King, did we?)]

[(If we claim the New Martial Righteous Alliance unilaterally forced us into a conflict we neither desired nor agreed to… it would give us sufficient justification to withdraw from the Alliance entirely.)]

The Sect Matriarch Abbess Master’s face contorted into a mask of pure vitriol. “Certainly, you could say that. But!” Her voice dripped with venom as she looked at the Elders. “If I follow your suggestion, I will become the laughingstock of the entire world. The world will curse the Emei Sect for abandoning an ally the moment things turned sour—and they will curse me for making that decision!”

The Elders remained silent, their eyes fixed on her.

“And I know exactly what you’ll do next,” she hissed. “Once I am a pariah, you will claim I am unfit for leadership and strip me of my title to save yourselves. Is that not your plan?!”

As she leveled her blue-tinged gaze at them, the Elders subtly avoided her eyes, one by one.

“Ahem…”
“Amitabha…”

They refused to answer, but their intent was laid bare. One Elder finally spoke, her voice calm and devoid of mercy. “If the Sect Matriarch were to step down of her own volition and we offered a sincere gesture of reconciliation, perhaps even the Sichuan Tang Clan would be willing to accept a compromise.”

“What…?!”

The others quickly added their voices to the chorus of betrayal.

“The thousand-year legacy of Emei cannot be allowed to crumble because of one person’s unilateral decision.”

“The name of Emei must be preserved at any cost, Sect Matriarch Abbess Master.”

“It is the duty of a leader to take responsibility for a failed path.”

“Nonsense!” the Sect Matriarch Abbess Master shrieked. “This wasn’t my decision alone! Every one of you stood in the hall and agreed to this! The minutes of the council prove it!”

Her voice echoed through the trees, but the Elders didn’t flinch.

“…Is that so?” one asked. “I seem to have a poor memory of such an agreement.”

“We should return home and scrutinize the records very carefully.”

“Indeed. One can only hope the minutes were properly preserved.”

As they closed in on her, their voices overlapping in a practiced, mocking drone, the Sect Matriarch Abbess Master backed away, her face turning a deathly white. “Y-You… how could you…?”

In that moment of ultimate betrayal, a memory surfaced in her mind—the image of the woman she herself had discarded only months ago. She remembered the Chief Administrator Reverend Abbess, the ‘Old Gu-Poison Demoness’.

She had stood in her high hall and pinned the blame for the disaster involving the Dasunrang and Yeon So-hyeon entirely on Chief Administrator Reverend Abbess. She remembered the letter she had personally written to the nun she was exiling.

[(I am sorry. This is all for the sake of the Emei Sect, the home you have spent your life building.)]

And now, those same words were being echoed back to her by the men and women she had called brothers and sisters.

“We are sorry.”
“…Amitabha.”

The Elders drew their swords.

“Sect Matriarch Abbess Master… understand that this is all for the sake of our Emei Sect.”

The sound of steel clearing the scabbards was the most cold-blooded, terrifying sound she had ever heard.