“The Quanzhen heritage is guarding his upper danjeon; he won’t succumb to the whispers of the Demonic Cult.”
“I see.”
That was the end of it. Grand Strategist Sima fell into a heavy silence following former Alliance Leader Wang Cheol-jin’s assurance. Whether he accepted the statement or remained skeptical was unclear, but Wang Cheol-jin suspected there was a deeper reason behind the strategist’s sudden quietude.
“Well… no matter how much I ramble.” Wang Cheol-jin offered a bitter smile, shedding his persona as the former Alliance Leader for a brief moment of candor. “I suppose the Demonic Cult is no longer your highest priority, is it, Sima?”
“…It is not,” Sima admitted.
Wang Cheol-jin was the successor of the Quanzhen Sect, a lineage dedicated solely to the extermination of anomalies and supernatural threats, while Sima was a man who dreamed of forging a new Martial Righteous Alliance from the ashes of the old. Their fundamental priorities were destined to diverge.
“Sima, you…” Wang Cheol-jin trailed off, stepping toward the window where the Grand Strategist stood watching the world burn.
(Aaaaaagh! Gah, hack! Kill them! Don’t back down! Show these Sword Clan bastards the pride of the Nine Sects! The Sword is the warrior, and the warrior is the Sword! Show these obsolete fools the true meaning of a warrior!)
(Now is the time! Support the Third Young Master! Warriors of the Great Plains, do not retreat!)
Beyond the duels of the masters, clashes of pride and life, the battlefield was a cacophony of screams, death, and desperate bids for glory.
“Does that sight truly stir nothing within you anymore? Even at your age?” Wang Cheol-jin asked.
Sima’s response was delayed, not out of a change of heart, but because he was carefully choosing his words out of respect for his former liege. “…Why should my eyes see anything differently? The world remains as it has always been. Humans continue to slaughter one another, stepping over corpses to survive and rule. Nothing has changed.”
In Wang Cheol-jin’s eyes, the man standing before him was identical to the ambitious young strategist who had served the Martial Righteous Alliance in its heyday. “Back then, I fought enemies under the banner of the Demonic Cult. Now, I simply fight a different foe.”
“Is that so?” Wang Cheol-jin let out a profound sigh.
This was the divide.
Wang Cheol-jin had let go of everything after the Alliance collapsed, while Sima had cast his lot with the Namgung Clan and the Third Young Master. It was the reason the legendary bond between the leader and his strategist, the partnership that had defined the Alliance’s golden age, had failed to endure.
“The current Demonic Cult,” Wang Cheol-jin started again, his voice heavy with sincerity, “is not what it used to be. You know this, Sima. They are dangerous. Far more dangerous than anything we faced in the past.”
“Is that so?” Sima parried the attempt at persuasion with a question of his own. “Are they more dangerous than the Heavenly Wicked Hegemons of the South?”
“That—”
Sima didn’t let him answer. “Are they more dangerous than the Sixteen Imperial Families who manipulate the throne and effectively rule the Central Plains? Or the foreign powers currently eyeing our borders like hungry wolves?”
He turned to face Wang Cheol-jin directly.
“Even if the Demonic Cult has become a threat, can they truly be compared to the lawless tyrants who already rule this world with absolute power?”
Wang Cheol-jin found himself speechless. As far as he knew, the Cult had not yet made its move; its danger was based entirely on his own specialized intuition and heritage.
“Because they move beneath the surface,” Wang Cheol-jin argued, shaking his head, “you cannot trust only what you see. Therefore—”
“—Therefore, did I not provide you with my assistance and develop countermeasures?” Sima gestured toward the cliff where the Third Young Master was fighting. “I am still cooperating with you, even now.”
Wang Cheol-jin’s eyes twitched. Sima had stopped calling him “Alliance Leader,” opting instead for the blunt, impersonal “you.”
“You are simply overreacting to the Cult because of your Quanzhen background,” Sima stated flatly.
“Sima! You—!”
The strategist stood up, cutting him off with finality. “Let us end this here.”
It wasn’t a gesture of disrespect, but a necessity. Outside the armored carriage, the senior strategists of the Military Strategy Bureau had gathered, waiting for their commander.
“…Grand Strategist, your orders.”
“We have prepared a new carriage for your safety, sir.”
To Wang Cheol-jin, only the battle atop the cliff mattered. To Sima, there was an entire war to manage.
“I’ve kept a busy man for too long. My apologies,” Wang Cheol-jin muttered.
“Not at all.” Sima moved toward the opening in the carriage, then paused, his hand gripping the frame. “…Leader.” He turned his head slightly, his eyes reflecting the bloody crimson of the setting sun. “Our methods and directions may differ, but make no mistake: I am far more concerned about the Demonic Cult than you believe.”
Wang Cheol-jin studied those eyes for a long moment before nodding. “…I understand.”
“And one last thing,” Sima added as he stepped down to join his subordinates. “Be wary of Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon.”
“What…? What do you mean by that?”
Instead of answering, Sima left a stack of documents on the floor of the carriage. “The records will speak for themselves.”
[As of this moment,] Sima’s voice echoed in Wang Cheol-jin’s mind via sound transmission, [the person most likely to be a member of the Demonic Cult is Yeon So-hyeon.]
“…”
Wang Cheol-jin reached out to question him, but Sima was already moving away with his retinue.
The Grand Young Master is a Cultist?
He picked up the documents and began to scan them. As the pages, stained red by the sunset, flipped by, his expression hardened into a mask of grim concern. The files contained a comprehensive investigation of every incident suspected of being the Cult’s handiwork.
…The incident in the Luoyang underworld earlier this year. The bizarre, twisted events at the construction site for the Dragon and Phoenix Assembly. The clash at Valley of Sins between the Second and Grand Young Master…
The list went on, and one name appeared in every report with unsettling frequency.
…Yeon So-hyeon.
Sima had even included recent records: the incident involving the Mount Hua Sword Dragon‘s party and the reports of the Grand Young Master moving vast distances in impossible amounts of time.
Is it possible? Wang Cheol-jin looked toward the cliff.
The “Swordless One.” That was the mocking title given to the Grand Young Master because he lacked martial arts, yet he had recently been showcasing a series of bizarre, overwhelming techniques that defied all common logic.
It is almost like… Wang Cheol-jin thought, his heart sinking. It is like the modern Cultists who derive power from inexplicable rituals and sorcery to transcend human limits.
He couldn’t rely on records alone. He had to see the truth for himself, and with a sudden burst of movement, Wang Cheol-jin vanished from the carriage, leaving it abandoned and hollow in the twilight.
***
“So, Grand Young Master… if what you say is true…”
Mount Hua Sword Dragon Gam Woo-hyeon shook his head in disbelief. “You’re saying the Seamless Heavenly Robe will defeat the Third Young Master?”
It seemed impossible.
He hadn’t fought Yeon Jeok-gwang in his current state, but he had heard that roar and felt the vibrations shaking the very foundation of the cliff. He had seen the man catch up to his own peak-level Scent of Dark Fragrance Drifting by simply running. The gap in power was so blatant it felt like they were no longer playing by the same rules.
“You goddamn bitch…!”
Rumble!
Yeon Jeok-gwang raised his hand, and with a low peal of thunder, a staggering amount of internal energy converged in his palm, an unprecedented, terrifying force. He stood in the empty air, looking down at the cliff’s edge as his robes whipped in the fierce wind.
“How dare you stand in my way?!”
He didn’t need delicate control or exquisite technique. Jeok-gwang was beginning to understand the nature of the power surging through him.
This is absolute power. This is the strength that overwhelms everything!
It felt as though he had become a divine general from ancient myth.
“DIE!”
With a command that mirrored the roar of thunder, he drove his palm toward the cliff’s edge, the massive force taking the shape of a colossal hand.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Jeok-gwang cackled as the very rock crumbled and collapsed under his strike, the precipice crumbling as if a massive dragon had slammed into it. “Hahahaha!”
He laughed with pure, unadulterated satisfaction. He thought of his father’s legendary Life-Severing technique and the attention his brother So-hyeon had garnered for reproducing it, but none of that mattered now.
“This is it! This is the true power that transcends Life-Severing!”
He peered into the roiling clouds of dust, searching for his sister’s broken body. “Don’t hide, Yeon So-hyeon! Come out!” His eyes flashed with lightning, and his voice carried the weight of the storm. “Your reign ends today—!”
Before he could finish his boast, his instincts screamed.
“…”
Jeok-gwang twisted his body in mid-air.
Screeeech!
The sound of a sword weeping, high and sharp enough to grate on his eardrums, brushed past his ear.
I dodged it…!
He didn’t know what it was, but he had moved in time. Or so he thought.
Splurt!
His shoulder split open, and a spray of crimson blood painted the air.
“Gah…?!”
I clearly dodged it! Losing control of his momentum, the Third Young Master began to plummet toward the ground. Behind him, the massive cloud of dust that had been billowing into the sky was suddenly, miraculously cleaved in two.
As he fell, Jeok-gwang saw Yeon Seo-rin standing on the edge of the cliff, looking entirely unperturbed.
“…”
“Huu…”
Seo-rin slowly exhaled as her spirit calmed, sheathing her blade in a reverse grip with movements deliberate enough to suppress the lingering vibration of the steel.
“I’ve got the hang of it now.”
She didn’t explain what she meant, but she was holding her sword in her left hand, an unusual choice for her.
“Did you see that, you insolent brat?” She offered a thin, prideful smile that radiated a deep sense of self-assurance. “This is true skill. This is what real martial arts look like.”
It was the Flash Shadow Instant, the ultimate counter-technique created by Yeon So-hyeon, and she had executed the left-handed, reverse-grip strike with flawless precision.
Thump!
Jeok-gwang slammed into the rock face he had just demolished and coughed up blood from the impact, but he scrambled to his feet, his movements spasmodic. “You think you can beat me with a cheap trick like—”
WHAM!
Seo-rin’s heavy fist slammed into his face, silencing his nonsense in a spray of blood.