Outside the main gates of Wongakjeong, the world still suffocated under the sticky, lingering heat of summer, a climate that drew sweat from every pore. Yet, the very instant they passed within and set foot upon the forest path, a wave of impossibly cool air, almost chilling in its purity, swept over them, banishing every trace of perspiration.

“…Hooo.”

“…Heum.”

It was a scene that drew unconscious murmurs of admiration from them all, whether they were the hardened veteran generals of the War Department or the single-minded warriors of the Sword Forest who knew nothing but their blades. Before them stood a dense forest of colossal trees, so ancient that no mortal could dare to count their age.

…So, this is the famed Wongakjeong.

High above, framed by the canopy of the impossibly lush forest, the grand Milky Way glittered with such an innumerable, brilliant cascade of stars that it seemed a living entity—as if it might unleash a dragon’s roar at any moment and flood the world below with a deluge of starlight.

This was, in every sense of the word, a hidden wonder. It was a paradise of the immortals.

And to witness the man walking beneath it all—Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon, strolling leisurely ahead with his hands clasped behind his back—was to feel as if one were daring to glimpse a being who had transcended the mundane, a creature belonging to the immortal realm itself. The sight instilled a strange, imposing dignity that unconsciously humbled even these battle-hardened warriors, men forged in the fires of countless battlefields.

It was into this atmosphere that one warrior, a man known for his rebellious spirit, spoke up.

“…Ahem.”

Geom Gwi-hon, the Second Seat of the Sword Forest, cleared his throat and began, “Grand Young Master. The reason this Geom Gwi-hon has come all the way to Wongakjeong is—”

But the words he was struggling to voice, even as all eyes turned to him, were severed mid-sentence.

“Second Seat of the Sword Forest.”

Yeon So-hyeon had cut him off.

“You have devoted your entire life to the study and pursuit of high-level martial arts,” Yeon So-hyeon stated.

“…That is correct, but what does that—”

“And precisely because of that,” Yeon So-hyeon continued, cutting him off once again, as if to signal he had not yet given the man permission to speak. The act was so clearly intentional that even those who had been lost in appreciation of Wongakjeong’s scenery snapped to attention, a strange tension filling the air as all eyes focused on the two men.

“You must be quite displeased with the War Department,” Yeon So-hyeon said, shrugging as he glanced back. “They don’t purely revere the Martial, but instead dip their feet into the filthy mire of political power. That same War Department, which practically sweeps up every talented individual year after year…” The veteran generals of the War Department flinched as Yeon So-hyeon’s chillingly transparent gaze fell upon them. “…is now so lost in its own immortal’s game that it doesn’t notice the axe handle rotting, all because it’s obsessed with playing politics to get back into the Council of Elders.”

Considering how he’d been cut off, Geom Gwi-hon was surprised. The Grand Young Master’s words seemed to perfectly capture the position of the Sword Forest, and the Second Seat’s expression brightened noticeably.

“Ahem.”

“Keum.”

The veteran generals of the War Department, meanwhile, flushed red, turning their gaze away and letting out embarrassed coughs.

“That’s exactly right, Grand Young Master!” the one-eyed old master exclaimed, suddenly triumphant. “That is precisely this Second Seat’s argument! It is also the very reason why the Sword Forest denounces the War Department and insists on absorbing it!”

“However,” Yeon So-hyeon’s words, it seemed, were not yet finished. “How can warriors who understand nothing but small-scale skirmishes possibly possess the ability to take responsibility for an entire war?”

“No, Grand Young Master!” Geom Gwi-hon immediately raised his voice in rebuttal. “The outcome of a war is decided by the sum of its large and small battles! And in the end, it is the warriors on the front lines who fight those battles!”

It was an argument one would expect from men who had lived their entire lives moving from one fight to the next.

“And the outcome of any fight is always decided in favor of the one with superior martial skill!” This was a creed the warriors of the Sword Forest repeated to themselves endlessly, which was why even Geom Gwi-hon, who was not an eloquent man, could make the claim with such confidence. “Therefore, the warriors who do the fighting should focus only on their martial arts! All the civil officials need to do is faithfully support them!”

“The Martial and the Civil. Each just needs to remain faithful to its own role?” Yeon So-hyeon asked, as if to clarify.

“That is correct!”

A smile touched the Grand Young Master’s lips. It was a smile that strikingly resembled that of an adult watching a child’s petulant tantrum, and an unconcealed look of displeasure settled on Geom Gwi-hon’s face.

“You,” the Grand Young Master asked, “do you truly believe that a civil official, one who knows nothing of combat, can properly fulfill a support role simply by ‘doing his best’?”

“Are there not civil officials like tacticians and strategists?” Geom Gwi-hon retorted, stubbornly shaking his head. “People like them can take responsibility for support!”

“Is that so?” Yeon So-hyeon continued. “Tacticians and strategists may be familiar with the front lines, but they are equally ignorant and powerless when it comes to the politics of the Central government.”

At this, the adjutants belonging to the War Department nodded in agreement.

“Do you think men like that can secure the necessary level of support from Central?”

“…In that case.” Forced onto the defensive, Geom Gwi-hon’s voice seemed to falter. “Shouldn’t we just place civil officials who understand war in the key positions within Central…?”

“Is that so? However,” Yeon So-hyeon replied instantly, “as you yourself said, is it not the warriors who ultimately fight and earn merit on the front lines?”

“W-well, that is…”

As his own logic was turned back against him, Geom Gwi-hon’s single eye wavered.

“So, what happens when civil officials, who are merely in a support role, rise to positions of responsibility in Central over the very warriors who earned the merit?” Yeon So-hyeon stared intently at that wavering eye, pressing his questions. “On the front lines, the morale of the warriors who deserve recognition will plummet.”

Yeon So-hyeon relentlessly followed Geom Gwi-hon’s evasive gaze as he spoke, his words sharp and unceasing. “And in Central, because someone with insufficient merit has risen to a position of responsibility, will their authority not be questioned?”

“…Th-Then!” Trapped by sound logic built upon sound logic, without a single shred of sophistry, Geom Gwi-hon felt crushed by the Grand Young Master’s simple yet watertight reasoning. He yelled, as if in a final, desperate struggle, “Then just place a warrior who has been recognized for his merit into that position of responsibility in Central! Wouldn’t that solve it?!”

“And is that not precisely what the Sword Clan Armed Generals of the War Department are?”

A perfect bullseye.

Geom Gwi-hon’s mouth fell open, his mind blank.

“…!”

The others following behind, who had been listening intently, were just as stunned.

“…B-But!” Geom Gwi-hon shook his head violently, trying desperately to regain his footing. “But didn’t almost all of the War Department’s Sword Clan Armed Generals end up getting kicked out of the Council of Elders?! Hasn’t your very argument already been proven a failure in reality?!”

The debate had come full circle.

“And aren’t those old men from the War Department completely ignoring war, focused only on their schemes to return to the Council of Elders?!”

For a warrior from the Sword Forest who knew nothing but the blade, it was a surprisingly plausible line of reasoning.

But his opponent was Yeon So-hyeon.

“That problem is not the fault of the War Department. It is the fault of ‘those above,’ who allowed the War Department’s generals to be pushed out of the political world.”

Spoken by the Grand Young Master himself—a man who was one of ‘those above’—the words left Geom Gwi-hon utterly speechless.

“War,” Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon said, turning to address not just Geom Gwi-hon, but everyone present. “Is one of the final forms of political engineering. It is the last resort.” “A man who is ignorant of economics, administration, and politics cannot possibly fight a war properly. He cannot even dare to prepare for one.”

As Geom Gwi-hon turned his head away sharply and the other Sword Forest warriors bit their lips in frustration, the veteran generals of the War Department began to share their amusement, grinning as they used close-range telepathy.

How refreshing! As expected of the Grand Young Master. The rumors of his unmatched eloquence are true. Those Sword Forest bastards look ridiculous. They’ll probably keep quiet for a while now.

One of the generals nodded slightly. As we’ve just seen, the Grand Young Master seems favorable to our War Department, so—

“That being said, I am not saying that the current War Department is doing a good job.”

The words were a direct refutation of the conversation they had just shared, as if Yeon So-hyeon had managed to eavesdrop on the close-range telepathy used by masters of their caliber.

He intercepted close-range telepathy?! Not even long-distance?! No… it must be a coincidence!

But as if to prove it was no coincidence at all, Yeon So-hyeon’s gaze was fixed directly on the very general who had just sent the thought, ‘the Grand Young Master seems favorable to our War Department’.

“While failing to prevent the War Department from being pushed out of the Council of Elders is the responsibility of those above,” the Chief of the War Department, who had been listening in silence, spoke up. “For us to be pushed out so easily and completely from the Council, just a few short years after the end of the Northern War, is our own failing.”

He was clearly aware of their shortcomings, and his voice was steeped in a deep sense of accountability.

“In the time before and after that, we failed to elevate any new figures to the Council besides Elder Yeom. Our failure to discover and foster talent worthy of entering he Council of Elders is also our responsibility.”

“That is correct.”

The War Department Chief had stepped forward to admit fault, and the Grand Young Master immediately confirmed it, his affirmation landing with the weight of an official verdict. The backs of the War Department generals, which had just begun to straighten with relief, instantly slumped.

“Your lackluster response, exemplified by the Sword Forest’s open rebellion, has caused the Main Clan’s highest echelons to harbor fundamental doubts about the War Department’s very reason for existence.” The Grand Young Master’s tone was nothing like the one he had used in public when announcing the festival’s resumption, saving face for both factions. “As a result, you failed to receive any significant support from the Supreme Operations Council, and the War Department, neglecting its true purpose, was left to drift aimlessly in the political tides.”

“Chief of the War Department.”

“Yes, Grand Young Master.”

The Grand Young Master’s cold, stern gaze fixed on the chief. “Chasing two rabbits at once is certainly a difficult task. But that was the War Department’s objective, and you failed.”

“I apologize, Grand Young Master.”

The Chief of the War Department bowed his head to the Grand Young Master, showing the same deference he would have shown the Great Supreme Retired Patriarch. “I have no excuse.”

He expected the Grand Young Master’s censure to continue, but instead, Yeon So-hyeon drew a clear line, precisely defining the bounds of responsibility.

“However, as I said before, the responsibility of the Main Clan’s highest echelons is also clear.”

As the Grand Young Master stopped walking, the footsteps of the warriors behind him, regardless of their faction, also came to a halt.

“Master, you have arrived.”

The Head Handmaiden, Jeong-ah, bowed deeply in greeting. They had arrived at the main conference building of Wongakjeong.

“As a member of those highest echelons, and as someone who has, until now, merely been a spectator…” Yeon So-hyeon nodded, and the triplet handmaidens respectfully pulled open the doors to the grand conference hall. “I will show you exactly how I intend to solve this problem.”

As the doors swung wide open, a wave of palpable, heated energy washed over them, as if a dam had burst.

“With such a paltry stopgap measure! Do you really think you can fundamentally solve the poverty problem in Luoyang?!”

A civil scholar from the Fourth Young Master’s faction had veins bulging in his neck as he roared, “Stopgap measure?! Luoyang’s population is nearly ten million! Don’t you understand that a radical solution could cause problems you can’t even imagine?!”

A grassroots official from the Imperial Capital, one who had recently joined the Grand Young Master’s administration, jabbed a finger back.

“That’s ridiculous! Do you have any idea how many of those ten million are dying right now?!”

“A true relief measure is something that must be pushed through even if you have to endure the side effects!” The branch managers from the House of Benevolence were shouting, spittle flying from their mouths as they made their case.

“And where, exactly, do you propose to get the budget for that?!”

“Investment! We have no choice but to attract external investment!”

The debate was so fierce that even the Elders from the Grand Young Master’s own faction were in the thick of it.

The alcohol, the snacks, and the food had all been pushed aside, completely forgotten. The only difference between this and a battlefield was the lack of swords and blood; the grand conference hall was a warzone of words.

The new arrivals stared, utterly dumbfounded at the scene.

One of the War Department’s veteran generals spoke, his voice filled with confusion. “…Wasn’t this supposed to be a banquet to celebrate the founding of the faction?”

“It is,” Yeon So-hyeon replied, turning back to them with a broad grin.

“But that kind of banquet is for outside visitors and subordinates, not for us.”

Instead of a grand banquet, Yeon So-hyeon, the host of this grand free-for-all debate, spread his arms wide.

“Welcome to Wongakjeong.”