“Yangcheon.”

Ga Deoksang scratched his head hard.

“I’ve heard plenty of stories, but honestly, I barely know anything about him. Our old man....”

“.......”

“No—my Master. He tried all kinds of things to dig into Yangcheon, you know? But up to now, he hasn’t managed to learn a single solid thing.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. His epithet is the Fighting King. His name is Yangcheon, and his age is estimated at sixty-three this year. He’s past sixty, but his vitality is so insane that even now, when it comes to barehanded fighting, people still argue he’s the best in the entire Central Plains.”

“The epithet already says Fighting King. I’ve heard even the Orthodox Path and the Dark Path can’t help but admire how bold and exquisite his fighting is.”

“Yes. But his temperament is poisonous and cruel—once you get on his bad side, they say he’ll chase you to the very edge of the Central Plains and smash you to pieces.”

“Sounds like the Tang Clan.”

“Honestly, in some ways he’s even worse. I mean, a master like that hunts you down alone and beats you until you die.”

“Hmm? Why is that worse?”

“Because it’s not easy to do that at his age.”

Je Gal Munho let out a quiet snort before he could stop himself.

Hu Gae Ga Deoksang was a sharp man. He didn’t know about martial arts, but at least in terms of brains, he more than qualified as the Beggars’ Union’s successor.

Still, every so often he’d toss out some rough, gravelly joke like this and leave people unsure how to react.

Of course, there was a barb hidden in the joke. That was why Je Gal Munho couldn’t just wave off what he said.

“Anyway, that’s all the information there is on him. Where his lineage is from, why he joined the Dark Path, where he lives, whether he has siblings—none of it is known.”

“But his disciples are known. Even the names of their martial arts.”

“Ah! Sure. But from what I’ve heard, it seems like he didn’t fully pass down his art even to them.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. The disciples who showed themselves in the Central Plains each used different martial arts.”

Je Gal Munho’s eyes sharpened.

“So he either didn’t pass down his own art at all... or he broke his art apart and taught it separately?”

“Exactly. I lean toward the latter, but even that isn’t certain.”

Je Gal Munho stroked his beard.

“To think he’s the one among the Thirteen Seats of the Sacred Heavens with the least known about him....”

“If you think about it, it’s weird. Reputation is basically a martial artist’s life, but that bastard’s got a ridiculous art and still avoids stepping out into the Central Plains.”

“You could also see it as him being that thorough. The more people know about you, the more weaknesses you have.”

“Sure, but he’s already got the title Fighting King.”

“That could be exactly why he’s even more cautious.”

“Hmm... yeah, I guess you could see it that way.”

Ga Deoksang sighed.

“And now that Fighting King has not only shown himself in public—he’s even cut his disciples loose.”

“He’s aiming at something.”

“What the hell is he aiming at? If we don’t know his intent, it’s hard to decide whether to send people after him.”

“The Dark Path’s strongest expert chooses this moment—right after the Alliance of the Martial World hasn’t been around long—to step out brazenly. Even if it stinks, this isn’t the usual stench. It’s rotten.”

“What do we do? Do we dig in properly?”

Je Gal Munho fell into thought.

The Dark Path....

In truth, the Dark Path had been sliding into ruin ever since the Blood Cult Calamity three hundred years ago.

It couldn’t have gone any other way. You could call them the Dark Path, call them the unorthodox world—at the end of the day, their survival runs on money and betrayal. Only those who survive are acknowledged as strong. It was a world of naked, ruthless predation.

Righteousness and chivalry, morality and ethics, ideals and good—everything the Orthodox Path pursued was different from the root.

In a way, they were people living in a place where humanity’s most primal survival law had taken root in the rawest possible form.

“Whatever it is, we can’t just sit still. The Thirteen Seats of the Sacred Heavens are legendary even by name. Most of them are old monsters from the previous generation, and only a few actually move around.”

“That’s true.”

“And their sobriquet is the Martial Gods. Each one’s individual power is so overwhelming that they could handle the Nine Sects and One Union—or a sect on the level of the Six Great Clans—entirely on their own.”

A thick tension settled into Je Gal Munho’s gaze.

“Yangcheon is one of those monsters. If he unites the Dark Path, the world will fall back into a swamp of chaos.”

“Then we’ve got no choice but to find out.”

“That’s right.”

Ga Deoksang’s face twisted.

“And there’s another problem.”

“Our informants’ lives.”

“That’s a given.”

“Hm?”

“Whether we send our own field agents, or we send them with the signboard of the Alliance of the Martial World, if they get caught, they’re not surviving. That old man’s personality is so goddamn awful.”

“That’s true.”

“Either way, we’re people who do this with our lives on the line, so we can swallow that. The real problem is Yangcheon’s reaction.”

Je Gal Munho’s eyes flashed.

“If we send someone as an Alliance member... you mean Yangcheon might move even more cautiously?”

“Exactly.”

Ga Deoksang tapped the map spread out on the table.

“They know we’re watching them. They’ll be careful. But we can’t give the impression that we’ve started actively checking them—like, ‘We’re on you, so watch yourself.’”

Je Gal Munho agreed.

The opponent was the Fighting King, Yangcheon. If he decided to disappear, no one could find him. And if he decided to move, there were only a handful of people who could stop him. He was someone you couldn’t afford to poke in any direction.

There was a reason even Ga Deoksang—normally a man with guts—was being this cautious.

Je Gal Munho sighed.

“It’s suffocating. When one person’s power is too great, that becomes a problem too.”

“Right? But we can’t just watch, either. This is turning into a real headache.”

That was when Yeon Wi—silent until now—opened his mouth.

“In the end, it’s a problem with no answer right away.”

Je Gal Munho nodded.

“That’s correct.”

“Hm.”

A faint expectation surfaced on Je Gal Munho’s face.

Yeon Wi, chin in hand, thinking. For an instant, a strange light passed through his blunt expression.

Je Gal Munho asked carefully.

“Do you have another idea?”

Yeon Wi was a wise man. He wasn’t as skilled as Je Gal Munho or Ga Deoksang at surveying the entire board, but more than once he’d cut through deadlocks with sudden flashes of ingenuity.

Thankfully, this time too, Yeon Wi didn’t disappoint Je Gal Munho’s expectation.

The problem was that it was far too radical.

“Je Gal Clan Lord’s wisdom needs no praise, and Hu Gae is also an exceptionally clever man. But even with the two of you worrying at it, no answer is coming.”

“You flatter me.”

“Then shouldn’t we gather more heads?”

Je Gal Munho and Ga Deoksang looked puzzled.

“Gather more heads... you mean...?”

“Someone who can solve a headache like this with an outrageous approach. Someone who knows the martial world inside out, and in a sense, could be called the most dangerous person in the Alliance of the Martial World right now.”

It couldn’t possibly be the same person, but Je Gal Munho reflexively thought of Yeon Hojeong.

Yeon Hojeong fit Yeon Wi’s description. Even before martial arts, he was good at politics, fast at reading people, and had the ability to twist the board to his taste with shocking maneuvers.

It was maddening to think a person with that kind of ability was only just reaching adulthood. In some ways, that kind of ability was a more terrifying power than martial arts.

Hmm.

Je Gal Munho’s eyes met Ga Deoksang’s.

They realized they’d thought of the same person. That was how astonishing Yeon Hojeong’s record had been.

Of course, the person Yeon Wi meant wasn’t Yeon Hojeong.

“He’s also a Councilor of the Alliance of the Martial World, and he walks his own version of the Orthodox Path. I thought it wouldn’t be bad to share this external headache with him.”

“A Councilor... you mean...?”

Yeon Wi’s eyes turned cold.

“Clan Lord Mo Yonggun.”

Surprise flashed across Je Gal Munho’s face.

Ga Deoksang blurted out urgently.

“C-Clan Lord. You can’t!”

“And why not?”

“He’s an ambitious man. And it’s not normal ambition—it’s insane ambition. He won’t hesitate to use any means for power. To put it bluntly, he’s a villain.”

“You’re right.”

“Then why are you suggesting we ask Mo Yonggun that fucking ba— Sorry. Why are you suggesting we ask Clan Lord Mo Yonggun for help?”

“Because he’s capable.”

“What?”

Yeon Wi’s eyes only grew colder with time.

“He’s a capable man. Of course, I’d rather not ask such a person for anything unless I had to. But our opponent is a monster who sits on one of the Thirteen Seats of the Sacred Heavens—and someone with enough power to plunge the world into chaos.”

“......!”

“I’m not going to trot out some cheap line about ‘using evil to purge evil.’ I have no intention of that. But hearing his thinking—and accepting it if it’s reasonable—may not be a bad thing.”

Ga Deoksang looked at Je Gal Munho.

“Strategist. What do you think?”

“Hmm.”

A heavy seriousness settled over Je Gal Munho’s face.

“I’ll be honest. I oppose Clan Lord Yeon’s proposal.”

“Do you?”

“Emotionally.”

“Then?”

Je Gal Munho exhaled.

“They say if there are too many boatmen, the boat goes up the mountain. But if it can’t hurt to hear it, then I think the more opinions we have, the better.”

Yeon Wi nodded.

“I think the same.”

“Heh.”

Je Gal Munho gave a hollow laugh.

Mo Yonggun was an enemy. He was a member of the Six Great Clans and a Councilor, but Je Gal Munho had never once thought of him as an ally.

Maybe because of that, he’d drawn a line on reflex.

If you can use something, you use it—and he’d been excluding it out of personal feeling.

I’m lacking, too.

Je Gal Munho nodded, his eyes firm.

“Whether it’s a dazzling {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} treasured sword or a butcher’s knife—if you prep the ingredients well, the quality of the dish goes up.”

He rose from his seat.

“Understood. Since it’s come up, we’ll borrow Clan Lord Mo Yonggun’s bag of tricks. Will you come with me?”

“Gladly.”

Then Ga Deoksang spoke again.

“But—if that’s the plan...”

“Hm?”

Still uneasy, Ga Deoksang smacked his lips and said,

“Wouldn’t it be better to convene a Councilors’ Meeting and discuss it together?”

Yeon Wi and Je Gal Munho answered at the same time.

“Absolutely not.”

“Not possible.”

The answers were so firm that Ga Deoksang shrank his neck without thinking.

Of course, even intimidated, he still asked.

“Why?”

Yeon Wi said,

“Because the sides are already split.”

“What?”

Je Gal Munho added the explanation.

“If we convene a Councilors’ Meeting, the people who’ve joined hands with Mo Yonggun will support him as hard as they can and drag it into factional warfare.”

“Ah....”

“And Mo Yonggun will use the backing of his bloc to start pulling out proposals that benefit him, one by one.”

Ga Deoksang sighed. It was hard to argue with.

Je Gal Munho said coldly,

“This is not something we can let devolve into infighting among bloc members. We’ll only waste time, and worse—people will walk away with their feelings burned.”

“That can’t happen.”

“That’s right. At least not for this.”

Je Gal Munho looked at Yeon Wi.

“Shall we go?”

“Let’s.”

Yeon Wi’s eyes sharpened like a blade.

“Don’t let your guard down. If that man sees even a crack on our side, he’ll use some sly scheme. I guarantee it.”