“You’re here.”

“Heh. Were you working?”

“It’s nothing.”

Je Gal Munho rose to greet Mo Yonggun.

“Have a seat.”

“My thanks.”

A moment later, teacups were set between them.

Mo Yonggun asked with a crooked grin, “No liquor? Back when we talked at this man’s quarters, I could’ve sworn you said you’d treat me.”

Je Gal Munho smiled. “I’m on duty. If you can spare time this evening, I’ll pour you a cup then.”

“Shame. I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Then we’ll postpone the drinking.”

“Let’s.”

Mo Yonggun tilted his head, curiosity plain on his face. “So why did you call me into your office? Did the operational team send word?”

“They did.”

Je Gal Munho drew a letter from his robe and handed it over.

Mo Yonggun unfolded it, read, then nodded.

“So it begins.”

“Yes.”

Je Gal Munho’s expression hardened.

“There’s more. Additional information.”

“About what?”

“Do you know Ghost-Iron Sword Gate?”

Mo Yonggun nodded.

“Isn’t that one of the Thirty-Six Dark Gates? Fairly well-known.”

“That’s correct.”

Ghost-Iron Sword Gate was a sword gate that, unlike most Dark Path factions, had carried on a long history of two hundred years.

More surprising still—its martial arts openly claimed to be upright and fair, nothing like what you’d expect from the Dark Path. There was a brutally domineering edge to it, but the art itself didn’t fall short even when measured against the orthodox proper arts.

“Ghost-Iron Sword Gate is a prestigious Dark Path house that’s produced high-level swordsmen for generations,” Je Gal Munho said. “They say even the current Gate Lord’s martial arts don’t fall far behind the heads of our Six Great Clans.”

“I’ve heard that too,” Mo Yonggun replied. “His epithet was Mountain-Sunder Sword Ghost, wasn’t it?”

“You know your facts.”

“As much as I need.”

“Yes. Despite being Dark Path, Ghost-Iron Sword Gate has history and tradition. In the past, it was even called Dark Path’s First Sword Gate.”

Mo Yonggun’s eyes narrowed. “So what about it?”

“It collapsed.”

This time, even Mo Yonggun couldn’t keep from reacting.

“You’re saying Ghost-Iron Sword Gate was wiped out?”

“Yes.”

“Ha... How?”

Je Gal Munho’s eyes flashed.

“I’m told it was attacked by unknown masters.”

“How strong would they have to be to pull that off?”

“We don’t have the details yet. But the estimated number of attackers is under twenty, and there were traces of fire attack.”

Mo Yonggun shook his head.

“Fire attack is powerful, sure—but a sect at Ghost-Iron Sword Gate’s level doesn’t just go down to that alone. The only explanation is a gap in real strength.”

“Exactly,” Je Gal Munho said. “In other words, we can’t deny that every one of the attackers was highly skilled.”

“But unless all of them were Transcendent Peak masters, they couldn’t have brought it down without extensive preparation.”

“I agree. Thorough prior investigation, strong response capability—and specialists who move in sync. That’s what it looks like.”

Mo Yonggun’s eyes gleamed.

“You’re bringing this up now because Ghost-Iron Sword Gate’s destruction is tied to this mission.”

Je Gal Munho nodded heavily.

“Yes. To be precise, I believe the odds are high.”

“How do you think it’s connected?”

“Yangcheon.”

Mo Yonggun’s pupils tightened.

“Their ability to control information is extraordinary,” Je Gal Munho continued. “Even when the Alliance of the Martial World and the Beggars’ Union try to dig in, the closer we get to the center, the more everything turns into fog. So when it comes to matters tied to Yangcheon, most of what we have is difficult to confirm.”

“So the murkier the incident, the more likely it’s Yangcheon.”

Je Gal Munho had to acknowledge it.

Mo Yonggun’s instincts and judgment were sharp.

“Yes. I only said ‘possible,’ but in truth, I’m treating it as certain that Yangcheon’s side had a hand in this.”

Mo Yonggun rubbed his jaw.

Je Gal Munho pressed on into the silence.

“Yangcheon is gathering the Dark Path and building power. But not every Dark Path group has fallen under him. Ghost-Iron Sword Gate was one of those.”

“That’s stupid.”

“...Excuse me?”

Mo Yonggun frowned.

“Ghost-Iron Sword Gate was prestigious, with real weight. Knocking that kind of force down to show power... maybe it works short-term, but long-term it’s foolish.”

Je Gal Munho smiled.

“I think so as well.”

“But the Yangcheon we’ve investigated so far isn’t the type to play a stupid card like that.”

“If Yangcheon destroyed Ghost-Iron Sword Gate, it wouldn’t have been to show off power.”

“Meaning the profit he gets from wiping them out outweighs everything else.”

“At the moment, Yangcheon’s top priority is expanding the Dark Path,” Je Gal Munho said. “But if you look long-term, it would still be a foolish choice.”

“So the reason he did it is because it isn’t foolish even long-term.”

“That’s the conclusion,” Je Gal Munho said. “If this move wasn’t a bad hand but a good one... what reason makes it make sense?”

“He recruited someone.”

Mo Yonggun let out a short, amused breath.

“One of Ghost-Iron Sword Gate’s key people crawled under Yangcheon.”

Je Gal Munho’s eyes lit.

“...!”

“In other words,” Mo Yonggun said, voice turning cold, “someone betrayed the sect.”

Je Gal Munho stared.

This man really is...

When it came to professional strategy and tactics, Je Gal Munho trusted himself to be better.

But when it came to reading human nature—and reconstructing what must have happened from the shape of a situation—he had to admit Mo Yonggun stood above him.

It was the gaze of someone who had cut down rivals his whole life to seize power. Je Gal Munho found Mo Yonggun’s ability both frustrating—and deeply unsettling.

“I received the report and thought about it for a long time,” Je Gal Munho said. “And only right before you arrived did I reach the same conclusion: there was a traitor inside Ghost-Iron Sword Gate.”

“Good eye.”

“Most likely someone who not only mastered Ghost-Iron Sword Gate’s unique arts, but whose character wouldn’t be ‘ruined’ by a single mistake.”

“Agreed. That narrows it to the Gate Lord’s closest aide—or one of his disciples.”

“In my view—”

“High odds it’s a disciple.”

“Yes.”

Mo Yonggun smiled.

“Now I understand why you called me in to tell me this.”

Je Gal Munho stared at him for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh.

“And why is that?”

“Because it’s a shame.”

“A shame... what is?”

“That your incredible eye and mind aren’t being used for the people of the world,” Je Gal Munho said. “I caught myself thinking how good it would be, if you did.”

Mo Yonggun broke into booming laughter.

“Hahaha! This man isn’t the great figure you think he is. That’s enough flattery.”

“......”

“Give me brush and ink. I need to send a letter to the operational team.”

“It’s already prepared.”

Mo Yonggun wrote with a hand that was powerful—yet delicate.

“How is it?”

Je Gal Munho nodded.

“It’s good. But...”

“It’s going to become dangerous faster than we expected.”

“At the same time, it’s a way to go deeper.”

Mo Yonggun gave a short, amused smile.

“Are you comfortable with this, Strategist? The moment this letter is sent, the operational team is essentially walking into the jaws of hell. And that operational team includes your blood relative, doesn’t it?”

Je Gal Munho shook his head.

“I know this mission is dangerous. My daughter knows it as well.”

Mo Yonggun laughed again.

“Hahaha!”

“And I’m not a father right now,” Je Gal Munho said evenly. “I’m the strategist of the Alliance of the Martial World. I can’t miss a perfect opportunity because of private feelings.”

“Impressive.”

Mo Yonggun flicked the paper to dry the ink, folded the finished letter neatly, and stamped it with a seal.

“Here.”

“I’ll send it immediately.”

“How long?”

“I narrowed our information network to the shortest route. If we’re lucky, three days. At most, six.”

“That’s fast.”

Mo Yonggun rose.

“Then I’ll be on my way.”

He turned.

As Mo Yonggun reached for the office door, Je Gal Munho spoke.

“Clan Lord.”

“Hm? Something else?”

“From here on, operate from the command center. Something may come up where every moment matters.”

It was also a warning: don’t go back to your quarters and cook up pointless schemes.

Mo Yonggun smiled.

“I was thinking the same. In three days, I’ll make the temporary quarters where the command center is gathered.”

*****

“Ye— no, wait! Third! Come with me. Now!”

Ga Deoksang dragged Yeon Hojeong into a room.

“What is it?”

“Look at this.”

Ga Deoksang pulled out a letter no bigger than his palm and shoved it forward. The page was packed with tiny, dense writing.

“It came from the Gate.”

“The Gate” meant the Alliance of the Martial World.

Yeon Hojeong read in silence.

A moment later, his eyes shook.

Ga Deoksang smacked his lips.

“I knew it was a dangerous mission, but I never thought we’d be digging straight into the center from the start.”

“......”

“Huh? Third?”

Ga Deoksang stared at Yeon Hojeong, then jolted.

SHIVER.

The hand holding the letter was trembling—just slightly. Yeon Hojeong’s eyes were bloodshot, and Killing Intent began to seep out of him in slow waves.

“Hey!”

Yeon Hojeong snapped back to himself and pulled the Killing Intent in by instinct.

Ga Deoksang clicked his tongue.

“What is it with you? Every time we meet, you start pumping Killing Intent like you’re trying to pop Eldest Senior Brother’s heart! Are you doing this on purpose?!”

“I apologize.”

“Seriously. What the hell is it? Something you can’t let go of?”

Yeon Hojeong’s gaze locked onto four words in the report.

Ghost-Iron Sword Gate.

A prestigious Dark Path house, famous for a clean, restrained Sword Intent that didn’t match its brutally overbearing power.

And within it—

There had been a blood-soaked duelist who had fought countless battles at Yeon Hojeong’s side.

Kang Ryang.

One of the Five Divine Generals of the Black Emperor’s Citadel.

Alongside Mookbi—the Divine Archer—and Jinyang, Kang Ryang had been called the strongest and worst kind of master the Dark Path martial world had ever produced.

Kang Ryang’s sword had reached a deeper realm than any orthodox swordsman.

His level and raw power were clearly below Mo Yonggun’s—but his Sword Intent itself was something Kang Ryang had understood more deeply than even Mo Yonggun. He was a real swordsman.

The greatest genius in Ghost-Iron Sword Gate’s history.

A hot-blooded swordsman who lost his sect, became alone, regained hope under Yeon Hojeong—and then collided head-on with the White Path in endless, savage fights.

And now... Ghost-Iron Sword Gate was wiped out?

Yeon Hojeong’s eyes shook.

Does that mean even if history changes, the outcome doesn’t?

The Alliance of the Martial World had been founded far earlier than in the original history.

Yangcheon hadn’t even gathered the Dark Path this openly.

Ghost-Iron Sword Gate had still been wiped out—but not this early. In the original flow, it was something that wouldn’t happen until ten years later.

Everything had changed.

Everything was changing.

“Eldest Senior Brother.”

“Yeah?”

“Tell the people who follow you to look into one thing for me.”

Ga Deoksang’s eyes glittered.

He understood instantly—this request was purely personal.

“What is it? Say it.”

“See if there were any survivors from the destruction of Ghost-Iron Sword Gate. And if there were, get me a list.”

“...Alright.”

He didn’t know what was going on, but it felt like something he needed to do.

“But are you okay?”

Yeon Hojeong drew a deep breath.

“I’m fine.”

He’d been shaken for a moment. But he was fine now.

He was the Left Palm of this mission. If the leader wavered, the danger wouldn’t stop at the mission—people would die.

Ga Deoksang nodded.

“Good. We’ll handle that separately. So what do you think about what the ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) Gate sent us?”

“We go. But... we wait three more days.”

“Three days? Why?”

“If we dig in first, it invites suspicion,” Yeon Hojeong said. “But if they approach us first, it’s natural.”

His eyes flashed.

“Trust me. They’ll come.”

Two days later—

BANG!

The tavern doors slammed open like they were about to shatter, and a group in blood-red martial robes stormed in.

At the front, a middle-aged man spoke in an icy voice.

“Blood Sparrow Gate. We’re looking for a party—two men, two women. Are they here?”