I stared at Im Sobaek, who looked exhausted.

Frankly, the fact that he had overwhelmed the Sword Judge after having stayed up all night talking with Gongson Sim and depleting his spiritual energy was an impressive feat. Not just in martial skill, but in mental endurance as well.

It made sense that he looked worn out.

Now that the Alliance Leader had clearly stated that the Sword Judge would issue the next challenge, no one else would shamelessly step up here. Im Sobaek slowly walked across the sparring arena, surveying the gathered crowd.

“I have something to say about my reappointment as Alliance Leader.”

“......”

Today, Im Sobaek was especially deliberate in making eye contact with everyone, as if he was trying to memorize each face.

“If there ever comes a day when I feel my skills are no longer what they used to be, I’ll retire. But that day is not today. You’ve all seen it with your own eyes...”

When Im Sobaek smiled faintly, the gathered warriors chuckled as well.

“To have faced off in martial bouts with no one seriously injured, in the presence of monarchs and juniors alike—this alone brings me joy.”

Im Sobaek gestured toward the Sword King and the Sword Demon.

“The match between the Sword King and the Sword Demon was particularly fine. Both fought with the aggression of battlefield generals, yet the nuance of their swordsmanship was entirely different. Where else could you find such worthy opponents?”

He then began calling out the monarchs one by one.

“Namgung, Seomun, the Fist King, the Blade King... Even those not present, like Senior Sword Saint and Senior Divine Fist, and even that man now called a disciple anew. Even if I am not to your liking, should great trouble befall you, I intend to rush to your aid with my subordinates and elite unit. Just as I recently went to Dongho to help the Lord of Haomun and his group.”

Im Sobaek turned his gaze to me.

“I faced the Number One of the Evil Path alongside the Lord of Haomun, Master of Six Harmonies, Mongrang, and the Sword Demon. When I told them I would soon be dueling with the monarchs, those four came to the Martial Alliance.”

He was now explaining to the gathered crowd why the Four Great Villains were present within the Martial Alliance.

Looking around once more, Im Sobaek said,

“Therefore, the Lord of Haomun deliberately stepped forward to interfere in the duels, stir up commotion, and fight—because if I were to face the monarchs in succession, someone might get seriously hurt. It was all intentional.”

Wow. Out of nowhere, Im Sobaek was defending me.

He continued,

“I hope the monarchs understand this point and don’t view the Lord of Haomun’s group with undue hostility.”

Even though what he said wasn’t anything grand, a heavy silence lingered.

We all just kept our eyes fixed on Im Sobaek’s expression.

“If any among you gathered here were to fall into danger, I would be ready to rush to your side. That is the purpose of the Martial Alliance. But I am not a perfect Alliance Leader. Compared to the Sword God’s illustrious name, I’m still a mere successor. So yes, I do hope to receive help from all of you. Among you are official members of the Alliance, those who joined through trials, and subordinates who came with recommendation letters from clans and sects. If you think of them as allies, I rarely turned any away. Protecting the Martial Alliance is ultimately about protecting your seniors, juniors, brothers, masters, and disciples. Surely no one believes I’ll be Alliance Leader forever, right?”

“No, sir.”

Im Sobaek turned toward the voice.

“...Though, maybe. Who said that?”

The Lecher quickly bowed his head.

“My apologies, Alliance Leader.”

Im Sobaek glanced around again and said,

“In any case, I plan to serve for a long time. But I hope the next Alliance Leader will be one of the junior generation. What’s wrong with a younger leader? The young lords of the Seomun and Namgung clans, the Fist King’s disciple, the children of the Sword King... Your era has not yet come. But I hope you’ll all surpass your masters, the monarchs we call teachers and leaders, and even me. If the juniors present here today surpass us, that too would be a blessing for Jianghu. I liked the duels we held here today. Gongson Strategist.”

“Yes, Alliance Leader.”

“On this very day next year—and every year after that—I want the warriors to gather for a martial exchange. Can we prepare it?”

Gongson Wol offered a formal salute.

“We’ll prepare it.”

Im Sobaek nodded.

“Have the wall that the Blade King broke down repaired, prepare more dishes to suit the guests’ tastes, refurbish the guest rooms so everyone can rest comfortably—then invite them again like today.”

This time, voices rang out from all around.

“Yes, Alliance Leader.”

“If that happens, you’ll all be too busy to laze around like I do. And if I retire or—heaven forbid—die, I want you to gather like today and elect the new Alliance Leader through a proper martial bout.”

I crossed my arms and listened to his speech.

“Hmm...”

“So these yearly gatherings and future duels are both practice and preparation for that day. Even martial skill improves only through practice. How are we different from the demonic sects? The answer lies in what we showed here. Even those who lost accepted their defeat. The Evil Path doesn’t elect its leader this way. They rely on ambushes, trickery, betrayal, assassination, poison, duels of life and death... In the end, someone must die or suffer for a leader to rise. We must be different. That’s the true goal I had in mind for these duels. Remember my words. Even an Alliance Leader can be chosen this way.”

Im Sobaek scanned the crowd and smiled.

“Some of you might feel it’s not enough, but anyone who wants another duel should do so unofficially. Or train harder and show up next year. Ending while it still feels a bit lacking is the right call. If you’re truly regretful, you can always go to the Namgung Clan and challenge the Sword Judge there. Though I suspect it won’t be easy.”

The Sword Judge sighed lightly and raised his hand.

Im Sobaek looked at him and nodded.

“...Speak.”

The Sword Judge addressed the crowd.

“If you annoy me too much, I’ll close my gates. But if you come with proper etiquette, I won’t run. If you have the skill, come find me at the Namgung Clan.”

Im Sobaek nodded more firmly at the Sword Judge’s words. In truth, very few would be able to defeat him in a duel.

Im Sobaek then relaxed his tone.

“...Honestly, I was troubled yesterday and couldn’t sleep at all. I’ll be returning to the Alliance Leader’s Office to take care of work until my set hours, and then I’ll rest. So let’s part ways here. You’re welcome to stay longer or return as you wish. Until we meet again, warriors.”

When Im Sobaek offered a salute to the crowd, all the gathered warriors rose and returned the gesture in unison.

For some reason, the sight of the sleep-deprived Alliance Leader heading off to work stuck in my head like some elite martial technique.

If it were me, I’d go take a nap, so I couldn’t help but feel like I’d lost some internal battle.

‘He’s going to work now? Seriously...’

In any case, as Im Sobaek said, continuing the duels now wouldn’t hold much meaning.

His true intent—what he called the “real purpose” of these duels—was to regularly /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ host them in preparation for the day a new Alliance Leader would need to be chosen.

The Martial Alliance and duels may have existed before, but the true proclamation of a martial gathering had come from Im Sobaek. His remarks, aimed even at his own future, proved he was a man of clear direction.

Once Im Sobaek disappeared with his guards...

The mood was hard to describe.

The fact that the sleep-deprived Alliance Leader was going to work while the rest of us stayed here and fooled around... the contrast made it feel like we were just here to laze about.

Gongson Wol stepped into the arena and looked around.

“As the Alliance Leader said, you’re welcome to stay a few more days. Duels aren’t prohibited. Only the official match has ended. If you wish to spar for the sake of training or exchange, do so under the observation of the members assigned to the Duel Division or the Council of Generals. Just remember, causing serious injuries through personal grudges violates the spirit of these gatherings.”

He gave a proper bow.

“Then I’ll also return to my duties in the Council.”

With both the host and emcee gone, the energy of the event naturally deflated.

Regardless, I’m the strongest among the post-generation elite, so this has nothing to do with me. I don’t get deflated. The Drunk might feel a bit of regret, but honestly, he could just walk up to the stage and challenge anyone like a madman. Still, the Drunk has been pretending to act refined like the Master of Six Harmonies lately, so nothing of the sort happened.

“A fine gathering. Anyway, it ended with the conclusion that I’m the strongest of the post-generation, so I have no complaints.”

The other Four Great Villains looked at me and threw in their two cents.

“...Must be nice.”

“How proud.”

“Don’t ruin the moment. I’m still reflecting on the Alliance Leader’s words.”

Some of the disappointed folks were still hanging around the duel stage, murmuring about meeting again in half a shichen, or challenging someone later—but few actually responded. Since we weren’t planning to leave the Alliance immediately, we moved on to Wolhagwan.

Even the Sword Demon, feeling contemplative, spoke up.

“To choose an Alliance Leader through a duel without anyone dying... If that’s truly possible, it’s certainly different from the demonic path. What surprised me most was...”

The Sword Demon had once been involved in the fight for succession under the Cult Leader. He would understand the weight of this duel better than anyone.

He continued,

“Now that Alliance Leader Im has made that declaration, it means that anyone with a clear background could become the Martial Alliance Leader. As he said, even someone from the post-generation could do it. He won’t discriminate between clans, sects, or outsiders...”

He turned to the Lecher.

“You could challenge for it one day.”

The Lecher asked, surprised,

“Me?”

“Why not? You think you can’t?”

“My conduct is...”

“I used to belong to the Demonic Cult and still fought in the duel here. Even the Lord of Haomun, for all his arrogance, was still listened to. These people can be narrow-minded, yet they’re open-minded too. And since they do judge people by their actions, it’s on you to change first.”

“...That’s true.”

Before we even arrived at Wolhagwan, someone called out to me from behind.

“Lord of Haomun.”

A member of the Alliance I didn’t recognize approached and handed me a letter.

“This was delivered to you from outside, sir. I heard it came from the White-Robed Emperor.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes, sir.”

I took the letter and opened it slowly. It read, simply:

“Before you return, join me for a cup of tea. At Wolseong Inn. —White-Robed Emperor.”

I burned the letter with a flick and turned to the Four Great Villains.

“The White-Robed Scholar wants to have tea.”

The Lecher looked at me.

“Is it an assassination attempt?”

“Don’t talk about assassinations with such a casual expression. If he attacked me now, he’d go from an emperor to a public criminal. He wouldn’t do that.”

The Sword Demon said to me,

“If you need an escort, we’ll go with you. But something tells me the conversation might change if we’re there.”

“I’ll go alone.”

Even if I didn’t know exactly where Wolseong Inn was, it had to be near the Martial Alliance. As I walked, I heard the Drunk’s concerned voice from behind me.

“Might be poison. Be careful.”

Sometimes it’s hard to tell if he’s worried or cursing me—this was one of those times. Now that I think about it, Im Sobaek might have warned Gongson Sim to advise the scholars not to interfere in duels, or Gongson Sim took it upon himself to tell them to restrain themselves.

By now, my face was well known in the Martial Alliance, so I had no trouble telling the guards I was stepping out.

“Where’s Wolseong Inn?”

“It’s on the right side of Central Road—you’ll find it easily.”

While walking, I realized something: I might end up dueling Dengpyeong if I went to Wolseong Inn. Though I’ve exchanged words with the White-Robed Scholar before, he’s the kind of guy who’d laugh while watching my arm get sliced off mid-fight.

I found Wolseong Inn without much trouble and entered, but didn’t see him on the first floor, so I headed up.

There he was on the second floor, drinking alone. He looked up when he saw me.

“Come on in.”

“Why’d you call me?”

The White-Robed Scholar smacked an empty cup down on the table in front of me.

“Sit. Think of this as the penalty drink for making me miss the Six Combat Blade.”

I sat down and nodded.

“I won’t drink it. Feels like poison.”

Ignoring my words, the Scholar poured the liquor and suddenly said,

“There’s something neither the Martial Alliance, Haomun, nor the Heavenly Alliance knows—but we do. It could be helpful to know. How much would you pay for it?”

He offered information with no context. I had no idea what he was selling, so I answered vaguely.

“Proposal.”

“What?”

“Name your price first.”

He stared at me. Honestly, I doubted this guy even needed money. He lived as he pleased, had a powerful organization, and had top-tier martial arts—he probably had no need for gold.

I reached for the bottle and poured myself a drink.

“What kind of information? Let me hear it first—I’ll decide the price after.”

His expression was a bit strange, so I refrained from asking anything about the Supreme Strategist.

The Scholar looked at my drink.

“If you drink that, I’ll tell you.”

I stared at the rippling baekju and said,

“Is it poisoned?”

“Maybe yes, maybe no.”

“If it is, I’ll tear you apart today.”

He grinned, and I downed the drink in one shot. Once I drank, he said,

“Ghosts have been crawling out of the old main mountain base. We don’t know why.”

I poured myself another drink and said,

“That was expensive information.”

“Of course it was.”

Honestly, it was priceless—I had no clue about it before. But I didn’t want to pay, so I answered with a straight face.

“There’s a painter in Haomun, the most talented of the era. I’ll ask him to paint a portrait of the White-Robed Emperor.”

The Scholar looked at me with a thoroughly displeased face.