As I recalled the Blood Cult Leader hastily departing, a strange feeling stirred within me. The newly appointed Right Guardian, the Pagoda King, was already dead, and Yongmyeong had also departed for the Blood Night Palace.

If I reminded myself that nothing in this world ever went as I wished, it felt like something unpleasant was bound to happen.

And, of course, there was reason behind that feeling.

Even after the former Right Guardian slaughtered cultists and fled, the scouts of the Black Forest Division and the rest of the cult showed no signs of panic.

Silence, depending on the moment, can mean many things.

The silence that had settled over the area surrounding the Zaha Inn carried both tension and tranquility, but if I had to weigh it, the tension was far heavier.

It was a kind of full-force standby.

As I analyzed the silence in my own way, I came to realize that the Cult Leader was on his way. This wasn’t a silence that someone like the Left Guardian Wi could create on his own.

Returning to the Zaha Inn with my eldest brother, I said to the Seven Killers of Yunnan:

“Arrange the tables. Prepare liquor and drinking water. No snacks needed. Keep it all dust-free. For now, clear out anything visible.”

The Seven Killers moved without a word. They had enough sense to notice that something in my mood had shifted.

My eldest brother went to the wooden platform, set aside the wooden sword resting there, then picked up a cloth and began wiping down the blade of the Lightbringer Sword.

I stared at the fluttering flag.

“....”

Was raising that flag the first mistake?

Enough time had passed, and still, the Cult Leader hadn’t appeared. That made me wonder—had he clashed with some faction of the cultists?

If he could travel all the way to Ilyang County himself, there was nowhere he couldn’t go.

Some time later.

It looked like a carriage was approaching, so I stepped outside. Sure enough, an unfamiliar carriage had arrived near the Black Forest scouts.

Could it be the newly appointed Left Guardian? Or the Cult Leader himself?

Even the wheels of the carriage were pitch-black. The carriage was drawn by black horses, the saddles were black, everything—black.

Everything was just pitch black.

When a man stepped out, facing away from us, and swept his gaze across the cultists, they all knelt down in unison.

There wasn’t even a need for a chant.

Moments later, a company of mounted warriors in black arrived. The black-clad men dismounted with ease and grabbed the reins. Whether it was the result of training or a clever bit fitting, even the warhorses remained utterly silent.

These newly arrived black-clad warriors wore slightly different uniforms than the scouts, looking more like an elite royal guard or personal escort. Even from a distance, it was clear they were much more imposing than regular cultists.

The royal guard didn’t kneel like the others. They casually moved about and spread into positions.

Only then did the man from the carriage turn his body and begin walking toward the Zaha Inn.

He was still some distance away...

But the Cult Leader was walking here alone.

The moment I saw him, a quiet sigh escaped me. Strange thoughts crept in again.

Wouldn’t it have been better if he had come charging in with troops?

Wouldn’t it have made more sense to order a full assault on the Zaha Inn?

Or to come flying in, consumed by rage and light footwork?

Every scenario I imagined was now irrelevant.

The Cult Leader walked alone. No attendants. No entourage. He was closing the distance in the very mood and form I despised most.

This is why the Cult Leader never moves according to my expectations.

Because when he’s this composed, I have no way to counter it.

Even though it had been a while since I’d seen his face...

I felt no joy at all.

You live your life rarely getting to drink with people who truly understand you—why did it have to be someone like him?

The Cult Leader approached the spot where his followers were stationed, moving like a shadow.

And that’s when I understood something.

Shadows don’t descend like waves crashing down.

They arrive slowly, step by step.

This kind of shadow—there’s no avoiding it.

At the entrance of the Zaha Inn, I let out a second sigh. As the Cult Leader drew near, he spoke in an ordinary tone.

“Lord of the Gate.”

I had no choice but to gesture him inside.

“You’ve come a long way. Let’s go in.”

Guest or not, I guided him into the inn.

Reluctantly, I turned my back on the Cult Leader.

Turning my back on him? This is why guests are kings. Even knowing he had no reason to strike from behind, the chill on my spine was undeniable.

My eldest brother, seated on the platform, greeted him.

“You’ve arrived.”

The Seven Killers of Yunnan were scattered about, each wearing a dazed expression, but the moment they saw the Cult Leader, they dropped to their knees.

“...We greet the Cult Leader.”

I reached the table and turned around.

My eldest brother set aside the cloth he was using to clean the Lightbringer Sword, then sheathed the blade. The Cult Leader looked around, then sat in the seat we had hastily prepared.

At last, the Seven Killers quietly rose, brought over water and liquor, placed them on the table, and stepped back.

My eldest brother remained seated on the platform, arms crossed, showing no intention of approaching the table.

And so, I ended up sitting across from the Cult Leader.

In the meantime, he poured himself a drink and took a sip.

Was he immune to all poisons or something?

Drinking it like it was water at his bedside, the Cult Leader glanced at my eldest brother.

“...How was life outside the cult?”

My eldest brother replied.

“Ordinary. The daily life was ordinary—eating, sleeping. Even when I had no thoughts, it was ordinary.”

The Cult Leader, seeming unconcerned with tone, nodded and asked something else.

“What drove the Right Guardian mad?”

“I don’t know for certain. People don’t change for just one reason. Some of it’s because of you. Maybe his martial arts hit a wall. Maybe it was losing too many men to the Lord of the Gate. Maybe he went mad chasing strength. Either way, it seems he couldn’t live with a sound mind.”

The Cult Leader asked again.

“If you had to name just one reason?”

My eldest brother shook his head.

“There is no one reason. But if you forced me to name two, it’d be because of you and the Lord of the Gate. The two of you.”

As the Cult Leader looked at me, I sipped my drink.

Never before had a man’s gaze felt so uncomfortable. But without moments like this, I wouldn’t get to look this long at a man who might as well be the strongest under heaven. So [N O V E L I G H T] I did my best not to look away.

The Cult Leader said,

“Lord of the Gate.”

“Speak.”

“Your disciple seemed clever. Where did you find her?”

“At a place called Black Fragrance Auction. They even traded children like Yoran there, so I killed everyone and took her.”

“You made her your disciple because you saw she was clever?”

I shook my head.

“Clever or stupid, she would’ve become my disciple. Yoran was the one who first asked to learn martial arts. Did you like her?”

The Cult Leader nodded.

“I did.”

“Well, you’ve got enough disciples already. Don’t get greedy.”

“I have no intention of teaching her.”

“That’s a relief. I can’t let a disciple be stolen by the cult.”

“Return the One-Kill Sword.”

“What for?”

“It doesn’t suit you. Not your martial art, not your nature, not the purpose for which it was forged. You were never an assassin to begin with.”

I had no retort to that.

“....”

I untied the One-Kill Sword from my waist and placed it on the table. If he brings it up right after Yoran, I can’t argue.

The Cult Leader picked it up, drew it halfway, and inspected the blade.

“....”

Without a word, he sheathed it again and looked to Sword Demon.

“If your master’s wish is for you to become Unrivaled, take the Lightbringer Sword. If not, return it. If your aim is to be a swordsman, the Lightbringer won’t help you. Haven’t you decided yet?”

Both the Cult Leader and I looked at my eldest brother.

The Cult Leader wasn’t wrong, so I had nothing to add. The choice was his, but it didn’t seem like he had any way out.

The Cult Leader asked Sword Demon,

“...How’s your internal harmony?”

He replied,

“Not complete.”

“Then returning it won’t threaten your life.”

Sword Demon looked at the Cult Leader and replied in a flat tone.

“Kill me and take it.”

“Why?”

“Because as long as I hold onto it, it’ll make you just a little more uncomfortable. If I die, I’ll leave instructions to return it to the cult.”

The Cult Leader spoke.

“So be it. Left Guardian Wi.”

A distant voice responded.

“Yes, Cult Leader.”

“Take it.”

Within a few breaths, the Left Guardian appeared at the entrance of the Zaha Inn, walked in silently, picked up the One-Kill Sword, and left again. I barely heard his footsteps, even coming and going.

The Cult Leader said,

“Lord of the Gate, how long will it take for you to find a new weapon?”

“I don’t know. I’m not that obsessed with famous swords. I’ll try to find one quickly, and if I can’t, I’ll just use a chipped longsword.”

He nodded.

“Do so.”

The Cult Leader was a man who made exchanges clear. This felt like his way of saying the return had earned me that leeway.

I looked down at the drink, then asked,

“A cup?”

He held out the glass he’d used for water. For the first time, I poured him a drink, then turned to my eldest brother.

“Brother.”

He approached, picked up an empty glass from the table. I poured for him too, then filled my own.

We drank without saying a word, but the act itself was a silent vow—a pact to keep our promises.

After setting down his glass, the Cult Leader spoke first.

“Choose the place.”

It sounded like he was asking where I wanted to die. I had no plans to die, but I considered it.

Where would be the best place to fight to the death with no regrets?

My eldest brother met my eyes and said,

“You choose.”

I thought it over carefully, then said to the Cult Leader,

“Then, let’s meet at Mount Hua.”

“And the time?”

“Come when you want to kill me. I’ll go first and be training there.”

The Cult Leader looked at my eldest brother.

“And you?”

“Where else would I go? See you then.”

The Cult Leader nodded, as if accepting the proposal.

“Mount Hua, then.”

Unexpectedly, he held out his glass again. As I refilled it like a good innkeeper, he said,

“Lord of the Gate, it wasn’t a good strategy.”

“And why not?”

He motioned slightly toward the fluttering flag.

“...The base location wasn’t bad, but how do you fight a war without messengers or scouts? From the flag, I knew reinforcements were coming from various regions, and with the scouts’ reports, I positioned units ahead of time at all key points. I even toured the area leisurely in a carriage.”

“Hmm.”

The Cult Leader looked at me.

“I’ve read old texts and a few strategy manuals, but I’ve never seen a general plan something so emotional. The Sword Judge of Namgung came, fought the Left Guardian, and the Sword King of the Military Division met me instead. He was quick-witted, didn’t go for a full-scale battle, and asked for a one-on-one.”

“And?”

“His right arm was severed. He can’t use the ‘Sword Judge’ title anymore. In exchange for not being wiped out, he pledged to seal his sect for a hundred years. In short, they fell into your emotional strategy and were picked off one by one. Not every front was a victory, of course. The Fist King’s side had fewer numbers, and we took heavier losses there. But they also lacked manpower and ultimately had to inhale poison mist and flee somewhere.”

I had no comeback.

The Cult Leader continued,

“There’s much I haven’t been fully briefed on, but I assume similar things happened on other fronts.”

So it was my flag that brought defeat by isolation. By making the Zaha Inn the final battleground, the Cult Leader isolated it and eliminated all surrounding threats before showing up.

Watching him now, I had a strange thought.

Was this what someone like Sima Yi would’ve felt like?

The Cult Leader looked like someone with no equal in strategy or martial might. A man born in the wrong era. Or maybe born in the right one and just wreaking havoc...

And yet I hadn’t lost. But everyone who tried to help me had suffered or fallen to the Cult Leader.

So I simply admitted it.

“You saw through me well. I acted rashly, emotionally. Maybe I mistook the whole world for a guesthouse. How shameful. Any other reports?”

The Cult Leader said,

“The great clans are mostly stagnant and corrupt. When a clan leader or army moves out, just send a few assassins to the main house. They’ll retreat to protect their wealth. The Seomun Clan did the same. Wealth and home matter more than helping others. That’s the limit of the white-path factions.”

“And the Alliance Leader?”

We played verbal go across the table, without any stones.

“Im Sobaek was the only one who used scouts and messengers properly. His men couldn’t pinpoint his exact location, but eventually, his forces clashed with my first son’s near the Alliance HQ. Heavy casualties on both sides. He must’ve withdrawn too. He’s a man who values saving lives more than taking them.”

First son. He meant the Crown Prince of the cult. So the Crown Prince had stalled the Alliance’s advance or fought it to a standstill.

The Cult Leader continued.

“You and I—nothing ever goes as planned.”

“True enough.”

“The blood price for the cultists you’ve killed won’t be paid with just your death. Others in Jianghu have paid it in your stead. By now, we’re about even. Given your nature, had you just challenged me outright, this would’ve ended already. But you had to blow it up this far. Were you that afraid?”

I shook my head.

“Not fear—frustration.”

“I hope, when I see you at Mount Hua, you’ll be at least equal to the other Three Calamities. Will you manage it?”

“Who can say?”

“Climbing Mount Hua just to watch you kill yourself would be a waste. Sword Demon, don’t you agree?”

My eldest brother looked down at him and replied,

“You think the Lord of the Gate would take his own life? He might take Mount Hua with him. Don’t get cocky.”

The Cult Leader nodded.

“We’ll limit the number of participants. Cheonak, Shin Gae, the Lord of the Gate, Sword Demon, and the White-Robed Scholar. No more than ten. But I don’t want to see Im Sobaek.”

“Why do you hate him so much?”

The Cult Leader looked at me like I was pathetic.

“What Cult Leader would like the Alliance Leader?”

I didn’t think I’d ever have to hold back laughter in front of this man—but here we were. The mood was too grim to laugh. I pushed my cheek with my tongue.

To think I’d feel like laughing at a time like this...

I know I’m crazy—but this was over the line.

“Let’s leave the Alliance Leader aside, then. We’ll go with that headcount. That beggar senior might not come—he’s old. Probably can’t even manage three meals a day.”

I muttered that lightly, but the Cult Leader did not laugh.