“Something feels strange.”

The highest floor of the tallest tavern in Anhui Province.

On the open terrace, two men sat openly sharing wine — Mangwol, Master of the First Moon Medallion, and No Mun, Fifth Blood Lord of the Blood Demon Cult.

“It feels like things are going too smoothly.”

Unable to hide his unease, No Mun looked toward Mangwol.

Mangwol, gnawing on a dish made of braised chicken neck, let out a throaty chuckle and shook the bone he was chewing.

“I don’t know why you’re so anxious. Isn’t it a good thing when things go well?”

“Of course, it would be good if so. But the Sword Emperor isn’t someone who would die so easily. Yes, we succeeded in feeding him small amounts of the Cult’s poison, but doesn’t it seem far too simple?”

While Namgoong Seolhwa was away from her home, they had succeeded in smuggling in poison, and # Nоvеlight # the process of slipping it to Namgoong Mucheon had gone without a hitch.

And then, coincidentally, in the very period that Namgoong Seolhwa was absent, the poison spread and he died?

“The timing was simply aligned. Isn’t it the heavens helping us?”

Mangwol chuckled as he lifted his winecup with a satisfied expression.

Draining the cup in a single motion, he pointed toward the streets of Anhui.

“Look at those streets flowing with wailing. The streets drenched in white mourning clothes. Can you still say otherwise? Heheheh....”

No Mun, too, cast his gaze down toward Anhui’s streets.

Namgoong Mucheon was dead, and a grand funeral had been held.

Though the funeral had been shorter than expected, it was said to have been Mucheon’s wish in life, so nothing was strange in that.

More than that, even Namgoong Seolhwa and the direct line of the Namgoong Clan were said to be unable to accept Mucheon’s death.

‘That means even they did not foresee Namgoong Mucheon’s death.’

All the more so, if it were revealed that this funeral was a deception, the Namgoong Clan’s reputation would plummet.

The Namgoong Clan, in the midst of preparing for the Martial Alliance, would not risk tarnishing their name at such a crucial time.

That much was certain.

“The undertaking will be best done tonight.”

Mangwol chuckled again.

No Mun frowned deeply and asked,

“You truly intend to seize the Sword Emperor’s corpse?”

“To turn away from such a feast laid before one’s eyes would be an insult to human nature.”

“Even knowing Namgoong Seolhwa goes to the grave every day, you still say this?”

“I had been meaning to greet the Young Union Lord anyway. Don’t you wish to see the Young Union Lord you so fear driven into despair?”

He chuckled.

“Who knows? She may even beg me to bring her grandfather back.”

The thought of the Young Union Lord kneeling and pleading made him laugh on its own.

No Mun scowled as he looked at Mangwol laughing like a madman, and then spoke.

“I won’t be going. You should be able to handle Namgoong Seolhwa on your own.”

“You truly are a fearful man, Fifth Blood Lord. Seems when you lost your arm, you also lost your guts?”

“...Say whatever you wish.”

No Mun rose from his seat and left the tavern.

Watching him leave like a sulking child, Mangwol chuckled and drank straight from the wine jar.

“Kuhuhu....”

Wiping away the wine running down the corner of his lips, his gaze turned toward the distant gates of the Namgoong Clan.

Namgoong Soryong and his retinue were departing from the Namgoong Clan.

****

“It was good to see you again. Thank you for agreeing to meet — I know it must have been a difficult request.”

At Soryong’s words, Woong replied with a calm smile.

“I too am glad to have met you again, Young Lord. You seem to be in good health, which is a relief.”

For just a fleeting moment, Soryong’s smile darkened, but then curved back into brightness.

“You could call me brother, you know.”

“No. I prefer it this way. It puts me at ease.”

“...I see. If that’s how it is, then so be it.”

Soryong clasped Woong’s shoulder with a trace of regret.

“It would be good if we could see each other’s faces from time to time.”

“If the opportunity arises, you should do so.”

It was close to affirmation, yet still vague, refusing to promise a future meeting.

In truth, it was an answer determined from the moment Woong had agreed to meet Soryong only as a guest.

The location itself implied both that he was unfit to be welcomed into the Namgoong Clan’s Inner Hall, and that he was not trusted.

“Yes. Who knows when such an opportunity will come.”

“....”

Soryong once more grinned widely and patted Woong’s arm twice.

“I’ll be going now. Give my regards to Father—no, to the Young Lord as well.”

“...Yes. I will.”

Soryong returned to the retinue waiting behind him and mounted his horse.

From atop the horse, he gazed at Woong for a brief moment, then turned his reins and departed from the Namgoong Clan.

Woong stood watching his retreating back until he could no longer be seen.

“....”

A white funeral banner fluttered in the wind.

Woong clenched his fist tight.

At his side approached someone in a black long robe, a bamboo hat pressed low over their head.

Without taking his eyes from the direction where Namgoong Soryong had disappeared, Woong spoke.

“...I met Young Lord Soryong, just as you wished, Sister. Is this enough?”

Thin lips beneath the bamboo hat parted slightly.

“It’s enough. You’ve done well. His destination?”

“He said he would return directly to the Yeon Family. As you said.”

“Nothing unusual?”

“Nothing. Or rather — it was strange how there was nothing.”

In today’s meeting, there had been none of the Soryong he remembered from childhood.

No trace of the willful, arrogant boy. Instead, he had shown courtesy and restraint.

“Perhaps Brother has simply changed much.”

“If he had truly changed, he wouldn’t have returned.”

If he had truly grasped his own position, he would never have set foot in Anhui, much less the Namgoong Clan.

‘Namgoong Soryong.’

In his past life, he had abandoned the clan to save his own skin.

Even if this life had taken another course, human nature did not change so easily.

“I still do not understand your intent, Sister.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you yet.”

“Will I understand when the time comes?”

“Yes. When the time comes, you’ll know everything.”

Everything.

And when that time comes, Grandfather too....

‘It’s not far now.’

Since Namgoong Soryong had come and gone, then likely tonight.

The bamboo hat tilted up slightly, revealing Seolhwa’s sharp gaze fixed on the tallest guesthouse in Anhui.

Moments later, when Woong turned his head back to where Seolhwa had been, she was already gone.

****

Rustle. Rustle.

The dark night.

A stooped old man walked along a shadowed forest path.

Mangwol, Master of the First Moon Medallion of the Blood Demon Cult.

After venturing deep into the forest, he stopped before what seemed a simple boulder at the edge of a sheer cliff.

“Hm.”

After watching the boulder for a long while, he took something from his sleeve.

A talisman inscribed with strange characters.

Mangwol pressed the talisman against the right side of the stone and channeled his Energy of Blood into it.

At once, the air rippled, and where there had seemed a cliff, a path appeared.

Mangwol’s lips twisted in a sinister grin.

“So it truly works. Is it that the Namgoongs are incompetent, or that fellow was simply capable?”

But his laughter abruptly vanished.

“Accursed bastard.”

Clicking his tongue, he stepped onto the conjured path.

He walked on for some time.

Soon, plants and trees clearly tended by human hands came into view.

The Namgoong Clan’s cemetery, hidden by a formation.

Step. Step.

Mangwol passed ordinary graves and walked deeper inside.

The further he went, the larger the tombs became and the more splendid the gravestones.

And at last.

A tomb greater than eight ordinary graves combined came into sight.

On the grand stone stele before it, carved in bold characters: Heavenly Dragon Sword Emperor Namgoong Mucheon.

Mangwol halted, his gaze falling on the woman sitting blankly before the stele, keeping vigil.

His lips curled with ridicule.

“It’s been a while, Young Union Lord.”

So great must have been the shock of Namgoong Mucheon’s death, for her to sit here so vacant.

“Seeing you like this, the rumor that you regained your emotions must be true.”

He chuckled.

At the familiar sound, Seolhwa rose from her place.

Slowly, she turned and faced the old man standing in the moonlight.

Her gaze, hollow and filled with emptiness, met Mangwol’s just as he was about to speak.

“You’re late.”

Her voice was calm, devoid of any emotion.

The air turned frigid, as if frozen, and Mangwol’s expression stiffened.

“...You knew I would come?”

“It was either you or the Fourth Blood Lord. Only those two in Huaoru handle corpses.”

Mangwol’s eyes widened in genuine surprise.

“You know far more than I expected.”

“I know other things too. Want me to tell you?”

“What else do you know?”

“That you and the Fourth Blood Lord are brothers.”

“....”

“Oh, of course — half-brothers, but still.”

Not a trace of laughter remained on Mangwol’s face.

“You’ve learned things you shouldn’t. For my Lord’s sake, I had intended not to touch you, Young Union Lord.”

A dark-violet aura seeped out around Mangwol.

“Now I begin to understand why the Fifth Blood Lord feared you so. Once my Lord knows how dangerous you are, he too will understand.”

He raised his claws, long, black, razor-sharp.

Srrring—

Seolhwa too drew her sword.

There had been no trace of a smile on her face for a long while.

“Just as I hoped. When I think of what we endured to get this chance at you, it makes me quite angry.”

Around her, a crimson aura flared.

Dark-red murderous qi surged violently, radiating her fury in a ferocious storm.

“I don’t think this rage will be quenched unless I kill you.”