Sichuan Province, Chengdu.

The Lord’s Hall of the Sichuan Tang Clan.

Tang Clan Lord Tang Munryong closed the book he had been reading and turned a cold gaze toward the clan’s Chief Steward.

“What did you just say?”

The Steward bowed his head at the frosty tone.

“...I misspoke.”

“Do not bring up that child again.”

“Yes, Clan Lord.”

Ever since the last Assembly of the Clans, when Tang Gajin had attempted to poison Namgoong Seolhwa, the First Young Lord of the Tang Clan had been placed under strict confinement, forbidden to leave his quarters.

The only places he could step into during his confinement were his chambers, the training yard, and the clan’s cultivation hall.

In short, everything except practice was forbidden.

But when news spread that the orthodox factions of the Central Plains would soon gather, Lady Mi—Tang Gajin’s mother—had pleaded on her son’s behalf. The Steward had raised the matter, only to be silenced with no gain at all.

Clearing his throat, the Steward cautiously asked,

“Then, who do you intend to bring to the Assembly this time?”

“I may go alone.”

“Not even taking the Young Lord?”

“This Assembly is hosted by a clan that has just held a funeral. It will not be a noisy affair.”

The Steward let out a faint sigh.

Word had ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) arrived just before the Assembly—the shocking news of Namgoong Mucheon’s death.

By the time messages had passed back and forth, the Sword Emperor’s funeral had already ended.

“I still cannot bring myself to believe the Sword Emperor has truly passed.”

“Nor can I.”

Tang Munryong clenched his fist tight.

He could not forget the words Mucheon had spoken to him in their private meeting at the last Assembly.

“I want to set the martial world upright.”

He still remembered the steel in that man’s spirit.

When Tang Munryong had said the sects would never lend their support, Mucheon had replied without hesitation that he would succeed.

If he did, Tang Munryong promised, the Tang Clan would lend its strength. Yet he hadn’t truly believed it.

He had thought the stiff-necked sects would never follow the words of a clan.

But Namgoong Mucheon had done it.

He united the clans, won recognition from the sects, and against all odds achieved the Assembly of the Orthodox Martial World.

And yet.

Why.

If you were only to depart so easily, why dream so greatly?

To fall at last to illness—such a hollow, pitiful end.

As a fellow Clan Lord, as a martial man, and as one who had respected him, Tang Munryong found the Sword Emperor’s death desolate and bitter beyond words.

But.

“This could be an opportunity.”

Shock rippled across the Steward’s face.

“Clan Lord, you mean....”

“With the Sword Emperor gone, there is no one else fit.”

It was said even the Shaolin Abbot would attend.

But none had known Mucheon longer than he, none understood more deeply the vision he had sought to build with the Martial Alliance.

None save perhaps Namgoong Cheongun, the next Clan Lord—but with his youth and inexperience, he was not yet ready to lead the martial world.

And compared to the other contenders, my martial attainment is higher.

This was a fight he could win.

He would use this chance to firmly establish the might of the Sichuan Tang Clan.

“Steward.”

“Yes, Clan Lord.”

“Make thorough preparations for the Assembly.”

The Steward bent respectfully.

“It shall be done.”

****

Namgoong Soryong, who had sworn he would not beg for his life, spilled everything once a little fear was applied.

‘I don’t know who it was! They said they’d pay me if I only helped smuggle these people out! They claimed to be my mother’s old friend! That’s all!’

The three infiltrators had all once served in Yeon Soran’s quarters four years ago, harboring bitter resentment over the purge.

Though money was offered, Soryong’s true reason for aiding them had been closer to vengeance against the Namgoong Clan that killed his mother.

The one who had stoked his thirst for revenge had worn a mask, with a great scar across his face.

By the description, it seemed likely he was the same man who had approached the physician who claimed he could cure Seop Mugwang’s illness.

The Fourth Blood Lord.

Or was it?

She had only her memory of the Fourth Blood Lord’s face, no other proof. She could not dismiss the possibility it was someone else.

What mattered was that this masked figure had set his sights on the Namgoong Clan.

He doesn’t strike directly—he uses others.

A physician’s greed. Namgoong Soryong’s hatred.

Without moving his own hand, he had delivered blows to the Namgoong Clan.

Back then it had been uncertain. Now she was sure.

He too was tied to the Blood Demon Cult.

The attempt to poison Namgoong Mucheon was their doing. The man who helped smuggle away those agents had to be connected.

Who is he? Who could he be...?

Was he someone she had not known in her previous life?

That, too, was something that had changed.

She was still turning the matter over in her mind as she walked, when she felt someone approach.

She lifted her gaze just as the figure ahead called out.

“Young Lady!”

It was Ryeong, returning from a Sado Union branch with news.

“You’re early.”

“I just arrived. Did all go well?”

Seolhwa nodded.

“It was Soryong. I’ve dealt with all the infiltrators.”

Ryeong’s eyes widened.

She had half-believed, half-hoped Seolhwa was mistaken.

She burned with anger whenever she recalled what Soryong’s parents had done, yet Soryong himself had been only a child then, no part of it. For thirteen years they had called him Young Master.

“In the end... then Soryong also....”

The words did you kill him? stuck in her throat.

But Seolhwa, already reading her thoughts, shook her head.

“No. I think someone’s behind this. I’ll keep him alive and watch. I made sure to silence him.”

She had placed a restriction upon him.

Yes, because she didn’t trust him.

That coward might blurt anything in his fear.

She knew well how terrible the pain of restriction was, and disliked imposing it—but without it, she could not rest easy.

“More importantly—what’s the news?”

“Ah—here. A letter from the Hao Sect Master.”

With a start, Ryeong pulled a sealed letter from her breast and handed it over.

Seolhwa took it and read swiftly. Then she burned it at once.

“What does it say?”

“He met with the Lord of Surochae.”

“Then....”

“Surochae has joined the Sado Union.”

Ryeong’s face brightened.

“Just as before, we’ll spread the word across the Central Plains.”

That was the strength of controlling the Hao Sect—not only quick to gather intelligence, but just as swift to spread it.

It had been largely thanks to them that news of Mucheon’s death spread so slowly.

“Once word spreads that Surochae has bent to the Sado Union, it will cause a stir.”

Ryeong’s tone was tinged with excitement.

Seolhwa smiled faintly and nodded.

“Then no one will be content to stand by and watch.”

“Now that you’ve built such power—what will you do with the Sado Union?”

“Not yet.”

“...What?”

“There’s still a long way to go.”

Ryeong blinked, bewildered.

Even after uniting nearly every unorthodox force of the Central Plains and now Surochae as well—still not enough?

“Then... where else could you mean to bring in?”

A faint curve of amusement touched Seolhwa’s lips.

“Why look so surprised? With Surochae under us, only one remains.”

“...Surely not....”

That rough, bearded horde dwelling deep in the green mountains....

“That’s right.”

“....”

“The Green Forest.”

****

“Sister!!”

The moment she stepped into the Inner Hall of the Namgoong Clan, Namgoong Woong ran up, his face pale.

It was the first time since her return that she’d seen him so unsettled. Seolhwa blinked.

“Wh-while you were away, Sister—something truly... truly incredible happened!”

“What is it?”

“P-please, don’t be startled. No, perhaps we should sit first—no.”

Woong seized her shoulders.

His gaze was so urgent that she leaned back uncomfortably. His voice poured into her mind by voice transmission.

— Grandfather has returned to life! We saw him with our own eyes laid to rest only days ago, yet he has come back alive!

Seolhwa furrowed her brow.

Strictly speaking, it had been four days ago, not “yesterday.” And no—he hadn’t returned to life. He had never died in the first place.

Or had he?

— We were all gathered in the Thousand-Tiger Hall, and suddenly Grandfather walked in on his own two feet! More than one Elder fainted dead away! The Lord of the Red Dragon Unit even frothed at the mouth! It was truly a stroke of fortune that the Council of Elders was not summoned!

As expected, news of Mucheon’s return had turned the clan upside down.

Even calm, steady Woong was beside himself.

— The entire clan is in chaos! Everyone’s trying to keep it hushed until the Martial Assembly, but the atmosphere is wild!

“Yes. I can tell just from looking at you.”

“Even Uncle Cheongsan had an outburst... You aren’t surprised, Sister. Did you know already?”

At last, she nodded.

Woong’s eyes widened in shock. His mouth fell open.

“Why... why didn’t you say anything....”

“I wanted to. But there was no chance.”

She couldn’t have stemmed the flood of voice transmissions even if she had.

“....”

Woong’s gaze dropped slowly. A long sigh left his lips.

“As expected, it’s impossible to ever get ahead of you.”

For some reason disappointed, he slumped slightly.

Seolhwa patted his shoulder.

“Don’t be so disheartened. You’re far better than I am, in more ways than one.”