Taaang—!

The bent spear-shaft sent Namgoong Woong flying.

The onlookers’ mouths fell open.

Some sprang to their feet without thinking; some balled their fists.

So Namgoong Woong lost.

That was what everyone thought—when—

Sssrkk—

Out of the dust, Namgoong Woong rose.

His blade was lifted upright before him.

“Tch.”

Silver-Flash Spear clicked his tongue, eyeing the gouge along his shaft.

When he swung the spear—whoom, whoom—Woong likewise straightened his sword and reset his guard.

“Waaah!!”

“Win, Namgoong Woong!!”

“Silver-Flash Spear! Don’t hold back!”

The atmosphere ripened further.

The heat of the tournament was mounting.

That heat reached the pavilion as well.

“Heh-heh. As expected of the Sword Emperor’s grandson, his swordsmanship is superb.”

“That spearman is remarkable too. He won’t yield distance; Young Lord Namgoong’s sword can’t show its strength.”

One boy’s fundamentals were excellent; the other’s movements brimmed with experience.

Even the senior masters watching from the pavilion had excitement in their voices as sword and spear fought in earnest.

“Is that the Clan Head’s son?”

At Mount Hae’s sect leader’s question, Namgoong Cheongun laughed and shook his head.

“That boy is my younger brother’s son.”

“Oh-ho—then he’s the Deputy Strategist’s boy?”

“Yes.”

Cheonghae sat in the Deputy Strategist’s seat, second to the Martial Alliance Strategist Jegal Myeong.

It was by Jegal Myeong’s nomination, with no interference from Namgoong Mucheon.

“Impressive. At such a young age, astonishing skill. The Sword Emperor has a fine grandson.”

“Come to think of it, I heard the Clan Head’s daughter also entered the tournament?”

Mount Hae’s sect leader asked Cheongun again.

“I heard she made the main draw.”

“Yes. She’ll be up shortly.”

“I’m already curious how outstanding the girl will be.”

At the Zhongnan Sect leader’s words, leaning toward Cheongun, the faction heads nearby let out light laughs.

The mood was amicable, but the chiefs knew:

Cheongun’s daughter had long been away from the Namgoong Clan and had been back only four years.

Making the main draw alone was surprising—yet that was all.

Even as the Sword Emperor’s granddaughter, her martial skill could hardly be extraordinary.

“Hahaha! Don’t all fall for her when you see her! I’ve personally marked her as my grandson’s future bride!”

From a little ways off, Peng Yeopmyeong, head of the Peng Clan, shouted loud enough for all to hear.

Most of the chiefs chuckled it off, but the few clan heads who knew Seolhwa’s martial arts did not treat the remark as a joke.

“Silver-Flash Spear wins!”

Meanwhile, the bout between Silver-Flash Spear and Namgoong Woong ended.

The result: Silver-Flash Spear’s victory.

Namgoong Woong panted roughly, staring at the spearhead that had grazed dangerously close to his flank.

By sheer level of skill, Woong had the edge—but experience favored Silver-Flash Spear.

He’d widened the distance, bled Woong’s strength, and seized on the single opening Woong had shown.

“Haa... haa....”

One mistake.

One gap.

One strike.

In the end, that is the difference in skill.

Had this been a real fight, that one moment would have decided life and death.

Namgoong Woong and Silver-Flash Spear straightened.

Woong cupped his fists to the spearman.

“I learned a lesson.”

Silver-Flash Spear returned the salute.

“A fine match.”

The two left the stage, and the second bout began at once.

Next came Wi Ji-il versus Hye-gak:

A warrior from Wi Ji Clan’s martial corps against Hye-gak, Shaolin’s second disciple.

Meanwhile, on the first floor of the pavilion, in the contestants’ waiting area—

Behind one of the great pillars that held up the pavilion, Seolhwa stood watching the stage.

But though her eyes were turned that way, her head was full of what had happened a few days prior.

****

“Whose word should I believe?”

“He’s only trying to use the fact that you’re a Shaolin defrocked monk. The Sado Union has no intention of crossing not only Shaolin but any orthodox power.”

“Then how am I to—”

“If you cannot bring yourself to believe me, then you shouldn’t believe him either.”

How could impersonating the Sado Union possibly be something done for Shaolin?

“The surest way is to ask Monk Gong Cheon....”

But there was no way the Green Forest War King could go to him.

He was the expelled disciple who had betrayed his master and his master’s teaching.

“Verify and judge for yourself what to believe. Only—bear in mind that the very reason the Sado Union exists is not so different from that of the Green Forest.”

“What does that mean?”

“Did you not shoulder the Green Forest for the sake of Shaolin?”

Leaving Songshan, clashing with the bandits who threatened Shaolin, he had climbed all the way to the Green Forest’s chief.

If not for that, how would one explain that even with the epithet of Green Forest War King, he still put Shaolin before the Green Forest?

Sitting as the Green Forest’s chief, he was restraining the Green Forest.

For Shaolin.

For the order in the martial world that Shaolin was to preserve.

The Green Forest War King did not answer.

But Seolhwa knew that silence was assent.

All the better.

If his intent aligned with the Sado Union’s, rallying the Green Forest would not be difficult.

Seolhwa drew something from her bosom and tossed it to him.

It was the name token proving the Shadowless Demon God.

“When your decision is made, come find me. Show that at any guesthouse and you’ll be brought to me.”

The War King caught the token; his expression shifted in an odd way.

“I haven’t said I trust you yet.”

“You will, before long.”

That was their last exchange.

Seolhwa returned straight to the Martial Alliance.

****

The Green Forest would not cause a scene during the tournament.

The Green Forest War King paid little heed to the Central Plains at large, but anything touching Shaolin, he handled with care.

He could not readily judge what truly served Shaolin; for the moment, he would be cautious.

The problem was—

‘The Bamboo-Hatted Man who egged the War King on.’

Who in the world was he?

“Young lady...”

Who was he, to meddle at every turn like this?

Who was he...

“Young Lady Namgoong!”

Startled, Seolhwa turned to the one who had laid a hand on her shoulder.

Seeing her surprise, Jegal Hwi himself flustered and stepped back a little.

“My apologies. You wouldn’t answer no matter how I called.”

“Ah. It’s fine. What is it?”

“I meant to ask whether you saw Young Lord Namgoong Woong’s match.”

Seolhwa looked toward the stage.

Lost deep in thought, she’d missed it; at some point, even the second bout had ended and was being cleared.

“...How did it go?”

“Surely you didn’t miss it? You’ve been here since the start—I assumed you saw.”

“I was thinking about something else. Woong lost, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Seolhwa slowly nodded.

“You’re not surprised. You thought Young Lord Namgoong Woong would lose?”

“A little.”

Silver-Flash Spear, Woong’s opponent, far outstripped him in real combat experience—and in battle, experience translates directly to skill.

“Even so, I hoped he would win.”

“At least you and Young Lord Namgoong Woong won’t be facing each other.”

Jegal Hwi chuckled.

Most brackets were arranged to avoid early matches between members of the same clan or sect, but there were exceptions.

Had both Namgoong Woong and Seolhwa each won twice, they would have met.

“Either way, we’ll cross paths at least once.”

“That’s true as well.”

As Seolhwa traded light words with Jegal Hwi, she suddenly felt someone’s gaze from somewhere.

She turned her head that way without thinking, and her eyes widened a touch.

Across from where she stood, on the pillar opposite—

Yu Gang leaned with arms folded, slouched against the column, looking at her.

Seolhwa arched a brow.

‘How long has he been there?’

— Since the beginning.

“!”

Had she spoken aloud just now?

Had she sent a voice transmission without thinking?

While she was still thrown, Yu Gang walked over to them.

To conceal himself, he wore a bamboo hat and a cloth over his lower face; only his eyes showed.

For some reason, the way his eyes swept Jegal Hwi was sharp.

“Oh? Snow-Plum Sabre, is it not?”

Jegal Hwi flicked open his fan with a snap and dipped his head.

Yu Gang likewise gave a small nod.

“You know me, it seems.”

“Of course. Do you know how much I’ve wagered on you?”

Yu Gang’s brow knit hard.

“You gambled on me?”

“Let’s call it a matter of faith.”

I wagered on your victory.

Jegal Hwi wore a faint smile.

But to Seolhwa’s eyes it was plain he was wary of Yu Gang.

Whether by design or not, Jegal Hwi did not bring out his fan before those closest to him.

“And what brings Snow-Plum Sabre here?”

“I’ve no business with you.”

Yu Gang looked to Seolhwa.

His lips hesitated briefly, then he spoke.

“Have you seen the bracket?”

“You two know each other?”

Seolhwa glanced between Jegal Hwi and Yu Gang and answered:

“A little. I’ve seen it. We won’t meet until the finals.”

“Doesn’t it feel like a bracket made for us?”

Yu Gang’s eyes tipped in a sly smile.

Before Seolhwa could answer, Jegal Hwi slipped between them.

“Isn’t that going a bit {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} far? As I recall, we’re up first.”

His fan tapped Yu Gang lightly in the chest.

With one win apiece, Jegal Hwi and Yu Gang would face each other next.

Yu Gang’s expression crumpled in a flash.

He was about to shove the fan aside and tell him to move when Seolhwa headed off somewhere.

“Where are you going?”

“Young lady, where are you going?”

They asked in unison.

Seolhwa let out a small sigh, turned back to them, and said,

“To get ready. I’m up next.”