Part 2, Chapter 8 — Lost Justification, Betrayed Faith

After the tournament ended, the Martial Alliance convened a full council.

The heads of each faction, the Alliance elders, and the division lords all gathered to discuss the Alliance’s course and the affairs of the martial world.

“The Alliance is gravely short on information as things stand.”

Mount Hua’s former grand elder, No Seon, was the first to speak.

“Had we known in advance about the tournament affair, the Alliance could have stopped it. Yet while flying the banner of a martial union, we even lagged behind the Unorthodox. This is a disgrace to the Orthodox martial world.”

Sichuan Tang Clan’s head, Tang Munryong, answered in a mild voice.

“You can’t dismiss the Sado Union as ‘mere.’ It unites the Central Plains’ Unorthodox, does it not?”

“In the end they’re still base Unorthodox curs.”

“For all that, the Shadowless Demon God’s martial presence was not something to ignore.”

Hebei Peng Clan’s head, Peng Yeopmyeong, spoke.

“Tell me—how many here could truly read the Shadowless Demon God’s martial level on that day?”

At Peng Yeopmyeong’s question, the hall fell still for a moment.

He gave a small snort of laughter and turned to Namgoong Mucheon.

“To my eye, Alliance Lord, you seemed to grasp that one’s martial level.”

Every gaze settled on Namgoong Mucheon.

He had been quiet while Seolhwa’s affairs were raised; now he opened his mouth.

“It appeared the Flowering realm.”

A ripple swept the chamber.

A master of Flowering.

Besides the few famed as the Top Ten Under Heaven, was there yet another master of Flowering unknown to the world?

Where had such a strong one been, that not even a rumor of their existence had spread?

“And yet—is that truly so shocking?”

Namgoong Mucheon’s voice stilled the murmurs.

“As you all know, the Flesh Curtain Lord and the Green Forest War King are both known as masters of Flowering.”

Hearing it put that way, it was so.

The chiefs of the Flesh Curtain and the Green Forest both bore names among the Top Ten, masters of Flowering.

And the Sado Union Lord, being head of the Central Plains’ Unorthodox—Flowering would scarcely be surprising.

In time even rivers and mountains change.

Will those called the Top Ten Under Heaven remain precisely ten forever?

New figures appear; others lose their internal strength to mishap. Such is the martial world.

At about this point a few glanced sidelong at ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ Namgoong Mucheon.

‘The Sword Emperor’s level on the platform exceeded imagination.’

‘If he could read the Shadowless Demon God as Flowering, then what realm does the Sword Emperor stand upon?’

But none gave voice to the thought.

Even if the Sword Emperor had reached Heaven Beyond Heaven, prying into another’s full strength is not the way of a martial man.

Namgoong Mucheon likewise had no intention of declaring that he had stepped into Heaven Beyond Heaven, and so he turned the topic.

“More than that, I agree with Elder No Seon on this: the Alliance is blind in matters of intelligence.”

If might is strong, you can minimize loss; if intelligence is strong, you can prevent loss altogether.

The tournament crisis passed without grave trouble thanks to the Sado Union’s aid—but one cannot expect fortune to favor forever.

“Therefore, I mean to invite the Beggar’s Union into the Alliance.”

Again the room stirred.

The Beggar’s Union is a force formed by beggars.

Because there are beggars everywhere in the Central Plains, the network they weave is said to be immense.

Many scoff that beggars can only gather scraps of use—but dust amassed becomes a mountain.

The rumors and tidings that spill into the streets are the very power that raises the Beggar’s Union.

However—

“I grant their information is able—but beggars are beggars. They themselves call their body a ‘sect,’ yet to regard them as proper martial folk is a misnomer.”

“The Alliance may be a union, but we cannot stand shoulder to shoulder with beggars... hem...”

Several wore their distaste openly.

They disliked treating a beggar-founded organization as an equal to venerable sects and clans, and they disliked the Alliance bowing first to petition them.

Yet—

“The Sado Union you all so mistrust also has an intelligence body called the Hao Sect.”

The Martial Alliance had been outmatched in information by the Sado Union.

We can dress it up as ‘receiving aid,’ but plainly, the Alliance did not know what the Sado Union knew.

“The Hao Sect is formed by courtesans and serving boys, pickpockets and the like.”

It was someone else’s tip that let the Sado Union learn the Blood Sect’s scheme first—

Namgoong Mucheon chose to make a point of it.

“When their existence first became known in the martial world, which of the powers gathered here spared them a thought?”

While everyone else ignored them, the Sado Union went to the Hao Sect.

On condition of protection and backing, they took hold of the largest intelligence net in the Central Plains.

“Let’s prize substance before face. You all acknowledge the Beggar’s Union’s information power, do you not? To my mind, there may not be a soul here who hasn’t benefited from it.”

When information is needed, where does everyone go first?

The Beggar’s Union.

The Orthodox powers have long used their intelligence while despising and dismissing the ‘beggar organization.’

At Namgoong Mucheon’s words—each a pin driven to the quick—those who had bristled fell quiet.

In truth, they simply disliked it; there was no apt substitute to replace the Beggar’s Union.

“However, I hear their internal state is tangled.”

Zhongnan Sect’s head spoke up.

“Half a year ago, after the Dragon-Head Lord died, no successor was named. Without a leader to guide their strength, will they cooperate in Alliance affairs?”

The Dragon-Head Lord’s death—head of the Beggar’s Union—was a fact known across the martial world.

At the Zhongnan head’s words, many nodded.

“Even as the Alliance, we cannot meddle in a force’s internal matters at whim.”

“Then must we wait until the Beggar’s Union sorts itself?”

The Alliance is a union of powers. Without justification, it cannot intrude as it pleases in each faction’s affairs.

Yet when an intelligence net is needed at once, one cannot simply wait on the Beggar’s Union’s troubles to resolve themselves.

“Therefore, I propose we dispatch the Demon-Slaying Corps to investigate the Beggar’s Union’s situation more closely.”

The Demon-Slaying Corps—

The Alliance strike corps whose command, through the tournament, passed to Ouyang Do’s disciple, Yu Gang.

“As you know, the people gathered here have faces and identities already known throughout the martial world. But happily, most of the exceptional talents we gained through the tournament are not so well known.”

Names and sobriquets may have traveled, but few would recognize their faces.

“Let’s send the Demon-Slaying Corps to look into the Beggar’s Union’s affairs, and speak again after on what they learn.”

****

Seolhwa’s brows curved faintly as she watched those gathered in the courtyard.

After she had proposed recruiting the Beggar’s Union to Namgoong Mucheon, and after hearing that a strike detachment would be sent to examine the Beggar’s Union’s troubles, Seolhwa said she would go as well.

She knew the Beggar’s Union’s business in broad strokes from her former life, and she meant to seek information tied to the sigil on the cloth the long-scarred bamboo-hatted man had left.

And yet—why this?

[All of these are going? Did you not say it would be done quietly? Do humans truly not understand the meaning of ‘quiet’?]

Secretly agreeing with the Imoogi’s sardonic murmur, Seolhwa walked toward the group.

Jegal Hwi spotted her first and greeted her with a bright smile.

“Oh—there comes Lady Namgoong.”

Seolhwa dipped her chin in a light nod, letting her gaze pass over those present.

‘Jegal Hwi, the Peng siblings, Monk Hyeon, Tang Hojin, and...’

At last she looked to the woman standing to one side.

Sensing that gaze, Jegal Hwi introduced her.

“This is Golden Lotus Rain. You saw her during the tournament, yes?”

Golden Lotus Rain.

One of the final eight.

Her main arm was the bow, but in the tournament she’d shown skill in fistwork as well.

It seemed she had learned fistwork to shore up the bow’s weakness at close range, but by misfortune her quarterfinal opponent had been Shaolin’s monk Hyeon, formidable in fistwork—and she had lost.

“Golden Lotus Rain has keen eyes. And this is the famed Namgoong young lady.”

Seolhwa and Golden Lotus Rain traded a light clasp of fists in greeting.

Seolhwa asked,

“Are all those gathered here the ones going?”

Jegal Hwi arched his brows and answered,

“I would that it were so, but alas, I am too swamped with duties to accompany you.”

Peng Hogwang and Peng Mirang, standing nearby, chimed in.

“We asked to go, but permission was not granted.”

“We’re too conspicuous. Too big.”

Peng Mirang chuckled, setting an elbow on Peng Hogwang’s shoulder with a friendly thunk.

“My brother and I just came to see you off.”

Thankfully, it seemed not everyone was going.

When Seolhwa looked to Hyeon, he, too, gave a regretful little bow and said,

“For the same reason, I was excluded.”

Indeed, a monk among them would draw too many eyes.

“Then...”

The answer came from behind her.

“Golden Lotus Rain, Tang Hojin, and...”

Seolhwa turned. At some point, Yu Gang had come to stand tall at her back.

“You and I will move together.”

Seolhwa lifted her gaze to meet his, almost without thinking.

A black band neatly binding his hair; strong brows; black eyes bright as polished stone.

A fresh leather belt; black martial garb trimmed in blue that set off the lines of trained sinew.

Gone were the threadbare clothes—he looked strikingly changed, so much so that Seolhwa’s lips parted a fraction before she knew it.

Yu Gang dipped his head just enough to meet her eyes and smiled.

“Good morning.”