Chapter 370: Gathering of the Orthodox Faction (11)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 370: Gathering of the Orthodox Faction (11)
The afternoon sun hung high over Henan.
The province was always a bustling hub, but today, the air felt particularly thick and suffocating. Every inn was packed to the rafters; some patrons had even brought their own stools, desperate for just a place to sit. The serving girls were run off their feet, more frantic than ever.
—Another drink over here!
—Right away!
The tavern buzzed with a cacophony of overlapping shouts. The sheer mass of bodies made everything louder, more chaotic. Yet, amidst the press, an unusual sight: a clear path had been carved through the dense crowd, making the congested streets feel even narrower. This corridor was reserved, kept open for people and carriages to pass. Behind its invisible boundaries, the spectators watched, not daring to cross the line.
There was only one reason for such a gathering, for such a meticulously cleared way.
—They’re here!
The shout cut through the noise, and a hush fell instantly.
All eyes snapped toward the entrance of the path that led to the Murim Alliance headquarters.
Thud. Thud.
A figure approached from the distance. No, not a single figure—an entire group. They moved in unison, dressed in matching robes, each with a sword strapped securely at their waist. A murmur, like a wave, rippled through the crowd.
—The Wudang Sect…!
It was indeed the Wudang Sect, one of the esteemed pillars of the Ten Sect Alliance. They had journeyed from Hubei to attend this gathering of the Orthodox Faction.
And at the head of their procession—
—The Sword Immortal of Wudang!
An old man with long, snow-white hair tied neatly back stood tall, clad in the sect's signature robes. His expression was sharp, his eyes keen, and the distinct aura of potent Taoist Qi radiating from him marked him as a true master. It was said he wielded the art of Sword Manipulation and had long been counted among the world's five greatest swordsmen.
The Sword Immortal walked past the silent, watching crowd and, guided by Alliance members, stepped across the threshold into the Murim Alliance compound. The entire Wudang contingent filed in after him. The procession didn't take long, but the people savored every moment. The Head of Wudang, one of the world's supreme masters, was not a sight one saw on the street every day.
And he was just the first. Many more renowned martial artists were yet to come. That was why the streets were so overwhelmingly packed. This gathering had drawn the key figures of the Central Plains, and the common folk were eager for a glimpse.
As for me, I could only watch the spectacle from my vantage point, stunned into silence.
"They could use carriages, but they choose to walk on purpose."
I didn't get it. The Wudang Sect wasn't poor. Why bother with this parade? But when I looked down at the sea of eager faces, I noticed the martial artists walking slowly, deliberately, giving people a chance to see them clearly. Perhaps it was an unspoken agreement between both sides? A performance for the masses?
What a farce.
I could only laugh, speechless.
If this were a public tournament or a festival, it would be understandable. Those events were meant for entertainment; putting on a show there made sense.
But for a gathering that would decide the future of the Murim Alliance? Was such theatrics really necessary? I couldn't help but question it. Though, if it was all for managing public opinion, I suppose I couldn't complain too much.
No wonder they told me to make an entrance, too.
I silently thanked my past self for refusing. If I had agreed, I would have been the one drawing all those stares, just like the Wudang Sword Immortal.
Then again, maybe no one would know who I am.
But I doubted that. Everyone in Henan seemed to take particular pleasure in gossiping about me. What a fucking joke.
I forced the scowl from my face and turned to the trembling idiot beside me. "Hey, friend, stop shaking. You'll bring the whole roof down."
"O-O… O-Okay…"
Was that even a proper response? I sighed deeply at his pathetic state.
The bastard who looked like he might keel over at any moment was Cheol Jiseon. Surprisingly, he was one of the so-called "Young Prodigies" selected to attend the meeting. I'd become a little curious when I saw his name on the list. Namgung Bi-ah and Tang Soyeol weren't included, yet somehow, he was.
"You've been like this since yesterday, haven't you?"
"...N-N… No?"
" 'No,' my ass. You were shaking so badly yesterday you could barely eat."
"…"
Cheol Jiseon's pupils darted around wildly, a clear sign of his sheer nervousness. Dealing with him on the way to the Murim Alliance had been a nightmare.
I would've rather brought Pe Woocheol or Gu Jeolyub.
Either of them would have been far less trouble.
"Sigh." A headache was starting to bloom behind my eyes again.
As I rubbed my temples, another, louder cheer erupted from the street below.
—It's the Tang Clan…!
The earlier excitement for the Wudang Sect was nothing compared to this. It was to be expected. The one who had just appeared was a Lord from the esteemed Four Noble Clans.
My gaze automatically drifted downward. A group of people, clad in the same distinctive attire I'd seen Tang Soyeol wear, marched down the cleared path. The difference between a clan and a sect was apparent here. Unlike the relatively austere Taoists of Wudang, the Tang Clan, known for supplying weapons to armies and other clans, had clearly invested considerable wealth in their appearance. Their robes were elaborate, and I realized that Tang Soyeol had actually been quite modest in her own dress.
That man.
Leading the group was a middle-aged man. He wore a dark green robe that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Just looking at him sent a sharp, bitter sensation across my tongue.
The Poison King, Tang Cheongi.
He was the Lord of the Tang Clan, a martial artist whose mastery of poison was once considered unrivaled. At least, it was until his daughter, Tang Soyeol, mastered the state of Ten Thousand Poisons Immunity and earned the title of Poison Queen.
He looks kind of… gentle.
I'd always wondered why Tang Soyeol seemed so soft-spoken despite hailing from a clan infamous for poison and assassination. Seeing her father's face, I thought I understood. His build was noticeably slight compared to other martial artists. In fact, he was even smaller than me. And given my own stature, that said a lot about his frame.
Did I really not see him last time?
I thought back to my visit to the Tang Clan for their military exhibition. It seemed I hadn't met him then, thanks to all the excuses I'd made. A smirk touched my lips at the memory.
I was seriously crazy back then.
A blood relative of a noble clan visits one of the Four Noble Clans and doesn't even meet its Lord? At the time, I hadn't grasped how absurd it was, but looking back, I'd been a complete madman.
I'm surprised my father didn't lose his temper over that.
That trip to Sichuan might have been forced, but I'm sure he'd had his reasons for sending me. In hindsight, to have gone just on a whim and returned without accomplishing anything was insane.
Lost in my thoughts, a trembling voice pulled me back.
"Hey… Yangcheon…"
"What?"
"Are we… going to stay here?"
"It's pretty entertaining, don't you think?"
"...I feel like I'm going to be sick."
"…"
I frowned at his response, and Cheol Jiseon flinched when he saw my expression.
"N-Never mind! You can keep watching!"
"I'm frowning because you're so scared, not because I want to watch this."
He had a point, though. I didn't need to stay and watch.
I wonder who else is coming.
As far as I knew, the Kunlun, Wudang, Shaolin, and Beggar’s Sect from the Ten Sect Alliance were supposed to come to Henan for the meeting. The rest had informed the Alliance they wouldn't be attending.
I wonder why.
That piqued my curiosity. It would have been normal for every major sect to attend such an important gathering. What shocked me more was that the Mount Hua Sect wasn't coming, even though Yung Pung and the Sword Queen were already here.
"Hmm…" Questions swirled in my head. But sitting here pondering wouldn't yield any answers. I stood up and turned to Cheol Jiseon.
"Let's go."
"O-Oh, really?"
"Yes. It would be disrespectful for us juniors to arrive after all those senior figures."
The world was obsessed with respect, and I had no choice but to play along.
I really can't stand it.
But that wasn't my main concern. I was more bothered by the prospect of running into the White Heavenly Sword later. Still, there was nothing I could do about it. I bit my lip and, without a second thought, leaped off the roof.
Left alone, Cheol Jiseon stared at my disappearing back and muttered in confusion, "...What about me?"
It was a fair question. I'd dragged him up here, and he lacked the skill to get down on his own.
* * *
Inside a waiting room provided by the Murim Alliance, a dense, oppressive atmosphere choked the air. The tension didn't come from the room itself, but from the overwhelming Qi of those gathered within. This room was reserved for the Lords of the clans, and every occupant was of noble blood.
Among them, a man with a small, slight build sat in the foremost seat, calmly sipping his tea. It was the Lord of the Tang Clan, the infamous Poison King, Tang Cheongi. The other Lords around him sat stiffly, visibly uneasy in his presence. Such was the weight of being a Lord of one of the Four Noble Clans. Tang Cheongi was well aware of this and continued his tea ritual, unperturbed.
Just as he was about to take another sip, the door burst open.
Slam!
The door swung inward with a resounding crash.
"Ah, this is no good. It seems I'm terribly late to the party."
The newcomer was a stark contrast to Tang Cheongi—a giant of a man in dark attire, his face a map of old scars. Tang Cheongi glanced at him and let out a quiet, internal sigh. Exchanging words with that oaf was the last thing he wanted, but ignoring him like a child wasn't an option. He forced a polite smile.
"It has been a while, Lord Peng."
"Good to see you, Lord Tang. Have you been well?"
"Well enough, as always."
"That is good to hear."
After the brief exchange, the giant—Peng Jeowoo, the Dao King of the Peng Clan—strode over and sat directly across from Tang Cheongi.
"Lord Tang, I heard you arrived yesterday."
"Correct."
"Why the rush? You could have taken your time after such a long journey."
It was a subtle jab, questioning his early arrival. Tang Cheongi responded with a thin smirk.
"I wished to ensure I was not late. It is always safer, and more respectable, to be early."
His reply was a clear retort: It's the proper thing to do, you disrespectful bastard.
A brief, tense silence hung between them.
Then—
"Hahaha!"
"Hahahaha!"
They both laughed as if they had been waiting for the cue.
"It's been a while, but you haven't changed a bit, Lord Tang."
"You as well, Lord Peng. Ah, if anything, you seem more... mature than last time."
—Even after all this time, you're still the same bastard.
—Look who's talking. Your face is falling apart.
With every veiled barb, the tension in the room grew thicker. The Alliance members and even the other Lords present began to worry that the confrontation might escalate into outright violence.
Then…
Creak—
The door opened again, and another figure appeared.
This time, it was the White Heavenly Sword, Moyong Tae. Unlike the last time I'd seen him, when his robes were tattered, he now looked immaculate—every inch the lord of the prestigious Moyong merchant associations. His garments were of obvious high quality, and the ornaments at his waist and wrists gleamed exquisitely.
Seeing him, Tang Cheongi rose to his feet, his tone and expression entirely different from when he had addressed Lord Peng.
"It has been a while, Lord Moyong."
This was no surprise. The Tang and Moyong Clans enjoyed strong trade ties, and both had profited greatly from their cooperation. Tang Cheongi's welcome was genuinely warm.
Moyong Tae returned the sentiment with a light smile.
"Have you been well, Lord Tang?"
"Come, have a seat."
Moyong Tae naturally took a seat near Tang Cheongi. Watching this, Peng Jeowoo let out a mocking smirk.
"It's been a while."
"Good to see you, Lord Peng."
Despite the polite greeting, Peng Jeowoo's gaze remained icy. Moyong Tae offered nothing more, simply acknowledging him. Peng Jeowoo's frown deepened, his dissatisfaction clear as he shifted uncomfortably.
"Lord Moyong."
"Yes."
"I was informed that you arrived a full week ago. Is that correct?"
"It is."
Peng Jeowoo smirked at Moyong Tae's nonchalant reply. It was a blatantly mocking expression.
"Why were you in such a hurry to come to Henan so early?"
"I heard my daughter had been humiliated. I came immediately. That is the duty of a father, is it not?"
A twitch ran through Peng Jeowoo's brow.
"Does that mean you think the rest of us are bad fathers?"
It was an obvious provocation. Moyong Tae shot him an unreadable look. It was clear Peng Jeowoo was deliberately stirring conflict. But Moyong Tae merely smiled softly and replied.
"I did not mean it that way. But if that is how you choose to take it—"
Dribble.
The sound of tea being poured into Moyong Tae's cup seemed unnaturally loud in the tense silence.
"—then so be it."
Crack.
A surge of violent Combat Qi flared from Peng Jeowoo's shoulders in response. Tang Cheongi sighed, recognizing that things would escalate if left unchecked, and began to rise to intervene.
Swish—!
…!
Every Lord in the waiting room turned sharply toward the door as one. A mysterious, overwhelming presence seeped through the wood, silencing all else.
Step… step.
With the entire room holding its breath, the newcomer's footsteps echoed loudly despite their softness. The sound wasn't particularly loud, yet it rang with crystalline clarity to every person present.
Then…
Creak—
The door swung open slowly, revealing the figure standing beyond.
Was it their imagination? The moment the door opened, the room felt engulfed in a sudden, dry heat.
Peng Jeowoo's eyes widened in shock at the man who entered. He had been informed of his arrival, but he was still stunned that the man had actually left Shanxi. What shocked him more was the unease that crept through his veins at the man's mere presence.
The man scanned the room with a fierce, penetrating gaze. Every Lord flinched involuntarily when that cold, sharp gaze passed over them.
"…"
His inspection complete, the man walked through the awkward, heavy silence. He moved directly toward the section where the Lords of the Four Noble Clans were seated. It seemed natural he would stop there, but he walked right past them without a second glance. He reached the very front of the room, calmly pulled out the central seat, and sat down as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The whole sequence took only moments, yet not a single person dared to speak.
As if savoring the silence, he let his presence fill the room before he finally spoke. His voice was deep and commanding, resonating with unquestionable authority.
"Nice to meet you all."
"I am Gu Cheolun."