The Root of All Trouble
A search party departed from the Namgung Clan, bound for Mount Huang.
They numbered just five in all.
Given that their destination was the Anhui Mo Clan—a faction certain to harbor deep resentment toward them following the recent duel—some had voiced concern that sending so few was reckless. Yet such objections were dismissed with a single sentence:
"The Mo dogs sent five men. If we march in with a whole horde, they'll only laugh at us for being cowards."
The party consisted of four First-rate martial artists, including Namgung Yun, with Namgung Su appointed as their leader. Known by the alias Flash Thunder Sword, Namgung Su was a master of the Peak Realm who possessed extensive experience in the Jianghu. He was a natural choice to lead the expedition.
Yet by the time they left the city gates, their numbers had already grown.
"We thank you for permitting our company."
"How could we possibly refuse the companionship of the Beggars' Sect's esteemed Eccentric Outstanding Celestial Beggar?"
Hong Jong and the Beggars' Sect's Anhui Branch Manager had joined their ranks. Their original purpose in visiting had been to investigate the Jiangshi incident anyway, so tagging along on a journey to Mount Huang to trace Yoma's tracks was hardly out of place. Of course, Hong Jong's genuine interest lay far less with the walking corpses than with Namgung Yun himself.
"I look forward to traveling with you all the way to Mount Huang, young friend."
"The pleasure is mine, Senior."
The look Hong Jong cast toward Yun carried a deep, meaningful weight.
Just as expected, the old beggar remained glued to Yun's side throughout the journey, constantly firing off questions.
"Tell me, just when did you begin revering Righteousness and Chivalry?"
"I heard your piece before, but would you mind explaining your view on Respect for the Strong one more time?"
"And what realm has your martial arts reached now? Ah, heavens, forgive me! Asking about another man's cultivation realm is a Jianghu taboo, isn't it? Forgive an old man. My wits slip more and more with each passing year."
With his trademark slyness and folksy charm, Hong Jong hopped back and forth across social boundaries with every inquiry. Even so, Yun showed no signs of fluster, answering with steady sincerity.
"I can't recall a specific moment. Isn't that simply what any noble orthodox sect ought to do as a matter of course?"
"The point is that under any circumstances, the clan must unconditionally provide everyone with the means to train. No matter how great a grandmaster might be, no one can predict who will truly achieve greatness."
"I'm glad your memory returned in time. You are forgiven, Senior."
Hong Jong chuckled heartily.
"I've thought this for a while, but you certainly don't sound like a fledgling who has yet to make his debut in the Jianghu."
"That's because I'm a genius."
"Hahahaha! What an extraordinary talent the Murim has birthed!"
The other members of the Namgung Clan watched their exchange with keen interest. Though they belonged to the same bloodline, they knew remarkably little about Namgung Yun. They had only heard rumors of his drastic transformation; this journey marked their first direct interaction with him.
Some scowled at Yun's unconventional logic, while others nodded along in quiet agreement. Yet regardless of their individual judgments, one thing was true for all of them: they were listening intently to every word he spoke. It was a clear testament to how much attention Yun currently commanded within the clan.
The trek to Mount Huang went smoothly. No one was foolish enough to pick a fight with a band of sword-bearing martial artists moving in broad daylight.
Before long, they arrived at Mount Huang—or more precisely, the prosperous city nestled at its foot where the Anhui Mo Clan had planted its roots.
A thriving city in its own right, Yun mused.
It was comparable to the city housing the Namgung Clan. It was certainly large enough to serve as the stronghold of the Anhui Mo Clan, a family that openly vied with the Namgung Clan for regional supremacy.
However, the moment they stepped through the gates, Yun noticed a stark difference from his own clan's territory.
Their faces...
The common folk hurried to put distance between themselves and the newcomers the instant they laid eyes on them. While the civilians back home were also cautious around armed martial artists, the terror here was far more palpable. It laid bare precisely how the dogs of the Anhui Mo Clan treated the people under their rule.
Yet neither the other members of the Namgung Clan nor the beggars batted an eye, as if thoroughly accustomed to such behavior from commoners. They showed neither sympathy nor indignation.
"You seem troubled," Hong Jong remarked.
"I am."
"I gather it's not because we're getting close to the Mo Clan. What's bothering you?"
"The look on the people's faces."
"There are very few places in this world where men bearing blades are welcomed with open arms."
"This doesn't seem like such a simple matter."
"Ah, living up to your title as the Little Chivalrous Hero, are you? Well, it's true that the Anhui Mo Clan treats the common folk rather harshly."
Yun had harbored a sliver of hope. After all, this was his first official journey into the Jianghu under the banner of the Orthodox faction. Even knowing the Anhui Mo Clan was far removed from any sense of chivalry, he had still hoped for better.
A hopelessly naive expectation.
"Do not meddle in matters that do not concern you," Namgung Su warned in a cold, cutting tone. "This is clan business. I forbid you from stirring up unnecessary conflict with your half-baked ideals."
Naturally, a rebuke like that was far from enough to intimidate Yun.
"You preach Respect for the Strong, yet instead of clashing cleanly to decide who stands above whom, all you do is tiptoe around and eye each other like skittish dogs. If you ask me, 'half-baked' describes the Namgung Clan's current mindset far better."
"What did you say?"
The hairs on their skin stood on end. The aura radiating from Namgung Su, a master of the Peak Realm, was suffocatingly fierce—so oppressive that the other clan warriors, who had been about to vent their own outrage at Yun's impudence, froze where they stood.
Yet Yun merely parted his lips with absolute nonchalance, as if brushing aside a gentle spring breeze.
"Shall I repeat myself, Elder?"
"...!"
Namgung Su's eyes widened in disbelief. He had never imagined that Yun, a mere First-rate martial artist, could weather the full brunt of his Peak-realm spiritual pressure so effortlessly while the other clan elites were frozen stiff.
"...Your skill is formidable indeed. I finally understand why the clan elders tolerate your insolence."
Namgung Su was a staunch believer in Respect for the Strong. Seeing clear proof of Yun's terrifying potential, his anger subsided into grudging acceptance.
"However, I hold command here. If you act rashly, be prepared to face the consequences."
With that, Namgung Su turned and resumed walking ahead.
"My, you certainly have guts," Hong Jong murmured.
"Would I be making a fuss about chivalry inside the Namgung Clan if I lacked that much spine?"
"Gwahaha! Fair point, fair point!"
Whatever family drama the Namgung Clan harbored, Hong Jong found the entire spectacle thoroughly entertaining.
A short while later, they arrived at the estate of the Anhui Mo Clan.
It was an enormous compound that rivaled the Namgung Clan's grounds, though its sheer gaudiness surpassed it entirely. They had clearly poured an exorbitant fortune into projecting an aura of overwhelming power.
Yun took in the sight and delivered a dry evaluation:
"Vulgar."
"Pfft!"
Hong Jong clamped a hand over his mouth, his shoulders heaving with muffled laughter. Yun's blunt assessment had clearly struck a chord. Even the other Namgung martial artists, who had been glaring at Yun with hostility, shot him approving glances this time.
To think martial artists would plaster themselves with so much tacky ornament.
True martial artists spoke through their blades and their prowess; the history forged through those means was what granted them true dignity. The Heavenly Demon Divine Cult had been immense in scale, yet its architecture had remained austere and restrained. Even so, had anyone dared question the Cult's majesty?
Whether Orthodox or Unorthodox, every faction trembled the moment the Divine Cult made an appearance.
The Namgung Clan had its own touch of extravagance, but it remained within tolerable bounds. For a clan deeply intertwined with secular society, a certain degree of pomp was understandable. The Anhui Mo Clan, however, crossed into sheer ostentation.
A wretched bunch, every last one of them.
Though he had no love for the Namgung Clan, Yun found his impression of their rivals turning increasingly sour.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Their reception by the Anhui Mo Clan was predictably frigid.
"You have traveled far. It must have been an arduous journey."
"We thank you for the welcome."
Beneath the shallow courtesies simmered venomous hatred and hostility. To think both belonged to the Orthodox faction; at this rate, their relations were worse than what one might expect with the Demonic Cult.
"Amitabha. It has been far too long."
"A pleasure to see you again."
The arrival of a third party broke the stifling tension between the two clans.
"It is good to see you both after all this time."
The newcomers were two men: one a Buddhist monk clad in a monastic robe and kesa with a shaved head, the other a martial artist in travel attire.
"Greet them," Namgung Su instructed. "This is Great Master Won Jin of the Shaolin Temple, renowned across the lands as the Vajra Overlord Fist."
"This humble monk is named Won Jin."
"And this is Sir Zhuge Min, who comes representing the Zhuge Clan."
"Zhuge Min at your service."
The Shaolin Temple and the Zhuge Clan—both held towering reputations within the Jianghu. Shaolin was revered as the paramount pillar of the Orthodox realm, while the Zhuge Clan was one of the esteemed Five Great Clans, standing on equal footing with the Namgung Clan.
Yet their demeanor is peculiar, Yun observed.
It was not as blatant as the hostility directed toward the Mo Clan, but a faint undercurrent of disdain laced Namgung Su's voice as he introduced the two representatives.
And the Zhuge Clan's representative is strange as well.
Though martial artists, descendants of Zhuge Liang were renowned for their brilliant intellect and peerless mastery of tactical formations and mechanical arrays. Thanks to those arts, they had proudly held a seat among the Five Great Clans despite their individual martial prowess lagging behind the others. Pride in that heritage usually led them to dress in scholarly robes rather than standard warrior attire.
Yet Zhuge Min wore the complete garb of an ordinary martial artist.
Furthermore, Namgung Su's attitude held a subtle, unmasked condescension toward the Zhuge Clan. It was not a deliberate provocation, but rather the casual disdain of a man looking down on someone he considered inherently beneath him.
Isn't that even more problematic?
What struck Yun as even stranger was that no one called Namgung Su out on his dismissive attitude, despite the tension in the air. Even Zhuge Min himself simply absorbed the slight in silence.
Unfortunately, no relevant memories surfaced in Yun's mind.
The previous owner of this body truly knew next to nothing about Jianghu politics.
Even so, the reason was not entirely beyond deduction.
It's that damned Respect for the Strong again.
To think that Yun, who had spent an entire lifetime steeped in the survival-of-the-fittest doctrine of the Demonic Cult, would find himself feeling genuinely sick of the phrase. In its own way, that was quite an achievement—though neither the Orthodox sects nor Yun himself would ever admit it.
Still, I don't understand why Namgung Su holds such resentment toward Shaolin and the Zhuge Clan.
If anyone knew the full story, it would be the Beggars' Sect. Yun shifted his gaze toward Hong Jong, who was exchanging greetings with Won Jin and Zhuge Min following their introductions.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Just as the Anhui Mo Clan had refused to lodge within the Namgung estate during their visit, the Namgung Clan had no intention of resting under their rivals' roof.
Though they might have stayed at the estate had other sects been rooming there, tonight was different.
"Tensions flared between our clans not long ago, so stay on your guard," Namgung Su warned. "Shaolin only sent a handful of monks. Those Mo bastards are more than capable of blinding their eyes and ambushing us in the dark."
Once again, the Zhuge Clan went unmentioned. Yun was now certain of the lowly status the Zhuge Clan held in the eyes of their peers.
To uncover the truth, asking someone knowledgeable remained the quickest path.
"Our Little Chivalrous Hero is remarkably blind to the state of the Murim," Hong Jong said with an amused, incredulous smirk when Yun brought up the question. "Especially when it involves affairs tied directly to your own family. When we first crossed paths and you genuinely failed to recognize me, I was baffled, but now it all makes sense."
Direct those complaints to the original Namgung Yun, not me!
The retort rose to the tip of Yun's tongue, but he swallowed it down. In truth, he had never paid much attention to political squabbles during his past life as the Heavenly Demon either. Back then, crushing every annoyance under overwhelming power had been more than sufficient.
"Well, I'll tell you," Hong Jong continued. "It's hardly a secret worth keeping, and anyone who pays the slightest attention knows of it. Besides, I'm currently indebted to your clan's hospitality."
Hong Jong had taken up lodging alongside the Namgung Clan at the local inn. As a beggar, he naturally carried no silver, meaning the Namgung Clan footed his bill. While Hong Jong had attached himself to them primarily to observe Yun, the arrangement suited the clan just fine. Having an elder of his stature nearby served as a solid deterrent against any reckless schemes the Mo Clan might cook up.
"To begin with," Hong Jong said, leaning in, "the root cause of it all lies with the Demonic Cult."
Yun's calm expression faltered slightly.
