Collecting the Debt
Debt collector.
It was a word that hardly suited the Anhui Mo Clan. Backed by formidable martial prowess, they vied openly for supremacy over the entire province. What possible lack of coin would drive such masters to borrow from another? Indeed, their wealth was so staggering that they had poured an obscene fortune into constructing an extravagant estate, all in a bid to challenge the prestige of the traditional titan, the Namgung Clan. Clearly, the visitor had not come to demand silver or gold.
"We have never… incurred… a single debt…" Mo Seok-won squeezed the words through clenched teeth.
"Funny. Why is it that deadbeats always recite the exact same script?" The intruder clicked his tongue in mock exasperation, leaning into the role of an aggrieved bill collector. "How could you say you owe nothing? Your wealth, your renown, your grand ambitions—every shred of it was built on what we handed you."
"What… deranged nonsense is this…?"
"The Demon Spirit Divine Art."
Mo Seok-won's eyes stretched wide in terror.
"And hardly just that. The Demon Spirit Dark Robe Formation, the Demon Spirit Pills, and countless other relics left behind by Yoma. You've enjoyed their fruits for quite some time, haven't you?"
"How… did you…"
"Don't play dumb when you've already figured it out. Surely the great and noble Patriarch of the Anhui Mo Clan possesses that much wit?"
Mo Seok-won froze as icy horror seized his heart. He had genuinely believed it to be a fortuitous miracle, a blessing of serendipity that granted them the foundation to rise and contest the province's hegemony. Was every single step orchestrated by their designs? To believe he had seized the strength to make the entire Central Plains heed his voice, only to realize he had merely been a monkey dancing in the palm of Buddha's hand.
"We turned a mediocre martial family into an adversary capable of standing toe-to-toe with the Namgung Clan," the man said, his voice dripping with cool amusement. "Giving you that kind of power was worth far more than tens of millions of gold coins. And as with any loan, interest accumulates. Now the time has come to settle the ledger. Principal, interest—everything."
"Don't… mock me…!"
"Oh, you needn't worry about coming up short. I took the liberty of balancing your accounts, and it turns out you have plenty to cover it." The man's lips curled into a smile—a chilling, profoundly ominous grin. "Provided you surrender the entire clan lock, stock, and barrel. Your riches, your fame, your strength, and the lives of every single member."
It was no empty metaphor. The intruder fully intended to harvest every last scrap. The fury and hatred that had burned across Mo Seok-won's face abruptly drained away, replaced by a pitiful, broken servility.
"Please… I beg you, have mercy…" Mo Seok-won gasped out, his pride crumbling entirely. "We truly did not know… Grant us time… and we will pay it all back… I swear it…!"
"Fascinating. To discard your dignity so thoroughly—is that your sense of responsibility as patriarch?" The man tilted his head in genuine intrigue. The patriarch was prepared to lick boots in the dirt if it meant preserving his bloodline. "A commendable effort. But no."
The refusal fell like an iron gavel.
"You've strutted around on borrowed feathers for far too long. Paying the price is only natural. Perhaps you feel wronged. You might even wallow in regret, wishing you had never touched such cursed power. But you surrendered the right to complain long ago. Reflect on the creed you so proudly bellowed to the world."
Respect for the strong. The weak are meat for the strong.
"We are stronger than you. Isn't it only proper that you be devoured?"
"Please… have mercy…"
The man raised a hand, displaying an eerie bell adorned with a demonic, contorted visage. "Spend your final moments praying for your kin's passage to the afterlife. Or perhaps pray that some nameless chivalrous hero miraculously descends from the heavens to save you. Though given the wretched state of your Orthodox factions these days, I severely doubt such a fool exists."
The man shook his wrist.
Jingle!
The ghastly chime echoed, and the last embers of light vanished from Mo Seok-won's hollow eyes.
Meanwhile, in the aftermath of the ambush, Namgung Yun and his companions were cleaning up the carnage inside the inn.
"Can you tell who sent them?" Yun asked.
"Hard to say. Not from a cursory glance, at least." Hong Jong rose after rummaging through the pockets of one of the slain assailants. "Scum like this don't leave convenient tokens revealing their allegiance. But whoever they are, they scrubbed their identities clean. They're seasoned professionals."
"A renowned assassin syndicate, then?"
"Or private killers raised in secret by some sect. Guessing is a fool's errand when dealing with their kind."
Even though the Beggars' Sect possessed the finest intelligence network under heaven, assassins operated from the deepest shadows beyond that network's reach, striking only from the dark. In a sense, it was the timeless dance of spear and shield. Not even the Beggars' Sect held a comprehensive ledger on every shadow blade in the realm.
"One thing is certain, though—they're utterly vicious." Hong Jong gripped the edge of a corpse's jaw, a body dressed in the humble attire of an inn attendant.
Rrrrip!
With a sickening tear, the outer skin of the face peeled away to reveal the features of a completely different person underneath.
"A human skin mask."
"Aye. We should assume the real staff of this establishment are already dead." Hong Jong clicked his tongue, gazing down grimly at the corpses wearing the inn's uniforms. "So, you say these bastards were after the two of you?"
"That is correct. Though I cannot be entirely certain which of us was their primary mark."
"Little Hero, have you stirred up enough trouble lately to earn this sort of hospitality?"
"If I have, isn't there only one obvious suspect?"
"Hmm…"
The Anhui Mo Clan immediately crossed Hong Jong's mind. A lingering doubt tugged at him, questioning whether an Orthodox sect would stoop to deploying disguised assassins. Yet in the same breath, he found himself unable to dismiss the notion outright. A bitter reality when one can no longer rule out such treachery from so-called righteous bloodlines. How on earth did the Orthodox world rot to this point?
Suppressing a sigh, Hong Jong shifted his gaze toward Yang Woo. "And you… Little Hero Yang, was it?"
"It is, Elder. It is a profound honor to meet the renowned Eccentric Outstanding Celestial Beggar in person." Yang Woo clasped his hands in a flawlessly polite martial greeting, bringing an appreciative gleam to Hong Jong's eyes.
"Have you crossed paths with someone vengeful enough to warrant a hit like this?"
"Countless times, I'm afraid," Yang Woo replied with an easy, good-natured chuckle. "Roaming the Jianghu to practice righteousness and chivalry inevitably stirs up conflict. It wouldn't be the least bit strange if someone held a lethal grudge against me."
"Righteousness and chivalry?"
"This brother practices chivalric acts as well," Namgung Yun chimed in, clapping Yang Woo firmly on the shoulder.
"Come to think of it, Little Hero, it seems you two were already acquainted."
"We crossed paths once before. We found ourselves of one mind almost instantly."
"It was a truly splendid encounter," Yang Woo agreed warmly. "In times like these, how many people in the martial world still champion genuine chivalry? I had merely traveled to admire the famed Namgung Clan, only to cross paths with such a kindred spirit. Truly, serendipity is the greatest reward of wandering the realm."
What a peculiar pair of birds, Hong Jong thought, watching them trade compliments about justice and morality as though they were sworn brothers of ten years. Still, Yang Woo did not carry the stench of malice. In an era stripped of honor, someone actively seeking out chivalric deeds was unlikely to be a wicked scoundrel. Though that doesn't mean he's entirely free of suspicion.
Unlike Namgung Yun, whose lineage and background were open books, Yang Woo had seemingly materialized from thin air. Had he been an ordinary wandering vagrant, Hong Jong wouldn't have spared him a second thought. The issue lay in Yang Woo's extraordinary prowess. To attain the Peak Realm at such a tender age…
Among the rising stars of the younger generation, he was undoubtedly near the very pinnacle. A sudden talent of that caliber naturally invited wariness. Yet Yang Woo's conduct showed not a single flaw, and the martial world was famous for hidden hermits and miraculous encounters producing sudden prodigies overnight. In the end, Hong Jong held his tongue. After all, the youth had fought alongside them as a victim of the same ambush.
"Could this be the end of the matter?" an escort from the Zhuge Clan asked cautiously.
Hong Jong scratched his scruffy beard. "I certainly hope so, but…"
Decades of surviving the unforgiving storms of the Jianghu screamed at him that this was only the preamble. And as was usually the case with such instincts, fate wasted no time confirming them.
KABOOOM!
A dull, distant detonation rattled the air. Though muffled by the expanse of the city, not a single martial artist in the room failed to catch the vibration.
"Naturally. Ill omens never fail to strike," Hong Jong grumbled.
"Isn't that sound coming from the direction of the Anhui Mo Clan Estate?"
"Did something happen to the Mo Clan?"
Tension thickened across the room. Whether one admired or loathed the Anhui Mo Clan, none could contest their sheer military weight. For an explosion to rock their stronghold meant something catastrophic was unfolding.
"Let us investigate."
Just as everyone nodded in agreement, a barrage of voices tore through the distant streets.
"Aaaargh!"
"Help! Somebody help me!"
The simultaneous chorus of shrieking civilians hardened every face in the room. Any lingering hope that this was a minor scuffle vanished in an instant.
"Move!"
The party burst through the shattered entrance of the inn, kicking off the cobblestones in a dead sprint. The terror-stricken cries originated precisely from the avenue leading toward the Anhui Mo Clan.
Charging at the head of the formation, Namgung Su barked a sharp command to his clan retainers over his shoulder. "Do not engage recklessly until we ascertain the exact nature of the situation! Keep yourselves ready to pull back the moment I give the order!"
Though he was advancing to assess the disturbance, Namgung Su harbored zero intention of playing the hero. His sole loyalty belonged strictly to the pragmatic interests of the Namgung Clan. Throwing away clan lives through careless intervention would be an unforgivable blunder. The contemporary martial world was no longer a stage for outdated ideals like shielding the weak or hunting down villainy. In truth, Namgung Su secretly hoped for a disaster. Any devastating blow struck against the Anhui Mo Clan directly elevated the Namgung Clan's regional supremacy. The desperate wails of dying innocents meant nothing to him.
The only wild card is that troublesome boy, Namgung Su thought, casting a sidelong glare at Namgung Yun. Knowing the boy's reckless streak, he would undoubtedly throw himself into harm's way to play the righteous savior. He had not believed for a fraction of a second that a brief period of room confinement would break Yun's defiant nature. If he steps out of line, I will subdue him by force.
Fwooooosh!
Flames suddenly surged into the night sky ahead. Whether sparked by arson or stray blade-qi mattered little; the spreading inferno was feeding the panic. A massive wave of commoners came stampeding toward them in blind hysteria. To avoid colliding with the frantic mob, Yun and the others vaulted upward, racing across the terracotta rooftops with effortless lightness.
Before long, the source of the chaos emerged into full view.
"Merciful heavens…!"
It was an unmitigated slaughter.
Blades were plunging relentlessly into the backs of fleeing commoners. The sheer brutality was appalling enough to rattle even Namgung Su, despite his cynical detachment. But what truly struck everyone dumb was the identity of the butchers.
"What under the heavens are they doing?!"
"Have the Mo bastards completely lost their minds?!"
The ones mowing down unarmed civilians were the uniformed martial artists of the Anhui Mo Clan. Like abattoir butchers systematically slaughtering livestock, their swords rose and fell without a flicker of hesitation. While the onlookers stood paralyzed by the unfathomable atrocity, two silhouettes plummeted from the roofline.
Thump!
Thump!
CLANG! CLANG!
Steel met steel with a deafening ring. For the first time since the butchery began, the blood-drenched swords of the Mo Clan were forcefully brought to a halt.
"Yun, you insolent fool! What do you think you're doing?!" Namgung Su roared from the eaves above. "Get back here this instant!"
To dive blindly into an unknown quagmire before gathering intelligence was sheer madness. Yet Namgung Yun did not spare the elder a single backward glance. Armed martial masters were butchering helpless civilians right before his eyes.
What better stage could there possibly be for a chivalric act?
Yang Woo had clearly shared the exact same sentiment, having dropped down beside him without a heartbeat of hesitation.
Yun unleashed his blade without remorse.
Sssshhk!
A scarlet arc erupted from the chest of an advancing Mo Clan swordsman. Yun smoothly deflected a thrust aimed at his flank with a flick of his guard, pivoting on his heel to neatly open the throat of another assailant rushing in from his right.
As the bodies slumped, Yun caught a clear look at their faces.
Their pupils were blown wide, completely unfocused and clouded by an unnatural haze. They're completely out of their minds. Their minds had been violently usurped by an external force.