A Night Visitor

His father's words acted as a heavy shackle, holding Kwak Young's rationality in check.

He had traveled here to attend the upcoming inauguration of the Sichuan Righteous Alliance. Having stopped at an inn to wash away the fatigue of the long journey, he had spotted Yoo Sung.

The moment his eyes fell upon the man, the death of Yoon Ji-gang, one of the Five Swords of Cheondo, flashed through his mind.

Though he had no concrete proof, he was certain Yoo Sung was somehow involved in the death of the man he had trusted and followed so blindly.

Instantly, a murderous urge surged within him, and he glared at Yoo Sung with raw, undisguised malice.

Yet, the recipient of that venomous gaze remained entirely unfazed, looking more annoyed than anything else.

"You..."

"Don't waste your energy. If you're here to eat, eat your food and get lost."

"...!"

At the blatant disrespect, Kwak Young's eyes flared with fury.

The Cheondo Gate martial artists who had been holding him back also bristled at Yoo Sung's insolence.

However, Kwak Yoo's strict instructions took precedence.

They had been ordered to keep their heads down at all costs until the inauguration ceremony was over.

They had to obey that command, no matter what.

"Young Master."

The martial artist's voice, strained as he suppressed his own anger, only made Kwak Young's eyes burn hotter.

He wanted nothing more than to draw his saber and demand answers right then and there, but he forced himself to hold back.

"Let me ask you one thing."

"Speak."

"Did you have anything to do with Uncle Yoon's death?"

"If I say no, will you believe me? Believe whatever you want."

Kwak ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Young bit his lip at Yoo Sung's indifferent response.

"Fine. I will get to the bottom of this soon enough. If you had even the slightest hand in Uncle Yoon's death, I'll make sure neither you nor your family die in peace."

Utterly ignoring Kwak Young's clumsy provocation, Yoo Sung turned his attention back to his food and drink.

Watching him, Kwak Young finally spun on his heel.

"Let's go elsewhere. The company here is low-class."

Dang Hwa-soo clicked his tongue as he watched Kwak Young walk away with those parting words.

"It seems Yoon Ji-gang really is dead. That fellow must be feeling lost. Out of the Five Swords of Cheondo, Yoon Ji-gang was the only one who showed him blind loyalty."

Yoo Sung showed a flicker of interest at Dang Hwa-soo's words.

"Is the relationship between the Five Swords and Kwak Young that bad?"

"It's far from good. His behavior isn't exactly the type to win people over."

"Yoon Ji-gang was a staunch believer in primogeniture, so he intended to support Kwak Young and guide him," Dang Hwa-young added. "But now that he's dead, it won't be easy for Kwak Young to become the next Sect Leader of Cheondo Gate."

Dang Hwa-young's prediction raised a question in Yoo Sung's mind.

"Does Kwak Yoo have another successor besides him?"

Even if he did, wouldn't someone of Kwak Young's temperament have already disposed of them?

"No matter how hard Kwak Young or his maternal family try, if Kwak Yoo sets his mind to raising a new successor, he can easily do so, can't he?"

"What a mess over there too."

Dang Hwa-young let out a bitter laugh, agreeing with Yoo Sung's scathing assessment.

"It's the same everywhere."

"I suppose so."

The emergence of Matian had drastically altered the landscape of the martial world.

The Nine Great Sects and One Association, once considered the orthodox pillars of the Jianghu, were still standing, but their influence had waned.

It was a natural consequence, as prioritizing the defense of their own territories during the long war had left them stretched thin.

The Five Great Noble Clans were in the same position.

In the meantime, new forces had taken root in the neglected regions that had once been under their sway.

While the war against Matian raged, this hadn't posed much of a problem.

"But once the war ended, the real trouble began," Dang Hwa-young said. "A clash between those trying to reclaim their old influence and those trying to protect the lands they defended with their own blood and tears."

"Indeed. In the old days, it would have been nearly impossible for the martial artists of Sichuan to unite like this."

After all, the central Righteous Martial Alliance still existed in Henan.

Formed specifically to combat Matian, that alliance was now slowly undergoing dissolution since the demonic threat had vanished.

Its current leader, Abbot Mu-oh, and the Chief Strategist were striving to uphold their founding principles despite fierce opposition from all sides.

Meanwhile, like-minded groups were cropping up like mushrooms after rain, banding together to form new coalitions like the one in Sichuan.

It's a powder keg waiting to explode.

Yoo Sung hoped the fallout wouldn't reach his own clan, but he knew that was wishful thinking.

That was precisely why he had to grow stronger. Until his clan was fully prepared, he had to bear the annoyance of wandering the Jianghu.

As long as the world's eyes were fixed on him, his clan would have the freedom and breathing room to grow powerful in the shadows.

"Is that also why the position of Alliance Leader is still vacant?"

The inauguration was just around the corner, yet the leadership of the Sichuan Righteous Alliance remained empty.

Though there were several candidates, the web of conflicting interests made it impossible to easily appoint one.

"Exactly. But I suppose it will be resolved soon enough."

With Dang Hwa-young's bitter remark, their idle chatter drifted to inconsequential matters.

Once she felt a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, Dang Hwa-young stood up first, with Dang Hwa-soo following close behind.

Left alone, Yoo Sung emptied his cup, his gaze drifting over the crowd filling the inn.

Not only local Sichuan martial artists but a diverse array of people from all over the Jianghu had gathered for the alliance's birth.

How many of them will actually return home having achieved what they came for?

With only three days left until the official launch, the seat of the Alliance Leader remained empty.

At first, some had suggested holding a public selection, but the idea was quickly dismissed.

Such a spectacle risked turning the alliance into a laughingstock right from its inception.

Fortunately, through various processes of elimination, the field had narrowed down to just three candidates.

All three were renowned mid-tier masters of the Transformation Realm, representing the pinnacle of Sichuan's martial might.

Because of this, choosing between them was no simple task.

The name on everyone's lips was, naturally, the former patriarch of the Sichuan Tang Clan: the Poison King, Dang Yeo.

A veteran of the Great Matian War, he was Sichuan's greatest master and had once ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠held the tenth seat among the legendary Ten Kings.

Though he had since relinquished his seat among the Ten Kings to enter closed-door cultivation, his authority in Sichuan remained absolute and unmatched.

The problem was that despite the Tang Clan conveying the alliance's wishes to him, he refused to break his seclusion.

Such indifference was highly uncharacteristic of the Poison King, who had once been quite ambitious for power and status. Consequently, they could not simply hand him the leadership.

The next candidate was a swordsman from the Qingcheng Sect.

Woo Il-seo, widely known as the Qingcheng Sword Venerable, was credited with leading the modern resurgence of the Qingcheng Sect.

Famous for his absolute refusal to compromise with demonic practitioners or any wicked beings, Woo Il-seo's unyielding nature aligned perfectly with the alliance's grand purpose: to purge all demonic remnants from Sichuan.

Finally, there was the Sect Leader of Emei, known as the Emei Sword Queen or the Sichuan Sword Queen.

Having saved the Emei Sect from the brink of ruin and consistently exerted a benevolent influence, she was considered the ideal candidate to lead the alliance from a position of strict neutrality.

With these three candidates on the table, the debates dragged on endlessly.

After exhaustive deliberations, a compromise was reached: all three candidates would take key positions, forming the initial leadership of the Sichuan Righteous Alliance.

On the day before the inauguration, the leadership of the Sichuan Righteous Alliance was finally finalized and announced to the world.

The roster of the alliance's leadership was revealed as follows:

This much was largely expected by everyone.

Ha Baek was Sichuan's premier strategist, a veteran who had orchestrated the Great Sichuan Campaign.

He was undoubtedly the most qualified man to keep the Matian remnants in check and hunt down those who sought to destabilize the province.

To assist the core leadership, the supporting positions were distributed: four from the Tang Clan, three from the Diancang Sect, two from the Qingcheng Sect, and one from the Emei Sect.

Although the traditional, prestigious righteous clans of Sichuan held a monopoly, masters from newly rising righteous sects were also given roles, achieving a reasonable balance.

Of course, no one could say how long this delicate harmony would last.

"Whoaaa!"

"It's done!"

"The Sword Venerable did it!"

"Woo Il-seo, is it?"

Yoo Sung fell into deep thought as the cheers echoed from outside.

With the unexpected ascension of the Qingcheng Sword Venerable to the position of Alliance Leader, those allied with the Qingcheng Sect were ecstatic.

They celebrated, believing this was the perfect opportunity for Qingcheng to reclaim its lost influence over Sichuan.

On the other hand, Emei and the Tang Clan, who had to settle for the Vice Leader positions, accepted the outcome with surprising composure.

Emei had held few expectations to begin with, so they remained quiet, while the Tang Clan had their own reasons.

"Well, it was a highly predictable outcome."

"Indeed, it couldn't be helped. The Poison King hasn't stepped foot outside in years. They couldn't just leave the Alliance Leader's seat vacant for him forever."

"Exactly. He has to actually show his face if he wants to lead."

Voices of disappointment and resignation mingled in the air.

Those connected to the Tang Clan had largely anticipated this decision.

Unlike the Qingcheng Sword Venerable and the Sichuan Sword Queen, who remained highly active in public affairs, the Poison King had vanished into closed-door cultivation.

Contrary to expectations that his seclusion would be brief, five years had already slipped by.

After the legendary bloody conflict known as the Great Sichuan Campaign, which had driven the darkness from the province, the Poison King had been hailed as the savior of Sichuan.

Perhaps because the wounds he sustained then were too severe, he had abruptly entered seclusion immediately afterward.

Since then, he had only communicated with key figures of the clan, such as Dang Ho-ryeong.

As his seclusion dragged on, people's doubts only grew.

"Maybe his health really is failing."

"Quiet! If the Tang Clan hears you, there'll be hell to pay. Watch your mouth!"

At the whisper, a nearby man urgently hushed his companion.

Outside of the Tang Clan, many in Sichuan harbored suspicions about the Poison King's physical state.

Knowing his personality, a seclusion lasting over five years meant there had to be a reason.

And most believed that reason was far from positive.

"Still, it wouldn't have been easy for an Emei Buddhist nun to take the lead either. Besides, she's far too neutral to be a proper leader."

Opinions regarding the Sichuan Sword Queen clashed fiercely, with people debating her merits and flaws.

Listening to the chatter around him, Yoo Sung quietly immersed himself in his thoughts.

The Qingcheng swordsman who had joined the war on behalf of his sect had lived through a brutal reality, yet he had never stopped dreaming of a better future.

He was a man who believed he had to fight harder and slay more demons to restore his sect's honor and correct its path.

Through countless wounds and failures, he had finally achieved his goal.

Yet, as they say, fortune and misfortune walk hand in hand.

Though he had manifested his final realization through his sword in his dying moments, his body had already reached its absolute limit.

Having sustained devastating wounds to his dantian and heart during a fierce demonic counterattack, his remaining time had been short.

He had entrusted the future of his sect to Yoo Sung, who was the only one left unscathed.

They had barely exchanged a few words in the past, but such trivialities held no meaning on a bloody battlefield.

To place one's hopes for tomorrow upon the survivor and pass on what remained—that was the law of the battlefield.

That was the bloody path Yoo Sung had walked.

Even back then, the Qingcheng Sect had been plagued by unsavory rumors.

"His end was uncharacteristic of him."

The man had refused to believe his beloved sect had changed, believing that even if it had, he could correct its course himself.

Having failed to realize that wish, he surely could not rest in peace.

Perhaps if Yoo Sung passed the deceased man's swordsmanship to Woo Il-seo, his soul would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠finally find peace.

But first, he had to verify if Woo Il-seo was truly a man worthy of carrying Qingcheng's future, just as the deceased had hoped.

"Perhaps I'll pay him a visit tonight."

To see what kind of man the newly appointed leader of the Sichuan Righteous Alliance truly was.

Yoo Sung decided it was time to play the role of a night visitor once again.