Chapter 1: The Return
On a day when the blizzard raged fiercely, the Iron Blood Sword Emperor Yi Yeom—ruler of Northern Murim and lord of the Iron Blood Family—had died. As heaven wept and earth mourned, one man's journey toward the Iron Blood Family drew to its close.
Whoosh.
Yeon-hoo paused and lifted his gaze ahead. Beyond the swirling snowstorm loomed the faint silhouette of a massive fortress: the Iron Blood Family. One of the White Night Cartel's Eight Great Families—the absolute power that overlooked all of Murim—and the place of his birth. The scenery of the Iron Blood Family, once everything to him, now pierced his pupils like daggers.
Finally returning...
A wave of regret crashed over him. Yeon-hoo closed his eyes tightly.
Behind him stood a black-haired man. What if a razor-sharp sword took human form? The fierce winter gale seemed to soften into a spring breeze the moment it neared him—an illusion born of the man's bone-chilling cold aura. In his grip was a thick iron chain, its end bound to a grotesque figure with its face shrouded in cloth.
"Cheol-u."
"Yes, my lord."
"Liquor."
"Yes."
Cheol-u unhooked the gourd from his belt and handed it over. A sharp alcoholic tang escaped as the stopper came free, scattering on the wind. Yeon-hoo drained it in one long pull.
"Another?"
"No."
Yeon-hoo resumed walking.
Whoosh...!
The wind grew ever fiercer. A massive tree toppled in defeat, but neither man's stride faltered.
How much farther did they press on? The castle gate came into view. Without the guards huddled against the cold, one might have mistaken it for a ruined wasteland—the fortress's perimeter was that desolate.
"Halt!"
The guards spotted them and barked sharply. Yeon-hoo stopped as two approached, clad in mourning white.
"Here for the condolences?"
Yeon-hoo nodded silently.
"Then we'll need to verify your identity first. This way..."
Before the guard finished, Yeon-hoo drew a round plaque from his robes and held it out.
Iron Blood.
The characters engraved in its center made the guards flinch, eyes bulging in shock.
"Gasp! This is...!"
Gulp, gulp!
Gwak Yang, the Iron Blood Family's assault captain, had been drinking since morning in his quarters. What had ignited his fury? His flushed face wasn't solely from the liquor.
Smash!
Another empty bottle flew to the corner and shattered. The twenty-second one. Drunk enough for oblivion, yet his complexion paled, eyes blazing like a tiger's.
"You've had too much. Please, stop..."
The warrior seated opposite spoke cautiously, concern etched on his face, but Gwak Yang seized yet another bottle.
"All assembled in the great hall?"
"Yes. The Jang family's leadership just arrived—everyone's there now."
"The lady?"
"Word is, she's been sending gifts to families backing the Jang faction since dawn. The whole palace is in an uproar."
Crack!
This time, the bottle shattered in his grip.
"The lord's blood hasn't even cooled..."
"Given the momentum, they'll decide the next lord at today's meeting. With enemies pressing daily, the Jang family's argument—no vacancy in the seat of power—carries weight."
"Of course. They've been waiting for the day the lord would pass."
At that moment, a warrior burst in urgently.
"Captain!"
Gwak Yang's trusted subordinate scowled.
"What's got you in such a frenzy?!"
"The—the Second Young Master! He's returned!"
"...!"
Gwak Yang's gaze sharpened instantly.
"You said Second Young Master?"
"Yes!"
Bang! Crash!
He shot to his feet, toppling the table in a cascade of bottles and plates. His subordinate fetched his battle robe and greatsword; Gwak Yang stormed out.
"Where is he now?"
"He just entered the Ancestor Hall."
The Ancestor Hall, repository of the Iron Blood Family's history, teemed with people.
"The Second Young Master really came back?"
"Guards confirmed the token."
"Fifteen years with no word— we treated him as dead—and he shows up now..."
"Watch your tongue! 'Now'? You unhappy about it?"
"Use your head. His return sows chaos in selecting the next lord!"
"Chaos? It's decided. Everyone knows the late lord exiled him—no claim now."
"Look—Captain Gwak."
The murmurs died. Gwak Yang strode through the center, the crowd parting like waves.
Guards blocked him at the main gate.
"No entry."
"Just confirm it's him."
"Apologies."
Unmoved, Gwak Yang sat in lotus position and closed his eyes.
"Not here..."
Then the crowd stirred behind. Two middle-aged men pushed through. One scowled at Gwak Yang and addressed the guards.
"The Second Young Master's return—is it true?"
"Yes. He's inside."
"You idiots! How'd you confirm and dare open the Ancestor Hall?!"
"I saw the token myself. No doubt."
"Could be forged!"
"See for yourself later."
The guard stood firm. Another stir rippled from the back. A middle-aged man in snow-white mourning entered with attendants. Dead silence fell.
Jang Hoe, of the Jang family—one of Iron Blood's key clans and cousin to Jang Cheon, frontrunner for lord of Northern Murim.
[Captain, Jang family arrived.]
His subordinate's voice transmission went unheeded; Gwak Yang didn't budge. Jang Hoe glanced at him, then spoke calmly to the guards.
"Can't enter? Tell him to come out."
"We can't enter either. Wait till he emerges."
"You know the penalty for fakes in the Ancestor Hall. Before it escalates, tell him to hurry out."
"We recognized him as Young Master and opened the door. We'll bear the consequences—so wait."
Twitch. Jang Hoe's brow curved like a blade.
Then, the Ancestor Hall's main gate creaked open slowly.
Gwak Yang's eyes snapped open; everyone held their breath.
Creeeak...!
The heavy doors parted, revealing one figure: Cheol-u.
Not the Second Young Master!
Gwak Yang's pupils quivered as Cheol-u's indifferent voice pierced the silence.
"Is there a Gwak Yang here?"
"That's me."
"Enter."
Gwak Yang sprang up. Jang Hoe snapped at the guards.
"Who is that?"
"Young Master's companion."
"An outsider with no ties—why him and not us?!"
"His bodyguard. Direct heirs may bring guards."
As Jang Hoe opened his mouth, Cheol-u's flat tone cut in first.
"My lord commands silence. Violators will answer later. Withdraw or shut it."
"...!"
The Great Hall oversaw the Iron Blood Family's major and minor affairs—also called the Iron Blood Throne. Four leaders had gathered there.
With the late lord Yi Yeom's death leaving the seat vacant, they'd convened hastily despite the mourning period. But the Second Young Master's Yeon-hoo abrupt return had turned the air gravely tense.
"If it's truly the Second Young Master, all prior discussions are void, no?"
A middle-aged man radiating blade-like sharpness broke the heavy silence: Sama Song, head of the Sama family. Even in the late lord's time, his impartial rationality had earned deep trust.
"Blood kin or not, fifteen years absent. We've fought dozens of wars; thousands perished, including the eldest young master. No word of his whereabouts—claiming rights now defies reason."
A middle-aged man with elegantly trailing red beard countered coldly: Jang Cheon, head of the Jang family and prime candidate for next lord.
The other two nodded agreement. Sama Song pressed on.
"Eldest gone—Second is the late lord's sole legitimate heir. That trumps all logic."
"So you'd seat him as next lord of Northern Murim?"
"Unless he refuses, yes. All of Northern Murim heed the Iron Blood Family's iron rules."
"I suspect personal bias in pushing him."
"Mind your words! Bias?!"
Bang!
Sama Song slammed the table in fury. But Jang Cheon didn't yield, smirking coolly.
"No bias? Then call for a grand assembly first—not proclaim it outright."
"I concur."
"As do I. It aligns with the late lord's will: devotion to the family over rank or status."
Tremble...
Sama Song's gaze shook.
Then—
Creeeak...!
The great hall's doors eased open. Sunlight poured in, casting a long shadow across the floor.