Heading to the White Night Cartel
A letter from Yeon-hoo arrived for Song Gyeom, the head of the Elder Council.
As he read it, Song Gyeom couldn't help but chuckle in disbelief.
Chief Steward Hong Myeong asked, "What does it say to make you laugh like that?"
"He says he'll attend the Great Earth Sovereign's banquet, representing the Iron Blood Family and Northern Murim."
"The second young master?"
"Who else would send such a letter to this old man?"
Hong Myeong's eyes immediately flashed with anger.
"That insolent fool—truly, the more I see of him, the more arrogant he gets, oblivious to the heights of heaven. Why on earth did you hand over the treasured sword?!"
"It was what the Jang family head wanted, so calm yourself. He must have something planned."
"Both you and the Jang family head are far too complacent. What if everything goes up in smoke because of this...?"
"Up in smoke? That sounds almost like you're accusing this old man of coveting the throne himself."
"......"
"Let me make this clear once more... I supported the Jang family head because, at present, no one else is suitable. But if someone with greater ability than him appears, naturally my support would shift. For the sake of Northern Murim, wouldn't you agree?"
"But you've already made promises with the Jang family head on most matters, haven't you?"
"Those can be fulfilled once he ascends to the lord's seat. No need to bind ourselves prematurely."
"Council Head!"
"Enough."
Despite Hong Myeong's protests, Song Gyeom leisurely sipped his tea. Frowning slightly, he muttered as if to himself, "Still, we should prepare in advance."
"Prepare what...?"
"We need to investigate the second young master's activities. At the very least, confirm where he's been and how he's lived these past fifteen years."
Tak!
"Request assistance from the Beggars' Sect. They should be able to uncover his past. It'd be best to identify those around him as well."
"Moving the beggars will cost a fortune..."
Finishing his words, Song Gyeom opened a drawer and pulled out a hefty money pouch.
Clink.
"This should suffice. Go to the Beggars' Sect yourself and make the request."
"Understood."
As Hong Myeong hurriedly departed, Song Gyeom sank deeper into his chair and brought the teacup to his lips.
"I thought him merely an untamed tiger cub..."
A cryptic smile spread across Song Gyeom's lips as he murmured to himself.
At that moment, footsteps approached from outside, and Hong Myeong—who had just left—returned.
"A strange fellow is here to see you, Council Head."
"A strange fellow?"
"He claims to be sent by the second young master and asked me to deliver this."
Hong Myeong handed over a pipe. Song Gyeom extracted the tightly rolled letter inside and unfurled it.
There's one thing I forgot, so I'm sending another letter...
[Omitted]...
He is a very important friend to me, so please ensure no neglect in hospitality until he returns after finishing the penal visits.
It was another letter from Yeon-hoo.
'Does he think me convenient, or just an easy mark...?'
Song Gyeom gave a wry smile at the near-commanding tone and turned to Hong Myeong.
"Bring him in."
"Understood."
Moments later, Hong Myeong returned with a young man.
Song Gyeom sharply scanned the youth from head to toe.
Mid-twenties, perhaps? His face was pallid, almost sickly frail, and his slender frame looked as if a gust could carry him away—like a scholar, not a warrior.
"I'm Song Yeong."
"Of the Song clan?"
"My ancestral seat is in Henan."
"Which generation?"
"22nd generation of the Outer Branch."
"22nd generation of the Outer Branch?"
"Why so surprised?"
Song Gyeom ignored Song Yeong's question and turned to the blankly standing Hong Myeong.
"Why are you still here? Go on with your errand."
"Ah, yes. I'll be off then."
As Hong Myeong left, Song Gyeom turned back to Song Yeong. But his gaze had softened dramatically.
"You must be tired."
"Indeed, I've walked without rest for days and am quite fatigued. I was hoping to rest a bit..."
"Is anyone outside?"
At Song Gyeom's call, a guard entered.
"Prepare a room for him to rest, and ensure he lacks for nothing in food or drink. Treat him well."
"Yes, sir."
"We can talk later, so go along now."
Song Yeong rose and bowed deeply.
"Your gracious hospitality leaves me at a loss. I'll take my leave then."
As he turned, a faint smile flickered briefly across Song Yeong's lips before vanishing.
Council Head Song Gyeom has a pathological obsession with blood ties. Twenty years ago, during a rebellion, most of the Henan Song clan's Outer Branch perished, which deepened this trait...
Yeon-hoo recalled what he knew about Elder Council Head Song Gyeom.
Upon his return home, he had investigated the key figures of the Iron Blood Family to some extent—not perfectly, but enough as minimal preparation for his future path.
He hadn't encountered many major players since returning, but he had tailored his approach based on his findings, and so far, it was working.
'He should have arrived by now.'
Yeon-hoo thought of Song Yeong and gazed ahead.
It had been two days since departing the camp for the White Night Cartel.
Navigating the vast mountainous terrain meant all they could see were snow-covered forests.
But Yeon-hoo did not simply pass through.
Yun Hoe approached.
"What are you examining so closely?"
"Remember this place well."
"Understood. But why this spot in particular?"
"When we march on Northwest Murim in the future, we'll use it as a base. The enemy will struggle to climb up, but we can descend easily. And there's a decent water source too—hard to find better."
"......You'd even considered that far ahead?"
Yun Hoe's voice trembled faintly.
He had never dreamed of striking first. Until now, mere defense had been their focus.
"Looks like we'll camp in the mountains tonight."
"Understood. I'll prepare at once."
Everyone set up tents brought from the camp.
Yeon-hoo had brought only Yun Hoe, Cheol-u, and Seobaek.
Jang Pae and Gwak Yang remained at the camp to guard against any shifts from Northwest Murim. The envoy guards handled most chores anyway.
The envoy group had taken charge, assigning them minor tasks without Yeon-hoo intervening.
Soon, Yeon-hoo lay alone in his tent, reviewing his plans.
'Merely seizing Northern Murim isn't enough. To protect the lord's seat from the other eight great families and the countless factions eyeing it, we need far greater power.'
So how to proceed? First, become lord himself and rebuild the declining Iron Blood Family. Becoming Northern Murim's sovereign could wait. Lose the seat, and nothing else mattered.
The previous lord was criticized for being too lenient. He faced countless challengers during his reign... The physician said his illness stemmed from accumulated internal injuries.
Gwak Yang's voice echoed in his mind.
Upon return, he'd learned much from him about the family's events—including why enemies had flocked to his father.
'I won't permit any challenges. Whoever dares, I'll take their life as an example. Father should have done the same. Then my brother might still live.'
"My lord."
Yun Hoe's voice from outside broke his reverie. From yesterday, he had begun addressing Yeon-hoo as "my lord."
"Enter."
Yun Hoe stepped in. Yeon-hoo eyed the liquor bottle in his hand and sat up straight.
"The envoy offered this fine liquor for you, young master."
"Join me for a drink?"
"No. The road ahead is long—have a quick one and rest well."
Yeon-hoo watched Yun Hoe return to his tent, then uncorked the bottle. The aroma was distinctly superior.
"Come have a drink."
No sooner had he spoken than Cheol-u and Seobaek appeared like ghosts. They weren't in the tent but the shadows.
Gulp! Gulp!
Yeon-hoo downed two swigs straight from the bottle and passed it to Cheol-u.
"Thank you."
"Focus more on the commander and the envoy group."
"Understood."
"Yep!"
[Suspicious figures approaching.]
At some point, Yeon-hoo had contracted an incurable disease: insomnia.
Closing his eyes brought visions and echoes of those he'd killed—cursing him, weeping blood tears, wailing.
Tonight was no different.
Circulating qi could dispel fatigue, but he avoided it unless absolutely necessary. Fifteen years in hell had ingrained thriftiness with every shred of strength.
Whoosh!
Flutter! Flutter!
A fierce gale battered the tent.
Yeon-hoo's eyes flashed. He rose slowly, quietly taking his sword from beside him.
Then—
[I'm fine—check on the commander and envoy group.]
Cheol-u's transmission voice flowed in.
[My lord.]
[I said I'm fine.]
[......Understood.]
Yeon-hoo slightly parted the tent flap. As the wind whipped his hair, shadows flickered in the opposite forest.
'Quite a crowd.'
The gale shook the trees, making an exact count impossible.
But Yeon-hoo precisely sensed their numbers—and directions.
The first face that came to mind was Jang family head Jang Cheon.
Next was Wall Thunder family head Wi Yeon Gwang, whom he'd yet to meet.
Tch.
'He's quite furious, it seems.'