Chapter 11. Four Gods Activation (1)
“What? The later-generation summit?”
“That’s right.”
Yeon Wi didn’t even glance at Yeon Jipyeong as he spoke. He flipped through several documents, scanning them rapidly—a sight that felt all too familiar.
“The later-generation disciples of the Seven Great Families have always held a summit every year. But every five years, attendance is mandatory. And that’s this year.”
A flicker of bewilderment crossed Yeon Jipyeong’s face.
“A-Am I the one going?”
“Is there a problem?”
“N-No, not at all!”
Yeon Wi handed over a folded sheet of paper. Yeon Jipyeong accepted it with both hands respectfully.
“It’s your summit permit. It’ll be held in Hapbi, the capital of Anhui Province, forty-five days from now. To arrive on time, you should leave no later than half a month before.”
A peak lightness skill expert could cross the distance in five days if pushing hard. But they’d have to cross the Great River, and the terrain wouldn’t be familiar. Plus, for such an event, arriving with a fresh appearance meant departing two weeks early was only prudent.
“The Blue Eagle Squad will escort you. Go and return safely.”
Yeon Jipyeong’s eyes widened.
“The Blue Eagle Squad?”
“Not the whole unit—just one platoon. But their captain will accompany you.”
The Blue Eagle Squad was one of the Yeon family’s most elite fighting forces. Though the family didn’t have vast numbers due to their nature, every member was an exceptional master. Dispatching a unit they rarely sent into the jianghu underscored the summit’s importance.
“F-Father...”
“Speak.”
Yeon Jipyeong hesitated.
“For a later-generation summit, shouldn’t Big Brother be the one to go?”
Yeon Wi, rifling through documents, lifted his head and fixed his gaze on Yeon Jipyeong. The boy flinched.
He’d seen that look countless times, but his father’s eyes were still terrifying—clear as glass imported from the Western Regions.
Big Brother... I’m still scared of Father.
Yeon Jipyeong swallowed hard and waited a long moment.
“Your brother is in danger.”
“What?”
Danger? What did that mean?
Yeon Wi turned fully toward him.
“Don’t you think your brother has changed a lot lately?”
Yeon Jipyeong panicked. His father was always terse, speaking only of martial arts, scholarship, family laws, or etiquette. A personal question like this was unprecedented.
“He seems... a little different.”
“Not a little.”
“...”
“His temperament, his martial progress—it’s not the Hojeong I knew. It’s like a different person.”
Yeon Jipyeong had noticed Yeon Hojeong’s changes too, especially in personality. Lately, his brother seemed truly mature.
“But saying he’s in danger...”
“The Namgung family’s later-generation disciples will naturally attend as well.”
“Ah!”
“Given Hojeong’s current temperament, he won’t avoid conflict. Whether it’s something he can endure or not.”
Yeon Jipyeong bit his lip. He understood why his father wanted him to go. In a way, Father was sending him to protect his brother.
“Please... at least ask Big Brother’s opinion once.”
“...”
“I beg you, Father.”
Yeon Wi’s eyes deepened. He stared at his second son for a moment, then nodded.
“Very well.”
“Thank you.”
“You may go.”
Yeon Jipyeong bowed and left the patriarch’s chamber. Yeon Wi stared at the closed door, then resumed shuffling papers. But only briefly. He set them aside and leaned back, gazing into space. A hint of confusion stirred in his impassive eyes.
“...Changed, you say.”
* * *
Whoooosh!
The heavy iron staff sliced through the air with a lethal whine.
“Hah... hah!”
Every muscle ached. His legs, waist, back, shoulders—nothing was spared.
The staff was as long as Yeon Hojeong was tall and weighed nearly twenty geun. Swinging it from dinner until past midnight without collapsing was a miracle.
Drip.
Blood dripped from his gripped hands. He’d reached his limit.
Yeon Hojeong thrust the staff downward with force.
Thud!
The tip struck rock, which trembled slightly. A fierce vibration shot up his arms—to his wrists, elbows, shoulders, even his spine. Every joint in his upper body creaked. His grip failed, slick with blood, and the staff slipped.
“Ngh.”
Clang!
The staff hit the ground. Panting, Yeon Hojeong stared at his hands with dissatisfaction.
“Still only this much?”
He’d originally trained with the sword. But it didn’t suit his constitution. Hand-to-hand was better than the blade. After endless battles, he’d found his true weapon: a massive axe on a six-cheok shaft. A heavy weapon weighing dozens of geun, perfectly matching his nature and arts.
Later, he’d added a chain, filling a dozen jang radius with axe-born storms.
Can’t even handle a mere iron staff properly.
To wield a long, heavy axe, one needed mastery of staff arts, spear techniques, and hand axes. Yet he couldn’t swing even a sub-twenty-geun staff all night.
He’d felt it during footwork training too—the path ahead would be rough.
Yeon Hojeong picked up a hand axe from under a tree. His torn palms stung. He toyed with it a few times, then hurled it at a thick trunk.
Whirl!
Thuck!
It embedded deeply.
Sense is fine.
Leaning against the tree, axe still lodged, he gazed at the sky.
I know the path to strength. My efforts won’t fall short.
He had to prevent his clan’s destruction. To do that, he needed power first. But that alone wasn’t enough.
I can’t just wait forever.
Even if he regained his past prowess in a year and a half—a stretch—it wouldn’t matter. With the Black Emperor’s might, tactics, and strategy, he could avert doom. But sacrifices were inevitable, and Father or little brother might be among them.
That... would be unbearable.
Beyond my own power, I need defenses for the main house. Information, force—whatever it takes.
He needed strength obviating tactics and strategy. Even then, the world could turn on a dime.
The problem is...
Yeon Hojeong’s face twisted.
“I don’t even know who the bastards are.”
After learning from his master, his first act in the world was hunting the culprits. Alone, it was impossible, so he’d plunged into the black path—superior in intelligence to the orthodox—for leads.
But no trace of the enemy.
“Definitely not black path scum.”
Orthodox arts, for sure. Twisted beyond easy tracing, but the true energy and power emission were unmistakably white path.
“To deploy that many masters, it’d take at least one of the Nine Great Sects or Seven Great Families.”
And crucially...
“...High chance of a traitor inside.”
Not certain—no proof. Father wasn’t the type to tolerate betrayal. But if there was one?
Deep in thought, Yeon Hojeong grumbled.
“No point agonizing over unknowns now. What a joke—I wasn’t one to overthink before.”
First death, first regression. And protecting his clan amplified it.
Either way, expand intelligence and forces. Quietly, without notice...
His eyes gleamed.
Only one way, huh?
He’d planned to approach after family duties. But using “that” could yield double benefits.
Won’t help much practically, but borrowing the name alone would be huge.
Yeon Hojeong stood.
“Alright, decided.”
“Decided what?”
He nearly jumped. Peering beyond the woods, he saw Yeon Wi at the bamboo grove entrance to his quarters, arms crossed.
“Father.”
“Training, were you?”
Yeon Hojeong was inwardly flustered. Lost in thought, he’d muttered aloud—had Father heard?
“When did you arrive?”
“Just now. I called, but no answer.”
Phew.
Father’s demeanor suggested he hadn’t overheard.
“What brings you here?”
Yeon Wi eyed his hands.
“Blood’s crusted over.”
“Oh? This?”
“Swung until your hands were like that?”
“It’s nothing.”
He shook them off casually, as if unbothered. No wince, despite the pain.
“Not practicing sword?”
“No.”
“The main house has many fine arts. But staff and spear manuals are lacking.”
“I’m fine.”
He knew top-tier staff and spear arts. And his true art wasn’t staff or spear anyway.
“You’re not fine. You’re the Yeon family’s eldest son. You should cultivate arts befitting that.”
“Forcing arts unfit for my body is wrong.”
“What?”
Yeon Wi was genuinely surprised.
“So the sword doesn’t suit you?”
“Correct.”
“Why think that?”
“No need to think.”
“Explain.”
“Martial arts are felt with the body before the mind. Focus on your body, find the efficient path—that’s the one to follow.”
“And for you, that’s staff arts?”
“Not exactly, but staff and spear first, properly.”
“Mastering staff and spear... Planning on crescent blade or military battle axe?”
Now Yeon Hojeong was surprised.
Erudite indeed.
Most murim folk mastered their weapon but knew little of others. Not Father. Guessing heavy weapons from a few words showed deep expertise. He could wield any arm proficiently—no empty boast. Hard to say without experience.
“I’ll try various. But why come all this way?”
Yeon Wi knew his son was changing topics but played along. Or perhaps chose the more intriguing one.
“This year’s Seven Great Families later-generation summit is a full gathering.”
Yeon Hojeong’s eyes sparkled.
Right.
He didn’t remember much, but the summit stuck. He’d attended with his brother, too low in self-esteem to mingle. Didn’t even talk to him en route.
Yeon Wi paused, then continued.
“I want Jipyeong to go, not you.”
“I see.”
“Yes.”
Yeon Hojeong nodded.
“Understood.”
Yeon Wi’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“That’s fine with you?”
“If it’s your will, I accept. I’m just worried the Namgung might target Jipyeong. But with so many present, they won’t risk losing face rashly.”
“Sincere?”
“Of course. Just pay extra attention to him until then. He’ll feel burdened going because of his idiot brother.”
Yeon Wi shook his head, staring.
“Let me rephrase.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t you want to go?”
Yeon Hojeong grimaced in horror.
“Hell no.”
“...”
“Who wants to watch a bunch of snot-nosed brats strutting around like hotshots? Ugh, gives me the creeps just thinking about it.”