A Needle in the Bag (5)
“It’s a success!”
Moyong Gun’s eyes gleamed. Jegal Munho, for once, showed clear signs of excitement.
“Yang Cheon has accepted the practical team’s request. We’ve received word that they’re already en route, so they should have entered the area by now.”
“Now the real game begins.”
Moyong Gun’s expression turned grave. “From here on out, it’s the true test. If anything goes even slightly awry, the entire practical team could end up dead on the spot.”
“Of course, that’s a possibility.”
Moyong Gun glanced sidelong at Jegal Munho. For some reason, the man didn’t seem overly concerned.
“You don’t seem worried.”
“Worry won’t save the living or condemn the dying. Right now, we should be relieved that what could have been a brutal mess has proceeded more smoothly than expected.”
Moyong Gun chuckled softly. “Fair enough.”
He had to admit, Jegal Munho was no ordinary man. His beloved daughter was on that practical team, yet here he was, displaying genuine delight. Whether it was sincere or calculated performance, the strategist was anything but commonplace.
“Still, we should worry. The Heavenly Thirteen Seats aren’t human, after all.”
“True enough.”
“At their level of martial prowess, they can discern not just what arts an opponent practices from a single glance, but their characteristics and even the purpose behind their creation.”
The excitement on Jegal Munho’s face gradually subsided. “It’s a realm beyond my current understanding, but I’ve heard as much.”
Moyong Gun felt the same. Both men had pierced beyond Mujongjibyeok into the transcendent realm, honing themselves through countless trials and insights to reach their present heights. Yet the path of martial arts knew no end. Even at such exalted levels, neither could grasp so much as a fragment of the Heavenly realm.
Not yet, at least.
“I don’t know about the others, but the two most dangerous ones are clear.”
Jegal Munho’s eyes sparkled. “Huigae and the Tang family head’s eldest daughter.”
“Precisely. And if I had to pick one, Huigae poses the greater risk of exposure.”
A flicker of puzzlement crossed Jegal Munho’s face. He disagreed on that point.
“Why do you think so? I’d argue Dang Sang-a is the bigger threat.”
“The Tang family’s arts are not well-known to the world. Their techniques are infamous by name alone, but few who’ve truly witnessed them have survived—especially not from the black path.”
It was a valid point. Moyong Gun’s gaze deepened.
“The Beggar Sect’s disciples, on the other hand, are scattered across the entire Central Plains. The basic arts of common beggars with their simple knot techniques are laughably crude, but it’s from that accumulation of crudeness that the sect’s modern martial arts were forged.”
“Indeed.”
“There’s a world of difference between the arts of ordinary beggars and those of Huigae. Yet to the eyes of the Tu Wang, he could read the core essence hidden within that vast gap.”
Jegal Munho nodded. “You make a compelling case.”
Interest flickered across Moyong Gun’s features. “From your reaction, Strategist, it seems you’re not overly concerned about such issues.”
Jegal Munho smiled faintly. “I’ve prepared countermeasures in advance.”
“Oh ho.”
“Anyone of sufficient caliber can read an opponent’s energy and infer their school of martial arts. For the Tu Wang, it’s child’s play.”
“So you’ve devised some solution.”
“The world is full of mysterious artifacts. And my family has a keen interest in those shrouded in legend and enigma.”
“That’s unexpected. The Jegal family, pursuers of intellect and wisdom, concerning themselves with such inscrutable oddities?”
Jegal Munho gave a wry smile. “It’s the curiosity of our scholars—they won’t rest until they unravel the incomprehensible.”
Moyong Gun grinned. “I must say, I’m a bit miffed. As the commander of this operation, you should have given me a heads-up about such a tool.”
Jegal Munho bowed his head. “My apologies for that.”
No excuses, just a straightforward apology. Moyong Gun was inwardly taken aback.
Quite bold. Not intentional, surely.
Jegal Munho was meticulous about distinguishing public from private. He hadn’t withheld it out of distrust—that wasn’t his way. Curiosity piqued, Moyong Gun prodded once more.
“Do you doubt me, perhaps?”
Jegal Munho shook his head. “Lord Moyong is hardly a man to trust on a personal level. But now that everything is in your hands, I have no intention of letting personal feelings interfere with the mission.”
“Hmm.”
“As you said, my inadequate daughter is on the practical team. For her safety alone, I’ll lend every aid I can.”
His voice rang with sincerity. Moyong Gun, who had been studying him quietly, smiled.
“Whether you have such an artifact or not, it wouldn’t have altered the operation much. Just… no more surprises like this.”
“I’ll remember that. My apologies once more.”
That was enough. Moyong Gun rose with a laugh.
“Well then, I’ll be off for a bit.”
Puzzlement crossed Jegal Munho’s face. “Where to?”
“Ah, I hadn’t mentioned.”
“……?”
Moyong Gun gazed out the window, hands clasped behind his back. “It was just before the practical team set out… Yes, around then. Commander Yeon said something to me.”
“……”
“Wouldn’t it be better if we went together? Our combined strength would greatly improve the mission’s chances of success, he said.”
Jegal Munho chuckled inwardly.
His audacity is truly an art form.
It had likely been half-jest, half-serious. He’d never expected Moyong Gun to actually join. Probably a warning shot, tossed out while Moyong Gun was absent from the alliance, to deter any schemes that might shake things up.
No matter the foe, you don’t lightly suggest such a thing to a family head like Lord Moyong. Careful with your words, my friend—they’re dangerous.
Then Moyong Gun spoke. “But on second thought…”
“……?”
“Commander Yeon had a point, didn’t he?”
Surprise flashed across Jegal Munho’s face. “You don’t mean…?”
“Haha, I was feeling cooped up anyway. Even if I can’t provide direct aid, streamlining commands and reports can only help.”
“You’re truly going there?”
Moyong Gun smiled slyly. “I don’t know what you think of me, but in my youth, I roamed the world and learned much in my own way.”
“……!”
“Time to indulge a bit of nostalgia and bolster the practical team. I’ll go myself—it’s not a bad idea.”
Far better than not bad. Having the operation’s commander active near the field agents was a tremendous advantage in every way. They simply hadn’t dared suggest it, given his status and reputation as the alliance’s contributor.
But for him to volunteer?
The world’s Moyong Gun?
Ideal circumstances, yet…
A thread of tension crept into Jegal Munho’s astonished eyes.
That’s what makes it suspicious.
Moyong Gun wasn’t the type to step to the forefront. He’d had no such intention from the start. For him to suddenly change his mind now and head into a black path-infested zone himself? How could one not suspect?
As if reading his doubt, Moyong Gun spoke in a cheerful tone. “Don’t worry too much. Like you, Strategist, I intend to give this operation my all.”
After quietly observing Moyong Gun’s complexion, Jegal Munho rose and clasped his hands in salute.
“I’m grateful for your decision, Lord. For safety, perhaps the alliance could provide escorts…”
“No need. More people would only draw the black path’s attention.”
Moyong Gun turned to leave. The look in his eyes as he did was profoundly enigmatic—excitement, anticipation, ambition, desire, tension, and countless other emotions swirled within.
“I’ll depart in half a shichen. Strategist, please ensure the exit permit is prepared without delay.”
* * *
“……Hm.”
Yang Cheon, seated in the grand chair, slowly opened his eyes.
A dream?
It had been ages since he’d last dreamed. And this one left a foul aftertaste the moment he awoke.
He flinched involuntarily, stroking his chest.
Still hot.
A fierce throbbing, invisible on the skin yet palpable only to him. Today, that enigmatic power surged more wildly than ever.
Murderous intent blazed in Yang Cheon’s eyes.
Saneum.
The radiant smile of the one who called himself the god of Saneumgyo. And beneath that innocent facade, the primal ferocity of pure evil and absolute martial might.
Crack!
His left hand crushed the armrest of the chair to splinters.
Still haven’t shaken it off.
The power of that self-proclaimed god of lewd evil continued to torment him even now. An internal injury, perhaps—but not quite, since it didn’t hinder his martial manifestation or health.
Only that sticky, repulsive heat periodically plunged his mood into the depths.
A loathsome bastard.
Recalling the encounter, Yang Cheon had to admit it. He was still fixated on that clash. And that obsession was the root of this pain that wasn’t quite pain.
Where the hell did that guy—no, those guys—come from?
From the heavens? Sprouting from the earth? After entering the world with his ambitions, Yang Cheon had memorized not just Central Plains history, but the forces and key figures beyond its borders.
He tolerated no variables, pouring as much effort into knowledge as into perfecting his arts. He was confident his studies surpassed even the Jegal family’s scholars.
And amid that vast accumulation, the moment he reached for that perilously vast world… they appeared.
‘Make you a king,’ they said?
Sneer twisted Yang Cheon’s face.
Ridiculous fools. In mere months, I’d claimed kingship over the black path and seized a region. As if I’d need your paltry power.
He hadn’t planned to execute so swiftly. But the sudden formation of the Murim Alliance had cowed the black path sects. Then that bizarre cult piled on the pressure.
He hadn’t cared to heed them, but their unimaginable funds were tempting. Besides, as they said, time would only make unifying the black path harder.
Thus, Yang Cheon took his first great step toward black path unification—a plan decades in the making. Or rather, he began planting his flag on the path he was already treading.
Still…
Yang Cheon smiled.
Now it feels like living.
He was a man of vast ambition, his deep patience forged over decades of endurance and study to realize it. Now was the time.
To divide, seize, and unify the world in three stages—to become its master.
Then, a voice came from beyond the door.
“Deputy Leader. The descendants of Mujongmun have arrived at the fortress.”