The False King (2)
By nature meant innate disposition. Yeon Hojeong's was certainly not kind, but nor could it be called utterly wicked. He was born with a strong character. Unyielding and straight-backed, like bamboo that breaks before it bends. His nature was that resilient and upright.
Yet the world was too harsh to navigate on innate disposition alone. Through his experiences in that world, Yeon Hojeong learned flexibility. How to deceive others, how not to be deceived, how to slither away like a sly fox, and even how to grovel when needed.
But in decisive moments, he was always strong and rigid. And that held true now.
He wouldn't grovel even in critical situations unless there was no other choice. He wouldn't bow his head or act sly. As always, strong and upright. A bold frontal assault, without any petty tricks.
"Yang Vice Leader..."
Yang Cheon's face visibly hardened. His displeasure was plain enough for even a three-year-old to see.
"This is a first. No one's ever called me by such a ridiculous title."
"Is that so?"
What a tone. Staring silently at Yeon Hojeong, Yang Cheon burst into laughter despite himself.
How many years had he lived under the invincible name of the Thirteen Seats of Sacred Heaven? No one could hold their head high before him. No one dared act arrogant, try to deceive him, or test him.
Faced with this near-unfamiliar reaction, Yang Cheon surprisingly felt more intrigued than angry.
"No need to state the obvious, but you know who I am, right?"
"That's why I came."
"You know who I am, and you still talk like that?"
Yeon Hojeong smiled.
"Who knows? Even if you were the emperor, my tone wouldn't change if I came here with a clear purpose."
"What?"
"I didn't come for the prestige of Tu Wang Yang Cheon. I came for his abilities and his future."
"Hah!"
"This is a place where one man learns from another. I'd bow to someone worth staking my life on, but you, Vice Leader Yang, haven't proven yourself to me yet."
Yang Cheon chuckled.
Proven himself? What an amusing statement.
In the murim world, martial arts meant power, and titles meant authority. He was a king. An irreplaceable figure who had proven himself the pinnacle of murim power through martial prowess alone.
For such a man to still need proof? What a cheeky bastard.
Too unexpected, perhaps? Once again, Yang Cheon felt intrigue outweigh his anger.
"So I have to prove myself to you?"
"Of course."
"Things are backwards. Lords choose retainers often enough, but retainers choosing lords? Unheard of since ancient times."
"It has happened. If you truly believe otherwise, consider this your first experience."
"Kuhahaha!"
Yang Cheon roared with laughter before he knew it.
Rumble!
The entire Mukryongjeon shook, dust raining from the ceiling.
This wasn't deliberate release of internal energy. It was his emotions surging, unconsciously spilling his innate power.
And yet, this was the result. His mere unconscious aura made the massive stone hall quake like an earthquake.
Internal energy beyond imagination. Absolute power.
It's been a while.
His whole body creaked under the shockwave laced in that laughter alone. But facing this terrifying force, Yeon Hojeong felt excitement slowly rising.
It's been a while. Power like this.
The transcendent might that boiled his marrow and scorched his organs.
He'd been awed by the density and principles of power in his father Yeon Wi, Moyong Gun, and Dang Gwan. But confronting Yang Cheon's utterly different level stirred familiarity and thrill more than surprise.
Yes, you were there.
Suddenly, Yeon Hojeong felt his vision blur with brightness.
I was there too.
The Black Path's emperor, who had perfected all the divine techniques of Sasinmu, wielding his wind-thunder axe and steel chains on a foundation of near-infinite Crimson Heaven Qi.
The murim's strongest gambler, who had clashed single-handedly against the world, stood at the same height. No, one step higher.
Not quite claiming to be the world's greatest, but never absent from discussions of the strongest. The great name of the Black Path Grandmaster, the Emperor of Darkness, awakened sensations throughout his body.
But.
Drifting briefly into the phantom of his real past, Yeon Hojeong felt a sudden puzzlement.
What's this?
Yang Cheon's overwhelming aura. Yet within that invincible presence, Yeon Hojeong sensed a single shadow draped over it.
It was something hard to describe. Like a ball of coiled dust clinging inside?
At least for a supreme master like Yang Cheon, it wasn't mere residue he couldn't shake off.
Something's off. Was Yang Cheon's power really only this much?
Yeon Hojeong couldn't shake the inner doubt.
Impressive, sure, but in my memory, it was far more...
Finally, Yang Cheon reined in his laughter.
"You'll inspect whether I'm worth serving as your lord? How intriguing."
"Isn't it?"
"If the head of some White Path sect came spouting that, I'd crush his skull with one palm."
A threatening tone. Yeon Hojeong's expression remained unchanged, of course.
Apparently pleased by that resolve, a smile returned to Yang Cheon's face.
"Generously put, you don't look even thirty yet."
"You're younger than I expected."
"Strong and bold by nature, yet those utterly indifferent eyes lack the impatience of petty men. I don't know your martial origins, but you've reached a realm where you could found your own school."
"..."
"I like you, brat."
Extravagant praise. As high as it could get.
Yang Cheon nodded.
"So that's how it is."
"...?"
"I reviewed the intel after your group entered Hunan. Couldn't pinpoint your origin, but it seemed like you came from the Guiyang area."
Yeon Hojeong's eyes gleamed. As expected, their intelligence was top-notch. Even without fully uniting the black path, this level—truly unrivaled in the current murim.
"One in your group seemed from the north, but the exact route was unclear. Probably scouting Hunan in advance."
He meant Paeryul. Worth the detour they'd intentionally taken.
Yang Cheon continued.
"But that's not the point. I ordered no suspicious murim folk entering Hunan be overlooked, yet you lot killed our informants."
"That's right."
"The black path's martial force is one thing, but our intelligence and infiltration are the best. Fundamentally different."
"Seemed that way."
"In short, you rooted out every black path informant eye no one else could detect."
Yang Cheon's eyes sharpened.
"It was you. Not some hidden weapon expert in your group—your eyes were keen. That's why you came alone as Mujong's representative."
Sharp insight. Personality might change, but ability doesn't. Yang Cheon's discernment was as keen as his martial arts.
Yeon Hojeong nodded.
"Correct. I'm the core of the group and Mujongmun's representative."
"What position in Mujongmun?"
"I'll tell you once we're more comfortable."
For the first time, Yang Cheon's eyes turned sharp.
"You hide your body under those robes and expect me to trust you?"
"You're doing the same, aren't you, Vice Leader Yang?"
"What?"
A meaningful light flickered in Yeon Hojeong's eyes.
"To me, it looks like you're wearing some pretty thick clothes too."
"...!"
"The weather's turned chilly for the season, sure, but for your level of martial arts, such bulky furs seem unnecessary."
Yang Cheon's gaze deepened.
Yeon Hojeong pressed on.
"You get it? I came here convinced you have secrets you wouldn't readily show others."
"..."
"Because you're one of murim's top masters? Hardly. If so, my tone wouldn't be this stiff, and I'd have gone to Shaolin's Fist God instead."
In that instant, Yang Cheon's aura rippled violently.
Shaolin's Fist God meant one of the Thirteen Seats of Sacred Heaven, the One God of Divine Immortal Emperor. The man closest to the title of strongest among them, where superiority was hard to judge: Grandmaster Muheo.
"As I said, I didn't come just for your fame or skill."
"..."
"I came to see if you're a vessel worthy of aiming for the world."
Yang Cheon, glaring at Yeon Hojeong with blade-like eyes, flashed a chilling smile.
"Show all our cards and convince each other, is that it?"
"You just need to convince me, Vice Leader. I've already chosen."
If worthy of following, he would. If not, he'd leave. A statement transcending resolve into conviction.
Truth is always simple. That's why Yang Cheon preferred direct speakers over those who twisted words.
And now, Yeon Hojeong perfectly matched his taste, seducing him.
Gazing quietly at Yeon Hojeong, Yang Cheon spoke.
"Burdensome."
An out-of-left-field remark. Yeon Hojeong's eyebrow twitched.
Yang Cheon's razor-sharp gaze softened gradually.
"Truly burdensome. Whether late sunlight graces this flawed man, or talents naturally roll to those on the throne."
Indirect praise. Saying great fortune had come his way now meant acknowledging Yeon Hojeong that much.
Yang Cheon smiled and asked.
"You like things simple?"
"Getting to simple is the hard part."
"Hahaha! Spot on. Absolutely right. So, how should I prove myself to you?"
Yeon Hojeong's eyes flashed.
"Unexpected."
"What?"
"Thought you'd ask more. About my group, my goals."
Yang Cheon made an uncharacteristically playful face.
"Didn't you say you like simple? We'll discuss that after we've fully recognized each other."
Perfect!
In that moment, Yeon Hojeong was certain. Yang Cheon wouldn't care about the others anymore.
He'd focused Yang Cheon's interest solely on himself. That was enough.
Now, the fate of his companions depended on his actions.
And Yeon Hojeong was confident. Yang Cheon would trust him.
If he secured him alone, Yang Cheon wouldn't glance at the others.
"You proving your worth as a lord is simple: tell me how far your ambitions reach."
"Oh?"
"You don't seem to like long-winded talk, so let's settle our future with a straightforward question."
Yeon Hojeong's eyes gleamed.
"How far does the world you envision extend, Vice Leader Yang?"
"...?"
"Just the Central Plains? Or... all the way to the outer lands?"
"...!!"