Conflict (3)
“What did you say?”
Moyong Gun was genuinely taken aback.
“Yang Cheon wants to meet with me?”
“Y-yes, that’s right.”
It was an utterly unforeseen development. No matter how one looked at it, for Yang Cheon to personally request a meeting? And he was the master of the hidden Muk Ryong Bu, unknown to the world. Even if an elder from the Moyong family had come instead, he should have been lying low. Yet here was a direct invitation to meet?
“No separate contact from the operations leader?”
“None.”
“Hah!”
Moyong Gun shook his head.
“I have no idea what this is about.”
This was undoubtedly a blunder on Yang Cheon’s part. From his movements so far and the Martial Alliance’s intelligence, Muk Ryong Bu wasn’t ready to reveal itself. Yet he was summoning the Alliance’s top leader and one of the Twelve Bonggong—himself—to meet?
How was he supposed to interpret this?
Yang Cheon doesn’t know we’ve already uncovered his existence. Or rather, he’s acting under the assumption that we haven’t.
Moyong Gun’s index finger tapped the table, trembling ever so slightly.
Why go this far? What’s his intent? Someone like Yang Cheon couldn’t possibly be unaware of what his actions imply.
Moreover, he’d have advisors by his side. Building an organization like Muk Ryong Bu required not just funds but countless talents to manage it. No matter how exceptional, no one could do it alone.
Suddenly, Moyong Gun’s eyes flashed.
Could it be that bastard Yeon Hojeong?
He entertained the suspicion briefly, then shook his head.
Unlikely. It’d be a blunder for him too. Unless he’s fully committed to Muk Ryong Bu, there’s no reason to scheme like this.
Yeon Hojeong was a fearsome man, but he knew his own stage well. He might cross lines or unsettle with unexpected ploys. But he understood the dignity of battle—a clean fight, not wallowing in the mud. That was his boundary, his limit, and what made him all the more terrifying.
Could he harbor resentment over this and come after me?
Moyong Gun shook his head again.
No. No matter how I think about it, it’s not him.
Because of the Hyeonju Merchant Association escort incident? Absolutely not. He might be angry, but there was no need for a response like this.
If Yeon Hojeong was truly behind this, it would be deeply disappointing. Why? Because it gained him nothing. To jeopardize the mission—not to mention the operations team—out of petty revenge? Yeon Hojeong wouldn’t stoop to that.
“……For now.”
Moyong Gun spoke cautiously.
“We wait. We can decide after hearing from the operations leader.”
Half a day later.
“Family head! A letter from the operations leader!”
“Hand it over.”
Moyong Gun unfurled the letter in haste, his eyes widening.
To cut to the chase: I haven’t figured out what Yang Cheon is plotting. But it seems he intends to probe the Alliance’s internal affairs through you—though even that’s uncertain.
We’ve extracted the basic information, but there are top-secret matters within the informants. Sorting them will take at least a fortnight, up to a month.
Buy us time until then, somehow.
Finally, one piece of advice: Avoid meeting Yang Cheon if at all possible. He’s sharper than we thought. If you fall into a trap, it’ll be a headache in every way. Hold your position.
“Hm.”
Moyong Gun’s eyes gleamed.
Top-secret information.
Heat rose in his lower abdomen.
As expected, not Yeon Hojeong’s doing.
He was focused on the mission now.
Mentioning “top-secret” meant he’d take responsibility for it—proof it was valuable enough to commit to writing.
That’s why the delay in contact.
Moyong Gun reread the letter.
Buy time?
The warning against meeting Yang Cheon stemmed from that too.
Hmm……
The corner of Moyong Gun’s mouth curved up.
Everything’s good. But…… Yang Cheon’s that exceptional, is he?
“Hold your position,” indeed. If not for Yeon Hojeong, he’d have rushed off and ripped out the writer’s tongue.
Moyong Gun pondered, then smiled faintly.
“Is there any need to avoid it, Hojeong? If Yang Cheon’s truly that capable, meeting him now to gauge his skill wouldn’t be bad.”
Of course, he had no intention of clashing with martial arts. Yang Cheon wasn’t even worth that.
Yang Cheon’s a leader too. Unless war breaks out immediately, he won’t strike during a meeting.
That was basic etiquette. And if Yeon Hojeong called him exceptional, he’d have his own sense of dignity.
Of course, full preparations for any contingency.
Moyong Gun spoke.
“Did you trace the contact to Yang Cheon?”
“Of course.”
“Results?”
“Couldn’t pinpoint the origin. They’ve hidden it thoroughly.”
“Hm, as expected.”
Moyong Gun’s gaze turned icy.
“Send a reply as is. I’ll set the place and time.”
* * *
“A response from the Moyong family head.”
Admiration crossed Yang Cheon’s face.
“He says he’ll decide the place and time himself.”
“Is that so?”
“Indeed.”
“Honestly, I didn’t expect it to work on the first try…… That man’s no ordinary fellow.”
“Exactly. I’d heard the current Moyong family head was a genius versed in both letters and arms, but I didn’t expect such bold resolve.”
Yang Cheon was deeply impressed by Moyong Gun’s decisiveness. And rightly so.
Moyong Gun was a Bonggong of the Martial Alliance and head of the Moyong family. There was no need to risk meeting a suspicious figure who’d sent a letter via an untraceable network. Especially when that sender was the Tu Wang, Yang Cheon.
No one would reply so promptly to such a risk.
“As they say, the Tyrant of Honam—his reputation is well-earned.”
Though not now, Yang Cheon had once proudly claimed the black path. A man who’d mocked white path martial artists as sanctimonious fools couldn’t help but feel affinity for Moyong Gun’s straightforwardness.
As expected.
Yeon Hojeong smiled coldly.
I knew you’d bite, Moyong Gun.
Just as Moyong Gun thought he had Yeon Hojeong figured out, Yeon Hojeong had Moyong Gun’s measure too.
Poke him, and he jumps.
Moyong Gun currently held psychological high ground. Even the most meticulous man grew lax at such times.
Plus, commanding the operations team only fueled his overconfidence.
Yeon Hojeong’s choice: provocation.
If you fall into a trap, it’ll be a headache—hold your position.
If Moyong Gun had been on high alert, he might not have reacted. But now?
Don’t worry, Moyong Gun. We’ll escape just fine. Thanks to you.
Yeon Hojeong spoke.
“The Moyong family head’s choice is bold, but he’s meticulous too. If he’s setting the place, he’ll have prepared for the worst.”
“The worst case?”
“You striking directly, Vice Leader.”
Yang Cheon chuckled.
“A meeting between burdened leaders. Striking there? Absurd.”
This was the dignity of masters—not martial masters, but masters of men.
Yang Cheon, Moyong Gun. And until recently, Yeon Hojeong too.
“I’ll send the reply at once.”
“Do so.”
“Then I’ll take my leave.”
“Intelligence Chief.”
“Yes, Vice Leader.”
Yang Cheon nodded.
“Well done. I never imagined this approach.”
Yeon Hojeong shook his head.
“Frankly, it’s a dangerous method. I apologize for not devising something safer.”
“Haha, nonsense. To win big, sometimes you gamble. If I disliked your way, I’d have refused.”
“I’m grateful.”
“Having you in headquarters is a blessing. Truly thankful.”
Yeon Hojeong smiled.
“I’ll collect that gratitude when you conquer the world, Vice Leader.”
“Kahahaha! Good, very good.”
Yang Cheon laughed heartily, then asked as if it just occurred to him.
“By the way, your martial siblings. When do you plan to bring them here?”
Yeon Hojeong’s eyes deepened.
“It’s premature. They’re already uneasy with just me; rushing in my people would sour the mood further.”
“If that’s the issue, I’ll handle it.”
“No. This is mine to navigate.”
Yeon Hojeong bowed.
“Let us grow together. Entrust it to me.”
Yang Cheon smiled contentedly.
“Who am I to block your stubbornness? Do as you will.”
“Thank you.”
“No need.”
“I’ll head out then.”
Leaving the Muk Ryong Hall, Yeon Hojeong headed straight to his quarters.
Information extraction complete. Now just return to the Alliance with it.
Killing intent flashed in Yeon Hojeong’s eyes.
Moyong Gun. Time to play the bait.
The fortnight, leaving the operations team exposed, even “their” existence—all had purpose.
“Strong killing intent.”
Yeon Hojeong turned. A man waited before his quarters: Heuk Yang.
“Greetings, Intelligence Chief. Heuk Yang here.”
Yeon Hojeong stared silently, then bowed.
“Greetings, Senior Heuk Yang.”
“Senior……”
Heuk Yang smiled—an inscrutable smile.
“Thanks for the courtesy.”
“No need. What brings you?”
“Nothing much. Just wanted to impress the new Intelligence Chief.”
“Apologies, but I exclude personal feelings from duty.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
Heuk Yang nodded.
“Might I trouble you for a cup of tea?”
“……”
“Busy? I’ll come back.”
“No. Come in.”
Yeon Hojeong opened the door, face impassive. His expression control faltered.
Saneumgyo.
No need to emit inner energy—his senses sharpened instinctively. And they read Heuk Yang’s breathing.
Saneumgyo!
Rumble!
The door opened.
“After you.”
“Thanks.”
The two entered Yeon Hojeong’s quarters.
Yeon Hojeong sat.
“Sorry, no tea.”
“Pity.”
“You didn’t come for tea anyway.”
Heuk Yang smiled.
“Of course not.”
“Then? Why seek me?”
Whoosh.
Formless Black Tortoise Qi probed the room.
None.
No surveillance. Good.
Heuk Yang’s smile, watching Yeon Hojeong, slowly hardened to ice.
“Why’d you do it?”
“Do what?”
“You know.”
Yeon Hojeong smirked.
“The Twelve Branches Gods love testing people? That wench Hwa Won too, and now you.”
“……”
“Cut the circling. Why come here?”
Heuk Yang’s eyes turned feral, like a weasel’s.
“You. You buried Heuk Yang Dae and the Black Commander.”
“……”
“Wasn’t me?”
Yeon Hojeong’s gaze pierced transparently.
Suddenly, he twisted into a grin.
“Yeah. It was me.”
“……!!”
“I swept them all away. So what?”