Preparations Complete (4)
A month later.
“Hoo.”
A faint sigh escaped his lips, mingled with thick white breath.
“It’s certainly different, isn’t it.”
Dang Gwan furrowed his brow.
“New Year… I felt nothing of the sort, yet as the days pass, the cold seems to bite deeper.”
A transcendent master whose qi flowed freely through his body, long since reaching the realm of immunity to cold and heat. Yet the higher the quality and quantity of one’s inner energy, the sharper the senses became.
In truth, there was little difference in the chill compared to a month ago. But Dang Gwan felt it.
For some reason, it seemed even colder.
Perhaps it wasn’t the weather at all.
Perhaps it was his heart.
‘My heart, huh.’
Gazing up at the sky where snowflakes drifted down one by one, Dang Gwan let out a wry chuckle.
“Pathetic.”
How amusing. Who would have ever imagined the lord of the Sichuan Tang family succumbing to such sentimental drivel?
Dang Gwan shook his head.
‘I really need to think this through.’
Once he returned to the Tang family, Moyong Gun’s schemes would begin in earnest.
Not that he feared it enough to stay away. He simply hadn’t wanted the hassle of dealing with that cunning fox’s tricks.
But now, the time had come.
‘What difference does hiding in the Martial Alliance make? I’ve joined formally, secured an honorary position, and even made some presence known despite the setbacks. That’s achievement enough.’
He hadn’t even planned that far ahead initially.
The Martial Alliance be damned—the Tang family ruled Sichuan.
The affairs of other regions in the Central Plains meant nothing to them.
Yet he had come to the Alliance anyway, driven by a desire for change, however faint.
‘That’s why you shouldn’t try things you’re not used to.’
Dang Gwan shrugged off the snow from his shoulders. As it fell away bit by bit, his gaze returned to its usual venomous, ice-cold sharpness.
‘I am the king of Sichuan. No one in the world can escape the terror and influence of the main family. In other words, we are a force worthy of claiming supremacy over the world. That’s enough.’
Confirming that was satisfaction enough.
That’s what he decided.
‘Though I wouldn’t mind watching who becomes Alliance Leader.’
Hooo.
The snowflakes drifting silently into his exhaled breath melted away in a puff.
“Time to pack up.”
Dang Gwan clasped his hands behind his back and turned.
That was when it happened.
‘……’
His steps halted.
His eyes, flashing with the signature cold ruthlessness of the Tang family head, trembled ever so slightly.
Crunch.
Crunch.
A single presence approached, footsteps pressing into the snow. Light and lively, yet steady—betraying a temperament not easily shaken.
Swish.
The approaching figure stopped as well.
Whoosh.
Whoosh.
Whoosh.
The silence between them hung so heavy that the snowflakes piling on the ground sounded like hailstones crashing down.
How much time passed like that?
“Are you leaving?”
Dang Gwan flinched despite himself. And he didn’t even care that she had noticed.
“You look ready to depart this instant.”
Her voice was calm—profoundly so.
Dang Gwan turned.
There stood his daughter.
The once-divine maiden of the Dark Heavens, the Tang family’s greatest prodigy whose fame had blazed as the top junior talent.
Dang Sang-a.
Dang Gwan regarded her wordlessly.
She continued.
“Won’t it be lonely traveling alone without escorts?”
“I am the Tang family head.”
“I know.”
“……”
“If you must go, why not wait until the weather clears? With snow everywhere, the journey will be grueling.”
Dang Gwan nearly opened his mouth on reflex.
To snap that it was none of her concern, to demand what she wanted to say.
But he couldn’t.
And even he didn’t know why.
Gazing quietly at her father, Dang Sang-a glanced around.
“It’s quite cold out.”
“……”
“You must have finished the liquor. Any tea leaves left?”
Dang Gwan’s eyes wavered.
He caught the faint tremor in his daughter’s otherwise steady voice.
What could he say in front of her—his child?
“……I have some good leaves.”
A smile bloomed on Dang Sang-a’s face.
“May I have a cup?”
“……”
Silent Dang Gwan turned toward his quarters.
“I don’t know how to brew it. If you want some, make it yourself.”
As they walked some distance, he added in a small voice.
“Two cups.”
Moyong Gun rose with evident delight.
“You’ve come.”
“Yes, brother.”
Mo Yong Woo’s complexion was still pale.
He looked haggard in every way.
But compared to ten days ago, when he’d joined the Alliance, he seemed much recovered.
Of course, everyone except Gi U-hui had been utterly exhausted then.
“No more treatments needed?”
“This is enough. I can handle the rest myself.”
“Good. That’s a relief.”
Moyong Gun helped his brother into a chair.
“Eaten on the way?”
“Yes, brother. I nourished myself with the clinic’s supplements.”
“Well done. No matter how great a martial master, you’re still human. When injured, heed the physician’s words.”
Moments later, Moyong Gun brought tea.
“Have a cup. It’ll soothe your weary body and mind.”
“Thank you.”
One sip confirmed the care infused in it.
The same leaves, the same steps—yet the flavor and aroma differed by the brewer’s sincerity.
Moyong Gun sighed.
“You’ve suffered greatly.”
“Not at all.”
“I never imagined you’d endure so much. I sent you off carefree, with that Yeon Hojeong punk in tow, only for all sorts of vermin to swarm in.”
Genuine fury flickered in Moyong Gun’s eyes.
He knew well who had orchestrated the ambush on Mo Yong Woo and the group.
‘Insolent worms who don’t know their place.’
Moyong Gun vowed to uproot the Physician God Society and demonstrate the Martial Alliance’s might to the world.
To show how perilous it was to touch the Moyong family bloodline.
“I was just about to interrogate those Henan physicians…”
“Brother.”
“Hm?”
Mo Yong Woo smiled.
“That matter’s settled now.”
Moyong Gun frowned.
“Settled? What do you mean? They dared attack the Alliance’s dispatched escorts—this cannot be overlooked.”
“True, but there’s something more pressing, isn’t there?”
“……?”
“Alliance Leader.”
“……!”
Moyong Gun’s face hardened in shock.
Mo Yong Woo shook his head.
“If I’d died, maybe. But even if I had, you mustn’t concern yourself with them.”
“……”
“The new year has dawned. Snow will pour through next month. But when the flurries weaken and the biting cold eases, that’s when the true war begins.”
“……War.”
“Yes.”
Mo Yong Woo’s eyes sparkled like starlight.
“You must ascend to the peak.”
In that instant, Moyong Gun felt chills creeping up his hand, spreading through his body.
One word from his brother’s lips—peak.
The moment it pierced his ears, all pent-up rage evaporated, replaced by a rosy vision of the future unfolding like a mirage.
“Leave them to the strategist. He’ll handle it flawlessly. From now on, brother, you must seize the reins to claim the Leader’s seat.”
“Mm.”
“Barring surprises, this grand election’s winner will rule the Martial Alliance for the next decade or two. Not absolute rule, of course—the Leader can’t do as he pleases—but undisputed top authority in the White Path martial world.”
“Yes, indeed.”
Mo Yong Woo’s eyes flashed.
“Miss this chance, and you’ll wait at least fifteen years more. To avoid wasting that time, prepare now.”
Moyong Gun nodded.
“You’re right.”
He was already making preparations.
He’d just been fuming over his brother’s injuries.
With Mo Yong Woo stepping up like this, some burden lifted from Moyong Gun’s shoulders.
“Won’t you feel slighted?”
“About what?”
“That this foolish brother can’t even avenge you properly.”
Mo Yong Woo smiled.
“My revenge is mine alone. I can handle that much, brother.”
“Hahaha.”
“Stand tall over the world. That’s the priority.”
“Yes, it is. Thank you for understanding.”
“No need.”
The two gazed out the window.
The silent snowfall seemed somehow heavier than moments before.
“New Year.”
“Hooo.”
White vapor billowed out like cigarette smoke.
“Finished circulating your qi?”
“Yes, Father.”
Yeon Wi clicked his tongue at Yeon Hojeong rising from his seat.
“Even if you’re immune to cold, why train outdoors in the snow when you’re still injured?”
He brushed the snow from Yeon Hojeong’s shoulders.
Yeon Hojeong gave a wry smile.
“Where’s Jipyeong?”
“Still sleeping. He wasn’t hurt as badly as you or Bi-a, but he took a shock all the same.”
“Probably. It was a decisive strike, but laced with hesitation. Seeing so much blood—the mental scars will outweigh the physical ones.”
“Indeed.”
Yeon Wi looked skyward.
“That’s how they grow.”
Even as he said it, recalling ten days prior made his heart sink.
His blood-soaked sons returning.
Not just Yeon Hojeong—Yeon Jipyeong had staggered back to the Alliance utterly drained.
Seeing his children battle through ordeals he knew nothing of filled Yeon Wi with inexpressible self-reproach.
As a rivers-and-lakes warrior, killing foes and spilling blood was fate.
But children were different.
The mind accepted it; the heart wished otherwise. That was a parent’s sentiment.
Of course, his sons had already grown into splendid martial artists.
Gazing quietly at the sky, Yeon Wi patted Yeon Hojeong’s back.
“You’re tough as nails, that’s for sure. Bi-a’s still under treatment.”
“She’s not weak.”
“You brat.”
“Heh.”
Chuckling at his son, Yeon Wi asked cautiously.
“You sure no need for a physician?”
“Of course. Five days, and I’ll be fully healed.”
“Mm. If you say so.”
“And shouldn’t we start preparing too?”
“Preparing?”
“Yes. The new year’s passed, hasn’t it?”
Yeon Wi’s face hardened.
“……Alliance Leader.”
“Exactly. And beyond the election, we’ll need to watch many things.”
“The Three Sects?”
“Yes.”
Yeon Hojeong brushed snow from the bench and sat. His eyes blazed with fierce light.
“Now, everyone who should gather has.”
Gi U-hui, bastard child of the Sinhwa Church leader, had joined the Alliance.
They knew of the Physician God Society’s existence and its deep ties to officialdom.
They’d gauged Muk Ryong Bu’s forces, uncovered the Three Sects’ covert moves to devour the Central Plains, and solidified the Martial Alliance’s structure.
And this year, the first Alliance Leader election in history.
Moreover, Yeon Hojeong instinctively realized all these threads and events converged as one.
“This year will be a harsh one.”