Justification for Battle (4)
Whoosh. Craaaack!
A fierce azure sword wind cleaved the boulder cleanly in two. Only then did a satisfied gleam cross Moyong Gun's face as he examined the severed surface.
"Now that's more like it."
The cut was eerily smooth, so flawless that water droplets would likely slide off without scattering a bit.
'This should shave off several more years.'
The Moyong family boasted countless ultimate arts. Though swords were their mainstay, they commanded an equally vast array of martial techniques. In truth, only half of their past patriarchs had been swordsmen.
Yet the Moyong family, like any great house, harbored one secret ultimate art passed down from their ancestors.
The Absolute Sword Art—one no one had ever fully mastered.
The great-grand patriarch had discovered it, the previous one had deciphered it, and now the current patriarch, Moyong Gun, was cultivating it.
Emotionless Heavenly Thunder Style.
An invincible sword art powered by the ancient supreme merit, Thunderclap Merit.
Its sharpness and might defied description. Merely reading the incantations sent chills down the spine, drenching one's back in cold sweat.
With this art... with such transcendent power, I'll reach the realm of the Thirteen Thrones of Saint Heaven soon enough.
At most, a decade or so.
"Hoo. Still, it devours an insane amount of inner energy. I need to boost the density of my qi even further..."
Moyong Gun stared down at the split boulder, lost in deep thought.
Someone shattered his concentration.
"Patriarch."
Moyong Gun's brows furrowed. This was a crucial moment. He wanted no interruptions.
'No helping it.'
Once broken, focus wouldn't return anyway. He replied in a calm voice.
"What is it?"
"A letter has arrived from the Beggars' Sect via messenger pigeon."
Moyong Gun's eyes flashed.
'The Beggars' Sect?!'
What business could they have, sending him a letter?
'Of course there is.'
Yes. It was about the Yeon family.
Nothing else would prompt the Beggars' Sect to send a letter via pigeon in these times.
'So it was the Beggars' Sect aiding the Yeons after all.'
The mere fact of the pigeon-delivered letter confirmed it. He was certain enough that he barely needed to read the contents.
'Damn. This means I have to accelerate beyond my planned timeline.'
Moyong Gun clicked his tongue inwardly.
'They shouldn't have sent it at all. Yeon Patriarch, you've needlessly hastened your own doom.'
Still, a letter had come. He had to read it.
"Hand it over."
"Yes, sir."
Moyong Gun unfolded the letter. His once-serene mind, calm as still water, began to ripple as he read.
I've thoroughly chewed up and swallowed the spies you so kindly sent.
But really, even if your underlings acted on their own, couldn't you have gagged them before dispatch? What gave you the confidence to send them raw?
If you're sending more, at least pick ones with tight lips next time.
Come to think of it, Patriarch, your ambitions seem a bit excessive. You're set on burying not just your own house, but the Ming family too.
Aiming for —the supreme clan of the world—is one thing, but even the Martial Alliance Leader position?
I get it—you've sent spies because you have some decisive trump card against the Mings. Since things have come to this, why not bury them together?
Frankly, I doubt you'd trust me off one letter like this, and I wouldn't fully trust you either. That's why I sent it via pigeon.
Come to Henan. I'll be piling up evil karma against the Mings by then. A man of your renowned intellect must know that delaying benefits no one.
Slash slash slash! Sword scars etched into the ground around where Moyong Gun stood.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
Pale yellow electric arcs flickered around his body—an unconscious manifestation of Thunderclap Qi.
It showed the depth of his shock.
"...This?"
His face remained impassive, but inside, he was reeling.
The letter brimmed with staggering revelations, each one enough to jolt even unflappable Moyong Gun.
He read the signature at the end.
"Yeon Hojeong?!"
It was shocking. Given the contents, he'd half-expected it, but not from the Yeon Patriarch—straight from their eldest son.
Steadying his pounding heart, he mulled over every word.
They'd anticipated him catching the spies. But the demand for "tight-lipped" ones? What had they spilled?
Even in haste, he'd sent the elite of the great houses' intelligence network. Not that he'd specifically requested it, but still.
What were you trying to confirm through me that made you so desperate?
Here it dawned on him—something was gravely amiss.
'He knows about the alliance with the Mings? How?'
He hadn't even told the spies. Fewer knew, the better.
Where had this kid heard it? How did he know? How could he be so certain?
And the clincher:
The Number One Family Under Heaven. Martial Alliance Leader.
Crinkle. His thumb clenched unconsciously, tearing the letter's edge.
Those weren't words to gloss over—they were his dreams, his goals.
Anyone could dream them, but he'd long laid intricate strategies to seize those peaks.
The letter seemed to mock: I've got you all figured out.
But no matter. I respect not choosing means or methods for your dreams—I'm the same.
So here's my proposal.
At his tender age, short of twenty, the brat's tone toward a murim elder past fifty was downright insolent.
But Moyong Gun ignored it—the contents were far more shocking.
I understand the spies from your side. But those sharpening blades against me? Different story. No forgiveness for the Mings.
Let's bury them together.
Insolence aside, that line thrilled him. For one eyeing the supreme clan title, the Mings were the biggest obstacle.
Hence his plan for rumors over force. The best strategy, but one born of lacking raw power.
Thus, Yeon Hojeong's letter was as shocking as it was seductive.
Bury the Mings. Topple the current supreme clan.
I know one letter won't earn your trust, nor yours mine. Hence the pigeon. Sooner we meet, the better.
Astonishing, regardless. The kid wielded words like weapons, toying with emotions. An ignorant wanderer might mistake him for a grizzled murim veteran.
Proposing a face-to-face? He had confidence.
This might truly be Yeon Hojeong himself, not some impostor.
Come to Henan. I'll be stacking evil karma against the Mings.
Moyong Gun closed his eyes.
'Stacking evil karma against the Mings...'
That single phrase prompted him to drastically revise his view of the rumors swirling around Yeon Hojeong.
'What kind of monster is this?'
How long since a junior had impressed him so?
Not even his daughter had wowed him like this—just made him proud, never stunned.
The closest was his youngest brother, Moyong Woo, but he was a target of caution, not a peer in capability.
'Yeon Patriarch... unbelievable. How did that rigid face raise such a beast?'
To some, just a letter. But Moyong Gun read volumes in it.
That was why he rated Yeon Hojeong so highly.
'The Yeon Patriarch isn't one to underestimate either. Damn, the world is full of talents.'
Moyong Gun chuckled despite himself. Facing worthy foes was exhausting yet exhilarating.
Maybe even the rumors about the Yeon Patriarch held truth.
"Summon the chief steward and Yeonhwa."
Moments later, Moyong Yeonhwa and Neung Jeok-so appeared.
Moyong Gun handed them the letter with a smile.
"It's from that Yeon Hojeong fellow. Read it."
They did. Their faces hardened.
"How...?!"
Neung Jeok-so blurted in disbelief.
"How the hell did the Yeon heir figure this out?!"
He muttered to himself—unthinkable for his usual composure. The shock was that profound.
Moyong Yeonhwa, meanwhile, stayed silent, her grave expression hinting at deep rumination.
Moyong Gun asked, "Yeonhwa, your thoughts?"
"Before mine, Father—a question for you. I need your answer to share mine."
"Ask away."
"What's the chance it's a trap?"
Moyong Gun stated flatly, "None."
"As I thought."
"Different from yours?"
"Either zero or a dead certainty. No point splitting probabilities."
Moyong Gun smiled. "Right. So, your take?"
"Go."
Neung Jeok-so gaped at her. Moyong Yeonhwa smiled.
"You'd already decided before calling us, right?"
"Haha."
"The writing shows no hesitation. Arrogant or overconfident? No. Beneath it lies indifference if the deal falls through."
"Well seen."
Moyong Gun clasped his hands behind his back.
"He's clearly holding cards against our house. The spy blunder alone proves it. With Beggars' Sect backing, a full expose would hit us hard."
"We won't crumble. Just scratched."
"Our house must ascend murim's peak. No needless risks—at least not now."
"Precisely. Oh—one thing nags."
"What?"
Moyong Yeonhwa frowned.
"'Stacking evil karma against the Mings'... what does that mean?"
Moyong Gun's eyes sparkled.
'Not quite there yet.'
Still, impressive. At her growth rate, she'd match his intellect in five years.
'Does that mean Yeon Hojeong already rivals me?'
Who knew? Could be aides whispering.
Either way, he'd been shocked and intrigued as never before in ages.
People called Moyong Gun reclusive. Wrong. He wasn't one to delegate from his seat—he crossed a thousand li himself when needed, with drive and boldness to match.
That drive now stirred after so long.
"Henan... perfect for an outing."
* * *
"As of today, it's been three days."
"I see."
"The Mings will start suspecting soon."
"Likely."
"...You really plan to go alone?"
"My martial arts are in a transitional phase. Good opportunity."
"Where does that bottomless confidence come from?"
"Experience."
"From someone so young."
"Just keep watch on the Dark Assassins."
"Don't worry. Dead or alive, they won't escape. Damn—thinking about it, you've made a criminal of me too. Kidnapping, false imprisonment—what's the difference?"
Thud.
Yeon Hojeong rose.
"Time to go."
"Young Master Yeon."
"Speak."
Gadeuksang met his gaze steadily, then clasped his fists in a crisp salute despite trembling eyes.
"Take care."
"You too."
Creak!
Yeon Hojeong stepped out the door into the world, veins bulging on the hand gripping his axe.
"Which one first?"
This was the first step of the Ming Clan Extermination Plot.