Chapter 68: There Are Relatives, But No Absolutes (3)
Moyong Gun fixed Yeon Hojeong with a cold, stern gaze. Yeon Hojeong met his eyes without flinching.
They stared at each other for a long moment until, at last, the food and wine arrived.
“Just set it on the table.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
The server, trembling in fear, placed the dishes down. With a blood-soaked young man sitting there, it was no wonder he was terrified.
As the server scurried away, Moyong Gun picked up the wine bottle.
“Have a drink.”
He filled Yeon Hojeong's cup, then his own.
“Cheers.”
The two men drained their cups in one gulp. The wine was sharper than expected. Moyong Gun grimaced briefly before his face settled into an emotionless mask.
“That was too fast.”
“What do you mean?”
“Heh, our conversation moved a bit too quickly, don't you think?”
Moyong Gun chuckled and relaxed his posture.
“Let's put our earlier exchange on hold for now. Right, Yeon Hojeong?”
“……”
“I'm still the head of a family, you know. A swordsman known throughout the martial world, no less—one who bears the weight of the Seven Great Families.”
“I know.”
“And yet you summoned a man like me to Henan.”
Yeon Hojeong shook his head.
“That's not right. I only asked you to come to Henan if you planned to join hands with me.”
“Whatever the reason, you called me here.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No problem at all. It could simply end as a chance encounter between the head of one great family and his daughter out for a stroll, and the heir of another from the Seven Great Families.”
Yeon Hojeong's eyes flashed sharply.
Moyong Gun smiled as he asked, “Whether you've eliminated the Blue Wolf Ghost or called in Shaolin, we could clarify our relationship first before proceeding. It wouldn't be too late.”
Cunning old fox.
Yeon Hojeong had seized control of the atmosphere with his bold appearance and audacious words. But Moyong Gun was no pushover. He cut in at the perfect moment, insisting on nailing down every detail one by one.
It was a masterful interruption in a situation where the conversation's momentum could slip away—shrewd rhetoric befitting a merchant more than a warrior. He took gains without risking losses.
Yeon Hojeong smirked.
“Pour me another.”
“Hm? Heh, of course.”
Moyong Gun refilled his cup. Yeon Hojeong tossed it back and let out a rough cough.
Moyong Gun clicked his tongue.
“You alright?”
“My insides are burning.”
“Drinking strong liquor with internal injuries... Don't push yourself too hard just because you're young.”
Yeon Hojeong shook his head.
“So, does that mean you still have no intention of joining hands with me?”
“What? In this gamble, I need to weigh who takes the pot, who raises the stakes next, and whose hand wins in the final round. Don't they say some deals close without even touching the abacus?”
“I thought there'd be no abacus between us.”
“Every unfair deal in the world takes its three-tenths from the pot. That's the nature of trade.”
Yeon Hojeong smiled.
Still the same.
A seasoned patriarch of a great family. A crafty peak master. Moyong Gun hadn't changed a bit.
The more aggressively his opponent pressed, the more composed leisure he exuded. He never showed a gap, manipulating the board to his advantage by reading his foe's psyche.
The Sword God Moyong Gun from his Black Dark Emperor days was one and the same as the family head he faced now as Yeon Hojeong.
The only difference? He knew Moyong Gun inside out, while Moyong Gun was blind to him.
What is it?
Moyong Gun felt a twinge of unease inwardly.
This young man smiling at him showed no hint of fluster.
Does he really have that much confidence?
Setting that aside, he'd never met anyone this relaxed facing the head of the Moyong family. The kid had guts worthy of claiming first under heaven.
This was the type who caused trouble no matter what and slipped away unscathed.
At last, Moyong Gun was certain.
No shadowy backer helping this brat. He wrote that letter himself.
He couldn't help but admire it.
Yeon family head. You've raised one hell of a son.
Yeon Hojeong spoke up.
“To cut to the chase, I have no desire to walk side by side with you forever.”
“Hm?”
“I can applaud your goal-driven life charging toward your dreams, but others might not.”
Moyong Gun's smile deepened, but his eyes turned icy cold.
“Why do you think that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Foremost Clan Under Heaven and Martial Alliance Leader. Not words that slip out easily. You chose those risky, tempting terms for your letter for a reason.”
“And if I did?”
“Not an answer to my question.”
“I'd have to have one to give. I know you're an ambitious man dreaming of the foremost clan and the alliance leader's seat—what else is there to say?”
“……”
“I didn't read deep meaning into every word of your letter. Rest easy.”
Moyong Gun's eyes gleamed. Instinct told him Yeon Hojeong was utterly convinced.
He wouldn't laugh it off or deny it—it wouldn't matter. The kid knew it was true.
So Moyong Gun admitted it plainly.
“How did you know?”
“My ambitions?”
“Yes. How did you know I want to make my main house the foremost under heaven—and ultimately become Martial Alliance Leader?”
Yeon Hojeong shook his head.
“Any head of the Seven Great Families could dream that.”
“We've laid all our cards on the table, so let's just split the pot. I'll ask again: how?”
“Does that mean I win this round?”
“……”
“If you're curious, find out yourself.”
Moyong Gun stared at him, then grinned.
“No openings. Impressive.”
“Nothing special.”
Moyong Gun refilled Yeon Hojeong's cup. This time, Yeon Hojeong returned the favor.
“It's quite peculiar, when you think about it,” Moyong Gun said after draining his cup smoothly.
“Your letter shocked me deeply. No, it shouldn't have been possible. You peered into my mind, voicing not just my thoughts and dreams, but even touching my heroic spirit.”
“An honor.”
“One question.”
Moyong Gun leaned forward.
“If I refuse the deal, what will you do?”
Yeon Hojeong tilted his head.
“What choice would I have? Rampage alone.”
“Alone... against a great family?”
“I'd have to take on the Moyong family too.”
Moyong Gun chuckled.
“How?”
“They say a clan dreaming of foremost under heaven sows agents everywhere—even planning to swallow businesses and wipe out families alongside the Yeon house.”
“……”
“I'd end my life in a lonely fight, but what about you? One rumor like that, and you'd have to abandon a dream.”
Moyong Gun's smile thickened.
“You'd pit your life against my house's honor?”
“Pile on more.”
“What?”
“The Yeon family and Beggar Clan stand behind me. No matter how grand Moyong honor, is it worth more than my life backed by one of the Nine Great Sects and one of the Seven Great Families?”
“Alone, maybe not—but with the storm of those two backing you? That's heavy.”
“I win this round too.”
“Hahaha!”
Moyong Gun burst into loud laughter. Moyong Yeonhwa jumped in surprise. She'd never seen her father laugh so heartily.
Moyong Gun was genuinely impressed.
“You're truly remarkable.”
“You're too kind.”
“No exaggeration. Not even thirty, yet with such seasoned insight and vision—how?”
“You pick it up getting knocked around here and there.”
“Heh heh heh.”
Moyong Gun was truly enjoying himself. He was a man who spared no means for his dreams—even turning unrelated sects to ash overnight if needed. Ruthless to the core.
Yet human nature isn't simple. Unexpectedly, he took a liking to Yeon Hojeong.
This young man with extraordinary boldness, intellect, and sharp eyes had boldly handed him defeat—and it charmed him. A captivating later-generation talent.
Normally, such stiff defiance would seem arrogant, but not here. It felt like facing another comrade-in-arms.
Like gazing upon a friend who'd navigated the chaotic world with similar vision and ideals.
Moyong Gun smiled, refilling both cups.
He raised his, declaring boldly, “Let's blow a great family away.”
Yeon Hojeong grinned back and lifted his.
“Sounds good.”
Clink!
For the first time, their cups met. Moyong Gun drained his and said, “Since we're joining hands, no dragging this out.”
“Just what I wanted.”
“You're really bringing in Shaolin?”
“They're in Henan too. And with Shaolin's prestige, no great family would dare lift their head.”
“True. But I'd add one more layer.”
“How?”
Moyong Gun spoke calmly. “Convene a provisional Martial Alliance in secret.”
Light flickered in Yeon Hojeong's eyes.
“A provisional alliance?”
“Yes. Shaolin's power and status are foremost under heaven, but they're not enough. They're like immortals above the clouds—immensely strong, yet potentially infinitely weak.”
Yeon Hojeong smiled.
“I see the Moyong family's trump card now.”
Moyong Gun smiled back—sincerely.
“That's why talking to smart people is easy.”
“Agents in the Myeong family too?”
“Didn't you already know? I figured you guessed from what I said earlier.”
“Guessed, but not certain.”
“Damn! You got me again.”
“No snacks needed—I'm full.”
“Hahaha!”
Moyong Yeonhwa's expression grew complicated watching them. She sensed her father was truly delighted. He'd acknowledged the opponent as his equal.
That impressive?
In truth, she couldn't fully keep up with their rapid exchange. She grasped it with deep thought, but the pace was blistering—like veteran politicians seeing two or three moves ahead.
And she hadn't yet reached their level.
A small wound formed in Moyong Yeonhwa's pride.
“So, when do you plan to move?”
“No need to drag it out. You've repelled the Myeong assassins, Blue-White Warriors, Tiger Roar Hall, even the Blue Wolf Ghost. That's justification enough.”
“Convening a provisional alliance will take time.”
“Faster than you think. Heads of the Seven Great Families have privileges.”
“Good to hear.”
“Still, at least a month. How will you hold off the Myeong clutches in the meantime?”
That was when it happened.
Yeon Hojeong turned toward the window.
“Leave it there.”
Swish.
A beggar appeared outside, bowed his head, placed a letter on the sill, and vanished.
Yeon Hojeong unfolded it. His eyes flashed.
“……I'm pretty worn out too. A one-on-one duel might be fine, but if they swarm, it'll be tough.”
“Then?”
Yeon Hojeong showed the letter to Moyong Gun. His eyes widened.
“The Myeong in Jiangsu Province?”
“News to me. Father must be investigating that.”
“Heh, they say you need heavenly fortune to claim the world. Not that grand, but perfect for striking the Myeong.”
Yeon Hojeong stood.
“I'll head out and rest.”
Moyong Gun rose too.
“You've done well. Get some proper rest.”
“Yes.”
“And don't die. If you do, this meeting means nothing.”
“No worries. Even plastered in Tang clan's Black Hair Needles, I'll scrape by.”
“Haha! Cheeky kid—why Black Hair Needles of all things? Hahaha!”
Yeon Hojeong picked up his axe by the door.
“I'll be off.”
“Safe travels.”
He turned, opened the door. Laughter echoed from behind—Moyong Gun's.
The smile faded from his face, turning impassive.
Laugh while you can. You're next.