The Iron Lion's Shadowy Claws
The footsteps pounding against the stone floor echoed with desperate urgency. The man's face, striding as if fleeing, was frozen hard as a rock. It was all because of the report clutched in his hand.
Not long ago, the widespread circulation of Murim Notices had led to the massive arrest of the Black Brush Party, the group illegally copying and distributing Wudang Sword Hero. The problem was that the faction backing them was the Iron Lion Fortress, the very sect this man belonged to.
"To think the Wudang bunch would step up so aggressively."
The main force of the Black Brush Party, which had been settling in the Henan region and building its power, had been all but annihilated. That alone was a devastating loss, but with the Murim Alliance getting involved, things had spiraled far beyond control. The utter destruction of their largest branch in Luoyang was the biggest blow.
"I have no idea how it came to this."
The man ruffled his hair in irritation. He'd invested in growing the Black Brush Party's forces, hoping to reap the rewards, only for it all to wither like flowers hit by an early frost. This was a catastrophe beyond imagining.
His steps halted before the doors of a massive hall. The structure was so immense it overwhelmed anyone who beheld it—the residence of the fortress lord of Iron Lion Fortress, the Iron Lion Soul. Known as the Iron Soul Hall.
"Military Advisor, you've arrived!"
The guards at the Iron Soul Hall's entrance saluted upon seeing him. Cha, cha! They snapped their spears to their chests in crisp unison. Nodding at the guards radiating strict discipline, the man asked,
"Is the Fortress Lord inside?"
"Yes, sir. Shall I announce your arrival?"
"Please do."
"Understood."
One of the guards vanished into the hall. Iron Lion Fortress was upheld by ironclad discipline. This rigorous order was the key to its survival and the driving force behind its reputation as the foremost martial sect of the unorthodox paths. Even Sa Yeong- noe, the Evil Shadow Brain and Military Strategist among the leadership, was not exempt from these rules—unless it was the Fortress Lord's sole law that overrode them.
"The Fortress Lord bids you enter, Advisor."
"Very well."
The guard emerged and opened the door. The Military Strategist crossed the threshold with a touch of anxiety. Every time he entered the Iron Soul Hall, it felt like icy chains tightened around his heart.
Passing a corridor lined with rows of guards, he advanced to the center of the grand chamber, adorned like an imperial court. There, his eyes fell on a young man lounging languidly on the dragon throne, boredom etched on his face. Above his head hung two halberds crossed in an X. Crafted from an unmistakably extraordinary alloy of gray iron, they loomed over the listless figure—the lord of the Military Strategist and master of Iron Lion Fortress.
The Iron Blood Demon Lord, Cheol Sa-hon. The young lion of the unorthodox paths, barely into his late twenties.
Bowing deeply upon facing his lord, the Military Strategist said,
"I pay my respects to the Fortress Lord."
"It's you, Advisor."
Cheol Sa-hon sat up from his reclined position. The Strategist rarely sought him out. It was usually only after a failure, so this was surely the same. A flicker of boredom lifted from Cheol Sa-hon's eyes as he straightened.
In these times, with tensions between the orthodox and unorthodox paths submerged beneath the surface, would the Strategist bring news to dispel his tedium?
"What is it?"
"The Black Brush Party forces in Henan have been effectively wiped out."
Cheol Sa-hon furrowed his brow at the words.
"Black Brush Party?"
"Yes."
"The ones copying and selling that Wudang something-or-other book? I recall we connected through Haomen. And now Henan's branch is gone?"
"The Wudang sect mobilized with Murim Notices... My deepest apologies!"
The Military Strategist prostrated himself, banging his head against the floor. Cheol Sa-hon looked down at him, brow still creased. His trusted advisor handled most matters competently, but these occasional failures always came with excessive displays that soured his mood.
Wooong.
The Strategist's body, head still pressed to the ground, suddenly floated up lightly.
"F-Fortress Lord."
"Enough. Advisor, failure is commonplace in warfare."
Failure was inevitable in any endeavor. Executing underlings for every setback or replacing them constantly would leave no one willing to serve. This was the conviction of Cheol Sa-hon, who had inherited Iron Lion Fortress at a young age.
With boredom banished, his eyes fixed on the Strategist. Blood trickled from a swollen, red forehead—evidence of how hard he'd smashed it.
"Since the connection was through Haomen anyway, it shouldn't hit the main fortress hard. Any real issues?"
"Apparently, one of the captured is Haomen's liaison."
Cheol Sa-hon's brow twitched at the reply.
"Haomen's liaison?"
"Yes."
"...Has Haomen made a request?"
He grasped the situation without needing more details. At his words, the Strategist slammed his head down again.
"Yes. Breaking into the Murim Alliance's underground prison is beyond Haomen's power alone; they say they need the fortress's aid to make it feasible..."
"That sours my mood."
"My deepest apologies!!"
The Strategist bowed low once more. Cheol Sa-hon gazed down at him. True, the opponent was the orthodox Murim Alliance, dubbed a paper tiger though it might be. Even as the top unorthodox martial sect, Iron Lion Fortress couldn't openly challenge the entire alliance to spring a prisoner.
His eyes narrowed.
"That raccoon bastard plans to use our fortress."
Haomen Lord Ya Noe, the Night Brain. Though both belonged to the Ten Unorthodox Sects under the Unorthodox Alliance, Cheol Sa-hon despised him. No martial artist liked a sect that schemed from the shadows, and Cheol Sa-hon particularly loathed such traits even among the black paths.
A spark of cunning lit his eyes as he regarded the Strategist.
"Advisor."
"Yes, Fortress Lord!"
"Kidnapping that Baek Su-gyeong fellow—shouldn't take much effort, right?"
The Strategist lifted his head slightly at the words.
"You mean to abduct him?"
"Word is he's just an ordinary bookstore owner with no power. No need to borrow the alliance's strength for one such man, is there?"
"Then, shall we call upon Dark Mist Society?"
Like Iron Lion Fortress, Dark Mist Society was one of the Ten Unorthodox Sects in the Unorthodox Alliance. No black path sect rivaled them in covert operations. They were the polar opposite of Iron Lion Fortress, which boasted overwhelming destructive power in direct confrontations.
Cheol Sa-hon nodded readily at the suggestion.
"Talk to Dark Fragrance Blood Mark. If it works out, focus on extracting Haomen's liaison."
"Understood."
Seeing blood drip from the bowing Strategist's forehead, Cheol Sa-hon clicked his tongue.
"Go see a physician and get treated. If that wound festers and you fall ill, it'll disrupt fortress affairs."
"I am unworthy of your lordship's care."
"Withdraw."
"Yes."
Turning from the departing Strategist, Cheol Sa-hon rose.
"Dark Fragrance Blood Mark... Time to see that damned fox's ugly mug."
Just recalling the sinister face of Dark Mist Society's master, Dark Fragrance Blood Mark, irritated him. He extended his hand, and his Object-Seizing True Energy pulled the two iron halberds toward him. Slinging his beloved Lion Iron Halberds over his back, he strode forward as escorts approached. One held up a neatly folded war robe on red silk.
"No need for the war robe."
Two warriors fell in behind his heavy footsteps. Cheol Sa-hon didn't stop them.
'If possible, have that guy write a novel about the unorthodox paths.'
There was value in using Baek Su-gyeong to bolster Iron Lion Fortress's influence. The man had awakened the silent Wudang with just Wudang Sword Hero. Some even hailed him as the Divine Brush already.
A faint smile curved the lips of the marching Cheol Sa-hon.
"Daring to portray the unorthodox paths as weaker than the orthodox... Unforgivable."
He'd just drag the author over, make him kneel, and ask. A sliver of killing intent glinted like a blade edge in the smile spreading across Cheol Sa-hon's lips.
The Murim Alliance's conference hall was shrouded in an uncomfortable silence. Born of the overwhelming majority glaring displeased at one man. At the center sat Shaolin monks with shaved heads and Taoist priests in robes.
The gazes directed at the monk rolling his prayer beads with clasped hands were far from kind.
"I hear the Alliance Lord met privately with Master Su-gyeong, and Shaolin came up. Must be nice for you."
"...Amitabha. This too is the boundless mercy of the Buddha."
"Elder Beop-sang!"
The elderly monk called Beop-sang wore a faint smile.
"Don't begrudge us too much that our temple has been chosen as the protagonist for Master Su-gyeong's next work. Amitabha."
"Y-You...!"
Grinding his teeth in fury, at a loss for words, was Mount Qingcheng's Un Gyeong-ja. 'Wudang's momentum is already unnatural thanks to Wudang Sword Hero...'
Qingcheng had struggled in Wudang's shadow for over a decade. Huashan, deeply tied to the secular world, felt the same. It was no surprise they'd rebelled the moment Wudang's star rose.
But now Shaolin joining in? If even Shaolin expanded its influence through Baek Su-gyeong's pen, the alliance's power balance would shift to a rivalry between Wudang and Shaolin. No other Nine Great Sects would welcome that.
"Have you allied with Wudang, Elder Beop-sang?!"
"Shaolin remains ever neutral. Amitabha."
Beop-sang closed his eyes, rolling his beads. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely at ease. Shaolin too had escaped Baek Su-gyeong's sharp critiques only by chance.
Once past Song Mountain's gates, weren't there plenty of disciples turning bandit, breaking precepts? Ascetics bursting with repressed desires, causing scandals—far from few.
'And with tensions rising between martial and scholarly monks, for Master Su-gyeong to name our temple as the next protagonist... Surely the Buddha's grace.'
The other elders eyed Beop-sang with displeasure. Their dissatisfaction was palpable, suspicion over when and how Shaolin had contacted Baek Su-gyeong.
Gazes shifted to the Alliance Lord, Jang Hyo-un, at the head seat.
"Alliance Lord! This is unfair!"
"Huashan should be next!"
"Trying to leapfrog Qingcheng?!"
"Qingcheng's not in dire straits! Yield!"
"You didn't call us Wudang checkers behind our backs, did you, Lord?!"
Chaos reigned. Neither Jang Hyo-un's nor Jegal Yu's expressions beside him were pleasant. If Baek Su-gyeong saw this, he'd bolt from the alliance. The man who just wanted a normal life.
Jang Hyo-un furrowed his brow.
"As if. Do you think this old man's mouth is that loose?"
"Well..., no."
"The Strategist hovering around Master Su-gyeong is suspicious enough. Surely not..."
Skeptical eyes turned to Jegal Yu. Rumors swirled of Wudang's prodigy entering the upcoming sparring tournament. Though participants weren't all gathered yet, anxiety mounted over losing even Baek Su-gyeong's bodyguard spot. And now Namgung Sega's Jade Sword Flower from Anhui had declared participation.
"Not scheming to snag the spot beside Master Su-gyeong and boost Jegal clan's prestige, Strategist?!"
"If so, I'd have asked already. Though doubtful he'd agree. Let me be clear."
Jegal Yu spoke coldly.
"On my position as Chief Strategist of the Murim Alliance and the name of Jegal Clan, I have never once made an improper request to the master."
"Ugh...!"
A single, crisp denial cut through their doubts. By invoking his title and clan, Jegal Yu silenced them swiftly.
"Moreover, since entering Yeonun Pavilion, Master Su-gyeong hasn't met anyone in the alliance privately. He rejects all private audiences. Do you think I could manage what he denies others?"
"With the Strategist's influence, surely?"
"Elder Un Gyeong, enough."
Jang Hyo-un warned.
"No further remarks will be tolerated."
"Alliance Lord!"
"Silence!"
A terrifying aura erupted from Jang Hyo-un, crushing the hall like a collapsing mountain. Calming the assembly with immense pressure, he spoke.
"What if Master Su-gyeong sees this disgrace and writes something negative about the alliance? One line from him shakes the murim—have you forgotten?"
"A-Alliance Lord."
He scanned the elders.
"Mind every action! He might be watching from anywhere."
Words that would horrify Baek Su-gyeong into thinking he was some big star. Jang Hyo-un continued in a low growl, like a tiger's rumble brushing their ears.
"He's coming as an observer to this tournament, so watch yourselves! Stir trouble and face Alliance Lord punishment!"
Why invoke the Alliance Lord's decree here? A scene Baek Su-gyeong would lament unfolded in the murim's heart.