The Approaching Wave
If they were the only ones destined to burn, he wouldn't have cared whether they loitered around the flames or threw themselves straight into the fire. But the sparks flying from them would inevitably ignite innocent bystanders, and the mere thought made him grind his teeth. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to fly over there this instant and tear them to pieces, devouring them alive. But since that was out of the question, he had to suppress his rising fury.
"Tsk. I shall make haste as much as possible," Choi Ju-tang muttered. "That aside, tell me more about this Gwak Jeong-sin."
"Hmm? I believe I have already told you everything. Was there something lacking in my explanation?" Jekyeong asked.
"No. I simply wish to know as much as possible. After all, contacting him is the most critical juncture of this entire affair, is it not?"
Choi Ju-tang's meticulousness bordered on obsessive, but Jekyeong found that exact trait highly reassuring. It was slightly tedious, but it proved that the man was fully invested and doing his utmost for this operation.
"He is a typical merchant," Jekyeong replied. "He humbles himself by claiming to be from a mere collateral branch, but deep down, he harbors immense pride in being a member of the Gwak clan. He possesses decent patience and seems highly capable of objective self-assessment."
"You hold him in quite high regard."
"Because he has produced results, after all. As I mentioned, the Yeongbu Merchant Association is one of the preeminent powers in Yangseo Lake. Even the Golden Core sects do not dare treat them lightly."
Of course, that only held true in the absence of a proper pretext. The ultimate master of the Yeongbu Merchant Association was a Nascent Soul True Lord, and not even a Golden Core sect would dare offend the dignity of such a transcendent being. However, the association operated across the entirety of the Human Territory. The branch at Yangseo Lake was merely one of countless minor outposts. If a Golden Core sect stepped forward with a legitimate justification, there was no reason they couldn't make a move.
The leadership of the Yangseo Lake branch understood this vulnerability better than anyone. Consequently, they always trod with extreme caution, ensuring they never gave the Golden Core sects any leverage to use against them.
"Which is precisely why you are concerned," Choi Ju-tang murmured. "You fear he might weigh you on his scales."
"Indeed," Jekyeong replied. "I have always believed that a merchant's heart is fashioned from a pair of scales. And Gwak Jeong-sin is a consummate merchant. Thus far, I have been a highly lucrative business partner to him. But the moment he realizes he can reap a far greater profit by discarding me, he will not hesitate for a single second."
Jekyeong spoke to Choi Ju-tang with near-total candor. In the past, such openness would have been unthinkable. Jekyeong had once regarded Choi Ju-tang as the most anomalous and perilous cultivator within the Mansi Assembly. While some of that wariness stemmed from his inherent prejudice against rogue cultivators, Choi Ju-tang had certainly invited much of that suspicion himself.
Back then, Choi Ju-tang had possessed a frantic, feral edge. He had constantly exuded the desperate aura of a cornered beast. However, that volatile temperament had largely dissipated once he broke through to the mid-stage of Foundation Establishment. Looking back now, Jekyeong realized that the past Choi Ju-tang had likely been bristling like a threatened hedgehog. Deeming himself weak, he had warily bristled at the world, treating everything as a potential threat to shield himself from external dangers.
Now, as a mid-stage Foundation Establishment master, he possessed a baseline of confidence in his own strength, allowing him to shed that suffocating mantle of paranoia and fear. Having crawled through his own desperate struggles during his weaker days, Jekyeong could easily empathize with Choi Ju-tang's psychological evolution.
I truly hope he does not disappoint me.
If Choi Ju-tang executed this task flawlessly, Jekyeong would secure an invaluable ally he could rely on for years to come. But if the man failed him...
No, let us not dwell on dark hypotheticals just yet.
While Jekyeong organized his thoughts, Choi Ju-tang was busy formulating his own plans for the days ahead.
"I shall adhere to the core of your plan," Choi Ju-tang said, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly register. "However, should this Gwak Jeong-sin harbor any treacherous designs, I will deal with him personally."
"Regarding that exact scenario... are you confident?" Jekyeong asked. "I do not doubt your capabilities, Senior, but..."
"If he is indeed only at the early stage of Foundation Establishment, I am ninety percent certain of success. The remaining ten percent accounts for any unforeseen trump cards he might possess."
Had any other cultivator made such a bold claim, Jekyeong would have dismissed it as reckless arrogance and grown uneasy. But he knew Choi Ju-tang was a profoundly cautious and calculating man. For him to display such overt confidence meant he possessed a hidden, absolute trump card.
This man truly is cut from the same cloth as me.
In truth, Jekyeong was far more extreme. If anyone dared ask if he could eliminate an early-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator, he would have scoffed in their face. Even if the opponent were at the mid-stage, his reaction would scarcely differ. By comparison, Choi Ju-tang's estimation was remarkably humble.
"Then I shall leave it in your capable hands."
"Indeed. Rest easy."
Jekyeong remained on tenterhooks, constantly anticipating the sudden outbreak of war, but contrary to his anxieties, the human cultivators showed no signs of movement. To be precise, the great Golden Core sects remained entirely stagnant. Though initially puzzled, Jekyeong soon deduced the underlying reason.
Are they waiting for the fruit to ripen further?
He racked his brain, but no other plausible explanation presented itself. He highly doubted those two towering Golden Core sects were hesitating out of fear of the Beast Race. No, they were undoubtedly waiting for the human populations of Yangseo Lake to bleed more copiously, allowing their collective resentment and desperation to reach a boiling point.
While it was true that these sects wielded absolute authority over the human-dominated regions of Yangseo Lake, they could not simply order the local independent cultivators and citizens around like their own disciples. If they initiated a war prematurely, it would remain solely their own conflict. To rally the disparate human factions of Yangseo Lake to their banner, they required an unimpeachable, unifying pretext.
Jekyeong had anticipated this strategic necessity early on, but he had vastly underestimated the sheer, cold patience of the two Golden Core sects. Was the bloodshed and chaos thus far still insufficient to serve as their trigger? Just how catastrophic of a war were they planning to unleash?
Jekyeong desperately craved deeper, more classified intelligence, but unfortunately, the sporadic letters he received from Gwak Jeong-sin contained nothing but superficial updates—the sort of common knowledge anyone could gather with a bit of legwork.
Is he already preparing to betray me?
Jekyeong reduced Gwak Jeong-sin's latest missive to ashes, a frigid sneer playing on his lips. Once the seeds of doubt were sown, every action appeared suspicious. At this point, he wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Gwak Jeong-sin marched onto Heukgyodo at the head of a small army of Foundation Establishment cultivators the very moment the war erupted.
"What occupies your thoughts so deeply?"
"I was thinking that there isn't a single soul in this world worthy of trust."
At Jekyeong's icy response, Myeong-ha nodded slowly in agreement.
"A profound truth," Myeong-ha murmured. "In a world as treacherous as this, who could one possibly trust?"
"I never trusted him to begin with," Jekyeong said. "Ours was a simple transaction of give-and-take. But it seems this fellow has concluded that I no longer possess anything of value to offer him."
"How short-sighted of him."
"Indeed. If that is truly his conclusion, he will pay a steep price for his miscalculation."
The figure standing before Jekyeong's colossal form was Myeong-ha's true physical self, not a proxy. For a man who habitually communicated via Lost-Soul Puppets to present his actual body was a clear testament to how gravely he viewed the current state of affairs.
"Just as you predicted, war is imminent," Jekyeong noted. "What do you intend to do with Haeyeon Island?"
"Nothing will change," Myeong-ha replied smoothly.
"Perhaps not for us, but do you truly believe the humans will leave it be?"
Myeong-ha let out a soft, mocking chuckle.
"Those who frequent Haeyeon Island have no stake in this war. Consequently, the island itself remains entirely neutral."
"I certainly hope so. For my sake, as well as yours."
"Have no fear. They will never become your enemies, Fellow Daoist. In fact... why not look at this from a slightly different angle?"
"Oh?"
As Jekyeong's interest was piqued, the surrounding shadows rippled. Myeong-ha stole a glance at the gargantuan form shrouded in the darkness, unable to suppress a silent gasp of awe.
He has grown even larger, even more formidable. Is this the true power of a Flood Dragon's bloodline?
He could feel a torrent of boundless vitality and Monster Power churning within the gloom. It had been so little time since their last meeting, yet the serpent had undergone such a staggering transformation. It was glaringly obvious why the local Beast Race cowered in his presence. This creature's lineage was terrifyingly potent.
Suppressing the tremor of awe in his heart, Myeong-ha smoothly continued.
"Should you so desire, Fellow Daoist, you could easily bend them to your will. As you well know, those men value profit above all else. The concept of racial solidarity... is utterly meaningless to them when gold is on the line."
"Even so, I highly doubt they would willingly take up arms against their fellow humans on my behalf."
"Of course, we cannot force them into a direct confrontation," Myeong-ha purred. "But we can certainly entice them to raid their undefended rears while they are away."
Jekyeong's eyes gleamed in the dark. He finally understood the true import of Myeong-ha's suggestion.
The proposal was highly pragmatic. The rogue cultivators who frequented Haeyeon Island were "rogues" in name only; in truth, they were ruthless Bandit Cultivators, or at least indistinguishable from them. Indeed, among the Foundation Establishment cultivators who visited, one would be hard-pressed to find a single individual who did not carry a hefty bounty on their head.
"Those scoundrels would likely run amok and pillage on their own even if I didn't spend a single copper to hire them," Jekyeong pointed out.
"Undoubtedly. However, if you step in to guide them, Fellow Daoist, you can direct their destructive impulses precisely where you want them."
"...True. That is not a bad idea at all."
Jekyeong found himself thoroughly swayed. It wasn't that he was loath to part with his Spirit Stones. He was frugal, yes, but he valued his life far more than mere currency. If parting with a portion of his wealth could secure a decisive tactical advantage in the looming conflict, he would gladly pay the price.
The only disappointing factor was the mediocre caliber of the cultivators who frequented Haeyeon Island. The number of Foundation Establishment masters among them was pitifully small, and the vast majority of those were merely at the early stage. The precious few mid-stage cultivators were either decrepit seniors whose martial prowess had long since decayed, or desperate souls whose path to immortality had reached a dead end. The old man who had once tried to assassinate him was the textbook definition of such desperate dregs.
Yet, that was only to be expected. If they were truly formidable, up-and-coming mid-stage Foundation Establishment masters, they would have no reason to sneak around a small, remote auction house nestled deep within the dangerous Beast Territory.
No, perhaps this is actually for the best. If they were truly outstanding and prideful cultivators, they wouldn't be so easily manipulated as disposable pawns.
Within a matter of moments, Jekyeong reached a decision and finalized his calculations.
"Very well. Let us proceed," Jekyeong declared. "Since we are doing this, I have no intention of being miserly. Recruit as many as you can gather. However, you must vet them thoroughly. My Spirit Stones are not so cheap that any random dog can feed on them."
Myeong-ha smiled, his eyes curving like crescent moons.
"Of that, I am well aware. Rest easy. I shall ensure they possess decent skills and tight lips. As for a sense of responsibility... well, that might be too much to ask of such men, but I will at least guarantee they deliver results commensurate with the price paid."
"Good. But before we begin, answer me one thing. What about you? Why are you going to such lengths to assist me?"
Myeong-ha let out a soft chuckle, as if he had just heard a particularly amusing joke.
"The answer is simple: you must remain safe and sound for Haeyeon Island to continue operating. Just as you have, I have invested an immense amount of effort into that island. I have no desire to shut down a business that has only just begun to bear fruit before I can even enjoy the profits."
"I highly doubt that is your sole motivation."
"It is the primary one. As for the rest..."
Myeong-ha's voice trailed off with a playful note of amusement. Jekyeong, sensing the boundaries, chose not to press him any further.
Yangseo Lake was home to an absolute multitude of islands. While some were so pitifully small and barren that calling them islands felt like an exaggeration, others were vast and prosperous enough to comfortably host entire towns, or even sovereign nations.
Seongju Island was one such magnificent territory. It was home to a sovereign state known as the Seongju Kingdom, a realm whose sheer scale and grandeur fully justified the title of a nation.
The crown jewel of the Seongju Kingdom was its harbor. A port of such immense proportions, capable of effortlessly accommodating dozens of massive merchant vessels simultaneously, was virtually unheard of elsewhere in Yangseo Lake. Perhaps only the legendary harbor of Daedo could rival its scale.
"Hurry up!"
Under normal circumstances, a ceaseless stream of merchant fleets seeking trade and weary cultivators seeking respite flocked to this haven. Seongju Island had always welcomed these travelers with open arms, and its harbor was perpetually bustling. Despite its vast capacity, the docks were often so overcrowded that several ships were forced to turn back daily, and the piers were packed shoulder-to-shoulder with travelers. This vibrant, chaotic clamor was the very symbol of the Seongju Kingdom's golden age.
But today, that once-vibrant harbor was as silent as a graveyard. Only a handful of vessels remained anchored at the docks, and even those were frantically loading cargo in a desperate bid to flee.
"I-It's coming!"
The harbor master, who had been screaming at the laborers to move faster, suddenly froze. His eyes widened in sheer terror, and his voice trembled violently. His gaze was locked onto the horizon, where a colossal wave was rolling toward them. It was so far away that its exact distance was impossible to gauge, yet the sheer, towering height of the wall of water made it feel as though it was already looming directly overhead.
"Hurry! Move your worthless hides!"
Driven mad by panic, the harbor master abandoned his post and began physically hauling crates himself. Onboard the nearest vessel, a cultivator who appeared to be the captain leaped onto the deck, screaming orders to prepare for immediate departure. This scene of absolute, chaotic desperation was mirrored across every single ship remaining in the harbor.
"Cast off! Set sail now!"
The vessels that managed to hastily prepare cast off and scrambled out of the harbor. Yet, before they could even clear the coastal waters of Seongju Island, they were forced to confront a cataclysm that could no longer be described as a mere wave—a towering wall of water so immense it seemed to scrape the very heavens.
CRASH!
Wood splintered, flesh tore, and the desperate screams of dying men were instantly swallowed by the roaring, violent deluge.
"Activate the grand formation! Now!"
A defense official of the Seongju Kingdom screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking with sheer terror. Yet, his desperate command was entirely redundant. Before his voice could even carry across the docks, towering pillars of brilliant, radiant light erupted from every corner of Seongju Island, piercing the heavens.