Commencing the Operation -1

Chirp. Chirp-chirp. Chirp!

Right around five or six in the morning, those damned little chirpers showed up on schedule, shrieking like clockwork ghosts. I'd been deep in concentration, and they shattered it—but at least they made me realize how much time had slipped by.

The banquet hall, which had been lit by candles that now seemed pointless, was already bright with dawn.

Beside Sama Yeom sat an empty wine jar. At some point he'd started drinking alone, and he'd finished the whole thing.

Not a flush on his face, spine straight as bamboo, sitting through the entire night like that—so this was the caliber it took to serve as a prefect. The old saying that a man who couldn't hold his liquor died in the world of officialdom ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was starting to sound less like a joke and more ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like gospel.

"So. Have you finished organizing your thoughts?"

"I have."

All night long, Sama Yeom and I had traded opinions. Mostly I asked the questions, and he simply answered.

Murim Cheonha was, first and foremost, a wuxia game. There was an imperial route connected through Hyeok Gi-rin, sure, but it was only a side theme. The main story belonged to the martial sects of the Murim.

Which meant I needed to know exactly how far the power of the government—and a prefect's authority—actually reached. How much help he could give. How much risk he was willing to take. I threw countless questions at him to pin those limits down.

Sama Yeom took every single one without so much as a flicker of annoyance.

"One last question."

"Ah, so the interrogation finally ends. What is it?"

"Is it truly all right for me to take the lead on this? You don't seem inclined to step forward yourself."

"The law rings the warning bell in a man's mind and forces him to reason."

Sama Yeom drained his final cup as he spoke.

"But chivalry strikes a man's heart and kindles his passion. I merely considered which of the two is needed to purge the old poison festering in Sichuan Province."

I still had plenty of other questions for him. What had he seen in a mere Sichuan wanderer that made him trust me this much? If I botched the job, did he have a backup plan? Petty doubts like those rose as far as my throat, but I forced them all back down.

Useless talk like that could wait for the after-party once everything was finished—plenty of material for reminiscing over drinks.

"I have brought the guests."

"This humble merchant greets the Prefect."

"Ah, over here."

"...Ho Cheon-an?"

Yu Sa-yeon, summoned at dawn through Sama Yeom. Heukmyo had hauled over a completely unconscious Hyeok Gi-rin after beating her awake, and she'd also brought Yeo Il-ye, whose face was a wreck—eyes swollen shut from crying all night.

"There is a way to resolve this entire situation."

Hyeok Gi-rin clutched her hangover-pounding head and groaned. Heukmyo was feeding her water. Yu Sa-yeon looked thoroughly confused about what was going on. Even Yeo Il-ye, with her dead eyes, turned her attention to me.

"A way to deal with the Jambong Sect and Gae Myeong-bu, who destroyed the Tangsu Sect. A way to suppress the bandits and expose the link between those bandits and Hwanggeum-seon. A way to string together every culprit behind the Yeo Family Mountain Villa bloodbath. And a way for Sichuan's sects to keep their autonomy—and for the Sichuan wanderers to survive as well."

"...Forgive my presumption, Wanderer, but does a method that convenient truly exist?"

Hyeok Gi-rin objected in a thoroughly hoarse voice.

"It does."

I looked around at everyone present. Sichuan Prefect Sama Yeom. Great Disciple of the Jeomchang Sect, Hyeok Gi-rin. Super Super-Peak expert Yeo Il-ye. And the leader of the Wolbok Society, Heukmyo... and me, first-rate expert Ho Cheon-an.

Sticking my name at the end of that list made me look pretty pathetic. But what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could I do? My current realm was first-rate. I'd just have to throw everything I had into the pot.

If everyone pooled their strength and brought their full capabilities to bear, it was more than possible.

I laid out my plan. Explaining it alone took well over two hours.

When I finally finished, not a single person opened their mouth.

"I know it can't satisfy everyone. From Miss Yeo Il-ye's perspective, she'd want to catch every last enemy with her own hands. From Yu Sa-yeon's perspective, she'd want to take her full revenge alone. Great Hero Hyeok Gi-rin might find it unpleasant that the Jeomchang Sect gains so little. Heukmyo will have to work herself to the bone under this plan... and even the Prefect may have to shoulder political burdens."

"...How can you say such a thing?"

Hyeok Gi-rin looked at me as if she couldn't believe her ears.

"What does the Wanderer gain from this plan? Aren't you simply taking all the losses?"

"Why would I be taking losses?"

I get wood-attribute elixirs and soda out of this.

"Once everything is over, I'll be able to train in peace with a clear, refreshed heart."

"Hahahahaha!"

Sama Yeom suddenly burst out laughing.

"Hahaha! Well now. You're right. That's absolutely correct. That truly is important. Very well—this Sama Yeom will cooperate with the Great Hero's plan. And the rest of you?"

Everyone nodded.

"Then shall we begin?"

An uncomfortable tension hung over the Golden Family's sect assembly hall. In the Murim, the one with the highest standing was Master Cheongheo. The one with the highest martial realm was also Master Cheongheo.

And yet a "leave-of-absence" disciple of the Jeomchang Sect—to which that same Master Cheongheo belonged—had raised hell at the Golden Family. If the Jeomchang Sect went berserk and charged the bandits head-on, every other sect would be left holding the bag. They had no choice but to pool their strength and rein in Jeomchang's rampage.

Isn't it unfair for a previous-generation grandmaster like Master Cheongheo to even show up...?

He doesn't hold any official post in Jeomchang, so there's nothing we can even say about it...

Ordinarily, martial artists who reached a realm worthy of representing their sect were given at least some honorary title. Even a hollow rank was necessary so they would feel a sense of duty and responsibility toward their sect. But Jeomchang had never needed to bother.

Even previous-generation grandmasters willingly stepped forward whenever their disciples were involved or the sect faced a major crisis.

"By the Primordial Celestial Worthy... might this old man be permitted a word?"

"Of course, Master."

Daoist Cheongheo stroked his beard and slowly surveyed the faces gathered in the hall. Men dressed in the same garb as those who had once raised the banner of purging evil and crushing demons, who had fought the unorthodox factions to restore smiles to the common people of Sichuan. Considering their ages now, these were the ones who had once heard tales of their seniors' exploits, chests swelling with grandeur, and thrown themselves into martial training with redoubled fervor.

How fleeting the years...

Those same men had grown drunk on peace and intoxicated by the scent of gold.

The Hwangbo Clan. Qingcheng Sect. Zhongnan Sect. Emei Sect. Daoist Cheongheo thought of his old comrades who had once fought the unorthodox factions alongside Tang Gwang-ryeol, their chivalrous spirit blazing.

Those useless fools are probably just sitting in the back rooms farting away, claiming they're too old. If their sects have gone astray, they should haul their aged bodies up and beat some sense into them.

Cheongheo did not believe Jeomchang had maintained the proper bearing of an orthodox sect simply because it was superior to the Hwangbo, Qingcheng, Zhongnan, and Emei. It was only because the previous generation of grandmasters still vigorously handled the sect's major and minor affairs that its vital energy had been preserved.

So if the Hwangbo, Qingcheng, Zhongnan, and Emei lost a little face over this incident, and if an environment was created for their previous-generation grandmasters to take up the rod, a self-correcting process could begin.

The elders of a sect have work to do even when their bones ache. Manage your sect properly and you won't suffer in your old age. Thinking this, Master Cheongheo's thoughts turned to Hyeok Gi-rin.

That child has grown. It's time for this back-room old man to retire.

Cheongheo recalled Hyeok Gi-rin that very morning—eyes sparkling as she made her bold request—and a warm smile touched his lips. She had spoken of a plan that would neither harm the sect nor abandon her disciple Yeo Il-ye, a plan that served the people, and she had spoken of it with complete confidence. In that moment, Cheongheo had seen not a cute disciple, but a true chivalrous hero.

"I have already gone to the head of the Golden Family and offered my apologies."

"By that, you mean...?"

Watching the faces of the four representatives brighten, Cheongheo chuckled softly.

"Having caused the Golden Family such great inconvenience and sown anxiety among the merchants, how could we possibly set foot in Sichuan Province? Yeo Il-ye has also requested a leave of absence, though she is a child who will one day return to Jeomchang. As an elder of the sect, I worry that if she encounters the bandits now, far too much blood will stain her hands."

"Indeed... the Master's compassion overflows with mercy."

"I shall ensure that Yeo Il-ye does not leave the borders of Sichuan Province, and that she never again crosses the Golden Family's threshold without cause, as she did today. Of course, I trust that the chivalrous heroes of the Hwangbo Clan, Qingcheng, Zhongnan, and Emei will handle the matter of the bandits who dared speak Yeo Il-ye's name with complete fairness and justice."

"Leave it to us, Master! We shall investigate thoroughly and cleanly, without the slightest negligence!"

"Naturally! The Hwangbo Clan will devote its full strength as well!"

The representatives of the clans and sects wanted to cheer aloud. Jeomchang was withdrawing this easily? This concerned the establishment of a branch within Sichuan Province itself. In truth, Jeomchang had received almost no share of the profit agreements, leaving it at a severe disadvantage in the competitive landscape of Sichuan's sects.

They had fully expected Jeomchang to dig in its heels with every excuse imaginable—and that was precisely why Master Cheongheo's standing and renown had been so burdensome. Who could have predicted such an easy retreat?

"However, I have a request of you all."

The representatives swallowed dryly. Of course. They were never going to simply walk away.

"I understand you have decided to adjust the timing of the suppression at the request of Family Head Hwanggeum-seon."

"Ahem. Master. It was merely out of respect for the soaring chivalrous spirit of Sichuan's sects, to preserve their dignity for a time..."

"Heh heh. Of course. I shall leave the care of Yeo Il-ye to my disciple Hyeok Gi-rin and return home myself... but if all of you remain while I alone depart, it might give rise to misunderstandings, would it not?"

"Mm."

"Therefore, I would ask the Hwangbo, Qingcheng, Zhongnan, and Emei to issue a statement—that until a certain period of time has passed, you will respect the righteous spirit of Sichuan's sects."

In other words: create a legitimate justification for Jeomchang's withdrawal, so it wouldn't look like they were tucking their tails and running.

If the great sects of Sichuan issued an official statement declaring they would not intervene, Jeomchang could withdraw without inviting idle gossip.

"That is..."

"Hmm..."

The representatives sank into thought.

There was a vast difference between reaching a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠provisional conclusion and actually making a public announcement. Issuing such a statement itself posed no great problem. Rumors had already been circulating through Sichuan that the province's sects were dead-set against any intervention by the Nine Great Sects and One Alliance.

The problem was that issuing this statement would damage their under-the-table alliance relationships with certain sects.

"I am well aware of your concerns. However, if it is issued as a joint statement, the repercussions can be minimized to some degree, can they not? More importantly... if Jeomchang also withdraws, the damage to its relationships with its allied Sichuan sects will be exactly the same."

"Mm."

The representatives pondered carefully.

There were enough escape routes, and if this was the price of removing a powder keg like Jeomchang, it was cheap. They could simply promise sufficient compensation to their allied sects.

And those allied sects of Sichuan would have no choice but to accept the proposal.

"We shall follow the Master's will."

That day, public notices declaring the positions of the great sects were posted throughout Sichuan.

"Matters have come to this."

"Haaah."

Hyeok Gi-rin offered a cupped-fist salute to the Master of the Gwangyang Sect with a gloomy expression. The Gwangyang Sect Master wanted to heave a sigh deep enough to sink into the earth, but he had no choice. The Great Disciple of Jeomchang herself had come in person to apologize.

"Our sect's strength proved insufficient, and we were forced to withdraw first. It is a matter of deep shame before Gwangyang, whom we may call our allies."

"It could not be helped. An unforeseen incident simply occurred, and the timing was not with Jeomchang or our sect... We can only bow our heads and wait for the right moment."

Even so, the Gwangyang Sect Master's heart softened considerably.

The wild rumor that Sichuan's sects were dead-set against intervention by the Nine Great Sects and One Alliance. The official position statement from those great sects that seemed to affirm the rumor. Every faction connected to the Hwangbo, Jeomchang, Qingcheng, and Emei had been flipped upside down overnight. The Gwangyang Sect Master himself had been so furious he nearly kicked down his own gates and stormed out—until a letter from Jeomchang arrived, followed shortly by Hyeok Gi-rin herself.

Jeomchang's retreat is hardly good news either... but it's still better than getting stabbed in the back...

As the Gwangyang Sect Master soothed his bitter insides, he saw Hyeok Gi-rin dip her finger in the tea and begin writing. He stopped moving.

Hyeok Gi-rin confirmed the Gwangyang Sect Master's hardened expression, then continued writing in the tea water.

The Gwangyang Sect Master nodded and wiped the tea away with his sleeve. The fabric was soaked through, but that was the least of his concerns.

"I must deliver word to the other sects as well, so I shall take my leave."

"...Take care."

While the representatives of each great sect calmed their enraged sect masters—promising compensation or browbeating them into submission—Hyeok Gi-rin quietly made the rounds of every faction connected to Jeomchang.

And at that same hour—

Flutter.

"Hm? Hmm... this scent... this is the Return Pill I gave to the Wanderer..."

A single carrier pigeon flew down to Dang Do-yeon of the Tang Clan.