Chapter 118
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 118
Chapter Title: Thinking He's a Wanderer (1)
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The middle-aged man's face twisted severely at Black Hand's report. Unexpected incidents kept piling up one after another.
"How the hell did they find out?"
Four locations for gathering materials to manufacture the Demonic Soldiers had been raided simultaneously. It wasn't just one—four at once. That was impossible without deliberate targeting.
"Who led it?"
"We've confirmed it was a joint operation between the Beggars' Clan and the Nangong family. Their main force, the Spirit Martial Unit, was completely wiped out by the Sword Emperor."
"Hah, they fooled us completely."
"The Beggars' Clan distorted the information, then moved in secret with the Sword Emperor. They clearly predicted our response."
Even though the Nangong family operation had failed, he'd assumed the Sword Emperor, struck by the Legal Punishment, wouldn't recover so quickly. Targets under dark sorcery typically lost their martial arts or became idiots.
He shouldn't have underestimated the Sword Emperor of the Twenty-One Strong of Shenzhou.
"It didn't end with the deaths of the Fierce Monk and Extreme Killer."
"They probably leaked false information to draw out our tail."
The Beggars' Clan had spread rumors that the case was closed with Extreme Killer's death. But they'd clearly extracted some information from Extreme Killer and the Fierce Monk. Hiding that fact was likely to catch their pursuers off guard.
Hong Mu-gae of the Beggars' Clan had landed a solid blow. But a new puzzle arose. Extreme Killer and the Fierce Monk had been under seals. Controlling those seals to extract cult information was nearly impossible.
'Is there someone skilled in Legal Punishment?'
To Mokam, it was an absurd assumption. He knew all too well how terrifying the cult's seals were. Repeated failures might have weakened their system.
"Halt material collection for now."
"Understood."
Pressure from the cult was inevitable, but there were no other options. The Beggars' Clan had caught the scent and was pursuing relentlessly. Plus, this incident had brought human trafficking into the public eye, exposing their intentions. It could shake the foundation of their grand plan.
'Deal with the master first.'
As failures mounted, Mokam grew anxious. The cult didn't tolerate failures. If this operation failed too, survival wasn't guaranteed. To prevent that, he needed contingencies.
A bait to sever the snake's head.
The murim world, including the Beggars' Clan, had caught on to the cult's movements. If the master intervened, things would get dire. He needed a way to divert attention.
Knock knock!
White Hand, another of Mokam's direct subordinates, knocked. He entered after permission.
"What is it?"
"The Tang Clan operation has gone awry."
"What? We haven't even started."
"The Poison King has risen. He may have intervened in the suddenly announced young clan leader contest."
Mokam hadn't anticipated this chain of unforeseen events. The scheme planted in the Tang Clan was a seed for future harvest, not immediate action. Even if issues arose, it would take time. Let alone the curse and poison on the Poison King being lifted.
"And to top it off, Cheon Un-kwon showed up at the Tang Clan."
"Why that bastard again?"
He was sticking his nose everywhere, appropriate or not. The Tang Clan plot itself wasn't a big issue—no traceable clues had been left. But this guy kept tangentially involving himself, even if not central. Like dust constantly in his eyes.
"From what we've confirmed, he came to trade a dead Poison Horn Black Dragon. He reached an agreement with the clan head and is being treated as a VIP guest."
"A Poison Horn Black Dragon could antidote the Earth Spirit Poison. What the hell is this punk?!"
To deal with the Poison King, he'd used the rare Earth Spirit Poison. Even a small amount was fatal to poison experts. Antidoting it required something comparable to a Millennium Earth Spirit.
"Does he know?"
"Unlikely. His actions suggest pure coincidence."
"Then what? He's just coincidentally screwing up my plans over and over?"
In truth, Cheon Un-kwon had ties to the Huangbo family, Nangong family, Beggars' Clan, and now the Tang Clan—but assuming he knew and acted on it was a stretch. A weird guy entangled in weird coincidences.
"Timing's off, but no choice."
"It's too soon."
"You want me to let this mangy dog keep ruining my work?!"
"No, sir."
It was a long-prepared operation to shake Sichuan Province, but premature. Yet, coincidence or not, it was suspicious. No guarantee he wouldn't interfere again. They needed to eliminate him now and escalate the standoff in Sichuan.
"Execute the wedge-driving scheme."
"Yes, Dark Lord."
"Well, well, who do we have here? I heard you were coughing up your lungs in bed, but that was all nonsense."
"And you look like life's treating you well. Plump as can be."
The two elders bantered freely, like old friends reuniting after ages. It might seem rude at a glance, but they had roamed the turbulent jianghu together in their youth.
The contrast was striking.
One was a kindly grandfather type with even his frown lines padded; the other, a stately beggar in elegant robes.
"Nothing you won't say to your big brother. I'm two years older, little brother."
"You don't even know your birth year, and you pull that again? Still full of hot air."
Those who knew the duo's identities didn't just laugh it off. The kindly-looking elder was the Sword Emperor; his portly beggar counterpart was Chwi-seon Lee Ho, former Beggars' Clan leader.
Once thunderous voices shaking the jianghu, now grandfathers etched by time. Yet no one in the meeting room dared mock them as old fogeys. Do that, and death might come unannounced. They looked kindly now, but in youth, they were fierce.
Hmm.
Chwi-seon eyed Nangong Yeon-hwa beside the Sword Emperor with interest. The reports hadn't done her achievements justice.
"You've surpassed your grandfather at your age."
"You're too kind. I've a long way to go."
"Good. Marriage prospects?"
"Pardon?"
Nangong Yeon-hwa faltered at Chwi-seon's abrupt pivot; the Sword Emperor scowled.
"Chwi-seon, you beggar—daring to eye my family?!"
"This punk, insulting our Beggars' Clan?!"
"Insult or not, lay eyes on her and even you won't escape."
"Tch, can't even joke. Always so serious, as ever."
"Hmph, I was joking too."
Chwi-seon was momentarily taken aback by the unexpected wit. Much smoother than before, but the Sword Emperor's sharp temper was legendary. Even he had mellowed into a sly elder under time's weight.
"You've grown, you stiff."
"You've changed plenty yourself."
Chwi-seon looked the jolly neighbor grandpa, but in youth, he was the uncompromising Fierce Tiger Beggar. That moniker wasn't earned lightly.
Swoosh!
A piercing gaze fixed on the slender man, but his words surprised. Chwi-seon had changed beyond recognition.
"Modern beggars have odd attire. For a second, I thought you were a scholar. Planning to enter officialdom?"
"Had to hide my identity."
His outfit was mostly restored, but Hong Mu-gae, having lost his lifelong beggar companion, was born a scholar. Bitter that anyone could see it.
"You did great work. Bridged the gaps well."
"Thank you. Strictly speaking, though, the operation failed. We only confirmed their identities."
The Sword Emperor inwardly admired Hong Mu-gae's cool assessment—no boasting, just facts. Unswayed by minor merits, steadfast.
"Good disciple you've raised."
"Of course—who's his master? Outfit's iffy, though."
Despite the former leader's satisfaction, Hong Mu-gae's heart was heavy. As the kid said, a shadow force was plotting. Their raid caused heavier losses than expected despite surprise. Extreme Killer might truly have been one of their pawns.
The puzzled Sword Emperor asked.
"Do you know the shadow force's aims?"
"Not the process, but such a force scheming in secret leads to one conclusion."
Unifying the jianghu.
Overthrowing the stagnant order to build their own. The shadow force's goal was clear. But their methods? Unpredictable. They'd smashed one strategy, but merely lopped a tail.
"Just as that guy said."
"That guy?"
Hong Mu-gae winced at Chwi-seon's curiosity. He hadn't reported on Mujin. Hard to explain the guy. Even exposing his feats, they'd doubt.
Yet the Sword Emperor mentioned Mujin.
Ignorance? No.
'He's grinning?'
Reading the Sword Emperor's scheming eyes, Hong Mu-gae swallowed a sigh. Denying now wouldn't sate the former leader's itch. He'd dig anyway.
'...He won't lose, right?'
Like hell!
Hong Mu-gae was on hot coals.
Having received all due honors as the Tang Clan's VIP, Mujin left Chengdu and arrived in Iksan. Before departing, he'd shared the Poison Horn Black Dragon's location and flesh-ripening advice with Tang Yeon-woo.
'The Tang Clan should find some peace.'
-Not calm before the storm?
The trip to Iksan was smooth.
Riding the Tang Clan's carriage, bandits and thieves fled at the emblem. Cheol-ho, Na-rung, and Yuk-chil took turns driving.
He booked rooms at an inn near Iksan's docks.
The sign read Azure Stream Inn. Decent for an overnight stay.
Mujin prioritized cleanliness and size when choosing inns. He checked visible efforts. If even the obvious spots were sloppy, what of the unseen kitchen? No bugs was a win.
While unpacking, Yuk-chil headed to the local Beggars' Clan branch.
Meals in-room, as per protocol. The second and third-floor windows overlooked the docks—prime spots—but Mujin chose rooms without hesitation.
As said before, inns were bloodbath holy sites, blind spots of peace where fights erupted unpredictably.
Die in an inn brawl? Your fault. Dining openly in such risky spots and blaming others? Pointless. Want to eat out? Surpass peak mastery at least.
He ordered the Azure Stream Inn's specialties generously.
The Tang Clan's ample funds allowed indulgence. Still, no spending beyond food and lodging.
Post-meal, a problem emerged.
'This won't do.'
For Cheol-ho to become Iron King, presbyopia was essential. Couldn't let his drive fade.
"Wasting time on parlor tricks mocks your first master. As second master, I'm duty-bound to fulfill his wish."
"I can balance it while learning!"
"Hard enough one skill—two at once? Got time to burn?"
"I'll focus on one! No more side tricks!"
Time to burn? Daily grind of brutal training. Even in the cramped carriage, he'd cheated death countless times. Harsher? He'd die.
"Body hair from parents... anyway, cherish the face they gave."
Face matters now?!
Ever-changing principles.
Cheol-ho trembled at his master's self-serving hypocrisy. He'd sought transformation arts from Na-rung to alter his looks, but hit a wall from the start.
'No candy from the giver!'
Na-rung was the angry one.
Heavenly Transformation wasn't some trivial trick. The pinnacle of the Heavenly Transformation Sect, boasting five centuries of refinement.
If wanting sufficed, everyone'd shapeshift. It demanded finesse and intense focus. Blunt oafs like Cheol-ho couldn't grasp its essence.
"Na-rung, don't tempt the kid with cheap tricks. Scheming? Mythic Demon Spirit Armor or not—you're dead."
"Yes, sir! Noted!"
Pride aside, Na-rung chose mortal life like a dog. Sad reality. Heavenly Transformation martial arts couldn't make one strong.
Na-rung didn't want endless fawning and fleeing. Hence, Mythic Demon Spirit Armor. With Cheon Mu-ja's arts, no more groveling.
'Can it really happen?'