That Can't Be True
The martial conference had been provisionally suspended. The organizers from the Dongbeonhoe and the Nine Great Factions announced they would decide whether it would continue a few hours later.
But hours passed with no word. The day slipped away pointlessly.
The parties involved—the Open Faction and Cheongsung Sect—holed up in their lodgings without showing their faces. The rest of the Nine Great Factions did the same.
All that remained were the sects around Dongjeong Lake and the invited crowds.
People gathered in clusters, chattering endlessly about what had happened at the conference.
Though it hadn't reached the finals, there was more than enough to talk about. From the incidents with Cheongsung Sect and the Open Faction to various other events, but the biggest buzz was the Yi Gajang brothers' exploits.
Assuming the conference resumed, they drank late into the night debating how far second brother Yi Jinun might climb, or if Yi Jinpyeong could really sweep past the Nine Great Factions' later-generation disciples to claim victory.
Meanwhile, at the inn where the Yi Gajang brothers were staying.
The three sat cross-legged in a circle, talking once more.
"Jinpyeong, what do you think happened?"
"Yeah. Weren't the Nine Great Factions on decent terms? Why resort to such vicious killing blows?"
Yi Jinpyeong answered them.
"Foolish creatures. It wasn't even a contest for the world's greatest master—just a friendly later-generation martial conference—yet some stake their lives on it."
"Even so, mutual destruction... And they're already proven warriors, their sects too. Why go that far?"
"That Cheongsung disciple looked desperate, cornered."
"The young guy who picked a fight with you, right? He was a top contender before..."
Yi Jingang and Yi Jinun had every reason to question it. Their actions defied easy understanding.
Yi Jinpyeong recalled their final moments before his intervention—their expressions.
Contrary to expectations that Cheongsung's Nam Sogyun would dominate, the Open Faction disciple seemed one or two moves superior.
Not just that. He subtly controlled the duel’s rhythm and intensity, stoking his opponent's impatience and desire. Naturally, Nam Sogyun's frustration built as it dragged on.
At first, Yi Jinpyeong dismissed it as some hidden backstory between the youths—something outsiders wouldn't know. Like two young men vying for the same woman...
But when their exchange turned to lethal strikes, seeing the Cheongsung disciple's—and elder's—overreactive fury...
A reasonable suspicion arose: perhaps that duel was a trigger planted by Demonic Cult forces.
Yi Jinpyeong tilted his head.
Just this much? Did we foil their scheme so easily?
"Just this much" might be unfair. Yi Jinpyeong, watching intently from the closest spot, had intervened.
Without him, one—or both—might have died there. It could have sparked massive rifts among the sects at this Murim Conference.
Especially with that reckless Cheongsung elder's temperament.
So his sense of anticlimax might be hindsight.
Lost in thought, Yi Jinpyeong suddenly stood.
He needed to investigate personally.
Yi Jingang and Yi Jinun showed no surprise.
"Come back early. Sleep well."
"...You're right. You two rest first."
He slipped quietly from the inn.
Late at night, Yi Jinpyeong headed to the Dongbeonhoe compound where the Open Faction warriors lodged.
He sought two things: No Gae's whereabouts since last night, and Dan-bi-no, the disciple behind today's incident.
Leaping silently along the wall, he halted atop it. In the garden center stood a man, as if awaiting someone.
Open Faction elder Bang Cheonpyo, No Gae's disciple and their leader.
Yi Jinpyeong debated passing by unseen but landed lightly before him instead.
Bang Cheonpyo, gazing at the night sky, widened his eyes at the sudden arrival. Then he smiled warmly.
"Welcome, Yi Gajang heir."
"Seen senior No Gae?"
"Impatient sort."
"It's late."
"True. Late for unannounced visits."
His words chided the rudeness, but Yi Jinpyeong waited silently for an answer.
Bang Cheonpyo exhaled pipe smoke. He'd been smoking in the night breeze.
"Join me?"
"Not in the mood."
"You seemed a heavy smoker."
"I pick my times."
"When an elder offers, you usually accept."
Yi Jinpyeong stayed silent.
"Senior No Gae?"
"...Why seek my master?"
"I'll tell him myself."
"Haha. Close to master now, so I'm nothing, eh?"
His laugh held a hint of displeasure.
Staring at Yi Jinpyeong, he finally answered.
"Master's whereabouts? I'd like to know too. Last night, we drank, then he left for an appointment. Hasn't returned."
Last night—the day Yi Jinpyeong met No Gae. They'd spied on lovers in the reeds, heard of Yi Gajang and Nine Great Factions entanglements, stayed up all night.
Yi Jinpyeong assumed he'd returned to his disciples, but even Bang Cheonpyo hadn't seen him.
"Thought he lied to ditch the drinks, but truly hasn't come back. Baffling. I was pacing, hoping he'd return. Might've heard—it's been years since we met."
"......"
"Maybe he just wandered off. Last time, one drink, then years apart. Wind-like man."
Yi Jinpyeong eyed the elder. Longing and loneliness filled his face.
But Yi Jinpyeong knew No Gae wouldn't leave like that. Yesterday, he'd come to warn the conference of the Demonic Cult's stirrings and dangers.
If urgent, why tell Yi Jinpyeong before disciple Bang Cheonpyo?
Yet the elder showed no sign.
Could he be a Demonic Cult pawn who'd harmed No Gae for the warning?
No. Impossible.
No Gae's martial prowess far exceeded Bang Cheonpyo's. Even off-guard, not to that level.
Their talk was just yesterday—perhaps overreacting. Maybe handling other business, or peeking at lovers in the reeds right now.
"How's your disciple?"
"Ah, right! That damned brat!"
His curse contrasted a brightening face. No resentment toward the curt Yi Jinpyeong—only gratitude.
"Truly fortunate. Without you, disaster. No idea what possessed him for such a reckless move. He's quiet now, past the crisis, but after this, I'll tan his hide. How dare he swing a sword so wildly, ignorant of the world's dangers? Master was right. Talented with sword since youth, so we trained him that way, but for Open Faction, a beggar's club suits better..."
Bang Cheonpyo grabbed Yi Jinpyeong's sleeve.
"Come in, at least greet him. Still dazed, but he'll be grateful to his savior. Introduce you to our brothers too."
Yi Jinpyeong didn't budge, glancing at his seized sleeve—stained red and filthy from the disciples' blood.
His once-pristine uniform now as ragged as his brothers'.
Bang Cheonpyo's clothes, neat for a beggar, contrasted sharply.
As Yi Jinpyeong stood firm, Bang Cheonpyo urged again.
"Don't refuse. Come, share Zhuyeqing liquor? Who knows—staying might bring master back."
"No need. I'm off."
Yi Jinpyeong rejected firmly, leaping to the wall.
As he turned to leave, Bang Cheonpyo's low voice followed.
"Be careful."
Yi Jinpyeong looked back.
"Nine Great Factions elders don't look kindly on you."
"......"
"Yi Gajang ties, that brusque nature. Eyesore to other sect elders. Who knows—they might frame you or your family right now."
Yi Jinpyeong stared, then asked.
"That's all?"
"...Yes."
"Nothing much."
Yi Jinpyeong vanished into the dark.
Yi Jinpyeong returned empty-handed. But he was certain.
Demonic Cult scheme or not, it wouldn't end here.
He knew them—they wouldn't fade quietly.
Un Sa-nang had warned: shadows prepare two or three plans.
And sure enough, his hunch proved right.
The next morning, a corpse floated up in Dongjeong Lake.