The White Rat Plaque
Overlord Martial Emperor Wiji Han is right.
In my eyes as well, Geom Bigak was a man for whom demonic fit far better than unorthodox. I don't mean merely the abduction of Yeo Wol—his plainly legible face and deeds made the case on their own. Whether he had been unorthodox by origin and was stained by the demonic path through his collusion with them, or whether his very nature had resembled the demonic path and thus drawn him to them, I cannot say. But it hardly matters. Time has already flowed on, and the verdict is in.
"I can't imagine why Your Majesty the Martial Emperor sees a demon in me, but I am, after all, a martial artist under the unorthodox banner. Do stop this persecution, won't you?"
"You mongrel of a cur."
"Hahaha."
Even under the Overlord Martial Emperor's venomous assessment, Geom Bigak smiled. It was no empty bluster but a smile brimming with genuine confidence. At this moment, Geom Bigak did not fear Wiji Han in the slightest.
"Even as sovereign of the Sado League, Your Majesty cannot lay a finger on me."
"What was that?"
Thunderous wrath took root in the Emperor's eyes.
Truly, I have no choice but to assess Geom Bigak as a lunatic. There was no other way to judge the sight of Haomun's Young Sect Master barking at the Supreme Leader of the Sado League himself. One could read it as the trait of a newborn pup or of a madman, but given Geom Bigak's age and station, writing him off as an ignorant pup would not be right. Would it not follow, then, that lunatic was the natural verdict?
The jianghu has never been a merciful world to madmen. It is a place where a mistake gets you beaten—or killed. And as proof of that...
Grrrumble.
The sound of Overlord Martial Emperor Wiji Han's true qi churning violently rang out. An invisible sword bearing force like a thunderous wave had, at some point, come to hover at the nape of Geom Bigak's neck.
"You know, I truly don't like you."
In answer to the Emperor's will, a dense killing intent claimed the air.
Had I not said it before? That the jianghu is a world ruled by strength. In truth, even if the Overlord Martial Emperor cut Geom Bigak down then and there, no one alive could call him to account. The reason being that he wielded power greater than anyone present and occupied a station more supreme than any of them. His authority was not the sort to be shaken by the slaying of a mere Young Sect Master of Haomun. His will alone would have sufficed to send Geom Bigak's soul across the River of Three Crossings.
That fact alone was what mattered. His intent bore murder, so preparing to part ways with Geom Bigak was the right call. An obvious conclusion—and one I did not lament, for I felt not a shred of pity for the man.
Then...
Step.
"League Master, will you yield this chance to me?"
Yeo Wol, Mistress of Hwawollu, stepped forward.
Yeo Wol, Mistress of Hwawollu.
Because her martial arts were comparatively shallow, she had committed the folly of becoming a hostage—but we must not forget that she was also, in name and fact, a superb Young Sect Master of Haomun.
"I am deeply moved by the League Master's ocean-vast grace, but might you grant this humble girl the chance?"
"I must kill that wretch myself."
"For the Martial Emperor to personally end the life of such a sniveling cur—would that not be granting him an honor far beyond his deserts?"
"..."
The Overlord Martial Emperor gave no answer to her words, but the invisible sword, smoothly withdrawn, implied his assent. Having bowed to the gracious League Master of the Sado League, Yeo Wol turned her gaze on the man who had once been her rival.
"Geom Bigak."
"Yes, Mistress."
Slap—!
With a crisp crack, Geom Bigak's face snapped sideways. His crimson, swollen cheek betrayed the source of the sound. Flicking her hand lightly clean, Yeo Wol asked him:
"Was that a violation of the Code?"
"I doubt it."
"I see."
Yeo Wol flashed a bright grin.
Slap—! Slap—! Slap—!
For a while, the cracking reports splitting the air filled the hall. Though no one was binding him, Geom Bigak endured Yeo Wol's slow slaps without once dodging. Perhaps it was the peculiar obstinacy of a loan shark, incomprehensible to a crook like me.
Smack—!
With that rather heavy slap as the finale, Yeo Wol paused to catch her breath.
"What is Haomun to you?"
Yeo Wol asked Geom Bigak.
"Did you not understand?"
Only at the repeated question did Geom Bigak finally answer.
"What is it to you, Mistress?"
Even now refusing to yield control of the exchange—that was Geom Bigak through and through.
Smack—!
Yeo Wol struck his cheek roughly once more.
"Don't dodge the question. I'm the one asking here."
It came with a cold rebuke. Despite her beauty, a razor-edged tension wholly different from when the Emperor had loomed over him encroached upon the space.
"..."
"..."
For a moment, Geom Bigak's and Yeo Wol's gazes locked. Then, through his split lip, Geom Bigak snorted a laugh.
"Is there any reason I must answer your question, Mistress?"
"I suppose not."
Saying so, Yeo Wol turned away without a trace of regret. Only then did Geom Bigak open his mouth.
"To make big money, you have to play in big waters, no?"
As if to mock her, he sneered. When you sought an answer from him, he babbled nonsense; the moment you gave up, he handed you the answer. That was Geom Bigak's way.
"Does that suffice as an answer?"
Yeo Wol did not react to his question. She simply commanded:
"Ma Sok. Cut him down."
Swish!
Without a flicker of doubt, Ma Sok drew his blade. Truly, it was a lightning-swift draw.
Shing—clack.
Only after Ma Sok's sword had been resheathed would Geom Bigak have realized that his throat had been opened.
Tap.
Geom Bigak's hand rose to his own neck.
"..."
After a brief silence, he snorted a soft laugh. I could not fathom the meaning of that smile at all.
Thud.
Without even a final rattle, Geom Bigak's corpse crumpled to the floor. No—perhaps he had deliberately left no last words. It was the hollow end of a soul no one could say was heretic or demon.
Leaving Geom Bigak's swiftly cooling corpse behind, Yeo Wol spoke.
"I have violated the Code—am I to be expelled?"
At first, I didn't know whom she was asking. But I soon found out.
Step.
"Hmm."
A figure had calmly revealed itself from the darkness. Though he had hidden among the Walpae thugs, he was someone who had slipped past my qi sense—no ordinary foe. The figure swept an unhurried glance across the hall, then said:
"You are as resolute as ever, Mistress."
There was no need to wonder who he was, for Yeo Wol had already unmasked him.
"It's been a while, Baek Myeon. Or shall I call you Sect Master now?"
"Baek Myeon will do just fine."
The Matriarch of Haomun smiled faintly.
Baek Myeon. A grandmaster of the disguise arts, rumored to possess a hundred faces. And he was none other than the current Matriarch of Haomun, known to be in failing health. Contrary to the rumors that he was casting about for a successor ahead of retirement, he radiated the vigor of a hale and hardy martial artist.
So that man is Baek Myeon...
I didn't know him. Partly because Myeong the Beggar, a mere third-knot beggar, had never had the chance to stand before the Matriarch of Haomun. But the greater reason was that even the Beggars' Gang's crown jewel, the Thousand Roster of Jianghu Figures, contained no proper entry on the man.
The Matriarch of Haomun is a figure who wields enormous influence over the jianghu. Regardless of the depth of his martial arts, he ought by rights to be recorded in the Thousand Roster. That his information was absent nonetheless implied a single fact: even the Beggars' Gang had failed to gather intelligence on Baek Myeon.
"What a fine mess we have here."
Baek Myeon's appearance, as he said this, was the very image of a street thug. Judging from his alias, even this thuggish guise was surely not his true face. Unlike Haomun's Young Sect Masters, the Sect Master is a figure who stands front and center. Naturally, the Matriarch would be analyzed and information about him collected—it was inevitable. That Myeong the Beggar knew Yeo Wol so well was for the same reason. But the current Matriarch had never been so exposed, for no one alive knew Baek Myeon's true face, his real identity. Only one thing was known about him: that he had once been the chief who led the fortune-tellers. Considering the cozy alliance between the courtesans and the fortune-tellers, Yeo Wol might well be one of the very few who knew his true identity.
Baek Myeon, who had been exchanging greetings with Yeo Wol, suddenly knelt.
"I beg forgiveness for the worry our sect's affairs have caused you."
His apology was directed at where the sovereign of the Sado League stood.
"Think nothing of it. See to your business."
"Thank you."
Perhaps the Overlord Martial Emperor possessed a keen political sense as well, for he knew full well that the protagonist of this occasion was not himself. Baek Myeon's steps turned toward Yeo Wol. Even Ma Sok did not bar his way, so it would be right to judge him no threat.
"Am I to be expelled?"
Yeo Wol asked again.
"That would be a problem, Mistress."
In the unorthodox world, the Code is solemn and absolute. History has proven that the moment a man sets himself above the law, his organization crumbles. It meant that even Baek Myeon, the Matriarch of Haomun, could not stand above Haomun's Code.
"Am I to be expelled?"
Yeo Wol asked once more.
"Ordinarily, that is how it should be."
So answered Baek Myeon. But the nuance was curious. To my ear, it meant she would not be expelled.
Baek Myeon's eyes arched into crescents.
"The Code cannot be broken—but there is a way."
After a deliberate pause, he continued.
"The Code of Non-Killing our sect holds governs relations between Young Sect Masters, so once you ascend as Sect Master, there will be no problem. Well, a quarter hour's discrepancy or so, I shall smooth over with the current Sect Master's final act of discretion."
While my brilliant mind was still parsing his words, Baek Myeon pressed on.
"Our fortune-tellers uphold Yeo Wol, Mistress of Hwawollu, as Sect Master. Ah, and I have already gathered the consensus of the gamblers who are not present, so worry not. The loan sharks have lost their chief, so it is right to count them as abstaining..."
Letting his words trail off, Baek Myeon's gaze came to rest on Gang Pae.
"And what say the Walpae?"
Scarcely had his words ended—
Thud.
Brother Gang Pae dropped to one knee.
"We greet the Sect Master!"
And at the same moment—
Shff—shff—shff—shff.
Five thousand Walpae knelt as one.
"We greet the Sect Master!"
The thunderous cry split the night sky. Their bows were aimed not at Baek Myeon but at Yeo Wol. Haomun's largest bloc of muscle and numbers had readily knelt before her.
"Good."
Nodding in satisfaction, Baek Myeon passed something to Yeo Wol.
"Please, accept it."
I knew at a glance what it was. The White Rat Plaque—the Baekseopae. A white tablet engraved with the image of a rat. A sacred token symbolizing the Matriarch of Haomun, standing shoulder to shoulder with the Thunderbolt Dog-Beating Staff.
Having handed over the plaque, Baek Myeon knelt one last time.
"I greet the Sect Master."
And with that, Yeo Wol became the Matriarch of Haomun.
"Congratulations, Matriarch of Haomun."
With the sovereign of the Sado League, Overlord Martial Emperor Wiji Han, attending as witness, there could be no doubt of it.
"Everyone, rise."
At Matriarch Yeo Wol's command, all rose from their places. The host obeyed her order in perfect lockstep—it would be right to call Yeo Wol already a Sect Master in full.
Yeo Wol, Matriarch of Haomun. The first command she gave her sect was this:
"From this moment on, Haomun will hunt the remnants of the Demonic Cult."
"Yes, Matriarch!"
Every disciple of Haomun answered with one voice. Just as expected—proof that I, who had orchestrated my regression, had taken hold of the right thread.
"Congratulations, Sect Master."
I too conveyed my congratulations, far earlier than the appointed date. An achievement two years ahead of Myeong the Beggar's timeline.