The Tyrant King's Contemplation
It was a space of dizzying extravagance.
A hazy incense smoke lay low over the thick carpet on the floor, while mother-of-pearl inlays and gold leaf adorning every wall and pillar shimmered with a subdued glow.
Beyond the swaying curtains stood the master of this impossibly luxurious chamber.
The great fortress of the Unorthodox Faction.
The Fortress Lord of the Iron Blood Fortress — the Tyrant King, Yu Hong.
"Hm."
A languid breath slipped from Yu Hong's lips.
Women of rare beauty attended upon him. They smoothed his hair with fragrant oils, combed it neatly back, and draped his dragon robes over muscles carved like sculpture. Every motion of their hands was meticulous.
"So he finally led this old body all the way to that distant land of Hubei, only to end up like this."
A pleasant, deep baritone settled low in the room.
It was not a loud voice, yet it filled the space entirely. Some unfathomable pressure made the attendants helping with his adornment flinch, their hands trembling.
"Yes, my lord. It appears he crossed over disguised as a horse handler and laborer."
"Tch."
Yu Hong clicked his tongue and turned only his head to ask.
"He was a bold man once. Now that he's old, he does shameful things. That's what an old man's stubbornness amounts to."
The middle-aged man waiting outside the curtains lowered himself respectfully and continued.
"The letter sent by the Alliance only stated that he had been captured alive, but through our spies we have learned he suffered crippling injuries."
"And?"
Hearing the boredom in that voice, the man added hastily.
"The news took three days to arrive, so by now he has most likely passed away."
"I see. So that is how it ended."
Soon the attendants finished their work and quietly withdrew, and the curtains were drawn back.
Yu Hong sat on the dais, resting his chin on his hand.
The middle-aged man — Jeong Hyeon-rip, known as the Iron Blood Fortress's Shadow Guard — bowed his head a little deeper.
"What did the Alliance say?"
"They sent word asking whether you intend to break the pact of non-aggression."
"The pact."
The corner of Yu Hong's mouth curled upward.
"Yes, I hear the Alliance's interior is still in disarray... And now one of our own has died, so we have our justification. Perhaps this is the chance to take a good long look at the world."
Jeong Hyeon-rip felt tension flood his body in an instant.
It had hardly been any time since the Esoteric Cult Uprising ended, and here was his lord speaking of war.
He swallowed and spoke carefully.
"If... if that is your will, Fortress Lord, I shall serve you with my very life."
"Hahaha!"
At that moment, Yu Hong burst into wild laughter.
"A joke, Hyeon-rip. You're fine in every way, but you have no sense of humor."
"...My apologies."
Jeong Hyeon-rip felt cold sweat running down his spine and bowed his head quickly.
Yu Hong snorted and muttered.
"Us Unorthodox Faction wolves are always too busy snapping at each other's heels to bother with war right now. War, hah."
Right now. The word catching in his ear — was that merely oversensitivity on his part?
Just then, Yu Hong let out a lazy breath. "Hm."
"You react rather quickly. Almost remarkably so."
"Do you mean the Alliance, my lord?"
"Yes."
One of his subordinate masters had died, and Yu Hong was indifferent — as if he had known of Gwi-ong's reckless scheme in advance and simply let it be.
And Jeong Hyeon-rip's own reaction was no different.
"It appears Gwi-ong has been under the Beggars Sect's pursuit ever since he entered Hubei. And when his movements were discovered in Yichang, the Beggars Sect cut down several of our men as well."
"The Beggars Sect killed some of ours?"
"Yes. The current Beggar Clan Chief is famous for cherishing his people, so perhaps that is why..."
A dry chuckle escaped Yu Hong.
"He died well, then."
Jeong Hyeon-rip faltered.
"Died... well, my lord?"
"Isn't it better than crawling back alive and stirring up troublesome affairs?"
"...!"
"It's a shame we'll never learn what honey pot he'd hidden away in Yichang, but the old man at least died cleanly, without causing us any more trouble."
At that flat, matter-of-fact voice, Jeong Hyeon-rip's mouth closed.
Then Yu Hong narrowed his eyes with a look of faint curiosity.
"But Yichang, you say. Was there anyone of note there?"
"It is no different from an empty field. There was a formidable swordsman once called the White Horse Sword Master, but he is advanced in years and can barely move. His children and disciples are said to be fairly capable, yet no match for Gwi-ong."
"And the officials?"
"There is one capable military officer who was demoted in the bloodbath that broke out at court long ago..."
Jeong Hyeon-rip carefully studied his lord's expression.
This man — the master of the Iron Blood Fortress — possessed something like a beast's instinct for catching small details that even his strategists overlooked.
And right now, Yu Hong wore the same wolfish eyes he showed whenever that instinct stirred.
"So there is something there."
"...!"
Yu Hong chuckled softly.
"If only one or two of them had managed to crawl back alive. That's a bit of a shame."
"Shall I plant an agent there?"
"Do that. And if it fails, report to me."
If it fails, report? Not if it succeeds?
"If it fails, then the person I have in mind will already be there. In any case, the cleanup will be a bit of a bother."
"We will handle it as Gwi-ong's personal, unauthorized scheme, and offer the Alliance suitable compensation."
"Do so. Ah — but did the old man have any family?"
"None that we know of."
"Then when you meet with the Alliance's people, see to it that the body is recovered intact and handed over properly."
"The body... why, my lord?"
"A funeral ought to be held for him, shouldn't it?"
With those words, Yu Hong turned his gaze to the window.
As he watched the clouds drifting across the clear sky, his eyes settled into a strange, unreadable stillness.
"Nnnnnngh!"
A strangled groan burst from Jin Cheong-un's mouth.
"Kgh! Nnngh!"
Bloodshot eyes, and a muffled, garbled sound bubbling through the gag between his teeth.
Twisting his whole body as though enduring brutal torture, Jin Cheong-un finally managed to spit out the bit in his mouth and glared furiously.
"Ptui! Just tell me the truth. Will you live? Who sent you? The Alliance Leader? The Fortress Lord? Yes — you're one of the Ten Heavenly Seats of the Martial Alliance Council, aren't you!"
At that moment, Jeong So-so beside him shouted in exasperation.
"Ugh, Master! Enough with the theatrics already!"
Before Jin Cheong-un sat the Jeong siblings and an embarrassed old physician.
The scene that had looked like torture was, in fact, nothing more than being treated by the doctor who had come on a house call.
Eventually even Jeong So-ryong, who worshipped his master, regarded him with a slightly weary expression.
"Master, if it hurts that much, you could simply avoid getting hurt in the first place."
"Even you, So-ryong..."
"Besides, it's just salve and bandages on a wound. Of course it hurts. If it didn't hurt, that would be the bigger problem."
Jin Cheong-un's mouth snapped shut.
Then the old physician snorted and tossed out a remark.
"Funny how the disciples have more sense than the master?"
"..."
"All those scars — rolling that body around seems to be a habit of yours. And bandaging hurts too, does it?"
"That's different from this. You didn't see it yourself — the physician said if I just stay still, it'll heal on its own in no time."
"Ah, Master! Stop moaning about the pain and just listen to the physician!"
"It's not theatrics, it's real! Is your faith in your master really this thin?!"
"Not falling for it! Put the gag back in!"
"No, this is real, I tell you... Kgh! Nnngh!"
"Hm."
The old physician chuckled at the bickering master and disciple, then stole a glance at Jin Cheong-un's wound.
What he'd just said was true, though.
In fact, the wound — exaggerating only slightly — was recovering like a lizard regrowing a severed tail.
Four more days, was it? He did use up an entire jar of that absurdly expensive Golden Spear Salve, but for the wound to already be closed and scabbing over...
The injury had been so severe it should have been festering with pus and burning with fever, yet here he was, hale and hearty and raising hell besides.
He knew well that martial artists recovered differently from ordinary people, but even so, this seemed like too much.
"In any case, treatment will make it heal faster. Spare me the pointless complaints and sit still while I work."
Only then did Jin Cheong-un heave a deep sigh.
"Whew, fine. Just... try not to hurt me."
"How could touching a wound not hurt?"
YANK!
The old physician gave the bandage a vicious pull.
"Kgh!"
Jin Cheong-un's hand shot up reflexively — then froze midair.
"Whew. I nearly performed the Foolish Old Man Moves Mountains on a physician by accident."
"...?"
"Gently, please. Gently."
After all that commotion, Jin Cheong-un finally made it through the day's treatment.
Jeong So-so bowed repeatedly as she saw the old physician out, then returned with a thoroughly drained face.
Dropping down in front of his bed, she asked.
"...You fought a passing martial artist?"
"That's what I said."
First it had been some drunk, and only after days of dodging and evading had she finally wrung the truth out of him.
"Why on earth would you fight a passing martial artist? No — even if a fight broke out, you could have just run away!"
"Ah, enough nagging. Go let me rest. Go on."
"..."
Jin Cheong-un shuddered and yanked the blanket up over his head.
Jeong So-so started to say something, then simply let out a long sigh. With a subtle glance at Jeong So-ryong, she left the room.
"..."
"..."
The siblings walked on without a word.
It struck Jeong So-so anew how little she actually knew about Jin Cheong-un, the man — as opposed to her master.
Yes, she had picked up on things long ago.
No — how could she not have?
Her master kept a great deal hidden from them.
At a glance, he looked like a thoughtless, easygoing layabout who liked to zone out and drink rice wine in the afternoon.
But behind all those exasperating displays and strange jokes, something was hidden. An inner heart they couldn't even begin to fathom.
"So-ryong."
"Mm."
"Why won't Master tell us things? Can you tell what he's thinking?"
Jeong So-ryong regarded her for a moment with bright, alert eyes, then answered simply.
"I think so."
"Huh? You do?"
"Because we're precious to him."
Jeong So-so's eyes went round.
"That's why he doesn't say anything. I did the same, once. You did too, didn't you, big sister?"
"..."
"But you know — maybe we just don't need to know?"
"What?"
"Master is Master, either way."
"...!"
"Whether he hides what's in his heart or not, it doesn't change that he's on our side. And whatever he's keeping hidden, we're still his disciples."
Her brother, eight years her junior, smiled — and at times like this, he looked so much older than his years.
"...Ha."
Jeong So-so sighed, smiled faintly as she looked at him, and then —
"Good grief, this little old man! When did you get so grown up...!"
SMACK!
She flicked his forehead.
"Ow! Wh-what was that for?"
"There! You were right, you were right! Sheesh!"
"Why did you hit me?!"
"Because? When your big sister hits you, you just take it. Where's this 'why' coming from?"
"You can't just do that?"
"Try and catch me!"
"Hey!"
"'Hey'? What did you just call me?"
"...!"
"So-ryong, you — get over here."
"You hit me first!"
And so the Jeong siblings began a chase, circling round and round the annex.
Meanwhile, Jin Cheong-un —
Nnngh. I try to rest for once, and those brats, honestly.
Plugging his ears firmly against the invading noise pollution, he was forced to lie in bed and groan in misery.
Vmmmm.
The energy rippling around Jin Cheong-un slowly settled.
"Whew."
Exhaling a low breath, Jin Cheong-un rolled his shoulders with a soft groan.
About two weeks in, and I can move again.
The Heavenly Spring Aperture gathering at his wound was rapidly knitting the injury closed.
What's more, having absorbed Gwi-ong's internal energy, his own qi felt considerably more robust.
Though at best, an egg-sized ball of qi had merely grown to the size of an apple.
But strangely, there's no breakthrough.
To be precise, his attainment remained just as ambiguous as before.
Having broken through a realm once already, Jin Cheong-un had assumed that with a little more internal energy, he would smash through the wall in no time.
Yet something felt off. Not blocked by a wall, so much as... misaligned with it.
Maybe I need to dig deeper into the Palhwangmu.
He'd thought it would be fine to live leisurely without much martial skill, but he now knew that was no longer true.
It seemed he had to grow stronger. Quite a lot stronger.
Strong enough to hold back the crashing waves of the Jianghu even when they surged against his disciples and his academy.
Well, that's a problem for figuring out later.
Jin Cheong-un rose from his seat and opened the door.
Considerable time had passed since the Gwi-ong affair, and before he knew it, the days had grown warm — spring had arrived.
"Master, everything's ready! Let's go!"
And today was the long-awaited opening ceremony.