Unhwi let out a short, mirthless laugh.

“As I said before, you can’t do anything from inside the shadows, Senior.”

“…You brat…”

“And in the end, you came.”

Hwa Munyeom cut a glance at Han Murin.

“…Because you contrived a situation where I had no choice but to come!”

“Is that not acceptable?”

“…”

“Do you still not understand?”

“Understand what.”

“I need you, Senior Hwa. And you need me.”

“…”

“I’m saying the bond between you and me must be deeper than the bond that just formed between me and the Crown Prince.”

Hwa Munyeom slowly let go.

“I told you not to think of you as a blade like Yang Seoljin. I’ve been turning over what you meant by that.”

Unhwi looked at Hwa Munyeom without a word.

“Now I see it clearly.”

A smile touched Unhwi’s lips; a chill smile touched Hwa Munyeom’s.

“You arrogant whelp—you meant to use Mukse Society as your blade.”

Unhwi’s answer was simple.

“I won’t deny it.”

“So what is it you ultimately want? It’s not to overturn Snow Palace, that much is clear.”

“You didn’t know?”

“…What?”

Unhwi smiled brightly.

“I keep the promises I make. And the enemies that must die, I will kill by any means. When we spoke in the Heavenly Dragon Hall, you and I named one common objective.”

“…”

“You want the Thousand-Year Demon Cult rebuilt, and I said I would help you do it.”

“…”

“Don’t worry. The Thousand-Year Demon Cult will be rebuilt. And in that process, I will obtain what I must obtain.”

“And I’m asking what that is.”

It was one thing.

The life of Yucheong, Vice Lord of the Original Blood Cult.

Unhwi had no intention of saying it aloud now.

“You’ll learn it in time.”

“…”

“And one more thing.”

Unhwi quietly set a hand on Hwa Munyeom’s shoulder.

“There’s one more decision for you to make, Senior.”

Hwa Munyeom looked down at the arm on his shoulder and asked in a low voice:

“And that is?”

“The Vice Alliance Lord’s seat of the Heavenly Alliance is empty.”

“…”

“I want you to sit in it.”

Slowly, Hwa Munyeom’s brow furrowed.

It wasn’t because of Unhwi’s words. It was because the hand gripping his shoulder was tightening.

“Senior.”

“…Speak.”

“Do I look like a damned fool to you?”

No one but Unhwi and Hwa ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ Munyeom could make sense of those words.

Looking at the silent Hwa Munyeom, Unhwi let his hand fall and took a step back.

“This time as well, I hope you choose of your own free will.”

“…”

“Among all the martial men of Mukse Society, there isn’t a single dullard waiting only for the day he dies.”

“…”

Unhwi glanced back and asked:

“Is there?”

Whether they were watching Hwa Munyeom’s face or not, no one nodded—but their eyes said everything.

Without a single exception, they agreed with Unhwi.

“Imagine it. A Heavenly Alliance that spreads its influence across the world, with Mukse Society at the helm.”

“…”

“The Heavenly Alliance will be a body that embraces demonic, heretical, and orthodox paths alike. Yes—that is order. The backbone of such a Heavenly Alliance will be Mukse Society, and Mukse Society will—with me—strip away a base amounting to roughly half of Cheonrim.”

Hwa Munyeom stared at Unhwi with sinking eyes.

“By now you can see the picture. What I’m trying to do.”

“…To make the Heavenly Alliance the springboard for the Thousand-Year Demon Cult?”

“Do you dislike it?”

Hwa Munyeom did not bother answering with his mouth.

Unhwi did not press him.

That Hwa Munyeom was angry today was only natural—and understandable.

He had moved of his own free will.

Of his own free will, he had summoned all of Mukse Society’s core figures and aided Unhwi.

Did the Master’s permission exist here?

Not at all.

“Senior Hwa. One more word, if I may.”

“…Say it.”

“What you did today matches exactly what you told me back in the Heavenly Dragon Hall.”

“…”

“The conviction of a martial man who broke seclusion and returned to the martial world to build order.”

“…”

“With respect—well done.”

Hwa Munyeom closed his eyes briefly, let out a sigh, and turned his body.

There were a few among the masked men whose bearing was a little awkward.

“You two—take off your masks.”

At Hwa Munyeom’s words, two men flinched and slowly removed their masks.

Then they bowed at once.

“My greeting is late. Dukgo Hyun of the Dukgo Clan pays respects to the Flame King.”

“…Dukgo Hyun, is it… I think I glimpsed you once at the Gold-Dust Ablution Rite—is that right?”

“You remember. It’s an honor.”

The Gold-Dust Ablution Rite had taken place at the Soul Demon Flame Palace.

Dukgo Hyun had been there, and that day he and Hwa Munyeom had exchanged a few brief words.

That had been their first meeting—he had thought it would also be the last.

Truly, a man must live long to see what life brings.

Next, Pung Muhwi of Seongjak Province cupped his fist.

“Pung Muhwi, Hall Master of Pung Sword Hall, and the new Chief Heavenly Commander of Seongjak Province. It is an honor to meet the Flame King.”

“Your greeting is late for joining so suddenly—but are we meeting for the first time?”

“Yes. For the first time.”

The Flame King shot a sidelong glance at Unhwi.

“There was such a tangle in the middle it hardly feels like the first.”

Watching Unhwi’s side time and again, Hwa Munyeom had, without quite meaning to, seen Pung Muhwi several times.

At any rate—

“Senior Hwa. May we go now?”

“Go.”

Unhwi turned his head. He could not know who each masked figure was, one by one, but he quietly cupped his fist to them.

“Thank you for your aid, seniors.”

A few nodded. Even with the masks on, their wide-open eyes made their feelings plain.

Satisfaction; pride; and expectation.

Without quite noticing, Unhwi’s way was winning their favor—and Hwa Munyeom was not unaware of it.

After a brief look at Hwa Munyeom, Unhwi set off.

Today he had cut the cord between the Nine-Gate Assembly and Un’guk.

Now it was time to move to the next.

***

The price of a choice had to be harsh.

An Wigwan was dead; Unhwi had rebuilt a new relationship with the court of Un’guk; and once more he had proved himself.

And there was one man who had not yet paid the price of his choice.

Hwa Munyeom.

He was face to face with a man, alone.

“Why did you make that choice, Vice Lord.”

“…”

“You were doing so well—then suddenly, you break hard. Let’s be frank. Do you have a problem with Mukse Society?”

“I do not.”

“Then why did you do it.”

Hwa Munyeom lifted his head. The man wore a mask, but Hwa Munyeom knew what expression lay beneath.

He did not even need to think.

The man was smiling.

“Do you think I made the wrong call?”

“Before wrong or right, I’m asking why you moved on your own without the Master’s leave. I am the one asking.”

“Moved on my own…? Me?”

“Why? Weren’t you?”

“The board was laid by the Master. I did as much as I ought within that board. You’re not here to assign blame after the fact—what is your intent?”

The masked man said nothing for a time.

Then burst into loud laughter.

“Ahahahahaha.”

“I was teasing a little, but you took it too seriously. Intent? Nothing much.”

He leaned his head in.

“What do you think? A war between Cheonrim and Mukse Society.”

“I think it was something we had to go through at least once.”

“At least once… The winner will take all. I wonder—what does the Preceptor think of this?”

There was not just one intent inside the question.

As befitted an old master of deep experience, Hwa Munyeom took the straight road in reply.

“If the Preceptor opposes it, of course we should obey. But to my knowledge, the Preceptor has said nothing so far.”

“That’s true.”

“Then this direction is the right one, is it not?”

The man let out a short, dry laugh.

“No gaps. Then let me ask just one. Which side do you think will win, Vice Lord?”

Which side…

“The side that is more desperate—and more firm.”

“A sage’s answer. Since when did you have that hobby.”

Scratching his head, the man leaned back in his chair and propped his chin.

“I don’t really know. Whether what the Heavenly Arbiter truly wants is the rebuilding of the Thousand-Year Demon Cult—or the expansion of his own power.”

Hwa Munyeom did not bother to answer.

As he had said: the more desperate, the more firm, will take everything.

That included the Master before his eyes.

“What’s entertaining is that you, Vice Lord, already move like his hands and feet. Seems you don’t care for the way Mukse Society used to do things. Right?”

“Do you want an honest answer?”

“Of course. You or I—what’s the point of hiding our hearts here? It’s rare enough we two meet alone.”

Hwa Munyeom nodded and answered in a quiet voice.

“The Mukse Society of old lived up to its name—silence only. But Seol Unhwi said silence is not right.”

“And?”

“I agree—actively. Not just I; most of our members in Mukse Society think so. You know this well. Every one of us is someone who chose seclusion from the martial world.”

“I know. How could I not. I am, nominally, the Master.”

“Our members do not have many years left. They did not join Mukse Society to die after silence alone.”

“You want, in some form, to leave an achievement?”

“If the Heavenly Alliance absorbs Cheonrim and is reborn into a body akin to the Martial Alliance or the Four Heavens Alliance—and if we are the protagonists of that work—then all our members in Mukse Society will be satisfied. At least.”

“At least?”

“Because they did something before they died.”

The man, as if out of words, scratched his jaw.

Every line was true. To deny it would be laughable—and he couldn’t. Seol Unhwi had struck exactly at Mukse Society’s weakness, and used that weakness to make it his own strength.

A truly formidable bastard.

Tsk.

Clicking his tongue lightly, the man said:

“The board has grown truly big—let’s watch it play out. Oh, and—”

Fixing his eyes on the quietly seated Hwa Munyeom, the man went on:

“I was going to mete out punishment, but if even the Preceptor has nothing to say, who am I to punish you? So get up. I’ve said my piece.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep