The spring sunlight was less warm than it was stinging.
At least, that was how Murong Lin and Pyeong-u Jong felt. The very air they breathed made them nauseous, and the helplessness weighing down on their hearts only made them sink deeper into gloom.
Baek Unhoe looked at their vacant expressions and spoke calmly.
"First, deliver this message to the Grand Commander. Tell Jegalcheon: I, the Heavenly Demon Sword, am truly delighted that you are the Grand Commander of the Martial Alliance."
The unexpected words made Murong Lin frown in confusion.
"What do you mean by that?"
"To the Grand Commander, who is more focused on preserving his seat and balancing the powers of the righteous sects than anything else—I offer my applause. Tell him to guard that seat well until the day I come to claim his head."
Murong Lin and Pyeong-u Jong widened their eyes in disbelief.
They thought to refute him, but Baek Unhoe's voice cut them off before they could speak.
"And now, it is time to deliver words to the Scholar of the Martial World. Ryu Yeong—if you still remember my offer, that I would give you everything in this world if only you stood beneath me…"
He trailed off, tilted his head slightly, and gazed up at Mount Cheongseong with a strange smile.
Watching, Murong Lin and Pyeong-u Jong swallowed unconsciously. Did the Heavenly Demon Sword really make such an offer to Ryu Yeong? And was it true that he refused?
They suddenly realized how little they knew about Ryu Yeong. They had only ever heard endless tales of the ferocious battles he fought, never of the words exchanged between him and the Heavenly Demon Sword.
That was natural, for the only one who had overheard their conversation was Dokgo Seol.
Baek Unhoe lowered his head again, glancing between Murong Lin and Pyeong-u Jong before continuing.
"I will amend my proposal. It will not be a seat beneath me, the position of one below none but above all. No—you will not stand beneath me, but at my side, as my equal."
"...!"
"Ryu Yeong, if you still refuse, then at least step onto the stage openly. Cast aside the privileges of the righteous sects, drunk on power games like the Grand Commander. Stand before me. I want to cross blades with you, for the fate of the world itself. That is my true desire."
Baek Unhoe's voice grew heated.
Meanwhile, the two listeners felt such an intense chill that even breathing became difficult. It was as though they were helpless puppies caught between an unapproachable dragon and tiger.
"The swords of Cheongseong are withered weeds, the poisons of the Tang clan are but dust. The Grand Commander's stratagems are always pathetic, and the masters of the righteous sects are nothing but old men clinging to their nests, waiting for death. The so-called rising stars of the central plains, ignorant of true battlefields, are nothing but frogs in a well. None of this stirs my blood."
"..."
"Only you, Ryu Yeong, have the right to face me. Only you ignite my heart. If you refuse to come forth, I will burn the entire martial world of the central plains to ash—as I burn Cheongseong today. So rise as high as you can within the righteous sects. And… meet me again on the battlefield."
Baek Unhoe's words came to an end. Yet Murong Lin and Pyeong-u Jong, their minds blank, could only stare at him.
He stepped forward.
Step, step.
He walked between the two, who stood in the middle of the road.
An overwhelming aura surged from his body, suffocating in its force. Murong Lin and Pyeong-u Jong bit their lips and glared at the approaching Heavenly Demon Sword.
The distance closed swiftly, and the aura he exuded only grew more intense.
"Ugh…"
Murong Lin's upright stance faltered. Pyeong-u Jong hurriedly caught her and stepped aside.
A faint smirk tugged at Baek Unhoe's lips. Pyeong-u Jong trembled with humiliation, his sword quivering in his grip as he glared at him.
"Heavenly Demon Sword. I will ask only two questions. If you refuse to answer, then I will forsake your errand and choose an honorable death instead."
A flicker of intrigue crossed Baek Unhoe's eyes. He sensed the resolve in Pyeong-u Jong's voice and expression. After briefly meeting his gaze, he replied,
"Even when I spare you, you still defy me. Righteous sects are ever the same… Very well. Ask."
Suppressing his rising fury, Pyeong-u Jong asked,
"An errand boy like Bingbong is enough to deliver your message. Why spare me as well? You could just as easily kill me and let Bingbong live. Why leave both of us alive?"
Baek Unhoe clasped his hands behind his back and answered with ease.
"The second question?"
"The words you ask us to deliver contradict each other. To the Grand Commander, you say to hold his seat. To the Scholar, you say to surpass him and… ah!"
In the middle of speaking, Pyeong-u Jong gasped. His eyes widened, his head nodding in sudden realization.
"You're sowing division. You want the Grand Commander to keep Ryu Yeong in check."
Power, by its nature, can never be shared. The Grand Commander would never willingly cede authority to Ryu Yeong.
Of course, if Ryu Yeong agreed to stand beneath him, the problem could be resolved. But would he really choose that path? A man who had already refused the Heavenly Demon Sword's audacious offer?
Doubtful. If it were that simple, the cunning Heavenly Demon Sword would never have bothered to speak of it.
And Pyeong-u Jong's judgment was correct.
Baek Unhoe saw the Grand Commander and Ryu Yeong as irreconcilable foes.
From their brief exchange, he had discerned much: Ryu Yeong's discontent with entrenched powers, his desire to reform. With strength, Ryu Yeong would inevitably attempt such reform.
Those in power have always feared rivals within more than enemies without.
This is what one calls reverse selection.
Countless geniuses fall at the hands of mediocrities, truth-speakers are trampled by liars, and idealists dreaming of reform are purged by the entrenched elite. Such is history's bitter reality.
Pyeong-u Jong shuddered at the depth of the Heavenly Demon Sword's foresight.
He was deliberately maneuvering events so that the righteous sects themselves would eliminate or expel the Scholar. The problem was—knowing this offered no way to prevent it.
Seeing Pyeong-u Jong's changing expression, Baek Unhoe smiled faintly.
"Not bad. Then, shall I answer your first question? Why spare both you and Bingbong? It is simple."
"And why is that?"
"Because having a half-baked genius like Bingbong as the Alliance's Vice Commander is a blessing for me. If that foolish prodigy continues to serve in that role, my victories will only multiply."
"...!"
Pyeong-u Jong's eyes widened in shock.
Truly, the Heavenly Demon Sword's insane confidence was unbearable. Yet at the same time, he wondered—was it really just arrogance, or was there another hidden intent?
If there was a deeper motive, what could it be?
Pyeong-u Jong cast a worried glance at Murong Lin.
Her neck and face were flushed red with humiliation. Grinding her teeth, she spat,
"That can't be your only reason. What you want is for me to stand with the Grand Commander against the Scholar—or else to try to recruit him myself. Either way, you expect us to fracture."
Baek Unhoe smiled with satisfaction. As though to say that for Bingbong, at least that much insight was only natural.
He gave her no reply, turning instead to Pyeong-u Jong.
"Haweol, the reason I spared you is this…"
"...?"
"If Bingbong were alone, she might never deliver my message. If caught between impossible choices, she might simply hide."
At his words, Murong Lin's eyes wavered. For in truth, she had been thinking the same thing—that perhaps doing nothing at all to avoid sowing division was the wisest choice.
Pyeong-u Jong furrowed his brows and replied gravely.
"I could just as easily keep my mouth shut."
Baek Unhoe released his hands from behind his back and waved lightly.
"No. You'll speak. Because you're not a strategist—you're a warrior."
"What on earth do you mean by that?"
"Because you fear me. Your eyes are telling me so."
"That's not true!"
Baek Unhoe fixed his piercing gaze on Pyeong-u Jong, who vehemently denied it. Their eyes clashed in the air as if sparks might fly. Yet in the end, unable to withstand Baek Unhoe's burning gaze, Pyeong-u Jong turned his head slightly to avoid it.
Cold sweat trickled down from his temples. Baek Unhoe smiled faintly.
"Haweol, you're going to meet the Scholar of the Martial World I praised so highly. And once you see his true worth, you'll do everything you can to push him to the forefront—for the sake of protecting the righteous sects. After all, among them is the Hebei Pyeong Clan you love so dearly."
"I—I have no such intention."
"Well, I think I'm right. With the Dokgo clan of the Eight Great Families and the Hebei Pyeong Clan supporting Ryu Yeong, he'll gain great strength. I'll be looking forward to it."
The stronger Ryu Yeong became, the harder the Grand Commander would clamp down on him. That was how Baek Unhoe intended to see the righteous sects divide.
"I won't help the Scholar. I'll act according to Bingbong's words."
"Then that means the rumors about Haweol's character were wrong, and that my judgment after meeting you was mistaken. But I won't stop you if you want to become a pathetic wretch hiding under a woman's skirts. My sword would be wasted on such a man anyway—so I'll let you live. Hahaha."
Baek Unhoe shrugged and stepped forward. Though he moved slowly, his figure stretched further and further ahead.
Murong Lin and Pyeong-u Jong watched blankly as the Heavenly Demon Sword ascended Mount Cheongseong.
They already sensed the truth.
They would be forced to act as his messengers, and sooner or later, they would have to choose between the Grand Commander and the Scholar.
Whichever side they chose, the Heavenly Demon Sword's plan would succeed.
Baek Unhoe soon disappeared from view. But the man and woman left behind stood frozen in place, staring at the empty mountain path he had taken.
Tap, tap, tap.
Pyeong-u Jong lowered his head at the sound of something dripping—and his eyes widened.
Murong Lin.
Her nails had pierced her skin, blood dripping from her clenched fists.
"Bingbong!"
Murong Lin closed her eyes, seething with resentment. Her whole body trembled. Then she opened her eyes again and said,
"We must go. There's no time."
Pyeong-u Jong answered with pity in his eyes.
"The Cheongseong Sect… it's already too late. And there's no nearby ally we can call for reinforcements."
Murong Lin shook her head.
"No. Not the Cheongseong Sect—the Tang clan."
"What?"
"Didn't you hear what the Heavenly Demon Sword said? The swords of Cheongseong are withered weeds, the Tang clan's poison is but dust."
Pyeong-u Jong's face hardened like stone.
"Which means…"
Murong Lin nodded grimly.
"The Scholar was right. The Heavenly Demon Sword intends to wipe out Cheongseong and the Tang clan before the Mount Song faction arrives."
"But the Tang clan is strong—"
Murong Lin cut him off with a fierce shake of her head.
"It's because of that arrogance that we're in this mess!"
She stepped forward, then broke into a run, muttering under her breath.
"What was it the Scholar said again? Ah—fortify defenses… and what else? Right, don't fight outside the gates. So the advice to the Cheongseong Sect was… the same advice…"
Suddenly Murong Lin froze mid-stride. Her face went pale. Pyeong-u Jong, running behind her, asked in confusion,
"What is it?"
"It was the same advice as to the Cheongseong Sect."
"What?"
"The Scholar gave the Tang clan the same warning he gave the Cheongseong Sect."
Pyeong-u Jong looked as if it were nothing special, but then realization rippled through his eyes.
"Which means… the Tang clan may also have been infiltrated by demonic spies, just like the Cheongseong Sect?"
Murong Lin clutched her head with both hands, shaking. It was unlike her usual composed self, but Pyeong-u Jong had no time to be surprised.
She answered in a despairing tone.
"Yes. If… if the Tang clan also has demonic infiltrators like Cheongseong did…"
Pyeong-u Jong shivered, a chill running down his spine.
"They'll be targeting the Formless Poison."
"If they lose the Formless Poison… the Tang clan will be nothing more than an ordinary—no, a pitifully weak—sect."
She was right.
The Formless Poison was dreaded by all, from masters to common disciples alike. An antidote existed only within the Tang clan's leadership. Known as the King of Poisons—the Formless Poison.
Yet this one overwhelming strength was also the Tang clan's fatal weakness.
A double-edged sword.
With such a terrifying poison that sent enemies fleeing at a whiff, the clan had grown lax in martial training and secret arts.
As proof, among all the sects of the world that feared the Tang clan, only its head, the Poison Hand, was a true master.
The Heavenly Demon Sword's metaphor of the stone tower—
The fastest way to topple it was to remove the great stone at its base, and the rest would crumble on its own.
And that foundational stone was the Formless Poison.
Pyeong-u Jong grew uneasy.
If the Tang clan fell, the martial world of Sichuan would be finished. And if the demonic cult turned Sichuan into its bridgehead, then the central plains would be as vulnerable as an unbarred storeroom.
The righteous sects would be forced to live in fear, never knowing when the invasion would strike. It was worlds apart from when the cult lingered far away in Xinjiang.
Murong Lin and Pyeong-u Jong turned to look back at Mount Cheongseong, their faces stiff.
The Heavenly Demon Sword…
He was terrifying beyond words.