It was just past noon.

Hanan was always crowded, but today, it felt especially packed. The inns were full to bursting, with people dragging in extra chairs to make any sort of seating possible. Even the attendants were busier than usual.

“Another bamboo leaf tea here!” “Yes! Coming right up!”

The clamor of voices filled the air, only heightened by the larger-than-normal crowd. Despite the congestion, there was something unusual: a clear path had been made amidst the throng.

It felt like even more people had gathered because of this pathway, likely intended for people or carriages to pass through. Onlookers lined the route, making sure not to step over the boundaries that had been set.

The reason for this peculiar yet orderly preparation was clear enough.

“They’re here… They’ve arrived!”

At someone’s shout, the bustling noise fell silent. Everyone’s gaze turned towards the road leading to the Murim Alliance, focusing on the entrance as they spotted figures approaching.

Thud.

From a distance, several people were walking over. It wasn’t just one or two; a whole group had gathered, moving together in formation.

They all wore similar martial uniforms with swords at their waists.

“It’s the Wudang Sect...!”

The group that had appeared was none other than members of the Wudang Sect, one of the Nine Great Schools. They had traveled all the way from Hubei for today’s Jeongpa Gathering. At the forefront of this group was a particular figure.

“The Sword Immortal of Wudang…!”

Dressed in the traditional garb of the Wudang Sect, the elderly man with long, neatly tied white hair cut a striking figure. His sharp eyes and the faint aura of Daoist energy he exuded marked him as an exceptional martial artist.

He was known for his mastery of the sword and was frequently counted among the Five Great Sword Masters of the world.

The Sword Immortal, followed by the Wudang martial artists, was guided by Alliance members who had been waiting at the entrance, leading them into the Murim Alliance building.

Though it didn’t take long for the Wudang group to enter, people enjoyed the sight. It’s rare to see a top master from the Wudang Sect in person. And it wasn’t just the Sword Immortal; there were many more martial artists yet to come down that road.

That was why so many people were watching from the streets today.

The Jeongpa Gathering meant a congregation of prominent figures, and seeing them up close was a unique opportunity.

Watching from a distance, I couldn’t help but make a face.

“They could’ve just taken a carriage, but they’re clearly putting on a show.”

It puzzled me. Wudang certainly wasn’t short on money. So why the need to walk in like this?

With all these people watching, it seemed the martial artists headed to the Alliance were deliberately taking their time, parading for the crowd.

Maybe it was an unspoken agreement, a performance for the gathered spectators?

‘What a farce.’

The whole situation struck me as laughable. If this were some martial arts tournament or a festival, I’d understand. Those are meant to be enjoyed, after all.

‘But for a gathering like this?’

The Jeongpa Gathering was supposed to determine the future plans and actions of the Murim Alliance. Putting on a show for something like that seemed absurd.

Perhaps they were trying to win public favor, but that wasn’t my concern.

‘No wonder they insisted I enter through the main gate too.’

In hindsight, it was wise to avoid that route. Had I taken it, I’d have been just as much of a spectacle as the Sword Immortal.

‘Although, some might not even recognize me.’

Then again, considering my name is probably the most mentioned among martial artists here in Hanan, that’s doubtful.

Suppressing my irritation, I turned to the person next to me, who was trembling uncontrollably.

“Hey, friend. Could you stop shaking? You’re gonna bring the whole roof down.”

“H-huh… I… uh…”

Was that supposed to be a response? I sighed at his pitiful state. The one trembling like he was about to drop dead was none other than Cheol Jiseon.

Surprisingly, Cheol Jiseon was listed among the later-generation participants of the Jeongpa Gathering. It was strange since Namgung Bi-ah and Dang Soyeol weren’t invited, yet Cheol Jiseon was.

“You’ve been like this since yesterday, haven’t you?”

“N-no… Not really?”

“Not really? Do you remember how you were trembling while eating?”

“…”

Cheol Jiseon’s eyes darted around nervously, clearly indicating how tense he was. Taking him to the Murim Alliance felt like a disaster waiting to happen.

‘It would’ve been better to bring Pae Ucheol or Gu Jeolyeop.’

Those two could probably handle situations like this better.

“Sigh.”

My head was pounding. As I ran my hand through my hair, another cheer erupted from below.

“The Tang Clan…!”

There had been cheers since the Wudang Sect arrived, but this time it was louder.

Of course, this time, the person at the front was the head of one of the Four Great Families.

Naturally, my gaze shifted to the street.

The familiar uniforms of the Tang Clan, like those Dang Soyeol often wore, were lined up as they made their entrance.

The difference between sects and families was noticeable here. While Wudang, as Daoists, didn’t bother with much ornamentation, the Tang Clan, with its reputation as the Iron Family supplying weapons to various martial clans and armies, clearly spared no expense in flaunting their wealth.

Seeing them, I realized that Dang Soyeol dressed quite plainly in comparison.

‘That man.’

At the front, a middle-aged man in a deep green silk robe was leading the way. He exuded a sharp, almost acrid presence, enough to make one’s tongue tingle just by looking at him.

‘The Poison King, Tang Cheongi.’

The head of the Tang Clan, and currently the pinnacle of poison techniques. At least until Dang Soyeol achieved immunity to all poisons and earned the title of “Poison Rain.”

‘He looks gentle.’

For someone from the Tang Clan, known for their poisons and ties to the underworld, Tang Cheongi had a surprisingly gentle face.

He was also shorter than most martial artists, even shorter than me. Considering I’m quite small myself, that makes the Poison King truly diminutive.

‘Maybe I didn’t get a good look last time.’

The last time I was at the Tang clan’s military exhibition was a few years ago. I must’ve been too busy to face him back then.

Thinking about it made me chuckle.

‘What a reckless fool I was.’

A scion of a noble family goes to visit one of the Four Great Families and doesn’t even bother to meet the family head. I must’ve been crazy back then.

‘It’s a miracle my father didn’t get mad.’

My trip to the Sichuan area was a mess, and I certainly wasn’t sent there to just pick up some random encounters. Looking back, it’s amazing that I managed to pull that off.

As I mulled over the past, Cheol Jiseon, with a voice filled with tremor, called out to me.

“Y-Yangcheon…”

“What?”

“Are we just gonna stay here?”

“Why not? It’s pretty entertaining. You don’t like it?”

“I… I feel like I’m gonna puke.”

“…”

I shot him a glare, and he flinched.

“N-no, it’s fine. I can keep watching.”

“Don’t be such a coward; that’s not why I’m annoyed.”

Cheol Jiseon was right that there wasn’t much point in watching.

‘I wonder who else will show up.’

So far, the sects participating in the Gathering from the Nine Great Schools were announced to be the Kunlun Sect, Wudang Sect, Shaolin Temple, and the Beggars’ Sect.

The other sects had declared they wouldn’t attend.

‘I wonder why.’

It struck me as odd. This was a Gathering, so it wouldn’t be strange for everyone to attend.

What’s more, with Yeongpung and Geomhu here, I was particularly surprised that the Mount Hua Sect wouldn’t attend.

“Hm…”

The questions piled up. But these weren’t things I’d solve by pondering, so I stood up and said to Cheol Jiseon, “Let’s go.”

“Huh? Are we really going?”

“Yes, it’d look bad for us juniors to be late.”

“R-right.”

Considering how much people cared about formalities, it would indeed be bad for us not to attend while all these prominent figures were making their entrances.

‘I still don’t like it.’

It wasn’t just that. I’d likely have to face Baekcheongeomju again.

That thought gnawed at me, but there was no avoiding it. I bit my lip, leaped off the building, and landed lightly on the ground below.

Then—

From the roof, Cheol Jiseon stared down, stunned by my sudden disappearance.

“What about me…?”

His voice, filled with surprise, was understandable.

After all, it was I who had brought him up to the roof, and he certainly didn’t have the ability to climb down alone.

   ******************
   

Inside the waiting room prepared within the Murim Alliance headquarters, an oppressive weight filled the air.

It wasn’t due to the room’s appearance, but rather the heavy aura exuded by those gathered within it. This was a space designated for the heads of the great families, and naturally, the individuals here were the esteemed leaders of those renowned families.

Seated near the head of the table was a man of relatively slight build, calmly sipping his tea. This was none other than Tang Cheongi, the Poison King, head of the Tang Clan.

The other family heads around him were visibly tense with every movement he made, as befitted the stature of a leader from one of the Four Great Families in Zhongyuan. Tang Cheongi, well aware of this, simply sat quietly, savoring his tea.

Just as he took a sip, the door suddenly opened.

Bang!

The sound of the door slamming open was loud and rough.

“Ah, I see I’m quite late.”

In stark contrast to the slight figure of Tang Cheongi, the newcomer was a massive man. Clad in dark martial attire, his face was marked with scars—a bear of a man.

Tang Cheongi sighed inwardly at the sight of him.

He had no desire to speak with this brute, but it would have been childish to ignore him now that they were face-to-face. Tang Cheongi forced a smile and greeted the man.

“It’s been a while, Lord Peng.”

“Good to see you, Lord Tang. How have you been?”

The giant was Peng Zhou, the Blade King and head of the Hebei Peng Family.

“As always, quite well.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

After their brief exchange of pleasantries, which carried a biting edge, Peng Zhou strode over to sit across from Tang Cheongi.

“I heard you arrived yesterday, Lord Tang.”

“That’s correct.”

“Why the early arrival? You traveled far; you could have taken your time.”

The implication was clear: why the rush? Tang Cheongi chuckled as he replied.

“I took a little extra care, as I didn’t want to be late. That’s all.”

In other words, that’s basic courtesy—something you clearly lack.

After a brief pause, they both burst into laughter.

“Hahaha!” “Hahahaha!”

“As always, Lord Tang, you haven’t changed.”

“Nor have you, Lord Peng. Though, I do sense a bit more of that seasoned air about you.”

—So, you’ve barely progressed at all, you fool. —Look in the mirror; your face is melting.

With each veiled jab, the intensity of their auras grew, making the martial artists watching from the sides wonder if a fight might break out. The other family heads present also seemed to be holding their breaths.

Then, the door opened again, and another man entered.

This time, it was Moyong Tae, the Baekcheongeomju.

Unlike the other day, when he’d been dressed in a worn-out robe, today Moyong Tae looked every bit the part of the head of the wealthy Moyong Family. His attire was splendid, the quality unmistakable, with ornate accessories adorning his waist and arms.

Tang Cheongi rose to greet him.

“It’s been a while, Lord Moyong.”

His tone and expression were entirely different from the way he’d addressed Peng Zhou. The Tang Clan had a profitable partnership with the Moyong Family’s merchant businesses, and that relationship was currently going well.

Seeing Tang Cheongi’s warm welcome, Moyong Tae smiled in response.

“It’s good to see you, Lord Tang.”

“Please, have a seat.”

Moyong Tae took a seat without hesitation. Peng Zhou let out a derisive snort at the sight.

“It’s been a while.”

“Good to see you, Lord Peng.”

Despite Moyong Tae’s polite greeting, Peng Zhou’s gaze remained cold.

Moyong Tae, unperturbed, simply offered his greeting, ignoring the hostile look.

Unhappy with this reaction, Peng Zhou frowned and parted his lips.

“Lord Moyong.”

“Yes?”

“I heard you were here as early as seven days ago. Is that true?”

“That’s correct.”

Peng Zhou’s short laugh was clearly mocking.

“What brought you here to Hanan so urgently?”

“My daughter was in danger. As her father, I came immediately. It’s only natural.”

Moyong Tae’s response made Peng Zhou’s eyebrow twitch.

“So, you’re implying the rest of us aren’t good fathers?”

The hostility in Peng Zhou’s tone was unmistakable.

Moyong Tae’s gaze shifted, meeting Peng Zhou’s, and he answered with a calm smile that belied his cold, sharp features.

“That wasn’t my intention, but if that’s how you perceive it…”

The sound of tea being poured into Moyong Tae’s cup echoed unusually loud in the room.

“…Then so be it.”

Peng Zhou’s shoulders tensed, his aura bristling with hostility.

Realizing this could turn into a scene, Tang Cheongi sighed and began to rise, intent on mediating.

But then—

Shaa…

“…!”

Every head in the room turned towards the door as an unfamiliar yet powerful presence filled the air.

Thud… Thud.

The footsteps were unremarkable in volume, yet they echoed loudly, resonating through the room with clarity.

Then—

Creak.

The door slowly opened, and the source of that presence stepped inside.

It felt like a wave of heat washed into the room, almost as if the temperature had suddenly risen.

Peng Zhou’s eyes widened when he saw the newcomer, clearly surprised.

‘Is it really him…?’

He had heard rumors, but it was still astonishing to see this man outside Shanxi and feel the tension radiating from him.

The man, with a fierce gaze, swept his eyes over everyone present.

All the family heads instinctively flinched under his steely look; his eyes were piercingly cold.

After his inspection, he continued walking without a hint of hesitation, heading straight for the area where the Four Great Families were seated.

Despite the notable company present, he walked over as if he owned the place.

Then, without ceremony, he pulled out the chair at the head seat and sat down.

Though the entire scene unfolded in an instant, no one had the presence of mind to utter a single word during that time. The man, as if savoring the silence, looked around before finally breaking it.

“Greetings.”

His voice was deep and resonant.

“I am Gu Cheolwoon.”