Chapter 1021

The truth was, until a little while ago, I hadn’t planned to go this far.

The rule that officials and martial artists didn’t interfere with each other hadn’t come from nowhere. In a world where the two sides barely spared each other a glance, flaunting either side’s authority would only breed resentment.

But authority could be remarkably effective when used at the right moment.

Like now.

“Marquis of Shangshan…”

A low groan slipped from someone’s lips, breaking the brief silence.

In the heavy, sunken atmosphere, Sima Gong stared wide-eyed at the identity tablet in my hand. It was then that he spoke.

“So it isn’t a request. It’s an order.”

His voice was dry as sand. His gaze, gone cold, shifted to my face.

“How interesting. Truly interesting.”

The corners of his mouth were stiff despite his words. I scratched the back of my head.

“I’m glad you find it interesting, but I’d rather hear your answer than your opinion. As you know, every fifteen minutes feels like three autumns right now.”

“Am I to understand that you meant every word you said a moment ago?”

“Oh? You still didn’t understand? Strange. I thought I’d made myself clear.”

“……!”

“Well, if you insist, I’ll say it again. Scrape together every last soldier you’ve got holed up in the Qilian Mountains and bring them to the Great Snow Mountain. Right now. That’s an order from the Marquis of Shangshan.”

Stifled gasps rose among the leaders.

Who was Sima Gong, the Black Night King?

He shared control of Gansu with the Kongtong Sect—or rather, he now held a far stronger position than they did.

It was still speculation, but if this crisis passed and peace returned, the badly battered Kongtong Sect wouldn’t be able to stand against the Black Dragon Demon Gate.

But…

So what?

I calmly surveyed Sima Gong and the other leaders, one by one.

At that moment, they didn’t look like heads of factions bearing the weight of immense responsibility and tens of thousands of lives. They looked like gambling addicts.

Fools fiddling with the tiles in their hands while tens of thousands of lives were wagered on the table.

This was when you used authority.

Even if it brought fierce opposition and discord.

Right then, one of the leaders spoke.

“From what I’ve heard, your words and conduct have been getting more and more out of line.”

I looked over. His face was fairly familiar.

He was the Sect Leader of a mid-sized sect with around two hundred disciples, a man with some influence in Gansu. He’d always stood near Sima Gong whenever the leaders gathered, so I recognized him more readily than the others.

A close associate, you might say.

“I’ll say this much: I agree with Sect Leader Seok.”

“Young Hero Jin—no, Great Hero Jin—we respect the sense of justice you’ve shown us, but surely there are bounds you ought to observe.”

“Although the Great Nation’s imperial court is now standing with us against the great enemy Dark Heaven, that doesn’t mean you should invoke your title as a marquis to strong-arm us like this over Murim’s affairs.”

Birds of a feather flock together; crabs side with crabs. Maybe it was the support of the neighbors, each adding their own word while watching the room. Or maybe it was because Jeok Cheongang stood there with his arms crossed, quietly watching without saying a thing.

Whatever the reason, Sect Leader Seok sounded bolder when he spoke again. Like a loyal dog checking his master’s mood, he stole a glance at the silent Sima Gong.

“You see? Everyone feels the same way. And Sect Leader Sima here gave the matter careful thought before—”

I was almost curious what nonsense he’d come out with next. But patience had never been my strong suit.

“So?”

I cut him off, then added quietly, “Is there a problem?”

The Sect Leader stared at me in silence, as though he’d been struck dumb. Then, his face stiff, he replied,

“And if there is?”

“Put up with it.”

“What… did you just say?”

“Put up with it, even if it feels dirty and unfair. What are you going to do about it, even if it pisses you off? Does a marquis appointed by the Son of Heaven—no, by His August Majesty the Emperor himself—look like jack shit to you?”

“T-that’s not what I meant!”

His face went red as he shouted. I couldn’t help laughing.

“Or we can set our titles aside and fight it out. I won’t tell His Majesty. We’ve only just joined hands with the Murim Alliance, and it’d be bad for both sides if something happened now. Right? Don’t you think?”

My words were directed at the Sect Leader in front of me. My gaze wasn’t.

Sima Gong met my eyes, and he wasn’t stupid enough to miss the point.

“Those are memorable words.”

The moment he spoke, the room fell deathly silent.

At last, Sima Gong spoke, looking at me with an expression I couldn’t read.

“You’re right. I, too, am a subject of the Great Nation. I should obey an order from a marquis appointed by His Majesty.”

“……!”

“……!”

Eyes shifted uneasily around the room. They probably hadn’t expected Sima Gong to concede so readily.

I’d more or less expected it.

“May I take that to mean you’ll do as I ask?”

“You may. This time, I’ll yield.”

“So there won’t be a second time.”

“What can I do? I have my pride, which I must uphold even if it kills me, and my own judgment. I trust you and the Senior over there will understand that much.”

Sima Gong was even wearing a faint smile now. My gaze darkened.

What the hell is this guy?

He was definitely hiding something, but I couldn’t tell what it was. No—he wasn’t giving me the slightest opening to catch a glimpse.

I came on strong on purpose, and he barely reacted.

I hadn’t invoked the authority of a marquis and tried to force him into line simply because the situation was urgent.

Even a boulder weighing ten thousand geun¹ would shake when struck. I’d hoped his reaction would tell me what he was thinking—and how many of the leaders here were with him.

I’d learned a little about the latter. With Sima Gong, I’d failed spectacularly.

And until I knew what he was hiding, Sima Gong and I were allies under the same banner.

“As you said, every fifteen minutes feels like three autumns right now. Is there anything else you need to say?”

I was silent for a moment. His gaze met mine across the space between us, but I could read nothing in it.

“No.”

“Good. Then I’ll send someone at once to bring in every force in the Qilian Mountains. Does Zhongnan agree?”

The Wind-and-Cloud Sword Lord had been looking back and forth between us in confusion. He spoke at last.

“If the Great Snow Mountain falls, Gansu will be hanging by a thread. I see no reason to disagree.”

“Then it’s settled. Family Heads, Sect Leaders—inform your martial artists and see that they’re fully prepared. We must reach the Great Snow Mountain ahead of the enemy, within half a day at the latest.”

The leaders of Gansu’s Murim exchanged wary glances, then performed the clasped-fist salute. Sima Gong was hurrying back to his saddle when he suddenly stopped.

As though he’d forgotten something, he let out a quiet “Ah” and turned toward me.

“Could I ask one favor?”

“What favor?”

“I’d like to entrust my son to you again. The one I borrowed for a while. What do you say?”

My eyes widened. Sima Gong gave a hearty laugh and continued.

“I was glad to see a blood relative I hadn’t seen in a long time, so I kept him by my side for a few days. But in wartime, we must strictly separate public duty from private affairs. He’s a member of the Fire Dragon Pavilion before he’s the Young Sect Leader of the Black Dragon Demon Gate. Isn’t that right?”

Sama Pyo hesitated, then answered flatly.

“……That’s right.”

What was Sima Gong up to?

Truthfully, I already had a good idea of Sima Gong’s intentions. But I couldn’t let that show—not in a situation like this.

I nodded, keeping my expression and tone as calm as I could.

“Of course. I’ve been waiting for him to come back.”

“Glad to hear it. I’ll take that as a yes and send him to the rear shortly. With no telling what might happen next, a father and son ought to have a chance to say goodbye.”

At Sima Gong’s faint smile, I found myself newly certain of the suspicion I didn’t want to believe.

Before he was a member of the Fire Dragon Pavilion, Sama Pyo was Sima Gong’s son and the Young Sect Leader of the Black Dragon Demon Gate.

From now on, he’d be with us not as a comrade, but as a spy.

Damn it.

I gave a deep clasped-fist salute and turned away to hide the look on my face.

Thud, thud, thud, thud!

The five thousand men and horses surged forward at full speed the moment they set out.

The ground shook as though an earthquake had struck. A cloud of dust rose amid the thunder of hooves, thick enough to hide them from any prying eyes.

“Do you know why I want you to stay by Jin Taekyung’s side?”

Sima Gong studied his son’s face as he asked. Sama Pyo’s voice didn’t waver.

“What do you want me to do?”

“What you suspect. Watch their every move.”

“A difficult task.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I mustn’t draw needless suspicion.”

Sama Pyo had already accepted the order. Sima Gong smiled inwardly, satisfied.

No questions. No doubts.

That was exactly the way he wanted his son to be—and the way he’d wanted him to be again.

“Aren’t you curious why I’m giving you this order?”

“I’ll simply obey. It must be for the good of our sect.”

At his son’s unhesitating answer, a faint smile touched Sima Gong’s lips.

“Yes. It’s all for the resurgence of our family and the Black Dragon Demon Gate. Before long, it will all be yours. You’ll be the undisputed ruler of Gansu then, and you may even expand into the Central Plains.”

“You mean…”

His son let the words trail off. Sima Gong gave a small nod.

“There can’t be two tigers on one mountain.”

“……!”

“Things didn’t go as we first expected, but that changes nothing. Whatever stands in our way, we’ll get what we want.”

As always.

The words he added quietly were swallowed by the wind. His son watched his father’s eyes gleam with ambition, then turned his horse with a respectful clasped-fist salute.

There was no tender father-son farewell of the kind Sima Gong had spoken of to Jin Taekyung.

As always.