Chapter 947

I’d known for a long time that danger was coming—danger we might not be able to contain.

I’d watched the enormous blaze called Dark Heaven draw closer with my own eyes.

But there was one thing I hadn’t known.

Another blaze was approaching from behind.

Its heat had begun spreading who knew when, burning through us from deep within, consuming our very organs.

If the newly improved Temporary Strength Pill spreads throughout Murim…

It won’t be a simple blaze anymore.

It’ll be a bomb.

A time bomb that’ll suddenly go off with a bang when the moment comes.

Just as drug addicts in the modern world keep using even when they know it’s destroying their minds and bodies, martial artists won’t be able to stop.

No. They’ll be worse.

Martial artists are lunatics who’ll do anything to get stronger.

Their desire to master martial arts is pure and primal—and that makes it more dangerous than anything else.

All the more so because that desire transcends the values of the orthodox, unorthodox, and demonic paths.

“They’ve… poisoned Murim.”

Jeok Cheongang’s grim murmur cut straight to the heart of our situation.

Poison.

He was right. This was poison.

The deadly poison of desire, which even the Myriad-Poison Ring couldn’t cure.

And among those present, only one person had yet to grasp that: a bumpkin mountain bandit.

“P-Poison? What do you mean by that, sir?”

Jang Il looked thoroughly confused.

But no one answered him.

“You there. Your ears working?”

At Jeok Cheongang’s abrupt question, the Namgung Family martial artists guiding us stiffened and replied.

“Of course, Great Hero Jeok.”

“The Family Head told us to treat you as we would him. Give us your orders whenever you like.”

“Orders, you say? Glad to hear it.”

Jeok Cheongang nodded, then gave me a look.

There was a reason I’d spoken about something so important out loud even with Jang Il here.

It was because of them.

We need to get the word out as soon as possible.

The unconscious bandit chief, who should be bound and on his way to the Namgung Family by now, was the key to this whole affair.

He’d already lost half his mind, so there was little chance he’d be sane when he woke. But an interrogation might still yield something important.

“Effective immediately, I’m changing part of your assignment.”

Namgung Cheon had sent four guides with us.

I looked at three of them in turn and gave them their new orders.

“One of you, go to the Namgung Family right now. Another, return to Great Hero Namgung and tell him what we’ve learned. And the last one…”

“To the Anhui provincial government?”

Quick to understand. That made this easier.

I nodded and continued.

“Tell the City Lord directly. He’s to mobilize every soldier he can, tighten security, and investigate everything connected to this.”

Dark Heaven’s improved Temporary Strength Pill had begun circulating months ago. No matter how discreet they’d been, a thorough investigation would turn up traces.

And if the City Lord himself, with at least ten thousand troops under his command, got involved, he could search even the remote places beyond the Namgung Family’s reach.

“I’ll relay your orders. But I’m not sure the City Lord will go that far for us…”

The Namgung Family martial artist let his words trail off. I thought I knew what he was getting at.

The government and Murim had stayed out of each other’s affairs since time immemorial.

The Emperor had declared war on Dark Heaven, but he’d done so by backing the Murim Alliance. This was a cooperative arrangement.

The City Lord, a servant of the Great Nation to his very bones, wouldn’t be pleased to hear this before he even understood what was really going on.

Especially when it came from martial artists. Officials and martial artists had spent years barely acknowledging each other, and this was an order in all but name.

“That’s true. He might not.”

The Namgung Family martial artist hesitated at my mutter, then shook his head.

“No. Don’t worry. Even if the City Lord objects, the Family Head can make a strong request in the Namgung Family’s name—”

“Well, there’s no need to go that far.”

“Pardon?”

“Do you have any paper? Oh, never mind. This’ll do.”

Riiip.

Leaving the Namgung Family martial artist blinking in confusion, I spread the strip of cloth I’d just torn off against the horse’s head.

At the same time, I gave a silent command.

Open Inventory. Summon.

Ding.

Along with a clear chime, a cool sensation reached the hand I’d been feeling around inside my robe with, just to keep up appearances.

“What’s that…?”

“Just a moment.”

The Namgung Family martial artist stared at the object in my hand. I ignored his questioning look and poured Scorching Yang Qi into it.

Hummm.

With a faint tremor, the ornately decorated silver plaque grew red-hot. So did the characters painstakingly engraved into it, no doubt by a renowned imperial artisan.

Ssssss.

The heated silver plaque met the dark blue silk.

After a few seconds of breathing in acrid smoke, I lifted it away. A blackened design and characters marked the torn strip of cloth.

Great Marquis of Shangshan.

“It’s a little messy, but they’ll be able to make it out, right?”

“……!”

“……!”

Silence fell.

The sound of hooves filled the space where no one answered. Before I knew it, everyone except Jeok Cheongang and the Bow Saint was staring at me, eyes wide.

“W-What on earth is this?”

“You didn’t know? It’d take too long to explain. Just take this to the City Lord for now, and make sure he knows it’s an order, not a request.”

The Namgung Family martial artists were still gaping at me.

“If he acts offended even after seeing it, tell him this. Word for word.”

“W-What should we tell him?”

I answered the trembling question without hesitation.

It was a rule that held true in Murim, the modern world, and even a fantasy world crawling with nest-building dragons.

“If I say do it, you do it.”

“……!”

What rank did a City Lord hold in the official hierarchy?

The question briefly crossed my mind, but I knew one thing for certain. Now that I’d formally joined the ranks of the marquises, he was several rungs below me.

“Oh, one more thing. The reinforcements will arrive within a day or two at the latest.”

The mouths that had hung open moments ago clamped shut.

One of the silent Namgung Family martial artists forced out his voice.

“R-Reinforcements?”

“People from the Murim Alliance’s Fire Dragon Pavilion. And a thousand Embroidered Uniform Guards.”

“……!”

“Stick close to the City Lord and keep an eye on him. If he seems really suspicious, tell them they can take his head.”

Anhui was close enough to the imperial capital that you could almost get there in a hop, skip, and a jump. The City Lord would have to be insane to harbor any other intentions. But that wasn’t proof Dark Heaven hadn’t gotten its claws into him.

“Is… is that really allowed?”

I answered the dazed question calmly.

“It is. I can.”

We were at war. Besides holding the exalted title of marquis, I was a Thousand Captain in the Embroidered Uniform Guard, which answered directly to the imperial household.

Unless he belonged to the imperial family—no, even if he did—I had more than enough authority to punish him.

And all of that authority and prestige came from the Emperor.

The Son of Heaven put a sword in my hand himself. I’d better swing it without hesitation.

I hadn’t accepted this sword to enjoy riches and glory or to look impressive.

I’d been given a sword and a title to cut down the enemies in my path and protect my people.

If reaching that goal meant dancing with a sword until I collapsed, I could do that.

“Now, let’s split up.”

At my abrupt words, the Namgung Family martial artists finally came to their senses. They’d been staring at me blankly even as their saddles jolted beneath them.

“We obey!”

Thud-thud-thud!

With a fervent shout that sounded like they’d forgotten who they worked for, three of them wheeled their horses around and galloped toward their respective destinations.

That left one guide to lead us to the border between Anhui and Henan—and someone we’d all forgotten about for a moment.

“I-I obey!”

“……?”

The belated reply came from behind me.

I turned and met Jang Il’s eyes. The bandit wore a look of entirely unnecessary determination.

“For the sake of the realm, I’ll do everything in my power to help—”

“Get off. Unless you want to die.”

“Yes, sir.”

Anyone who’d lived through war even once knew.

The air around them. The wind. The sunlight. The people.

Everything was different from usual.

An inexplicably heavy, ominous darkness rippled through the world.

Perhaps that was why the old man couldn’t relax, even after waking from his first long, deep sleep in ages.

“Damn, the weather’s shitty today.”

Anyone who heard him mutter that would have scoffed and called the old man senile.

The sky beyond the lattice window was blue, and strong sunlight poured through the few scattered clouds.

But if that person were a martial artist—or simply lived in Hebei—they wouldn’t dare meet his eyes.

The old man scowling out the window was as renowned throughout the realm as he was enormous: a towering figure, and a living legend.

“Is nobody there?”

Even a beast’s quietest roar could make its surroundings tremble. The old man’s voice rattled the pavilion, and those nearby responded in an instant.

“Have you woken, sir?”

At the deep voice outside the door, the old man gulped down cold water and wiped his mouth.

“Where’s Cheolyeong, that bastard?”

“The Family Head is in the Inner Hall, attending a meeting.”

“A meeting?”

“Yes. It began two shichen¹ ago.”

“Have they all gone mad? And nobody woke me?”

At the old man’s growl, the person outside the door caught their breath, then answered carefully.

“W-Well…”

“Got an excuse?”

“You said you’d rearrange our five viscera and six bowels² if we woke you while you were sleeping soundly.”

“Oh.”

The old man scratched the back of his head.

Now that he thought about it, he had said that.

He hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and it had put him on edge. Then he’d finally fallen into a deep sleep and forgotten all about it.

“Damn it. I finally got a good long sleep, so I guess something must’ve happened.”

Clicking his tongue softly, the old man got up.

He knew what kind of men his eldest son, the current head of the family, and the senior members under him were.

If men with nothing but muscle between their ears had been sitting on their asses for two shichen¹, it had to be serious.

“Go to the Inner Hall. Tell them this old man is coming.”

The eyes of the towering old man—Peng Cheolhu, the Thunderbolt Saber King—grew deep and grave.