Chapter 60
Green Forest (5)
After felling Oh Kyung, Namgung Hyuk turned back to check on Kim Ji-seok and Dangsan.
“Oh.”
Namgung Hyuk couldn’t help but let out a low sound of admiration as he looked around.
Contrary to his worries, the twenty or so members of the Iron Wind Squad had been wiped out before even reaching the building.
Their leader, Yulmok-gi, was on his knees, riddled with arrows all over his body.
“Captain!”
A voice called out from the roof—it was Kim Ji-seok.
Namgung Hyuk landed lightly on the same rooftop.
“Looks like it’s over here too.”
“Yes.”
“And Dangsan?”
“Right here.”
Without a sound, Dangsan appeared behind him and answered calmly.
Namgung Hyuk nodded.
“You both did well.”
The two hadn’t exchanged a single word during the battle, each fighting in their own way.
Yet, their results spoke volumes—the combination of Kim Ji-seok and Dangsan turned out to be surprisingly effective.
They’d annihilated an elite force before their enemies could even raise a hand—Kim Ji-seok striking from a distance with his bow while Dangsan’s poisons prevented any close approach.
As dawn broke and the chaos settled, the bandit stronghold began to clean up the aftermath of the night’s battle.
“Thanks to you, the stronghold still stands.”
Jowoo-chi bowed deeply in gratitude after calling Namgung Hyuk aside.
Namgung Hyuk shook his head.
“This wouldn’t have happened at all if we hadn’t come.”
“No, that’s not true. That bastard didn’t trust me and dragged in the deputy chief. Even if I’d bent the knee to the Grand Chief, I doubt I’d have met a good end.”
Jowoo-chi slapped his knee and looked straight at Namgung Hyuk.
“Now that it’s come to this, I can’t just sit back and take it.”
After killing the deputy of Geo-ung Stronghold and the Iron Wind Squad, there was no longer any chance for Yellow Green Stronghold and Geo-ung Stronghold to reconcile.
Jowoo-chi uncorked a bottle of liquor, gulped deeply, and spoke again.
“From here on, Yellow Green Stronghold will challenge Geo-ung Stronghold for the Chief’s seat under the laws of Green Forest.”
A Ranking Battle.
When Geo-ung Stronghold had risen to first place above Ho-wang Stronghold, it too had done so through such a duel.
Namgung Hyuk’s curiosity was piqued.
“How exactly is this ranking determined?”
“It’s simple—bandit rules. We fight to the death in a designated place within Green Forest, and the victor takes the higher rank.”
Of course, before such a duel could be approved, over half the strongholds in Green Forest had to recognize the challenger’s right to fight.
Jowoo-chi’s voice grew slightly slurred as he lowered his bottle.
“Luckily, I’ve got plenty of strongholds willing to back me. And with your help, I could bring even more over to my side.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“I am. But let me make one thing clear—I’ve no intention of wagging my tail for the orthodox factions or the Martial Alliance.”
“No problem there.”
Namgung Hyuk answered without hesitation.
The higher-ups who’d sanctioned this mission probably hoped to manipulate Green Forest from the shadows, but that was none of his concern.
“And this alliance must remain absolutely secret.”
“That’s fine too. Neither the Martial Alliance nor Green Forest can afford to make it public that we’re cooperating.”
Having received a firm answer, Namgung Hyuk knew the rest would be handled later by the agents following in his wake.
But Jowoo-chi wasn’t done speaking.
“I don’t usually like the orthodox types, but I like you.”
“I can’t say I dislike hearing that.”
“Hah! We think alike, it seems.”
Namgung Hyuk, too, found Jowoo-chi rather likable.
Despite being a bandit, the man was forthright and bold—a refreshing sort to deal with.
“Here!”
Jowoo-chi suddenly held out his bottle of liquor, flashing his yellowed teeth.
“How about we become sworn brothers?”
“Sworn brothers?”
It was a surprising suggestion. The man was more than twenty years older than him.
But Namgung Hyuk didn’t overthink it. He accepted the bottle.
“Looks like I’ve gained an elder brother out of nowhere.”
“Haha! And I’ve gained the youngest brother I’ve ever had.”
Seeing Namgung Hyuk drink straight from the bottle, Jowoo-chi threw back his head and laughed heartily.
At that very moment, while Namgung Hyuk was resolving matters in Green Forest, an unexpected incident took place in Pingyin, Shandong Province.
There, the Myeongwang Sect, a demonic faction, had been completely annihilated.
The perpetrators were the Baekmu Sect, another local group from the same region.
The reason for the slaughter was, quite frankly, absurd.
“They say it was to avenge a grudge more than thirty years old.”
Zhegal Hyo muttered in disbelief as he read the report.
Long ago, there had indeed been conflict between the two sects, during which the former Baekmu Sect leader had died.
But now, with the revival of the Demonic Alliance, the powerful Myeongwang Sect had grown into a threat in the area.
So the Baekmu Sect had used that old grudge as an excuse, rallying nearby sects to wipe them out completely.
“How could they be so reckless…”
Zhegal Hyo sighed heavily.
He knew all too well that the Demonic Alliance was already reorganizing its forces and preparing for open war.
Yet they still lacked a proper justification for it.
Hadn’t they already engineered the conflicts between the Nine Dragons Gang and the Yusin Sect in Nanchang to create that very excuse?
“Father.”
“…What is it?”
When his daughter, Zhegal Rin, called from across the table, Zhegal Hyo looked up.
Her expression was calm, her tone measured.
“Even if the grudge between the two sects is real, and Baekmu Sect holds hatred toward the demonic path, their actions are suspicious.”
“You think so too?”
“Yes. I’ve heard that Baekmu Sect’s trading and escort businesses have been struggling for years.”
“They have.”
“Yet recently, they’ve solved their financial issues, and their power has expanded rapidly.”
Zhegal Rin had pieced this together from fragments of intelligence sent by the Shandong branch of the Beggars’ Union.
Zhegal Hyo’s face darkened.
“Then someone must be funding them.”
“…”
At such a convenient moment, the sect teetering on collapse had suddenly found a mysterious benefactor.
Zhegal Hyo couldn’t shake the thought that this “benefactor” was none other than Paechun Fortress.
“Strategist!”
A hurried voice called out.
Zhegal Hyo turned to see a subordinate rush in, breathless.
“What’s all this commotion?”
“Urgent news! A messenger from the Demonic Alliance has just arrived at the front gate!”
“A messenger?”
Zhegal Hyo shot to his feet.
Grand Hall of the Martial Alliance.
Upon hearing the news, the senior leaders gathered at once.
“…”
Alliance Chief Moyong Hwi sat in the Grand Seat, expression unreadable, waiting for the envoy to arrive.
Moments later, a man entered through the main doors.
With long, silver-streaked hair tied loosely back, he strode forward unbowed.
‘H-he’s…!’
‘How dare he come here!’
Several elders recognized him and their faces twisted in alarm and anger.
Among the most notorious villains—the Four Fiends, who were considered the greatest threats to the orthodox world—stood one known as the Ghost Sword, Yeom Sang-pil.
And it was he who now entered the Grand Hall.
Stopping before Moyong Hwi, Yeom Sang-pil bowed slightly.
“Ghost Sword Yeom Sang-pil greets the illustrious Emperor of the Yellow Dragon.”
“Rise.”
At Moyong Hwi’s calm reply, the Ghost Sword lifted his head. Even before this legendary grandmaster, he showed no fear.
That he’d dared to walk into the Martial Alliance headquarters, surrounded by those who considered him a public enemy, was proof enough of his audacity.
“What brings you here?”
Moyong Hwi asked.
Yeom Sang-pil delivered his message without hesitation.
“I come bearing words from the Blood-Heaven Disciple, Im U-baek. The Demonic Alliance officially declares its return to activity.”
“As Alliance Chief of the Martial Alliance, I congratulate the Demonic Alliance on its revival,” Moyong Hwi said evenly.
That part was mere formality.
Yeom Sang-pil’s eyes sharpened as he continued.
“The Demonic Alliance exists to protect the peace of the martial world and to represent the weak sects who have long been oppressed.”
“…”
“Yet recently, the Myeongwang Sect—a new member of our Alliance—was unjustly exterminated.”
At those words, Zhegal Hyo, seated among the council, clenched his hand beneath the table.
He’d been expecting this.
Moyong Hwi, who had already received reports about the massacre, also knew the full story.
“I heard it was an internal feud between sects.”
“…According to the surviving Young Lord of Myeongwang Sect, that is not the case.”
Zhegal Hyo’s eyes widened slightly.
A surviving heir? That was news to him. None of his reports mentioned such a person.
“With tears of grief, he recounted the horrors visited upon his sect. The Demonic Alliance cannot overlook such injustice.”
“What are you asking for?”
“Grant passage to the Demonic Alliance’s elite through Shandong Province, and do not interfere when we punish the sects involved.”
The hall erupted.
“Absurd!”
“How dare you mock the Martial Alliance!”
Letting the Demonic Alliance march freely through orthodox territory would be the same as bowing before them.
To stand by while they crushed allied sects was unthinkable.
The air trembled—Moyong Hwi’s qi flared outward, vast and oppressive.
Yet Yeom Sang-pil didn’t flinch.
“And if we refuse?”
“Then the wrath of the Demonic Alliance will turn elsewhere.”
In other words, they would direct their vengeance at the Martial Alliance and the orthodox world itself.
It was all part of a strategy devised by Paechun Fortress’s strategist, Sa Ma-jun.
“Well then,” Yeom Sang-pil asked boldly, “what is your answer?”
Moyong Hwi rose from his seat, eyes like cold steel.
“Your demand is unacceptable. Tell Blood-Heaven Disciple my answer.”
“…As you wish.”
Yeom Sang-pil’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. He turned to leave.
The guards of the Martial Alliance’s Heavenly Sword Division instinctively reached for their blades, but Moyong Hwi raised a hand, stopping them.
‘So it begins,’ Zhegal Hyo thought bitterly as he watched Yeom Sang-pil’s retreating back.
Decades of peace were over. The martial world would once again be drenched in blood.
‘He came ready to die, and yet we let him walk out… Hypocrites, the lot of them,’ Yeom Sang-pil sneered inwardly as he descended the steps outside.
But waiting below was a young man who hadn’t been there earlier.
It was Moyong Hu.
When their eyes met, Moyong Hu gave a pleasant smile and nodded.
‘How dare he look me in the eye?’
Yeom Sang-pil instantly unleashed a wave of killing intent toward him—so intense that any lesser master would have flinched.
But Moyong Hu’s smile didn’t waver in the slightest.
‘This brat…’
To stand so close beneath such murderous pressure and remain utterly composed—it startled even Yeom Sang-pil.
Then Moyong Hu sent a sound transmission.
‘…!’
Whatever words he heard, Yeom Sang-pil’s eyes widened in shock.
But Moyong Hu merely turned his back and walked away, leaving the Ghost Sword frozen where he stood.
