Chapter 201

The Bandit and the Prostitute

“It is a relief that you view it that way, however…”

Bae Dal-pae exhaled a heavy, weary breath before carrying on.

“Did I not mention moments ago that certain major organizations are turning their gaze toward the Hero’s Sect?”

“You did. For better or for worse.”

“Precisely. And… a massive portion of that attention, specifically the malicious kind, is currently bearing down on us.”

“The malicious kind?”

“The Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect alongside the Dark Rakshasa Way are currently pulling every minor and mid-tier faction under their control directly into this brewing storm.”

“Understood.”

“This isn’t just a matter of saying ‘understood.’ The scale of this situation is rapidly outgrowing our initial calculations—”

“No. That is simply how the world operates. The fundamental nature of human civilization is to cluster into groups.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look back at any era. The dominant powers have always behaved like bandits, while the fragile territories have always behaved like prostitutes.”

“……”

“That is the inherent trait of humanity when they aggregate in packs. The greater their might, the more criminal their conduct becomes. The lesser their strength, the more transactional and subservient their survival.”

“Well—”

Bae Dal-pae’s jaw slackened slightly, completely stripped of a reply.

After blinking rapidly a few times to process the statement, he managed to steer the discussion forward.

“True. Though your phrasing is incredibly stark, that is an accurate depiction of how the current landscape is shifting.”

“Therefore?”

“Pardon?”

“What is your ultimate point?”

“……”

“What course of action do we take?”

Bae Dal-pae spent a long moment scratching at his temple before the words finally came out.

“A diplomatic representative from the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect… is reportedly already traveling toward our location.”

An official envoy from the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect, right on the precipice of an all-out conflict, was already en route?

A sharp, lopsided smirk etched itself onto Dong Bongsu’s face.

“Splendid.”

“Pardon me? Their arrival signifies—”

“I am well aware. I comprehend exactly what their objective is. There is no need to repeat your previous points.”

“……”

“What statement did I make just a moment ago?”

“Pardon?”

“The mighty always conduct themselves like bandits, while the fragile always conduct themselves like prostitutes.”

dishonesty

“……”

“Their authority is immense, and our own forces have not yet reached full strength. What path must we choose?”

“Ah.”

Dong Bongsu’s previously indifferent countenance was now radiating a vibrant, eager energy.

“We simply have to market our talents for a brief period. What makes that so complicated?”

This was precisely the turn of events he had anticipated.

After all, wasn’t the Guild Window currently trapped in a state of total dormancy anyway?

“However, we will make absolutely certain that we extract an incredibly exorbitant price for our cooperation.”

Flatter them, execute the assignments, put on a grand performance…

And if the situation demands it, we will gladly drench ourselves in blood.

The Structure of the Sacred Land

The Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect stands as the ancient and supreme sanctuary of swordsmanship within the modern Murim.

The inner framework of the sect is divided into six specialized military divisions:

• The Sword Tempering Corps: Responsible for the rigorous cultivation and instruction of personnel.

• The Guardian Sword Corps: Tasked with the absolute protection of the ancestral mountain peak.

• The Branch Sword Corps: Charged with overseeing and regulating all subordinate sects.

• The Scouting Sword Corps: Dedicated to gathering intelligence and espionage.

• The Punishment Sword Corps: Authorized to enforce the sect’s internal regulations and laws.

• The Patrol Sword Corps: Mandated with managing external diplomacy, negotiations, and regional expeditions.

“Leader, our arrival at the River Capital is estimated to be roughly two days away.”

Despite hearing the update from his subordinate, the man in his early thirties—whose long locks billowed in the gusting wind—remained completely motionless, refusing to turn around.

This was Sang Gwanhwi.

He bore the renowned moniker: The Heavenly Flower Sword.

He was the youngest prodigy among the legendary Three Swords of Vast Heaven, as well as the presiding Leader of the Patrol Sword Corps.

His facial structure possessed the precise sharpness of a freshly forged blade, complemented by a complexion as pristine and flawless as pure jade.

His physical presentation resembled a refined noble heir far more than a gritty martial artist, yet his gaze told an entirely different story.

The intensity radiating from his narrow, piercing eyes mirrored the lethal gleam of a lethal weapon.

Securing the rank of Corps Leader at the mere age of thirty-two was a completely unparalleled feat across the twelve-hundred-year history of the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect.

Naturally, one could not ignore the reality that his status as the final apprentice of the supreme leader, the Vast Heaven Sword Venerate, contributed to his rapid ascent.

Nonetheless, pedigree alone could not fully account for his position.

The Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect was an institution that absolute forbade any mediocre individual from holding a position of genuine authority.

He kept his gaze fixed entirely on the distant skyline from atop his mount.

The official crest of the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect—a blade ascending amidst drifting clouds—was emblazoned across his pristine ivory vestments, whipping violently in the gale.

“Two days, then,” Sang Gwanhwi remarked. His tone was perfectly measured, yet it carried an underlying note of profound boredom.

“I fail to comprehend why a matter of such insignificance has been relegated to me.”

“……”

“Is this not a task far better suited for my First Senior Brother or Second Senior Brother? Why must I be the one sent?”

“The Leader of the Guardian Sword Corps is currently bound to the defense of our ancestral mountain, while the Leader of the Punishment Sword Corps has already deployed to manage the eastern battlefront against the Dark Rakshasa Way, therefore…”

“I am aware. Rest your tongue.”

Sang Gwanhwi gave a dismissive flick of his wrist, instantly silencing his second-in-command.

He understood the circumstances perfectly.

He was fully cognizant of how critical the geopolitical landscape had become.

Only recently, the radical forces of the Dark Rakshasa Way had launched a devastating assault against the Blue Cloud Sword Sect, a dedicated vassal of the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect.

Fifty-three practitioners were utterly slaughtered.

Furthermore, they were not merely executed.

Their remains were systematically gathered and desecrated to fuel their blasphemous, heretical ‘ceremonies’.

The zealots painted complex mandalas utilizing human blood and fashioned sacrilegious Dharma Artifacts out of severed skeletal remains.

It stood as an unmistakable, direct challenge aimed at the honor of the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect.

To be precise, it transcended a mere insult; it was a sudden, violent declaration of total warfare.

The Vast Heaven Sword Venerate had been thrown into a state of absolute fury.

Consequently, he made a solemn vow.

This particular grievance would only be resolved by the total annihilation of one party.

The complication lay in the fact that the Dark Rakshasa Way would never have initiated such a massive conflict without deliberate calculation.

To them, Slaughter is Liberation.

Even if a massive war represented the ultimate ‘holy banquet’ for these crazed zealots—who viewed taking lives and dying in battle as the ultimate form of spiritual redemption—they wouldn’t strike without a strategic path to triumph.

Though urgent missives requesting military aid had been dispatched to the various Orthodox Factions across the entire Central Plains, active warfare was already erupting across the eastern and southern sectors.

Minor skirmishes were transpiring almost every single day, and the body count on both sides was climbing rapidly.

While it could not yet be classified as a total, unrestricted war, the sparks had officially ignited a massive blaze.

It was merely a matter of time before the inferno spread, leaving one of the two factions reduced to absolute ash.

“What news do we have regarding our dealings with the Formation Tower?” Sang Gwanhwi inquired.

“Regarding that particular issue…”

“Speak plainly.”

“It appears the agents of the Dark Rakshasa Way managed to initiate contact with them ahead of us. They have already provided an incredibly massive financial tribute.”

A deep furrow materialized between Sang Gwanhwi’s eyebrows.

The Formation Tower.

The governing body known as the Heavenly Formation Dao Alliance.

An entity entirely willing to align with any faction provided the compensation was high enough.

It was universally acknowledged that their mastery over tactical arrays could instantly flip the tides of any major military campaign.

“And what of our own counter-proposal?”

“We are executing every possible avenue, but… reports indicate that we are fundamentally incapable of matching the sheer volume of wealth offered by the Dark Rakshasa Way.”

“Predictable.”

Such was the eternal disparity dividing the Orthodox and Unorthodox Factions.

The Orthodox Murim operates strictly on the concepts of moral justification and rigid honor codes.

Conversely, the Unorthodox Murim functions entirely on raw greed and unhinged obsession.

When the matter came down to cold currency, the latter group was invariably far more aggressive.

They recognized absolutely no moral boundaries.

“At best, our intervention will merely minimize the total volume of forces they commit to the battlefield.”

“That appears to be the most realistic outcome.”

“……”

This exact reality was what rendered this journey to the River Capital so incredibly vital.

The grand leader, the Vast Heaven Sword Venerate, placed immense strategic value on the River Capital.

Despite the broader Jianghu frequently dismissing it as an irrelevant borderland, he maintained that it was a vastly unappreciated region.

It housed martial artists whose skills had been thoroughly forged through centuries of continuous, bloody friction against the forces of the Northern Yan.

It possessed a martial ecosystem that had evolved in complete isolation, thriving under a highly unusual framework of mutual reliance between the local government administration and the Murim underworld.

The grand leader asserted that it was a territory of immense, latent power, held back solely by its geographic isolation and lack of integration with the broader mainland.

“No matter how much they resemble simple frogs trapped inside a dark well, if those exact frogs spend hundreds of years constantly slaughtering one another, they will inevitably mutate into entities massive enough to slaughter the snakes and foxes roaming the world outside.”

Those had been the exact words of the Vast Heaven Sword Venerate.

Yet, Sang Gwanhwi held an entirely different perspective.

A backwater territory was destined to remain a backwater territory.

Regardless of how intensely they brawled within their isolated sphere, they were ultimately nothing more than unsophisticated provincials who had never faced the true, earth-shattering tempests of the wider Jianghu.

That was Sang Gwanhwi’s personal assessment.

He was executing this journey strictly out of obligation to his master’s decree.

The Power Shift in the Borderland

“The entities known as the Iron God Gang and the Seven Star Immortal Society, correct?” Sang Gwanhwi suddenly muttered.

His subordinate instantly dipped his head in affirmation.

“Correct, sir. They were historically recognized as the twin titans dominating the River Capital.”

“Were?”

“The Iron God Gang has ceased to exist, according to recent intelligence.”

“Destroyed?”

“Yes, Corps Leader. Their entire organization has been completely dismantled…”

“And what of the Seven Star Immortal Society?”

“Indeed, it is reported that the Seven Star Immortal Society has likewise vanished without leaving a single trace behind.”

Sang Gwanhwi’s brow twitched upward in minor surprise.

This was a twist he had not foreseen.

Even for primitive, rural associations, they ought to have possessed a modicum of structural stability.

“In that case, who currently commands the Murim landscape of the River Capital?”

“The current ruling entity is known as the Hero’s Sect.”

“The Hero’s Sect? Ha, what a preposterously conceited title.”

It was a name that had never once crossed his radar.

For an organization to legitimately claim the title of a ‘Sect’, it required at minimum several generations of documented martial legacy.

For a collection of rural hicks to boldly claim the sacred title of ‘Hero’ for their banner was laughable.

“What is the date of their founding?”

“That… our sources indicate they were established a mere few months ago.”

“A matter of months?”

“Yes, sir. However, within that brief span of months, they successfully annihilated both the Iron God Gang and the Seven Star Immortal Society, effectively consolidating absolute authority over the entirety of the River Capital.”

“…Hmph.”

Sang Gwanhwi let out a sharp, derisive snort.

Overthrowing two dominant regional factions in a mere handful of months?

‘Twin titans.’ What a comical exaggeration.

The idea of a few backwater organizations squabbling in the dirt and daring to label themselves ‘titans’ was thoroughly amusing.

It honestly made him want to laugh out loud.

Indeed, this was the exact reason the frontier Murim was considered such a chaotic, unrefined wasteland.

A realm where empty shells put on grand displays of arrogance before spontaneously shattering under their own weight, only to be instantly replaced by a different, equally hollow shell.

“Name their presiding leader.”

“He goes by the name of Kim Rae-won.”

“Kim Rae-won?”

The name sparked a faint, distant memory somewhere in his mind…

Tilting his chin slightly, Sang Gwanhwi lazily ran his index finger across his upper lip before speaking.

“A total nonentity.”

He was undoubtedly just another nameless country bumpkin.

“Correct, sir. Reports indicate that his heritage and martial lineage remain entirely untraceable.”

Sang Gwanhwi refrained from pressing further.

He simply lacked the care to find out.

A backwater faction would always remain nothing more than a backwater faction.

The moment the almighty Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect extended an olive branch, they would naturally fall to their knees in profound gratitude to receive it.

Nay, they had no choice but to receive it.

Such was the unyielding obligation born by the weak.

“Corps Leader,” his subordinate murmured with immense caution.

“Speak.”

“Hypothetically… though the probability is virtually nonexistent, if the Hero’s Sect stubbornly declines to align themselves with the Vast Heaven Infinite Sword Sect, what will be our course of action?”

“What shall we do, you ask?”

Sang Gwanhwi applied a subtle pressure to his horse’s reins.

The beast ground to a halt.

He leisurely turned his head around.

“During the daylight hours, we shall naturally indulge in some highly entertaining interactions with them first.”

A remarkably brilliant smile spread across his features.

An expression that appeared entirely warm, benevolent, and gentle.

It looked as inviting as the midday spring sunshine.

And yet.

The gaze peering out from behind that pleasant mask was as bitterly piercing as winter frost.

“Should there be remaining hours once night falls…”

His eyes resembled a frozen, bottomless chasm, entirely devoid of human empathy.

“We will simply proceed with a deeper form of ‘diplomatic exchange’.”

Even so, the hand gently caressing his smooth, aristocratic jawline maintained an exquisite, flawless elegance.

“The precise methodology requires no explicit explanation. Ah, naturally, the exact nature of the exchange must be tailored quite differently depending on whether we are dealing with their men or their women.”

The subordinate found himself entirely incapable of formulating a response.

He could do nothing but keep his gaze lowered toward the earth.

Sang Gwanhwi redirected his focus toward the path ahead.

The destination of the River Capital would soon materialize past the edge of the distant horizon.

‘I must resolve this tedious chore immediately and make my return.’

What an incredibly irritating errand.

Why on earth was it necessary for one of the legendary Three Swords of Vast Heaven to journey all this way to personally negotiate with a primitive frontier group?

He would never have set foot in this rural wasteland had it not been a direct, absolute mandate from the Sect Leader himself.

He was merely a tool executing his master’s will.

And since it was an official order, he intended to conclude it with maximum efficiency.

And if they chose to resist?

The edges of Sang Gwanhwi’s mouth curled upward once more.

That outcome, in its own twisted way, promised to be highly entertaining.

How fascinating would it be to see what a frog, aged over hundreds of years in a dark well, actually tastes like?

The mere thought filled him with a dark sense of anticipation.

“Move out.”

At his singular declaration, the thirty elite martial artists comprising the vanguard of the Patrol Sword Corps surged forward in perfect unison.

A massive cloud of dust erupted into the air.

Amidst the swirling debris, their ivory vestments whipped wildly against the gale before vanishing from sight.

Spurring onward toward the River Capital.