Chapter 195

Chapter 195
## Chapter 195: Afternoon Gate (3)

“Attack!”

Following Gandok’s roar, the personal guards surged toward Cheol Woo.

The alleyway was incredibly cramped, barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast. This physical limitation made it impossible for them to utilize their numbers or launch a flanking maneuver. Unable to exploit their superior strength in numbers, the guards were forced into a series of frantic one-on-one duels with Cheol Woo.

*Thud!*

The sound of tearing leather echoed as a guard who had lunged recklessly at Cheol Woo was instantly dropped. His neck was twisted at a grotesque angle, teeth sprayed into the air, and his jaw was shattered—a testament to the devastating force behind Cheol Woo’s strike.

Cheol Woo remained composed.

He dealt with them systematically.

Each time Cheol Woo’s fist lashed out, another guard collapsed, silenced before they could even let out a cry of pain.

“M-monster!”

The relentless assault only faltered after more than ten men lay broken on the ground.

“What is wrong with you? Kill him!”

Gandok screamed, but the remaining guards, paralyzed by terror, began to retreat while keeping a panicked watch on Cheol Woo.

“If you have so much to say, stop hiding behind your subordinates and face me yourself.”

Cheol Woo gestured for Gandok to come forward with a mocking finger.

The guards all turned their heads toward Gandok. Gandok was well aware that his martial skills were no match for Cheol Woo, yet he found himself with no choice but to act.

“Die!”

Gandok lunged forward in a desperate rage.

“Slightly better.”

As the captain of the guards, his agility and technique were clearly superior to those of his underlings. His blade moved with significantly more velocity and precision. However, that was only by a commoner’s metric. To someone like Cheol Woo, Gandok’s prowess was something that could be easily dismantled even by someone at the Overabundance realm.

Growing bored, Cheol Woo caught the sword tip aimed at his throat with his bare hand and drove his shoulder violently into Gandok’s sternum.

*Crack.*

The sound of splintering bone rang out as Gandok was sent flying through the air. Before the captain even hit the pavement, Cheol Woo charged directly into the cluster of guards.

“H-hold him back!”

Pyeon Gwang shrieked, but the terrified men couldn’t even fathom standing in his way. He didn’t even bother using his hands; he simply used his massive frame as a battering ram, and they were powerless to stop him. Engaging an opponent whose skin could repel steel was an exercise in futility.

Realizing the guards were useless, Pyeon Gwang took matters into his own hands. He used the shoulders of his own wavering men as stepping stones, leaping upward and soaring through the sky like a predatory bird of the night.

As the leader of the Afternoon Gate and a high-ranking protector of the Blood Death Cult, Pyeon Gwang was no amateur. However, he had already deduced the identity of his pursuer. A giant build like a black bear, a temperament so foul it would unsettle the God of Death, a body impervious to blades, and savage strength—there were very few figures in the central plains who fit such a description.

In this moment, only one name was possible.

*‘It has to be Cheol Woo.’*

While wondering why Cheol Woo had surfaced here, Pyeon Gwang sprinted across the rooftops in a panic until a massive shadow suddenly loomed over him. Pyeon Gwang threw a desperate punch at the incoming object, but he couldn’t deflect it.

“Gah!”

A choked gasp left Pyeon Gwang’s throat. The collision felt as if he had been struck by a massive iron sledgehammer, and he fell toward the earth, completely drained of strength.

“What’s this? You tried to run away so hard, and yet you ended up right back here?”

Cheol Woo, appearing as if by magic, placed a heavy boot on Pyeon Gwang’s chest as he lay pinned to the dirt and let out a dark laugh.

“H-how dare a lowly dog like you…”

As the terrifying beast—Black Wolf—which had intercepted Pyeon Gwang in mid-air, peeked its head out with a predatory look, Pyeon Gwang’s voice died in his throat.

“Full of fear, aren’t you?”

Cheol Woo smirked, hauled Pyeon Gwang up by the scruff of his neck, and dragged him away. Sima Geon, arriving from the opposite side, looked at the unconscious Pyeon Gwang and inquired, “Is that the Afternoon Gate Sect Leader?”

“He was trying to flee with his guard detail. It’s almost certainly him.”

“Since he was caught on one of the two exit paths identified by the Beggars’ Sect, it must be him. Let’s move.”

By the time Sima Geon and Cheol Woo made it back to the Afternoon Gate base with their prize, the conflict had already reached its conclusion. The Nanjing branch of the Beggars’ Sect, the most powerful of all their divisions, was composed of members whose skills far outstripped the average Afternoon Gate disciple. When bolstered by the warriors of Minority Forest, Thunderbolt, Late Autumn, and Overabundance, the defense stood no chance.

“Is this man truly the master of the Afternoon Gate?”

Sima Geon gestured toward Pyeon Gwang, who was being hauled along by Cheol Woo.

“He matches the description, but I can’t say for sure. I’ve only caught glimpses of him a few times from a distance.”

Mouuk, who had traveled with them from Hangzhou, shook his head in uncertainty.

“That is him, the Afternoon Gate leader.”

Cheol Du-gae, the Iron Head Beggar and chief of the Nanjing branch, walked out from the interior clutching a pile of scrolls, his eyes burning with a lethal intensity as he stared at Pyeon Gwang.

“You disgusting parasite! I’ve had my suspicions about the Afternoon Gate ever since those bizarre events began to surface.”

Had they been alone, Cheol Du-gae looked ready to crush Pyeon Gwang’s windpipe then and there, his aura radiating pure malice.

“We will account for his villainy later. What are those papers? Did you discover anything of note?”

At Mouuk’s inquiry, Cheol Du-gae’s expression shifted.

“We ransacked the sect leader’s private chambers and uncovered documents containing grave information.”

“What sort of information?” Sima Geon pressed.

“I haven’t parsed everything yet, but one fact is undeniable.”

“Which is?”

“The Blood Death Cult is focused entirely on destroying the Sword Sovereign and the Sword Pavilion as they advance toward Shandong. They have been using the Afternoon Gate to track their every movement relentlessly.”

Upon hearing that the Blood Death Cult was hunting the Sword Sovereign, Sima Geon’s face turned grim. Cheol Woo, standing behind them, wore an expression like a vengeful deity.

—

Following the collapse of the Afternoon Gate’s central hub in Nanjing, the Beggars’ Sect initiated a full-scale raid on its remaining branches—operations they had delayed to prevent leaks.

At first, the public criticized the Beggars’ Sect for what seemed like a petty territorial grab or unprovoked harassment. However, once the truth came out—that the Afternoon Gate had become the puppets of the Blood Death Cult—the public’s fury shifted toward the fallen sect.

It wasn’t just a matter of infiltration; the fact that a prominent organization like the Afternoon Gate had become a tool for the Blood Death Cult sent shockwaves through the region.

The internal shock was just as severe. Many Afternoon Gate disciples, who had spent their days gathering intel and obeying orders without knowing the endgame, were outraged to find they had been serving the cult. The tragedy was their inability to prove their innocence. Once the mark of a traitor is applied, it is nearly impossible to remove.

“Those incompetent fools!”

Yeonghojung snarled, shredding the report in his hands. He forced down a cup of cold tea to soothe his dry throat before asking, “Is there a risk of this being traced back to us?”

“We utilized heavily masked identities, and our points of contact were kept to an absolute minimum. There was nothing incriminating in the logs, so there is no significant cause for alarm,” replied Baekan, the leader of the Biikdan Unit, with a respectful tone.

Having taken the mantle of family head with the secret backing of the Blood Death Cult, Yeonghojung now held absolute power over the Yeongho Clan. Only a handpicked few—Baekan among them—were aware of their secret pact with the cult.

“Check every lead again. If there is even a thread connecting us, cut it. Our association with the Blood Death Cult must remain buried.”

“Should complications arise, I have already positioned fall guys to take the blame.”

Yeonghojung finally let out a breath of relief at Baekan’s clinical assurance.

—

“Welcome, Sword Sovereign. It is truly an honor to host you.”

Upon receiving word that the Sword Sovereign and the Sword Pavilion had arrived at the Righteous Heaven Alliance, Jwa Ikseon hurried to the front gates to receive them personally.

“Such a grand welcome is more than I deserve,” Neung Sohwa responded with a graceful bow. Behind her, a hundred sword guards bowed in perfect unison, a truly impressive display of discipline.

“Please, let us step inside.”

The Sword Sovereign and her disciples followed Jwa Ikseon into the heart of the Righteous Heaven Alliance. Acknowledging the exhaustion of their journey, Jwa Ikseon insisted they rest first, reconvening the meeting several hours later.

“Please, have some. My skills in the tea ceremony may be those of a clumsy old man, but it should be palatable.”

Jwa Ikseon poured the tea with an expression of profound kindness.

“My thanks,” Neung Sohwa whispered, bowing her head slightly as she raised the porcelain cup. “The fragrance is remarkable.”

“It is Da Hong Pao.”

“Ah, the legendary Da Hong Pao.”

Neung Sohwa looked at the tea with new interest. “It is a rare privilege to taste something so exquisite.”

Da Hong Pao was a legendary tea produced in miniscule amounts on Wuyi Mountain, its value often exceeding its weight in gold.

“I was gifted it myself. I enjoy such finery on occasion, though I must admit I’m not much of a connoisseur. I’ve always preferred the burn of strong liquor…”

Neung Sohwa gave a soft smile at Jwa Ikseon’s self-deprecating laugh. After some pleasantries, Jwa Ikseon rolled out a massive map on the table, shifting the tone to the business at hand.

“This is the current landscape.”

Jwa Ikseon pointed to various regions highlighted in red. “These are the sects that have been wiped out or crippled by the Blood Death Cult.”

Neung Sohwa let out a quiet sigh at the sheer number of marks. “It is far worse than I imagined.”

“This is actually the ‘improved’ version, thanks to the Shandong Evil Clan’s intervention and our own alliance warriors moving north to stem the tide. When the Blood Death Cult first emerged, the body count rose so fast it was impossible to track.”

Jwa Ikseon’s sigh turned into a sharp edge. “Our late response due to the North Sea Ice Palace incident played a part, but the Blood Death Cult was only able to move so freely because of the assistance they received from the Afternoon Gate.”

“I am aware,” Neung Sohwa replied solemnly. She had been stunned to learn of the Afternoon Gate’s betrayal just before her arrival.

“When a premier intelligence network—second only to the Beggars’ Sect—works for the enemy, how are we to see them coming? Meanwhile, our own movements were an open book to them…”

Jwa Ikseon shook his head, looking weary. “Now that the Afternoon Gate has been exposed and dismantled, the Blood Death Cult will lose its eyes. We shouldn’t worry excessively.”

“That is what haunts me. If we had uncovered this sooner, so many lives could have been saved. So much blood wasted…”

Overcome with a brief flash of emotion, Jwa Ikseon’s eyes welled with tears. “Ah, pray forgive me. It is unsightly for an old man to show such frailty to a guest.”

As Jwa Ikseon offered a sheepish grin, Neung Sohwa bowed deeply to the elder, moved by his apparent devotion to the realm. “Not at all. Your heart for the martial world is plain to see, Alliance Leader.”

“You are kind. With the Sword Sovereign here, my heart is finally at ease.”

Offering her his sincere thanks, Jwa Ikseon took a stabilizing breath and spoke with renewed clarity.

“The Blood Death Cult has cells everywhere, but their primary force is concentrated here, near Phoenix Mountain.”

“With the Shandong Evil Clan pressing from the north and the Righteous Heaven Alliance from the south.”

“Precisely. And the Shandong martial sects are closing in from the flanks. The issue is that our perimeter is too thin and spread out. I want to coordinate a joint strike with the Shandong Evil Clan, but cooperation has been… difficult.”

Neung Sohwa noted the tension mentioned between Jwa Ikseon and the Shandong forces. Even with a world-ending threat at the door, the great clans were still preoccupied with the Righteous Heaven Alliance’s rising influence.

*‘Politics and pride, even now!’*

A tiny, unreadable smirk briefly touched Jwa Ikseon’s mouth as he saw the disappointment on Neung Sohwa’s face, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.