Chapter 213

Chapter 213
**Chapter 213**
**Chapter Title: Leader of the Yeonwol Alliance**

I hoped the one chosen would be someone equally accomplished in letters and arms. That was the whole of what Zhuge Seol-ha had meant with those few words.

The person called upon to serve as Great Leader must be the one best suited to uphold and secure order across Wuhuan—efficiently and above all else.

“Here is what we shall do. For the span of one gak, each of us will draft our finest proposal. The one whose plan prevails shall be named our Great Leader!”

Traditionally, the strongest hand claimed command in the martial world. Follow that path, though, and the outcome was certain: either Hyun-geom or Namgung Cheon-yeong would step into the role.

That was why the other young masters and mistresses welcomed Baek Yang-hwi’s suggestion with such fervent agreement. Not one of them suspected events were unfolding exactly as he had intended.

“Fetch brush, ink, and paper—now!”

“Eyes to your own work! Peeking means disqualification!”

Quills scratched across sheets as everyone set to composing their strategies. Even Namgung Cheon-yeong, who usually bore himself with easy grace and the measured dignity of a senior, and Hyun-geom both leaned over their desks, faces tight with concentration and quiet urgency.

*Fools. Neither can think their way out of a paper bag. Time to make them squirm.*

He caught them darting surreptitious glances in his direction. By shifting the terms of the contest, he had sown restlessness and doubt in their ranks.

The allotted gak slipped by in what felt like a breath, and one by one, they stepped forward to present what they had written.

“My approach is straightforward—strike them down in a single, decisive blow!”

“That is far too reckless! I, the Three Star Sword, propose luring them into our grasp with gold and gain!”

Then came Namgung Cheon-yeong’s turn.

“A Great Leader must first and foremost possess preeminent ability. Station should follow strength—does it not? I shall marshal the full might of the Namgung Clan to guarantee Wuhuan’s peace.”

Others had voiced similar ideas, but none carried comparable weight. This was the Great Namgung Clan—one of the Five Great Clans under heaven—pledging its strength to the cause.

“Is such authority truly yours to give?”

“I am the Namgung Clan’s Young Heir. Naturally the power is mine to wield.”

Baek Yang-hwi suppressed a smirk, thinking of Namgung Sa-geom, that wily old fox. *Bold words. I doubt your clan elders would sanction such a thing. Volunteering to run errands under the Zhuge banner? How very selfless of you. Should I offer my thanks?*

“Concise. Impressive. Next!”

Dozens remained to speak, yet their shoulders had slumped. When the Young Heir of the Namgung Clan had thrown his house’s full might into the balance, surpassing such a promise seemed all but impossible.

Time moved on, and then it was Hyun-geom’s turn.

“Priest Hyun-geom—have you prepared a plan?”

Instead of answering at once, Hyun-geom looked from Baek Yang-hwi to Zhuge Seol-ha, his gaze lingering just a moment longer on her.

“I am not accustomed to thinking in such terms.”

“Do you yield your claim to leadership, then?”

“Not at all. I offer something altogether different.”

The sword he had held pressed to his chest slid free, ringing softly as it emerged—though both his hands remained tucked within the sleeves of his Daoist robes.

“W-what? A blade drawn from empty air…!”

The Song Moon High Sword, treasure of the Wudang Clan, turned once in his grip. Its point lifted toward the heavens, ancient steel glowing with undimmed radiance.

“I have no boast to make save for this sword. Nor would I call upon my fellow disciples for personal ambition.”

Namgung Cheon-yeong’s face burned—he had just been painted as one who exploited his kin for private gain. Baek Yang-hwi clicked his tongue in quiet judgment.

*Hyun-geom is the sharper of the two, without question. Or perhaps it is less a matter of wit than upbringing. Hyun-geom may know nothing beyond the sword and mountain seclusion, but Namgung Cheon-yeong is worse—shackled by the very clan that raised him. He could have mustered Wudang’s followers. That would have secured an easy triumph and handed the Zhuge household two distinct advantages. No matter; what is done is done.*

“Pray tell—what is your proposal, Priest Hyun-geom?”

“My plan can be stated simply. The sword.”

“The sword?”

“Let who may take the mantle of leadership—none here can best me. Not when steel is drawn.”

“Whence comes such certainty?”

The Song Moon High Sword began to tremble, the blade humming as though it lived. That was the cry of the sword—its voice rising into a visible aura that wrapped around every heart in the gathering.

“Because I stand as the foremost young master of the present age—the Number One Dragon.”

It was an astonishing claim, spoken without a trace of humility. He was declaring himself the victor of the Dragon-Phoenix Tourney—more commonly known as the Dragon-Phoenix Brawl—before the contest had even truly begun.

“My sword shall cut down more foes of the black path, and stronger ones at that. That is all I have to offer.”

Hyun-geom’s speech left an impression unlike any Namgung Cheon-yeong’s had. In truth, it was far more likely to stir the sympathies of those who followed the martial way.

“Your words are heard and well received. Shall we proceed to choose our leader?”

“A moment.”

“What is it?”

Hyun-geom met Baek Yang-hwi’s gaze, eyes steady and unflinching.

“Priest Baek—what lies written upon your paper?”

Up to this point, Baek Yang-hwi had guided the discussion from the chair. His own proposal had not yet been shown.

“Must you see it? It is nothing beside the greatness of what you have all set down.”

“We stand here as equals, each offering a plan. Yours must be seen as well.”

“Fair enough.”

Baek Yang-hwi smiled and unfolded his sheet. For the third time that day, shock settled over the faces of those gathered. The page was entirely blank.

“To speak plainly—the office holds no interest for me.”

He had set the game in motion, yes, but he cared little for this childish contest among juniors. Leader of the Yeonwol Alliance? A title for youths playing at command. He had far weightier matters to attend to.

“Then let us make our choice.”

Namgung Cheon-yeong and Hyun-geom could do nothing but stare at him, each feeling as though they had lost something before the contest had even ended.

—

“Young Heir—you have stirred up quite a tempest.”

“I offer no defense.”

Namgung Sa-geom watched his nephew and sighed. For one who claimed fault, the boy seemed not to grasp where he had erred.

“Did I not bid you stand aside, focus on your training, and leave such dealings to your elders while they conferred with leaders of other sects?”

“Was I to remain idle while such matters unfolded before my eyes, Uncle? I am Namgung Cheon-yeong—the heir to this house.”

*He is who we made him. That is the trouble. How exhausting.* Namgung Cheon-yeong had been raised to be the Namgung Clan’s finest blade, destined to stand peerless in the world. Every detail of his upbringing had been tended to—yet here, his weaknesses showed through. *Zhuge Seol-ha. I never imagined she would sow such disorder between us.*

The union with the Zhuge had been meant to strengthen both houses. He had never dreamed their brightest jewel would turn his head and lead him astray. The boy ought to have entered the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly burning with wrath against the Baek Clan, which had brought low Namgung Cheon-hu. That hatred remained, yes—but it seemed overshadowed now by jealousy fanned by Zhuge Seol-ha rather than grief for his fallen kinsman.

“Had you stepped forward as was your right, you would have been chosen. Is that not so, Young Heir?”

To this, Namgung Cheon-yeong had no answer. He had not foreseen being outflanked by Hyun-geom, who spoke of nothing but prowess with a blade.

“The Namgung Clan must always stand first. Never forget that.”

“I shall hold your counsel as law, Uncle.”

“Good. Should you rise as Number One Dragon, all else becomes trivial. Tell me—what of Hyun-geom?”

Namgung Cheon-yeong’s gaze hardened.

“A worthy foe. Yet I know he cannot defeat me.”

“You have measured your opponent—that is wisdom. From now on, seek to gain two advantages where others see but one.”

“If I prevail over Hyun-geom, shall I not have done exactly that?”

Namgung Sa-geom smiled, well pleased. *There it is. The spirit our heir must carry.*

“Precisely. But do not rest content with one gain—turn it into two.”

“Assuredly.”

He smiled again, though his thoughts turned dark. *Cheon-yeong—there will not be another chance. You must never find yourself in this position again. You must be shaped so the thought never even arises.* Namgung Cheon-yeong was meant to be a weapon—glorious, feared, yet nothing more than a blade in other hands.

—

“Kya ha ha!”

“Hee hee hee!”

Peals of unbridled laughter rang out from within the richly appointed guest chamber. Outside, Dang Gun and the rest of their party looked on with growing bemusement. *By daylight, they carry themselves as the noble master and the peerless beauty of the age. Come night, behind closed doors and with wine poured out, they are something else entirely.*

Baek Yang-hwi and Zhuge Seol-ha paid the observers no mind and laughed all the harder.

“Seol-ha—how does it feel knowing Wudang’s finest stands beneath your banner?”

“Exhilarating, brother! Like a great weight finally lifting!”

“Ha—aptly put!”

*Like what?* Those words from such lips? And him nodding along in approval? What was he thinking?

“Sigh…….”

“Brother Dang—what troubles you?”

“Young Heir—has something gone amiss?”

“Nothing at all. I merely wonder—Brother Hwi, did you not intend to claim leadership of the Yeonwol Alliance yourself?”

Dang Gun’s question was well founded. He had seen Baek Yang-hwi writing steadily during the allotted time, yet what he presented was empty—he had changed course at the last moment.

“When I saw how things stood, Hyun-geom seemed the likeliest choice. And a fine picture it makes.”

Dang Gun’s suspicion was confirmed—had the plan failed, he would have stepped forward himself.

“With Hyun-geom at the head, Wudang’s champion serves under the Zhuge banner alone. That alone shall give them no end of trouble when seeking to draw other sects to their side.”

“Exactly. Should Hyun-geom carry the title of Number One Dragon, however, the whole scene shall shift and shine entirely in Wudang’s colors.”

“Which he will not. Hand him the post, watch from the wings—two birds struck with one stone.”

“I see.”

Still, something nagged at Dang Gun. He knew Baek Yang-hwi well enough to sense a change.

“Your focus has shifted from what it once was. Is something greater at play?”

“Only you would notice, Brother Dang.”

Zhuge Seol-ha leaned forward with a mock-pout.

“Now see here—am I not sitting right beside you? Speak so openly and I shall grow jealous.”

Baek Yang-hwi chuckled, draining his cup.

“Truth is truth. Step forward more boldly, Jeong-in—that is all I ask.”

“Tch. You never even flinch.”

“In any case—our true purpose lies elsewhere.”

“And that is?”

“Finding the Blood Cult Leader, obviously.”

The Dragon-Phoenix Brawl had not yet truly begun, yet in this gathering storm, the first quarry to be hunted was that hidden rat.

“Chudal.”

“I am here, brother.”

“There is someone I must ask you to find. Name of Nanghon.”

“I have never heard it. Who is he?”

“A false name, a wanderer without sect or clan. Find him by whatever means. Can it be done in three days?”

Chudal looked perplexed.

“I shall search as you bid me—yet who is this man?”

*He is already here. The one destined to win this very Dragon-Phoenix Brawl. And thus, prime suspect for the Blood Cult Leader himself.*

*I must know for certain.* If he could unmask the fiend here, in Wuhuan, where three of the Heavenly Martial Ten Supremes had gathered… he could strike at the very heart of the Blood Cult—one of the Three Great Demonic Sects.