Chapter 216

Chapter 216
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**Chapter 216: The Puppet Vice Leader**

In the life he had lived before, Baek Yang-hwi had seen the Blood Fiend Alliance’s Vice Leader’s face clearly enough—and the man standing before him now was not that person.

These days, conflicts calling for freelance fighters in the martial world almost always involved either the Yangtze Waterways Alliance or the Blood Fiend Alliance.

*This is not the face I know. Only two explanations make sense.*

Either the position of Vice Leader had changed hands, or the Blood Cult had swallowed the Blood Fiend Alliance whole and installed this figure as a mere placeholder, someone to amuse the Cult Leader while doing the Cult’s bidding.

Given the alliance’s name, it might well have been tied to the Blood Cult from its founding. That was what he had first assumed…

*This man is nothing more than a puppet.*

The realization had struck as he watched the Vice Leader get berated without pushback by the Tai Chi Sword Hermit. Whoever this was, he was certainly not the Blood Cult Leader.

No matter how thoroughly one concealed their identity or how much they wished to lay low, a person carried the weight of all they had been through—dignity that could not be faked.

“Puppet? You would do well not to end up strung up from a wooden post like one, your limbs fixed in place for all to mock.”

“A shallow, loudmouthed boy like you lacks the stature to pull that off.”

Confusion flickered across the Vice Leader’s face, sharp and unguarded.

There it was. He could not even keep his expression under control. If this were all an act, it would be a masterful one—but it was impossible to picture the Blood Cult Leader, a figure so powerful he had never once revealed his face in Yang-hwi’s past life, behaving so clumsily.

—Oppa, he does not seem to be the one, does he?
—No, he does not.
—What do we do now? Should we head back?
—Not yet. Since we are already here, we might as well prod the beast and see what comes of it.

He had gained new information, and his mind raced, turning it over, seeing how it might be used to shape what came next.

“We have no further business here. Be gone now. Off with you.”

The Vice Leader’s face, already flushed, darkened several shades as Yang-hwi waved him away dismissively.

“You truly court death.”

“You plan to kill me yourself? How exactly?”

It was no taunt—only genuine curiosity. But the Vice Leader took it as an insult.

“I need but give the signal, and dozens of elite warriors will seize you and tear you apart, stripping flesh from your bones one limb at a time.”

“Listen to you calling me ‘boy.’”

The Vice Leader was at least five years Yang-hwi’s senior, and to be addressed as a child by someone younger threw him off balance, if only for a moment.

Yang-hwi pressed on, unshaken.

“A man of character knows well what he can do and what he cannot.”

“How dare you speak such nonsense to the Vice Leader of the Blood Fiend Alliance?”

“Then give the order. Summon those so-called elites and tell them to cut off my fingers one by one.”

The Vice Leader fell abruptly silent, as if he had swallowed something thick and choking.

“You see? You have already thought it through and realized you cannot do it, have you not? If you stir up trouble here, the Tai Chi Sword Hermit will not show mercy next time—he will run you through himself.”

A killing intent thick as ink poured from the Vice Leader.

What kind of leader was heir to a major faction if he lost his temper so easily?

“As I thought—your bloodline runs true to the Heo Clan. You carry yourself exactly as one would expect.”

A blustering, hollow puppet from the worthless Heo Clan!

“…Tell me your name.”

“Well, well. It seems you failed to set up even a basic information network in advance.”

After all, he was the subject of every major rumor circulating in Wunan right then.

“Very well—I will tell you. Then you may send assassins or hire whoever you please to have me killed quietly. I am Baek Yang-hwi, the Heaven-Covering Sword Dragon.”

“…The husband by title of the World’s Supreme Beauty?”

Understanding lit up the Vice Leader’s face as he spoke, as if the pieces had finally fallen into place—no doubt he had seen Jeon Seol-ha and knew exactly what people meant when they spoke of her beauty.

*Husband by title… that stings. All of it is nothing but pretense.*

Still, the stories spreading lately had turned sharply against him. They said Baek Yang-hwi, the Heaven-Covering Sword Dragon, had stepped down as commander of the Moonlit Night Troop and was all show, no skill—the luckiest man alive, who had won the World’s Supreme Beauty’s affection only through a childhood connection, and a fool destined to lose her to either Namgung Cheon-yeong or Hyun-geom.

*Wudang must be behind these rumors.*

“…The situation grows stranger by the day, Investigator. Why should a woman’s choice decide who becomes the Supreme Dragon? What is the meaning of all these tales?”

“Rumors flow like water—they shift and change shape to fit wherever they go.”

“Then we shall shape them as well!”

He could picture Wudang’s elders having that very conversation. It did not matter now.

“Why has the Blood Fiend Alliance traveled all this way to Wunan to take part in the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly?”

“How could a worm hiding behind a woman’s skirts hope to understand the designs of a great power?”

“I see now. The Blood Fiend Leader simply told you to come, and you obeyed without question. You are nothing more than bait—and a stone cast into the water.”

A lure to draw others out. A stone to send ripples across still waters. He had guessed their purpose, and seeing it laid bare before him left him feeling almost disappointed.

*One more thing.*

“Send whoever you like, do whatever you please—but a true man fights his own battles.”

“Have no fear—I will tear you apart with my own two hands.”

“That is the spirit.”

Yang-hwi smiled, reaching into his robes to draw out a manual, which he tossed across.

“Here is what you have been seeking—a heaven-grade manual. The Sword Hermit would never part with it, but I am generous enough to help a younger man out.”

The Vice Leader’s eyes widened as he caught it, his expression shifting between trying to guess Yang-hwi’s game and imagining what he might do with such a prize—triumph began to show in his smile.

*You are no more than a frog trapped in the Buddha’s palm, you fool.*

“Go ahead. Tell everyone you defeated the Heaven-Covering Sword Dragon and forced me to hand this over.”

“…Silence.”

He had struck a nerve, and the Vice Leader raged exactly as expected. Shallow through and through—clearly not the Blood Cult Leader, and far from fit to hold the position he did.

“You know about the preliminary round for those who hold heaven-grade manuals, do you not? Nominate me as your first opponent. We will face each other properly, with everyone watching.”

Right then, Yang-hwi was seen as nothing more than a husband by title, a lucky fool, and a man who bore impressive names but little substance. If he defeated the Vice Leader thoroughly and publicly in their first match, his reputation would be restored completely. This man was the perfect opponent—useful for one last purpose.

“I take my leave now. Train well if you intend to defeat me.”

He turned and departed without waiting for an answer.

For a moment he had hoped to see real defiance from the Vice Leader—but the man did not even have the courage to stand up for himself.

*That ended more disappointingly than I expected.*
*Our opponent was hollow through and through. There was nothing to be done.*
*But Oppa… you said you would use the Strategy of the Precipitous Battlefield.*
*I did.*
*It felt more like the Strategy of Bursting Clothes. He looked as though he might explode from embarrassment.*
*You have a sharp tongue yourself now, Seol-ha.*
*Hehe. The student has surpassed the master before long.*

Either way, it seemed he was back to square one in his search for the Blood Cult Leader. He could not afford to wait—he would have to take action himself.

***

At Wunan’s north gate, a group of Taoists in robes patterned with plum blossoms came down the mountain path.

“Senior Brother Ok-cheong, look—we have reached Wunan.”

One of the disciples of the Azure Generation leaped onto Ok-cheong’s back, craning his neck to get a better look at the city ahead. It was hardly proper for a junior to behave so casually toward a senior, but no one minded.

“Let go—you are clinging too tightly! I, Ok-cheong, carry myself with great magnanimity, but even I have limits! That is how a true hero acts—generous, yet honest about what troubles him!”

“After all this time apart… is that how you greet us?”

“…My apologies.”

Instead of setting him down, Ok-cheong carried the younger disciple on his back as they walked. The others began to call out, asking if they might ride too. It felt like being reunited with the closest of family.

“Junior Brother Ok-cheong… would you be so kind as to give this old senior a lift as well? My knees are not what they once were.”

“Senior Brother—should it not be the senior who carries the junior?”

“Is that so? Then again… perhaps you are right.”

“Come on, give us a ride! I, Ok-cheong, am the best in the entire sect at clinging to a senior’s back! I shall help you ascend with the Divine Skill of Piggybacking!”

“Ha ha—if I carry you, you will be chattering right in my ear the whole way. Far too noisy.”

“Senior Brother! That is unfair!”

To be so close in age yet separated by rank naturally made things lively, but every last disciple of Mount Hua’s Jade Generation held their young junior Ok-cheong in genuine affection. Even those of the Azure Generation, who were his peers, treated him with the warmth of an older brother and a beloved uncle. It was a scene straight out of a storybook.

“Greetings, Mount Hua. Welcome to Wunan.”

Mount Hua was one of the Nine Great Sects, and all carried heaven-grade invitations—they passed through the gates without delay.

“Look at these streets! So bright and grand! Nothing like Hwamun County at all!”

“Cheong-jang… how would you even know?”

“Ah.”

“One who follows the Tao turns away from luxury and excess! Besides, we could not afford such things even if we wished to—we are to stay in the quarters Wudang has prepared for heaven-grade guests! The truth is, Mount Hua has little coin to spare! Ha ha!”

“Might we treat ourselves just this once?”

Ok-cheong’s eyes lit up, tempted—and his senior brother Ok-jeong shook his head.

“Do not give in to them, Ok-cheong. Be honest—have you been drinking while we traveled?”

“Senior Brother! I have traveled the world over! But my duty… my standing…”

Ok-cheong trailed off, and Ok-jeong clicked his tongue.

“You have, have you not? A Taoist drinking and frequenting such places!”

The group made their way quietly toward the reception hall for the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly. They were not so poor they could not afford a night’s entertainment, but with the sect’s funds stretched thin, none had any wish to waste what they had.

“Ok-cheong… the younger ones have never seen the wider world. Take them through Wunan and show them around.”

“Senior Brother! I have no time for sightseeing! My duty is clear—I must bring honor to Mount Hua! To claim the title of Supreme Dragon, one must have the aura of a Supreme Dragon! And so I, Ok-cheong…”

Cheong-jang put his hands over his ears.

“Enough. Go and train.”

“At once!”

Ok-cheong was known across Mount Hua as someone who lived for nothing but training—a devoted follower of the sword who sought only to sharpen his skill, not indulge himself. He was unlike most in many ways, yet without his boisterous good humor, the sect would feel far quieter and colder.

*I am sorry, Senior Brother… but they are far too loud. I will leave the rest to you.*

Ok-cheong gripped his sword again, as he did every day. For Mount Hua… and for himself. All else could wait.

Just then, a young disciple came running, breathless.

“Did you hear? The One-Stroke Calligrapher has released a new work!”

Eyes went wide across the group. The One-Stroke Calligrapher’s name carried great meaning for every person from Mount Hua.

“The author of *Mount Hua’s Return* has written another story?”

“Yes—and I have a copy right here!”

The title spanned four characters:

**[Blood-Slaying Cult Leader]**

Ok-cheong found himself smiling without realizing it.
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