Chapter 68: There Is Relative, But No Absolute (3)

Mo Yonggun looked at Yeon Hojeong with a cold eye.

Yeon Hojeong did not avoid his gaze.

After they had stared at one another for quite some time, food and wine finally arrived.

“Set it on the table.”

“Y-yes.”

The runner, scared stiff, set the dishes down with a tremble. With a young man sitting there soaked in blood, fear was only natural.

When the runner left, Mo Yonggun took up the wine bottle.

“Have a cup.”

He filled Yeon Hojeong’s cup, then his own.

“Bottoms up.”

The two drained their cups in one clean pull.

The wine was more bitter than expected. Mo Yonggun’s face twisted for a moment, then smoothed into blankness as he spoke.

“You were too fast.”

“What do you mean?”

“Heh. I think our conversation moved far too quickly. Don’t you?”

Mo Yonggun chuckled and loosened his posture.

“Let’s set aside what we just traded back and forth for a moment. Yes—Yeon Hojeong, was it?”

“......”

“I am still the master of a clan. I’m a swordsman with some small name in the martial world, and I carry one wing of the Seven Great Clans.”

“I’m aware.”

“And you told such a man to come to Henan.”

Yeon Hojeong shook his head.

“Wrong. I said that if you meant to take my hand, then you should come to Henan.”

“Whatever the reason, you summoned me.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No problem at all. It’s just that an outing by a clan master and his daughter could end as nothing more than a chance meeting with the First Young Master of a fellow Great Clan.”

Yeon Hojeong’s eyes flashed.

Smiling, Mo Yonggun asked,

“Whether you wiped out the Azure Wolf Ghosts or called Shaolin, it won’t be too late to proceed after we make our relationship clear first.”

Seasoned.

With a shocking entrance and shocking words, Yeon Hojeong had pulled the atmosphere to himself.

But Mo Yonggun was no easy mark. At a delicate instant he cut the flow and said they should settle things one by one. In a situation where he might have let the initiative slip, he severed cleanly at the proper point.

It was the rhetoric of an old fox. He took profits without taking losses—a stance closer to a merchant than a warrior.

Yeon Hojeong let out a faint ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) laugh.

“Pour me one more.”

“Mm? Heh, that’s easy enough.”

Mo Yonggun filled his cup.

Yeon Hojeong tipped back the refilled cup and let out a dry cough.

Mo Yonggun clicked his tongue.

“Are you all right?”

“My insides prickle and sting.”

“To drink harsh wine on top of internal injuries—don’t abuse a young body too much.”

Yeon Hojeong shook his head.

“So then, are you saying you still have no mind to take my hand?”

“Young man, we must weigh who will take the pot from this gamble, who will raise the stakes in the next, and whose hand will decide the last. Is there any deal concluded without even a flick of the abacus?”

“I thought there was no abacus to flick between us.”

“However unjust the trade, one must take three parts in a hundred of the pot. That is what a trade is.”

Yeon Hojeong smiled.

‘The same as ever.’

The master of a storied, powerful house. A wily, supreme grandmaster.

Mo Yonggun was as he had been in the old days. The more urgent the opponent, the greater the ease with which he began. He showed no opening in any moment, and adjusted the board to favor himself by using the opponent’s mind.

The Sword Deity Mo Yonggun seen in the days of the Dark Emperor, and the clan lord Mo Yonggun now seen by Yeon Hojeong—were the same.

Only one thing differed: he knew Mo Yonggun, and Mo Yonggun did not know him.

‘What is it?’

Inwardly, Mo Yonggun was puzzled.

A young man smiling as he looked at him. There was no fluster of any kind in that youth’s face.

‘Is he that confident?’

Leaving that aside, this was the first time he’d seen a fellow with so little tension while facing the master of the illustrious Mo Yong Clan.

If nothing else, his nerve could contend for first under heaven. Whatever he did, this sort would cause an incident at least once before he left.

At last, Mo Yonggun could be certain.

‘There’s no hidden hand helping him in the dark. That letter—he wrote it himself.’

Mo Yonggun couldn’t help but admire.

‘Clan Lord Yeon—your parenting was done right.’

Yeon Hojeong spoke.

“To speak from the conclusion: I have no intention of going with your side forever.”

“Mm?”

“I can applaud a clan lord’s purpose-driven life as he runs toward his dream. Others, I think, will not.”

Mo Yonggun’s smile deepened.

His eyes, however, sank cold.

“Why do you think that?”

“Think what?”

“‘First under heaven among clans’ and ‘Alliance Lord’—those are not words one tosses out easily. I think you had a reason to write those dangerous and seductive words in your letter.”

“Then is it not so?”

“That is not an answer to the question.”

“There is no other answer to give. Knowing you dream of first under heaven among clans, and that you want to take the seat of Alliance Lord in the end—what else should I say?”

“......”

“I did not assign meaning to each and every character of the letter. Rest easy.”

Mo Yonggun’s eyes flashed.

By instinct he knew: Yeon Hojeong was certain.

Even if he snorted or denied it, the youth would not believe him. Why? Because he knew it was true.

So Mo Yonggun admitted it without resistance.

“How did you know?”

“My lord’s ambition, you mean?”

“Yes. How did you know that I want to make my house first under heaven among clans, and that my final ambition is to become Alliance Lord?”

Yeon Hojeong shook his head.

“If one is the master of a Great Clan, it is something anyone could dream.”

“The hands are on the table, so let’s at least split the pot. I’ll ask again—how did you know?”

“Then this round seems to be my win.”

“......”

“If you’re curious, you’ll have to find out yourself.”

Mo Yonggun stared at him for a long beat, then grinned.

“No openings. I’m impressed.”

“It’s nothing.”

Mo Yonggun filled Yeon Hojeong’s cup.

This time, Yeon Hojeong filled his as well.

“When you think on it, it’s truly strange, isn’t it?”

Draining his cup crisply, Mo Yonggun continued.

“After I received your letter, I was quite shocked. No—how could I not be? As if you’d looked into my head, you touched not only my thoughts and dreams but even my heroic spirit.”

“I’m honored.”

“One question.”

Mo Yonggun leaned his upper body forward.

“If I were to refuse the deal, what would you do?”

Yeon Hojeong tilted his head.

“What could I do? I’d rampage alone.”

“Alone... against the Ming Clan?”

“And at the same time I’d have to face the Mo Yong Clan.”

Smiling, Mo Yonggun asked,

“How?”

“A clan that dreams of being first under heaven is said to have planted spies throughout the other great clans. In the case of the Yeon Clan, not content with swallowing up businesses, you planned to annihilate the clan together with the Ming Clan, didn’t you?”

“......”

“I would end my life in a fairly lonely fight—but what about you, my lord? With a single burst of that rumor, you would have to set down at least one of your dreams.”

Mo Yonggun’s smile deepened.

“You mean to place your life and my house’s honor on the scale?”

“You must add more.”

“What?”

“Behind me stand the Yeon Clan and the Beggars’ Union. However great the honor of the Mo Yong Clan, is it worth more than the price of my life when one of the Nine Sects and One Union and one of the Seven Great Clans stand with me?”

“...If it were you alone, perhaps not—but the Gale Lion backed by two groups like that is certainly burdensome.”

“This round seems to be my win as well.”

“Hahaha!”

Mo Yonggun burst into loud laughter.

Mo Yong Yeonhwa started. She had never seen her father laugh so heartily.

Frankly admiring, Mo Yonggun said,

“You are truly remarkable.”

“You flatter me.”

“It is no flattery. I hear you’ve not even reached your twentieth year—how did you raise such stature and discernment at that age?”

“You learn it naturally if you live getting crushed here and there.”

“Heh heh heh.”

Mo Yonggun was genuinely pleased.

He was a man who spared no means for his dream. If need be, he would turn a sect with no relation to him into ash in a single night.

A nature as cold as they come. But a person’s character is never simple.

Unexpectedly, Mo Yonggun liked Yeon Hojeong. He liked this youth who, with an uncommon breadth and brain and keen discernment, had handed him defeat to his face.

A captivating rising talent. Normally, such stiffness would feel arrogant—but he felt no such thing.

It was as if meeting another comrade-in-arms.

As if seeing a friend who had fought through a turbulent world and come to hold a similar eye and mind.

Smiling, Mo Yonggun filled Yeon Hojeong’s cup and his own.

Cup in hand, he spoke with bracing directness.

“Let’s blow the Ming Clan away.”

Yeon Hojeong smiled back and raised his cup.

“Good.”

Tzinnng!

For the first time, their cups met.

Draining his cup in one go, Mo Yonggun said,

“Since we’ve joined hands, let’s not drag it out.”

“Just what I wanted.”

“Do you truly mean to draw in Shaolin?”

“They’re a sect based here in Henan. And with Shaolin’s standing, the Ming Clan will not dare lift its head.”

“That’s so. But if it were me, I’d stack one more on that.”

“What do you intend?”

Calmly, Mo Yonggun said,

“I will secretly convene a temporary Alliance of the Martial World.”

A strange light flickered in Yeon Hojeong’s eyes.

“A temporary Alliance of the Martial World?”

“Yes. Shaolin’s strength and standing may contend for first under heaven—but they alone are not enough. Shaolin is like an immortal on a cloud. Thus they are strong, and at the same time they can become infinitely weak.”

Yeon Hojeong smiled.

“I think I grasp, roughly, the decisive move the Mo Yong Clan holds.”

Mo Yonggun smiled back. The smile was sincere.

“This is why it’s easy to talk to smart men.”

“Have you planted spies in the Ming Clan as well?”

“Didn’t you already know? From what you said a moment ago, I thought you had guessed.”

“I guessed, but I wasn’t certain.”

“Ha! You’ve landed another blow.”

“Even without side dishes my belly feels full.”

“Hahaha!”

Mo Yong Yeonhwa’s expression, as she watched the two men, turned curious.

She could feel her father’s genuine enjoyment. He had acknowledged that the other was fully worthy of his own level.

‘So he’s that much.’

In truth, Mo Yong Yeonhwa could not fully keep up with the speed of their exchange. With deeper thought she could understand, but in that short span the conversation raced ahead too quickly.

It was like a talk between old, crafty statesmen who saw two, three moves ahead.

And she, as yet, had not reached their plane.

A small wound formed in Mo Yong Yeonhwa’s pride.

“Then when do you intend to begin moving?”

“There’s no need to drag out the time. You have beaten the Ming Clan’s Shadow-Death Division, the Pure-White Martial Corps and the Hall of Guarding the Ming, and even the Azure Wolf Ghosts. That’s sufficient to have gathered justification.”

“To convene a temporary Alliance of the Martial World will take quite some time.”

“Faster than you think. The master of a Great Clan holds several prerogatives.”

“In that case, good.”

“Even so, it will take a full month. In the meantime, how do you mean to endure before the Ming Clan’s demonic hand?”

Just then—

Yeon Hojeong turned his head toward the window.

“Leave it there.”

Slip.

A single beggar appeared outside the window, bobbed his head, set down a letter, and vanished.

Yeon Hojeong unfolded the letter.

His eyes flashed.

“...I’m fairly worn down myself. If it were a one-on-one duel that would be one thing, but if they come in a swarm it will get difficult.”

“And so?”

Yeon Hojeong showed the letter to Mo Yonggun.

Mo Yonggun’s eyes went wide.

“The Ming Clan is in Jiangsu?”

“I didn’t know either. I hadn’t realized my father was investigating this part.”

“Heh. To scheme for the realm, one must be born to ride the timing of heaven. Not quite that grand, but at least it’s more than enough for striking the Ming Clan.”

Yeon Hojeong rose from his seat.

“I’ll go rest now.”

Mo Yonggun rose as well.

“You’ve struggled much. Go and rest well.”

“Yes.”

“And don’t die. If you die, this meeting tonight loses all meaning.”

“You needn’t worry about that. Even if my whole body is covered with the Tang Clan’s cowhair needles, I can stubbornly survive.”

“Hah! You rascal—why cowhair needles, of all things? Hahaha!”

Yeon Hojeong took up the axe he had stood by the entrance.

“I’ll be going.”

“Go well.”

Yeon Hojeong turned his body and opened the door.

Behind him, Mo Yonggun’s laughter sounded.

The smile filling his face went indifferent.

‘Laugh while you can. Next is you.’