Chapter 89: Same Bed, Different Dreams (1)

Past midnight.

After sending Yeon Hojeong off, Mo Yonggun sat drinking alone, staring at the dishes gone cold.

“Hah, how long has it been since I drank this much?”

He had deliberately suppressed his inner force to let the alcohol take hold. His neck up to his face was flushed red.

Mo Yonggun’s smile went hazy.

He replayed his talk with Yeon Hojeong.

‘About that Permit—honestly, isn’t this useless?’

‘Huh! What an ill-mannered thing to say. It bears the Clan Lord of the Mo Yong’s seal.’

‘If I don’t trust the other party, I don’t trust the evidence they hand me. And before I trust anyone, I analyze the situation. You and I both—aren’t we the type with too much ambition to work on mutual trust?’

‘......’

‘I’ll leave this. Buy me a drink sometime.’

Mo Yonggun looked at the Permit lying off to the side.

“......A snake of a fellow.”

Impressive.

No matter how many times he said it, it wasn’t enough—truly an extraordinary talent.

“Listen, Hojeong. There’s one thing you missed.”

TSSS.

With a flicker of killing intent, the Permit whisked through the air and dropped onto the oil-slicked dishes.

“A protruding stone is bound to be hammered. They say a needle shows its point even inside a pouch; a person of excellence reveals himself without trying—but that doesn’t hold in the rivers and lakes. Do you know why?”

He murmured as if Yeon Hojeong sat beside him.

Mo Yonggun grinned.

“Martial folk worry too much. They can’t leave a jutting awl alone. The moment a point sticks out, they grab it and twist it off.”

Too exceptional to leave alone.

Quick mind, quick read. He found the spine of a matter in a single stroke, and he could combine situations to build a flow.

Such a man must never be fed much information. He’d analyze and add piece to piece and read the true intention lurking behind the veil.

Nor should he be given much time. Even without information he’d find a way to see straight through what had happened.

A troublesome one. All the more reason not to leave him be.

“If possible, I’d like him to taste something bitter in Anhui. Or... is that so?”

Mo Yonggun glanced back.

A stalwart in his forties stood in the shadowy corner with arms crossed.

“You knew I was here?”

“Ha! Of course. How could I not recognize that wind-like inner force of yours?”

The stalwart’s eyes sank deep.

The instant he revealed his presence, a mist-like pressure diffused. No ordinary master.

“You should’ve come earlier. You could’ve had a look at that Yeon Hojeong.”

“Not interested.”

“Heh heh, still the same.”

“So—we seed it only to the Namgung Clan?”

“That’s right. You know this already, but the source must never be exposed.”

“The Namgung Clan Lord is a sharp one. He’s not the sort to trust information without a source.”

“And he’s not the sort to sit and take it, either. Curiosity alone will move him.”

“May I ask one thing?”

“Ask.”

“Why are you so fixated on this Yeon Hojeong?”

Mo Yonggun’s eyes went cold.

“Because he’s too outstanding.”

“To that extent?”

“He hasn’t even reached twenty. And he has me on edge. Even when I drove out my own brothers and took the clan seat, there wasn’t one like him.”

“......”

“Do you understand? At that age he can see exactly what I see. A monster. And his martial arts are outstanding on top of that.”

“......”

“If he keeps growing as he is, I don’t know how fearsome a beast he’ll become.”

A chill ran through the stalwart’s chest.

He knew Mo Yonggun well. He knew his ability and his nature.

So he didn’t trust him—yet he couldn’t get free of him either.

A talent that makes Mo Yonggun himself tense...

“If the kid catches on, then what?”

“No matter. Even if he knows it’s a trap, he won’t strike back.”

“How can you be certain?”

Mo Yonggun smiled.

“Because he knows the terror of public opinion. Which is exactly why we leak to the Namgung.”

“......”

“Affection is a frightening thing. And as frightening as affection is, so is pride. To the Namgung Clan, Yeon Hojeong is that sort of man.”

“......”

“Come now—let’s begin.”

Mo Yonggun raised his cup.

“The result doesn’t matter. What matters is the conflict. Whether he dies, gets smashed to pieces, or comes back alive—it’ll make for a very entertaining show.”

****

After sending the Azure Hawk Squad back to the Yeon Clan, Yeon Hojeong was alone for the first time in a while.

THOOM!

His movement climbing the mountain path was lively.

Not the speed of a man running with an eighty-catty iron axe on his shoulder. It could rightly be called first-rate lightness work.

Still a bit hard.

He was training his movement arts using the bare minimum of inner force.

It wasn’t like when he’d returned from the convocation and trained toward realization. Then, with maximum strength he had hauled up heavy (pull); now, with minimal strength he was pushing out light.

Light, push, scatter, launch, soft—these five characters are the essence of the Lightness Arts.

Only when you fully internalize the five essentials and can run them unconsciously can you be said to have reached the state.

Still lacking.

The Four Spirit Arts he’d mastered were not lacking for the title of the world’s best.

But he had never separately trained movement arts. Not even in the days of the Dark Emperor.

What mattered was fighting and killing, not pursuit. And even if his movement art wasn’t exceptional, his stamina was second to none in the Central Plains; he could run for days without fatigue.

Now it was different.

A supplement to movement is necessary. If only to avoid the same regrets as before.

Back then, as the Dark Emperor, he had subordinates he could trust to handle things. Now he had to do everything alone.

I have to know how to do it all. I have to be a universal tool.

THOOM!

He spurred his speed.

A day passed, then two, and Yeon Hojeong didn’t stop. When truly tired he drank water and ate rice balls. He didn’t sleep.

Only on the third day did he sprawl out flat on a nameless low hill.

It was a brutish training method. It was a wonder he didn’t die from it.

The next day, after sleeping for more than six watches, he again trained movement and sprinted toward Eight Dukes Mountain.

Days passed, and at last he crossed into Anhui.

SWAAAASH!

Sheets of rain poured down.

It looked ready to hammer down for three or four days straight.

Yeon Hojeong decided to suspend his movement training. Since he had entered Anhui, he could consider himself at the edge of the battle zone. From here on he needed to build reserves and maintain perfect condition.

SPLAT! SPLAT!

He slipped and fell several times, descending the rain-soaked mountain path.

After quite a while coming down, he finally entered Taihe County in Anhui, into a large wine house called Shanyin Stop.

“Give me a south-facing room on the top floor of the rear courtyard. And draw a bath.”

“Ah—of course.”

He produced a gold ingot in case they took him for a beggar. The server boys’ eyes and posture changed completely.

The wine house was crowded.

But no one thought him to be that man from the rumors. He carried an imposing axe, yes, but he looked far too shabby.

All the better. He despised hassle.

“Ughhh.”

Four hours later.

Fresh from his bath and after clearing an entire table, Yeon Hojeong collapsed straight onto the bed.

“......You really train like a brute. Are you truly the Dark Emperor?”

Next day.

He slept the day away and only opened his eyes at dusk. A peculiar presence outside the window made him rise.

“Ng. Who is it?”

A quiet voice came from above the window, up on the roof.

“From the Wild Wind Pavilion.”

“Wild Wind Pavilion?”

“The Mo Yong Clan’s intelligence arm.”

“Ah.”

He had requested certain necessities from Mo Yonggun. One of them was information.

Anhui was a region the Namgung Clan gripped tight. But it was so vast that they couldn’t check every inch.

Which was why the Pavilion’s agents could exist in Anhui at all.

“Interim report. I’ll return at this time tomorrow.”

“Good work.”

SWISH.

A neatly tied letter flew in from outside the window.

Their way of doing business differed from the Beggars’ Union. The Beggars looked sloppier on the surface, but that was only appearance; they were far more organized and professional.

Now he understood why people called the Beggars’ Union the orthodox world’s number one intelligence body.

Yeon Hojeong opened the letter.

“Hm.”

Sleep and fatigue vanished in an instant.

“Arrived faster than I thought.”

Even while choosing mountain paths and training movement, he had arrived ahead of Ming Heorim. Ming Heorim had yet to exit Henan.

It was only natural. Ming Heorim would be moving under extreme tension, paying close attention to everything around him.

Of course, the Wild Wind Pavilion agents couldn’t pinpoint his exact location either. They were tracking traces and estimating his general position.

If I start trailing from behind, he won’t stop at Eight Dukes Mountain. Better to get there first and wait.

The letter even marked the location of the safehouse at Eight Dukes Mountain.

Naturally, knowing the spot didn’t mean he could enter. There would be a unique method of entry. He only had to wait out front.

“In that case—”

Yeon Hojeong’s gaze deepened.

“I can meet him ahead of time.”

In truth, he hadn’t needed to accept this matter. To him, Mo Yongwu was ten thousand times more important than Ming Heorim.

But he couldn’t look away when Muk Bi was said to be here.

A small smile touched Yeon Hojeong’s face.

“I wonder what that man was like in his youth.”

Muk Bi was taciturn. Naturally, Yeon didn’t know his past. He always wore a mask. Yeon Hojeong was the only one who had seen his true face.

The smile faded from Yeon Hojeong’s lips, growing indifferent.

“Golden Sword Gate, huh.”

Why had Muk Bi annihilated the Golden Sword Gate?

The Muk Bi he knew wouldn’t loose an arrow without cause. Even as one of the top three at the Black Emperor’s Citadel, a man of extreme martial attainment, he never killed recklessly.

He knew restraint. He knew responsibility. That was why Yeon valued him.

Yeon Hojeong rolled his wrist.

CRACK. His whole arm loosened, a pleasant relief.

“Time to move.”

With the thought that he’d soon meet Muk Bi, he wasn’t even hungry. Besides, he’d eaten copiously before sleeping last night.

He planted a foot on the windowsill.

THOOM!

Even after spacing out for days immersed in training, he could feel it—his springing method had grown distinctly more nimble.

From the center of Taihe he shot to the outskirts in a breath and soon found a shabby beggars’ den.

FWIP!

“GYAAAH!—You scared me! Huh? Wh-who are you?”

Yeon Hojeong drew a black token from his breast.

In an instant, the beggar’s eyes changed.

“All branches across the Central Plains have received ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) the Rear Beggar’s notice. We pay respects to Young Master Yeon.”

“I stopped by because I want to know something.”

“The Wild Wind Pavilion...?”

“I don’t mesh with those fellows. When it comes to information, the Beggars’ Union is it.”

The beggar grinned.

“What information have you come for?”

“At Eight Dukes Mountain, that Anhui Blood—”

KRAAAAH!

A faint scream tore up from the far south.

Yeon Hojeong and the beggar’s faces changed.

THOOOOM!

The two of them kicked off from the den.