A bolt of lightning shot toward a man.

Hong Jagyeong, the vice sect master of the Hwar yeong Sword Sect, barely twisted his body. As the blue lightning grazed his hair, dozens of strands, scorched black, scattered to the ground.

“...So this is the Thunderbolt Heart Technique... It’s truly impressive.”

The blue lightning surging from Song Euigyeong’s sword writhed as if alive.

It was only because it was Hong Jagyeong that he could endure even this much. Had it been anyone else, they would have long departed this world.

Hong Jagyeong’s face was deathly pale.

“...How... did you know?”

“I didn’t figure it out.”

As lightning scattered from the blade, Song Euigyeong stared coldly at Hong Jagyeong.

“It was Lord Seol’s command. That’s all.”

“...Lord... Seol?”

“You still don’t understand.”

Hong Jagyeong grit his teeth.

He hadn’t known.

That Song Euigyeong had become Seol Unwi’s dog.

“Without even pride, crawling beneath a mere bastard barely at Samhwa Chwijung? You—claiming to lead Bongrae—and you willingly make yourself a dog?”

Song Euigyeong gave a faint laugh.

“Just a matter of perspective. If it were Lee Jagyeom, maybe I’d bother explaining—but I see no need to explain to you.”

“...”

“More importantly...”

Song Euigyeong trailed off.

He had indeed been stationed here at Yangmajiro under Unwi’s command. That was true... but he hadn’t expected the catch to be this big.

No less than the vice sect master of the Hwar yeong Sword Sect.

He raised his sword.

Behind him, the martial artists of Bongrae’s Four Grand Sects, Shin Janghu of the Shin Clan in Yangryeong, and the Yangryeong branch enforcers were slaughtering the warriors of Jeokan.

“That’s enough. You may go.”

Song Euigyeong launched forward.

The lightning wrapping his body surged into his sword.

And he struck.

Thunderbolt Thousand Bursts.

Dozens of lightning strikes erupted along the path of his sword.

Startled, Hong Jagyeong swung his sword, raising a defensive barrier.

Fiery Soul-Guarding Formation.

The streaks of lightning fizzled as they hit the barrier—but that was never all there was to it.

Hong Jagyeong could see it—the sight of Song Euigyeong’s sword rising high into the sky beyond the barrier.

And then it came crashing down.

Thunderbolt Thousand Bursts.

Dozens of lightning bolts rained down from the sky following the blade’s arc.

They twisted through the air as if they had minds of their own, homing in on Hong Jagyeong. He tried to raise another barrier—but this time, he was too late.

BOOOM—!!

“Aaaagh!”

His entire body was engulfed in lightning.

Slammed to the ground, his back looked as if it had been roasted over a fire. But he wasn’t yet ready to give up—Hong Jagyeong staggered to his feet.

Song Euigyeong’s eyes gleamed as he lowered his sword sideways.

His legs pushed off the ground, and crackle—! lightning burst from his entire body.

Thunderbolt Single Flash.

His sword extended in a single instant—

SLASH—!!

It cleaved Hong Jagyeong’s upper body in half.

Thud.

His torso and legs fell separately.

Hong Jagyeong would never rise again.

Song Euigyeong walked toward him.

Hong Jagyeong, twitching on the ground, tried to say something.

A curse? A question asking how things had come to this? It didn’t matter.

SLASH—!

Song Euigyeong’s sword severed his neck cleanly.

Silently, Song Euigyeong turned his head.

The battle was nearly over.

There was no need to even mention the performance of the Bongrae Four Grand Sects, and the Yangryeong branch enforcers were faring just as well.

But one stood apart.

Shin Janghu, clan head of the Shin Clan, was different.

Song Euigyeong had ample experience—enough to immediately recognize the martial art once wielded in the ancient age by Heavenly Dragon Sword (天龍一劍) Pung Soil.

Heavenly Sun Ghost Dragon Sword Technique.

Officially ranked as upper-tier in the Heaven-Earth grade system.

Shin Janghu swung his sword—it was unmistakable.

Each swing left behind the image of a dragon or ghost. One side of the blade shimmered cold blue, the other burned hot red.

There was no doubt.

SLASH—!

An enemy warrior’s head soared into the sky at Shin Janghu’s strike.

It was over.

Song Euigyeong looked at Shin Janghu and felt an indescribable strangeness.

Seol Unwi.

Just what is he?

He couldn’t grasp the limits.

That martial art had clearly come from Seol Unwi—yet the man showed not the slightest greed?

“What are you thinking about?”

A woman’s voice came from beside him.

Song Euigyeong turned his head.

It was Ju Soa, the Thousand-Handed Beauty.

She, too, was covered in blood, but otherwise looked rather fine.

He had seen her fight. She was nothing like the typical Ogijo-level martial artist.

Her practical experience was beyond imagination—she would surely reach the Harmonization Stage before long.

To her question, Song Euigyeong simply looked again at Shin Janghu.

“Oh, that man? You know it too, right? Our Lord never muddles reward and punishment.”

He knew well.

He had once investigated Seol Unwi.

But even so—

“Heaven-Earth grade martial arts... That’s beyond my understanding. If it really is the technique of Heavenly Dragon Sword, there must be hundreds in Murim who would kill for it. And he’s not even greedy?”

“He values people over techniques.”

Song Euigyeong was certain.

Shin Janghu—

That man would, in the near future, rise beyond Yangryeong and become known across all Murim.

As he quietly surveyed the surroundings, Song Euigyeong asked Ju Soa:

“How... how is it that he sees all of this at a glance?”

Unwi had said it.

That warriors of Jeokan would be lying in ambush here at Yangmajiro.

Even the Beggars’ Guild and other {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} intelligence networks had detected no such signs—but Unwi had said it with conviction.

He had followed the order half-doubtfully. But he hadn’t expected there really would be an ambush.

How had he known?

Ju Soa replied.

“Honestly, I don’t know either.”

“...Hm?”

“How could a mere mortal understand a genius?”

Song Euigyeong gave a hollow laugh.

The more time passed, the more he felt that his choice to serve under Unwi had been the most correct decision of his life.

“You made the right call.”

“So it seems.”

“You think I’m here for nothing? No matter how Murim turns in the future, our Lord will be at the center of it.”

Song Euigyeong nodded.

That, he could not deny.

His gaze turned to Cheonpung, who was giving commands.

Even as he spoke, he was using his greatsword to sever the heads of corpses one by one, grinning all the while—it was unsettling.

“...That man... is he Cheonpung?”

“Yes. A partial Regional Lord.”

“Why isn’t he... oh...”

Realizing what had happened, Song Euigyeong held his tongue.

He changed the subject.

“So... are we really sending it?”

“If he said send it, what choice do we have?”

Song Euigyeong swallowed hard.

Unwi had said—

Once the enemies were all slain, gather their heads and send them to Lee Jagyeom.

Unwi had called it a “gift.”

At that moment, Song Euigyeong was once again certain:

Not making Seol Unwi his enemy had been the single most correct decision of his entire life.