Silence fell.With the corpses of the Namgung Young Master’s swordsmen at their backs, the word tribute had been spoken.

    And coming from Yeonhwa Nata, it carried undeniable weight.

    At this moment, the black-robed noble, carrying nothing but a loosely slung travel bag and a single sword, was the same man who had killed the head of the Zhuge Clan, the one who sought to dominate Shanxi.

    With the Daebang Sect now gone, he wielded greater influence over the region than any of its so-called sect masters.

    Even the heir to the Killing Gate had to weigh his words carefully in his presence.

    No matter how deeply Geum Jon-hwi had won the trust of the common folk in Shanxi, it made no difference.

    “…A tribute, you say.”

    Salhyup finally spoke, his voice slow and deliberate.

    “If anything, we should be offering one to you, Ma Gwang-ikju. That would be the proper course.”

    “……?”

    “You forged Seon-hwi into a fine hidden sword, did you not? The House of Geum is in your debt—a considerable one, at that.”

    Geum Jon-hwi spoke with a lilt of amusement in his voice.

    “The burden weighed on me greatly. During the Heavenly Demon’s Rebellion, I was still but a child, powerless to protect Seon-hwi from the scheming of the Mo Yong Clan. All I could do was resent my elders for their failure. But you, Ma Gwang-ikju, took up the task my foolish older brother could not complete. How can I possibly repay such a favor? Were it up to me, I would present you with a family heirloom. There are no blood relatives left who can make use of them anyway.”

    His voice carried with it a quiet resonance, pleasant to the ear. His words, flowing smoothly without hesitation, were equally so.

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