Truth and Falsehood
In front of the outer gate of the Tang Clan.
A hundred members of the Black Wolf Troop, who had just moved here after watching the battle at the inner gate, all wore strange expressions.
They had been grinding their teeth in frustration at being unable to fight, but the storm of hidden weapons unleashed during the Tang Clan's retreat was enough to chill them to the bone.
If they had been the vanguard as usual, many of the comrades standing beside them now would no longer be alive.
In the eerie silence, Squad Leader Mong Chu spoke to Cho Ji-myeong.
"They say misfortune can turn to fortune… our resentment may have been luck after all…"
He trailed off, unable to finish.
It was a blessing that they had not lost any of their men. But it could not simply be called fortunate—because the two hundred massacred in an instant were still allies, comrades-in-arms.
Cho Ji-myeong remained silent for a moment before speaking.
"A tragic waste. If the high command had been more composed, such sacrifices could have been avoided."
Mong Chu tilted his head and asked,
"You mean the high command made a mistake?"
He and the others had thought it was simply an unavoidable tragedy, born of the Tang Clan's careful preparations. But their commander's words were different.
"The Tang Clan has deceived the world for a hundred and fifty years. To think such cunning foes would collapse so helplessly without even a counterstrike—that was arrogance. The high command took this battle too lightly."
At that, the Black Wolf Troop members nodded. Looking back, the relaxed faces of the leaders on the way here were unsettling.
Even if victory seemed assured, their lack of tension had been wrong. In its place had been greed for glory.
Mong Chu's eyes lit up as he agreed.
"Yes, now that I think of it—they should have been more cautious. The Tang's retreat looked far too orderly. From our vantage point it was clearer than from the front, but it gave me a bad feeling."
"Exactly. The high command pressed harder, believing they had the advantage. But that was the mistake. When the pulse quickens, when excitement rises—that is when one must be calmest. One must stop, and look carefully around."
Cho Ji-myeong's brow furrowed. He realized he was in no place to blame others.
The memory of his defeat at the hands of the Scholar of the Martial World, Cheon Ryu-yeong, resurfaced. At the time, he had been certain of victory. The result had been miserable.
A bitter smile came unbidden.
He had prided himself on his battlefield instincts, honed over a lifetime of war. Yet one young man had shattered that pride.
Once more, he felt the weight of a single commander's judgment—and vowed never again to let his men die through his own errors.
In that sense… the Heavenly Wolf Troop were fortunate. Their commander always brought the greatest victories for the least cost.
He felt guilt toward his own men. His troop had always been first into battle, and thus had always borne heavy losses.
The Heavenly Wolf Troop, meanwhile, after ten years of campaigns, still retained over seventy percent of their original members. Unprecedented. Unheard of.
That miracle was possible only because of one extraordinary commander: the Heavenly Demon Sword.
At that moment, from the inner gate, a Black Wolf scout ran toward them. He had been sent with Paruk to monitor the battle.
"Commander!"
Seeing the man's face, Mong Chu sensed something extraordinary had happened.
"What is it?"
"The Scholar of the Martial World! Young Master Cheon Ryu-yeong has appeared!"
"…!"
All eyes went wide. The mere name made their skin crawl.
Mong Chu stammered,
"A-are you certain? Why would he interfere in a hopeless fight unless he has gone mad?"
"It was him, without a doubt. He arrived boldly with only six or seven companions. He rode a white stallion into the very center between both battle lines."
Mong Chu pressed a hand to his forehead, incredulous.
"A battlefield is no playground… he must truly be insane. What happened then?"
"I don't know. Captain Paruk ordered me to report his appearance at once."
All eyes turned to Cho Ji-myeong. An unshakable sense of dread welled in his chest.
Mong Chu swallowed hard and asked,
"Commander… is he truly mad?"
Cho Ji-myeong's face had gone rigid, his lips clamped tight. Mong Chu pressed him.
"Commander!"
At last, Cho Ji-myeong let out a strange sigh and answered,
"Prepare for battle."
At his order, the Black Wolf Troop quickly reformed their lines. Their once-loose faces tightened in grim tension.
Such was the weight of the name Cheon Ryu-yeong—the only man who had ever toyed with the Black Wolf Troop.
Mong Chu asked breathlessly,
"Do we march inside?"
Cho Ji-myeong shook his head.
"Our hundred men won't change the outcome. If it's pure force, we cannot possibly lose."
"Then what should we do? What is he planning?"
"I don't know."
"…"
"For now, we hold here, and maintain vigilance. Guard against the unexpected. That is the best we can do."
"Yes, sir…"
"But one thing is certain. If the Scholar is not insane, he would not have come here just to play the hero."
"…!"
"Perhaps this battle…"
He turned his gaze toward the shadowed halls of the Tang Clan.
"…may be far more difficult than expected."
"There are three reasons."
Cheon Ryu-yeong's mellifluous voice rang through the Grand Training Ground, thick with murderous intent.
But in truth, it was not the voice itself—it was the words he spoke that entranced all present.
Both ally and enemy fell silent, staring at him.
Three reasons?
If NoK Ak-cheon gave the order for a full assault, the Tang would be annihilated under overwhelming power. That was not belief, but certainty.
Everyone knew Hawk Tang Cheol-hyeon's inner power was spent. Everyone knew nearly thirty percent of the Tang were wounded.
Meanwhile, the demonic sect and Black Heaven Lotus Alliance brimmed with experts, their morale unbroken.
By every measure—numbers, spirit, mastery—the outcome was already decided.
The hush that followed Cheon Ryu-yeong's words lasted but an instant, yet it was heavy and deep. It was not curiosity, but disbelief.
And yet… a small, subtle ripple of unease flickered in the hearts of the black-path warriors.
For Cheon Ryu-yeong's demeanor was far too composed.
This was the very man the Heavenly Demon Sword Baek Un-hoe had warned them endlessly to beware of. And he had walked into the jaws of death with only a handful of companions.
Why?
The obvious question stirred in every mind.
Unless he was insane, how could he act thus?
Faith is among the firmest things in the world. But once a crack appears, even the smallest doubt can spread like wildfire.
And the first tiny crack had been made by Cheon Ryu-yeong's confident entrance.
Behind NoK Ak-cheon, one of his intelligence officers whispered,
"There are notable figures among his companions. The Sword Peak of the Dokgo Clan, and the Azure Dragon Spear of the Namgung Clan."
The words stoked fresh unease in the high command.
A dot had become a line, and that line threatened to widen into a fissure.
For who could have expected Namgung Su—the third son of the Namgung Clan, hailed as the Azure Dragon Spear—to be here?
He was renowned for his ruthless pragmatism, weighing profit and loss in all things. That such a man had come willingly into a deathtrap was beyond belief.
Elder Mong Hyeol-bi, too, whispered in a cautious tone.
"Are you certain it's really the Azure Dragon Spear? Even if the moon is full, it is still night. Couldn't it simply be someone who looks similar?"
The scout replied with conviction.
"We know precisely the faces of the Five Dragons, the Three Peaks, and the Twelve Moons of the Post-Heaven generation."
His certainty deepened the crack of doubt already running through the hearts of the leaders.
This, in truth, had not even been part of Cheon Ryu-yeong's calculations. Yet even without Namgung Su's presence, unease already gnawed at the demonic ranks.
NoK Ak-cheon's eyes swept briefly over the figures surrounding the white stallion before settling once again on Cheon Ryu-yeong.
"Heh heh heh… the Heavenly Demon Sword nagged us endlessly to beware of you until our ears went numb. But this is laughable. So the Scholar of the Martial World is just a lunatic after all. You spoke of three reasons? What a pity—I don't care to hear them."
Mabul chimed in with a growl.
"Indeed, I agree. Young Lord, shall I sever his head and present it to you before we crush the Tang?"
At his words, the Asura Troop leader beside him shifted as though ready to spring forward at once. The commanders of the Red Wolf Troop and White Wolf Troop likewise wore expressions that they would dash out the instant the order came.
Murderous intent swelled from the commanders and generals, spreading like a plague through the demonic ranks until the entire host radiated menace.
It was, in truth, a defense mechanism—to snuff out the tiny sparks of unease that had begun to glow in the corners of their hearts.
Then Hawk Tang Cheol-hyeon suddenly burst into laughter.
"Khahahaha! Young Master Cheon! They don't even want to know why they'll be defeated, why they'll die. They just want to rush in and be slaughtered!"
Cheon Ryu-yeong turned to him with a playful click of his tongue.
"Tsk, that would be far too boring, don't you think?"
Cheol-hyeon's smile vanished, and he thundered angrily,
"Boring? Do you even realize the losses my clan has suffered? The mechanisms connecting outer and inner gates have been destroyed! That much, I could accept—but more than thirty of our disciples are dead…"
He broke off, trembling, his fury seemingly too great to voice.
But it was an act—a performance. As Cheon Ryu-yeong had expected, ninety-three-year-old Tang Cheol-hyeon, tempered by a lifetime of battles, knew how to play along perfectly.
Cheon Ryu-yeong responded with equal gravity.
"To abandon the small and gain the great—saso chwi dae. Such sacrifices must be endured if one wishes to seize something greater."
Cheol-hyeon snapped back,
"Are you calling the deaths of thirty disciples small, Young Master Cheon?"
Those watching were dumbfounded. They understood, in part, what the two men were hinting at.
Victory.
But to say such words aloud seemed preposterous.
Yet it was Cheon Ryu-yeong who voiced the unthinkable.
"A waste, yes. A grievous loss. But without this sacrifice, how could we ever hope to capture the Demonic Sect's young lord, its elders, and the entire leadership of the Black Heaven Lotus Alliance? You understand this, do you not?"
Cheol-hyeon furrowed his brows but held his tongue. His silence read as tacit agreement.
Murmurs spread among Tang and demonic warriors alike, but hushed again as Cheon Ryu-yeong continued.
"Furthermore, to swallow one thousand seven hundred enemies in a single stroke—that too the finest elites—is a feat beyond compare. For those of you who have chosen to stand with the orthodox sects, this merit will raise your families to glory throughout the realm. Yes, thirty disciples are a painful loss… but…"
At last, the Supreme Elder of the Blood Sect could not bear to listen any longer.
"Enough!"
His qi-infused voice shook the air as he glared between Cheon Ryu-yeong and Cheol-hyeon.
"What trickery is this? You speak as though you did not retreat in defeat, but lured us here deliberately!"
Cheon Ryu-yeong turned to him with a faint smile.
"Ah, so you've finally realized. Slower than I expected."
"W-what?"
"If we had revealed our true strength openly, you would never have dared approach. So we had no choice but to draw you in. Truly, I feel like bowing in thanks for coming so willingly into the tiger's den."
The deliberate mockery made even the cautious Blood Priest snap in fury.
"You madman!"
"Choose, then. Do you wish to know the three reasons before you die—or perish in ignorance? There is, of course, another option. Surrender… and I promise you will not be slain. After all, I am a man of peace."
Blood Priest, NoK Ak-cheon, Mong Hyeol-bi, Yellow Demon Guest, Mabul, Sa Hyeol-gang.
The six leaders' eyes met.
There were only two thoughts shared between them:
—Enough of this nonsense; attack and kill him now.
—or at least hear him out first.
Then Cheon Ryu-yeong cried aloud,
"The first reason why we will win, and you will lose!"
NoK Ak-cheon had been about to sneer that he didn't care to hear it, but the Blood Priest spoke first, lips curling in a sardonic smile.
"Go on, let's hear it. I've been curious what kind of delusions you've wrapped yourself in to stand so boldly. Speak, Scholar. But know this—whatever reasons you spout, the moment you finish the third, your head will roll in the dirt."
Cheon Ryu-yeong chuckled briefly, as though amused by the threat, then grew solemn.
"First: you cannot attack us."
A hush passed through the Grand Training Ground, carried on the wind. NoK Ak-cheon clutched his neck in disbelief, laughing harshly.
What was this?
They had tensed for something great, only to be struck with the absurd.
"Kekeke… so you truly are insane. A little fame went to your head and you've lost your mind?"
Snickers spread through the demonic ranks. Even the Tang disciples, who had dared to hope, drooped with disappointment.
But Cheon Ryu-yeong only smiled faintly, snapping his golden fan shut and scratching at his temple with it as he continued.
"Second: though you cannot attack us, the Tang Clan can attack you. Which means you must lose, and we must win. Is that not the simplest of truths?"
NoK Ak-cheon's manic laughter shook the air.
"Khahahaha! Khahahahahaha!"
The Blood Priest too bowed his head, chuckling. So did Mabul and Sa Hyeol-gang.
All around, derisive laughter rose from the demonic soldiers.
Cutting through that scorn, Cheon Ryu-yeong raised his voice once more.
"Third! Since it is the last, let me begin with a question."
"…"
"On what basis are you so certain… that the Tang Clan no longer possesses the Formless Deadly Poison?"
At that, the laughter faltered. Faces stiffened.
The Blood Priest muttered, eyes narrowing,
"Because we eradicated it."
Cheon Ryu-yeong shrugged, expression openly scornful.
"Did you see it destroyed with your own eyes? Did the Tang themselves say it was gone? Or was it merely some spy you sent, who never returned to confirm? Tell me—what, exactly, have you seen and heard? What foundation do you have for this belief?"
"…"
"A rainbow is beautiful, but it has no substance. You have chased only a rainbow—an illusion. For that, I offer my deepest condolences."
"…"
"The Tang Clan's… Formless Deadly Poison endures."
The tiny crack of doubt, once silenced, now split wide with an audible wrench. The spark of unease in their hearts flared suddenly into flame.