So, they mean to play such a transparent trick.
Cheon Wuha, who had already overheard everything from inside the office, thought to himself.
Though Cheon Myeonghak and the chief steward had not noticed, to Wuha their scheme was all too clear.
They mean to make the Yongmyeong Guild so desperate, with nowhere to turn, that it will kneel before them of its own accord?
Most likely, during the past fifteen days, they had already reached out to the nearby orthodox sects.
So that the Yongmyeong Guild could not form a new protection contract.
So that no one else would dare extend a helping hand.
In the end, the Yongmyeong Guild would be unable to contract with anyone. And then, rumors would spread, and the flies would gather.
The hungry demonic sects, always searching with bloodshot eyes for prey, would never pass up such a succulent target.
I'd crush that vile face right now, if only…
But unfortunately, he could not.
He was no longer the Shaoming of the Black Heaven Sect.
For now, he could only wait calmly until he seized an irrefutable justification to collect the debt.
A chill lingered in Wuha's eyes when—
"By the way, young master, is it really all right for you to be sitting here like this?"
"…What?"
"Isn't today the day Master Go is supposed to arrive?"
"…!"
"Now that I think about it, it's nearly time for him to arrive…"
"…Damn!"
Swish!
Before the steward could even finish speaking, Wuha launched himself away.
He no longer bothered to conceal his martial arts, and his dash back to his quarters was swift beyond compare.
The news that the Sect of the Bell had ended its protection contract with the Yongmyeong Guild spread quickly throughout Xi'an.
Almost as though someone had deliberately fanned the rumors.
Within two days of the steward's visit, there were few who had not heard the tale.
And among those who heard, so too were the demonic sects entrenched on the city's outskirts.
Thunk.
In a darkened room.
A hulking brute set down the wine bottle he had been drinking straight from, like a cup, and spoke to the straw-hatted man bowing before him.
"So the Sect of the Bell… really ended their contract with the Yongmyeong Guild?"
"Yes."
"And only three days ago?"
"Yes."
"…Heh."
The brute leaned back in his stone chair, unable to contain his laughter.
"The rumors spread quickly indeed… and quite conveniently."
"Well… isn't it obvious?"
"Heh heh… those sly bastards, trying to fatten themselves off us?"
"Isn't that always how the orthodox sects are?"
The straw-hatted man gave a short laugh, then his eyes gleamed.
"What will you do? It's distasteful, but this is the greatest prey we've seen in years."
"…"
"We toy with them, get our fun, and when the orthodox sects move, we can pretend reluctance and withdraw. That's all the picture they want to paint anyway."
"Hm…"
Creeeak.
The brute slowly rose to his feet, and the heavy stone chair scraped away like it was nothing more than wood.
"It's true, this isn't bad for us either. Were it not for the Zhongnan Sect, those worms would never have dared lift their heads, leaving us to scrabble for the crumbs that fell to the ground."
"By that, you mean…"
"One thing."
Shhhk.
The brute reached toward the massive saber hanging on the wall.
A moment later, he lightly lifted the blade, nearly six chi long, his eyes gleaming with greedy hunger.
"Still, I won't let things go entirely according to their plan. After all… we are demonic cultivators, are we not?"
"…By that, you mean?"
"I mean let's make this certain."
At his words, the straw-hatted man's eyes flashed, and a crooked smile spread across the brute's lips.
"If a feast is already laid before us, why pretend at courtesy and share scraps, when we could gorge ourselves?"
"…Your words are most true."
At that, the straw-hatted man too let a wicked smile creep across his face.
It was the third day since the Sect of the Bell had ended its contract with the Yongmyeong Guild.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Thick beads of sweat poured down like rain.
His thin legs trembled as though seized by spasms.
Across his shoulders rested a pole, each end weighed with boulders the size of human heads.
Cheon Wuha's face was twisted as he struggled to rise and squat again beneath the weight, as though he might collapse at any moment.
Damn… this is insane.
He had not expected it to be this harsh.
This was a basic exercise practiced by the warriors of the Black Heaven Sect to temper the body.
A motion done using only the strength of flesh, without the aid of inner energy—yet it forced his limits upon him so quickly.
Just one more… one more…
Grinding his teeth, he tried to force his body upright with sheer will.
But in the end, his body betrayed him, collapsing to the ground, unable to endure his will.
Thud.
Crash.
"Hahh! Hahh… hahhh!"
Kneeling on the floor, Wuha gasped, releasing the breaths he had held back.
Heat surged throughout his body, leaving his mind hazy, the metallic taste of blood rising in his throat.
His legs burned with fiery pain.
Admitting this was the limit for today, Wuha finally set aside the training weights and sprawled on the ground.
Flop.
"Haa… at this rate, I'll die a second death."
Half grumble, half truth, he muttered while staring up at the sky.
But despite the words, a faint satisfaction lingered on his face.
It had been just over twenty days since he began seriously tempering his body.
When he had first started, he could hardly imagine walking normally the next day.
He had doubted the effectiveness of this training.
Yet day by day, the number of repetitions grew, and he could feel his strength building.
It's… not such a bad feeling after all.
To build something step by step through effort.
He had thought the slow pace would only frustrate him, but the tangible changes, however small, brought a fresh, unexpected pleasure.
…Time to get up.
It was nearly the hour of the Snake.
Soon he would meet Cho Mudo and Jang Uibo.
After a short rest, Wuha pushed himself up—
Tadadadap.
"Hm?"
Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed from one side of the manor.
Turning his head, Wuha spotted Chief Steward Do hurrying past the training ground toward the outer gate.
"Chief Steward?"
"Hm? Ah… young master."
Seeing Wuha approach, sweat-soaked clothes clinging to him, the chief steward halted and turned.
"What brings you here at this hour?"
"That's what I wanted to ask you. I was just exercising lightly. But where are you rushing off to so early in the morning?"
"Ah, I see. I have some business to attend to far from the city, so I was just setting out."
"Far away?"
Wuha tilted his head at the answer. Then his eyes fell on the thick bundle of documents in the steward's hands.
"Don't tell me… this is about the protection contract again?"
"Ah… yes."
"You've been at it since about five days ago."
"…"
"Seems it hasn't been easy to find a sect to contract with since things soured with the Sect of the Bell, has it?"
At Wuha's careful words, the steward flinched and shook his head vigorously in denial.
"Of course not! These things simply take time, as we must consider many sects and conditions. That's all."
"…Truly?"
"Ha ha, of course. After all, isn't the Yongmyeong Guild counted among the Five Great Guilds of Xi'an? There are more than enough sects eager to contract with us. No need to worry."
"Hmm… if you say so."
Wuha nodded slowly.
With the conversation finished, the steward smiled faintly and offered him a polite bow.
"Then I'll be on my way. Young master, don't overstrain yourself. Go inside and rest."
"Yes, travel safely."
"Yes, farewell."
The steward departed in haste once more.
Watching his retreating back disappear quickly into the distance, Wuha's eyes gleamed with complex thought.
"What? For what reason?"
"As I told you. At present, Changgeom Sect has no capacity to take on additional guilds."
The face of the Changgeom Sect's steward was troubled as he gave his refusal, while Do Jeongyeong's face hardened.
"No capacity? That makes no sense. To my knowledge, Changgeom Sect only contracts with two guilds."
"T-that may be true, but…"
"You're telling me you'll reject us, even though we're offering more than both combined? Without even considering it internally?"
"…My apologies."
Though Do Jeongyeong pressed logically and firmly, the Changgeom steward still shook his head.
"Our sect master has ordered us not to discuss contracts with anyone for the time being, as we must focus on strengthening our foundations. Please understand."
"…Sigh."
Do Jeongyeong could only sigh deeply.
Though it was discourteous in such a setting, no one present rebuked him.
Rather, they averted their eyes, unable to meet his gaze.
There's something I don't know here.
Otherwise, how could he have been refused seven times in five days?
After quietly observing their reactions, Do Jeongyeong finally set his documents on the table and rose.
"Very well. But please review them once more. If your stance changes, I ask you to seek out the Yongmyeong Guild anytime."
"…We will."
"Thank you. Then I'll take my leave."
He offered a short bow and departed.
Once he was gone, sighs slipped from the lips of the Changgeom elders in the office.
"Phew…"
"Sigh…"
"This is… refusing without reason is harder than it seems."
"Indeed, especially since we too are in need. Contracting with a guild of Yongmyeong's stature would be a great boon…"
"But what choice do we have? If we join hands with them, we'll never be able to handle the consequences."
One after another, excuses spilled from their mouths, though their faces all betrayed deep regret.
"It cannot be helped. Regrettable for both sides, but refusing is the right course."
"Burn the documents. We can't risk anyone thinking the Changgeom Sect was even considering Yongmyeong."
"Yes, elder."
The steward reached for the papers.
His eyes lingered with reluctance for a moment, but only for a moment.
Soon enough, he gathered the documents with a cold hand.
"…Another refusal?"
"Yes."
Hearing Do Jeongyeong's report, Cheon Myeonghak's face darkened.
He already knew something strange was happening.
For sects to avoid contracting with a guild of Yongmyeong's stature was unthinkable.
Even when he tried to adjust terms in the other side's favor, the result was the same.
There was only one explanation: they were all wary of the Sect of the Bell.
So even Changgeom turned us down…
Most sects in Xi'an followed the Zhongnan Sect, to which the Sect of the Bell also belonged.
But Changgeom had been founded by the wandering swordsman Changseonggeom less than ten years ago.
Still facing exclusion and pressure from other sects, they had seemed likely to side with Yongmyeong.
"And the Sect of the Bell's influence… is this great?"
"Not the Sect of the Bell's—the Zhongnan Sect's influence. Among the common folk, the Sect of the Bell is mocked as the sect defeated by a guild."
Bitterness colored Do Jeongyeong's voice.
For indeed, no sect had ever stooped to such underhanded interference when ending a contract with a guild.
After all, they bore the name of the orthodox path. No one could know when ties might need to be mended.
"To think, after all the years we've shared a boat together, they'd do this…"
"Sigh… let it go. Venting our anger changes nothing."
Cheon Myeonghak sighed, shifting the subject.
"Now, we must focus on countermeasures. We cannot know what will happen once the rumor spreads that the Yongmyeong Guild is unprotected."
"…Understood. Tomorrow, I'll try again with the sects on Xi'an's outskirts."
"Reconsider the terms as well. If we cling to small things and lose the greater whole, it will all be meaningless."
"Yes, guild master."
At his words, the steward nodded firmly.
But Cheon Myeonghak's expression did not ease.
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