Chapter 013
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed against the stone floor.
The man walking swiftly had a face frozen as hard as rock. The reason was the report clutched tightly in his hand.
Recently, a large number of Black Brush Gang members—those responsible for distributing illegal copies of Wudang Sword Hero—had been arrested after martial arts notices spread throughout the Central Plains.
This was a serious problem.
The Iron Lion Fortress, the sect to which the man belonged, had been secretly backing the Black Brush Gang.
"I never expected the Wudang Sect to take such aggressive action."
The main force of the Black Brush Gang, which had been steadily establishing itself and expanding throughout Henan, had been nearly annihilated. That alone was a major loss.
Worse still, the Murim Alliance had intervened.
The situation had escalated far beyond expectations.
The greatest blow was the destruction of their largest branch in Luoyang.
"I don't understand how things ended up like this."
The man irritably ran his fingers through his hair.
He had planned to expand the Black Brush Gang's influence and recover his investment—but it was as if a flower had been killed by frost before it could even bloom.
A complete disaster.
He stopped before the massive doors of an enormous hall.
Its overwhelming scale crushed the spirit of those who stood before it.
This was the Iron Soul Hall, residence of the Iron Lion Fortress Lord—Iron-Thread Soul.
...
"Military Commissioner, sir!"
The guards stationed at the doors saluted sharply.
Cha, chak!
Spears were presented before their chests with disciplined precision.
The man nodded slightly.
"Is the Fortress Lord inside?"
"Yes. Shall I announce your arrival, Commissioner?"
"Please do."
"Understood."
One of the guards disappeared into the Iron Soul Hall.
The Iron Lion Fortress was maintained by ironclad discipline. This strict code was the foundation of its survival and the reason it was feared as the strongest sect among the unorthodox factions.
Breaking the rules was forbidden—even for the Military Commissioner, Evil Shadow, one of the fortress's highest-ranking leaders.
The sole exception was the Fortress Lord himself.
...
"The Fortress Lord asks you to enter, Commissioner."
"I understand."
The guard opened the door.
The Military Commissioner stepped inside, a faint anxiety tightening his chest.
Every time he entered the Iron Soul Hall, it felt as though his heart was being squeezed by chains of ice.
After passing through a corridor lined with guards, he reached the center of the main hall—decorated with splendor rivaling an imperial court.
There, reclining lazily upon a dragon throne, was a young man wearing a bored expression.
Above his head, two halberds crossed diagonally, forged from gray iron of unmistakably extraordinary quality.
Beneath them sat the master of the Iron Lion Fortress—
Iron Blood Demon Lord, Iron-Thread Soul.
A young lion of the unorthodox faction, barely in his late twenties.
The Military Commissioner bowed deeply.
"I present myself to the Fortress Lord."
"Ah. The Military Commissioner."
Iron-Thread Soul straightened from his reclined position.
The Military Commissioner rarely came before him—unless something had gone wrong.
And this time was no exception.
As Iron-Thread Soul sat upright, the boredom in his eyes faded slightly.
"What brings you here?"
"The Black Brush Gang forces in Henan have been virtually annihilated."
Iron-Thread Soul frowned.
"The Black Brush Gang?"
"Yes."
"Aren't they the ones copying and selling that Wudang book? We contacted them through the Hao Sect… and they were wiped out?"
"The Wudang bastards circulated martial notices and acted swiftly. I am deeply sorry!"
The Military Commissioner prostrated himself, repeatedly smashing his forehead against the floor.
Iron-Thread Soul grimaced.
He always does this when he fails… how troublesome.
With a soft hum—
Woong.
The Military Commissioner was lifted off the ground.
"T-Thank you, Fortress Lord."
"That's enough. Failure is common in military affairs."
If one executed subordinates for every failure, no one would remain.
That was Iron-Thread Soul's belief.
His sharp gaze settled on the kneeling man.
"Since we contacted them through the Hao Sect, the fortress itself shouldn't be affected. Is there a complication?"
"Unfortunately… among the captured was a Hao Sect liaison."
Iron-Thread Soul's brow twitched.
"Has the Hao Sect made a request?"
The Military Commissioner lowered his head.
"Yes. They say their power alone is insufficient to breach the Murim Alliance's underground prison. They request our assistance."
"This displeases me."
"I am deeply sorry!!"
Iron-Thread Soul narrowed his eyes.
That raccoon-like bastard… Yanoe.
The Hao Sect leader had always tried to use others as shields.
After a moment of silence, a spark of interest flashed in Iron-Thread Soul's eyes.
"Military Commissioner."
"Yes, Fortress Lord!"
"Would it be difficult to kidnap Baek Sugyeong?"
The Military Commissioner froze.
"You mean… the writer?"
"He's just a pavilion owner. No martial skill. We don't need the Alliance's help for that."
"Then you intend to use the Dark Mist Society."
Iron-Thread Soul nodded.
"Speak with Bloody Shadow of Dark Fragrance. If this succeeds, extract the Hao Sect liaison."
"I obey your command."
Iron-Thread Soul clicked his tongue when he noticed blood still dripping from the man's forehead.
"See a physician. Don't let it interfere with your duties."
"I am humbled."
"You may withdraw."
...
Iron-Thread Soul rose.
The Object-Seizing True Qi extended from his hand, pulling the twin Lion Iron Halberds toward him.
Guards approached, offering a battle robe.
"I don't need it."
Two warriors followed him as he walked.
'If possible, I should make him write a novel about the unorthodox faction.'
Baek Sugyeong was valuable.
He had revived Wudang with a single book.
Some were already calling him the God of Writing.
A faint smile curved Iron-Thread Soul's lips.
"How dare he portray the unorthodox faction as inferior."
Killing intent flickered within his smile.
...
The Murim Alliance meeting hall was engulfed in suffocating silence.
Disapproving gazes converged on a single figure.
At the center sat a Shaolin monk, prayer beads in hand.
"I heard Shaolin was mentioned during the Alliance Chief's private meeting with Master Sugyeong."
"…Amitabha. This too is the Buddha's grace."
"Elder Beopsang!"
The old monk smiled faintly.
"Please do not envy us for being chosen as the next protagonist."
Master Ungyeong of Qingcheng clenched his teeth.
'First Wudang… now Shaolin?'
The power balance of the Nine Sects trembled.
Suspicious gazes turned toward Alliance Chief Jang Hyoun.
"Alliance Chief! This is unfair!"
"Silence!"
A crushing aura descended.
"If Master Sugyeong witnesses this disgrace, do you know what will happen?"
The hall froze.
"A single line from him can shake the entire martial world."
The elders swallowed.
"Mind your behavior. The Master will attend the tournament as an observer."
His gaze hardened.
"Anyone who causes discord will be punished by Alliance Chief's order."
Far away—
Baek Sugyeong remained blissfully unaware that his desire for a normal life was being trampled beneath the ambitions of the martial world.
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📚 Author's Note:
Big thanks to justawaysougo for the 3 shiny Power Stones!
🐧