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Neung Je-gang fell into thought.
“Three died and one went missing.”
That was the rough briefing he had received from the Martial Alliance. His task was to find the missing one and learn how the three had died.
“But now four are dead and one is missing?”
Cheong Yeon had explained the Black Alliance’s situation in detail. From him, Neung Je-gang learned that the missing person had been found dead—and, wholly unexpectedly, another figure had disappeared.
The Black Alliance was a federation formed by many demonic-path sects. With so many groups gathered, minor factions clustered around a few cores, and in time three sects became the real powers.
“Now the heirs of all three have been found as corpses. And later, even the man who arranged the heirs’ meeting turned up dead. The one who vanished is that man’s old servant—and strangely, no one in the Alliance knows who the servant truly is. What a tangle.”
It was tangled indeed: the man they had thought the culprit was found dead, and his elderly servant then disappeared. Inevitably, suspicion fell on the missing old servant.
“The problem is, the fourth man—the meeting’s arranger—was the Alliance Lord’s disciple. That would have set the three sects at odds with the Alliance Lord. Hm. Like in the Martial Alliance case, the Necromancer Cult seems the likely culprit… Did they simply aim to sow discord?”
It might not have been the Cult—but for now, they were the prime suspect.
“First order of business is to find that ‘fox’ Madam So-hee mentioned at Taepyeong Pavilion. She must be close to the Black Alliance… But can I find her?”
He couldn’t promise to find someone based only on “a fox.”
“The Necromancer Cult has more commoners than martial artists. Keeping such an organization running takes astronomical funds. Even if devotees donate their assets, that alone can’t sustain it. Money must be worked to grow. I should start by investigating merchant guilds.”
He had found Taepyeong Pavilion using trade ledgers kept by the Eastern Depot. The Depot would have such files for Guangxi as well.
“Chief! A little farther and we’ll reach Xing’an. Let’s buy a carriage there and go on to the Alliance.”
“Hm? It’s close—do we really need a carriage?”
“Even so, you’re a guest of the Alliance now. Escorting you by carriage is only proper.”
Cheong Yeon seemed wholly a Black Alliance man by now. Though he still called Neung Je-gang “Chief,” he treated him as an honored guest.
“Very well. By the way—does the Eastern Depot have a branch in Guilin too?”
“The Depot? Of course. The provincial capital is Nanning, but with the Black Alliance based in Guilin, the Depot naturally pays special attention there. Why do you ask…?”
At the sudden mention of the Depot, both Cheong Yeon and Go So-jeong looked over. She, who had clashed with a Depot branch while tailing Neung Je-gang, was sensitive to the name.
“There’s information I want to check.”
“At the Eastern Depot? They won’t hand anything over.”
Cheong Yeon tilted his head. He, of all people, knew the Depot did not simply give out intelligence.
“Of course not. That’s why I’ll steal it. Or take it by force…”
He said it so casually that both Cheong Yeon and Go So-jeong were struck speechless. In particular, Go So-jeong finally understood why the Luoyang branch had tried to kill her on sight—it hadn’t been some trap laid by Neung Je-gang.
They procured a carriage in Xing’an. Go So-jeong and Majil climbed inside; Neung Je-gang and Cheong Yeon took the driver’s bench.
To let Majil train, Neung Je-gang ceded the seat. He also needed more details from Cheong Yeon about the Alliance.
“Is the Black Alliance Lord still Black Cloud Demon Blade?”
“Yes.”
Even back when Neung Je-gang was in the Depot, the Lord had been Black Cloud Demon Blade—the undisputed strongest of the demonic path.
“Then he must be in trouble now.”
Given the scandal, suspicion would inevitably fall on him—or so it seemed.
“That’s not the case.”
“What?”
Cheong Yeon’s answer was unexpected.
“The three sects suspect one another. None suspect the Alliance Lord.”
“Why not?”
It made little sense. If the heirs died at the hands of the Lord’s disciple, suspicion was natural. The Black Alliance was no gathering of saints.
“The Lord publicly announced long ago that he would retire. He has nothing to gain by killing the three heirs. Once this Necromancer Cult affair ends, a new Alliance Lord will be chosen—that’s already decided.”
“Retire?”
Unlike the white-path Martial Alliance, the demonic path followed rule by might. Unless someone stronger than Black Cloud Demon Blade arose, he could keep the Lord’s seat until death. Even though the three sects steered policy, the Lord’s command still outranked the three families among demonic-path folk.
“And he’ll give up such a prize? Why? Does he think that once the Cult is destroyed, his work is done?”
Black Cloud Demon Blade was not the founding Lord; he had defeated the previous Lord a little over ten years ago. He wasn’t yet of an age to speak of retirement.
“Isn’t he too young to retire?”
“Who knows what he’s thinking. Rumor has it—quietly—that he plans to found his own sect. That’s the most plausible story.”
“Found a sect? Can’t he do that while remaining Lord?”
“He could, but it would be cumbersome to manage both the Alliance and a new sect alone.”
“Fair enough.”
Founding a sect was no small undertaking. Even Nam Yeong, Neung Je-gang’s master, had held Kuaiji Mountain for decades, yet no one in the martial world acknowledged it as a true sect.
It would be the same for Black Cloud Demon Blade. He would need people, training, and self-sufficiency by his own strength to earn recognition. Of course, tiny sects with few disciples existed—but with a name like Black Cloud Demon Blade’s, if he merely slapped together a small clan and declared “I’ve founded a sect,” he would become a laughingstock.
“By the way, where is the runaway servant from? Fugitives usually hide where they know best…”
“Strangely, he has no known ties. Or rather—none that have been made public.”
“If we don’t know his identity or his home, the odds of finding him are near zero.”
“Agreed. It’s astonishing that anyone can vanish this cleanly. After the incident, I investigated at Lord Yang’s request, but in the end I had to give up.”
“Lord Yang,” as Cheong Yeon called him, was the man who had saved him in Beijing—the master of Iron-Blood Sect, one of the three pillars of the Black Alliance. A wanderer by habit, he roamed the Central Plains when no urgent business pressed him. On a visit to the capital, he had seen Cheong Yeon in a cell and secured his release.
Unlike Neung Je-gang’s prison breaks, Lord Yang had bargained with high officials to erase Cheong Yeon’s records entirely. Thus Cheong Yeon was a truly free man—that was why he could show his face openly.
“If even you gave up, it’s a hard case indeed.”
Neung Je-gang said.
Cheong Yeon might have had less experience than Neung Je-gang, but he was a dogged Capture Bureau man who didn’t know how to quit.
Neung Je-gang pondered, unsure where to begin unraveling the knot.
“Trade seats with me.”
The carriage door opened—Go So-jeong poked out her head. Neung Je-gang turned.
“Why? Riding inside should be more comfortable.”
“What good is comfort? I’m roasting to death. The weather’s sweltering, and I can’t stand two people playing with fire in a cramped carriage. So switch with me.”
It was a pretext. Even if Majil practiced forging a flame-blade, she cultivated a cold-ice art; she wouldn’t be hot. And even if she were, she could circulate qi and block the heat. She was well capable. She was just being contrary.
“Fine.”
He switched with her. If giving in didn’t work out, he could always part ways. She had joined them half by force anyway, and there was little about her that he liked.
Contrary to her words, the carriage wasn’t cramped; it was built for four.
“Heh-heh!”
Majil grinned as she left and Neung Je-gang entered. In his hand burned a small club-like thing of fire. It wasn’t a sword yet, but making this much in a single day was impressive.
“Heh-heh! Chief, you see?”
“I do. A little more and you’ll shape a blade.”
“But this drains qi like crazy.”
“Worse than fire-bombs?”
“Not that bad—but I can’t sustain it long.”
Majil grimaced—less satisfying than he had hoped.
“It isn’t finished yet. Practice more.”
“Yes, sir. Heh-heh!”
He let the thing in his hand vanish and began circulating qi.
Neung Je-gang blankly watched him a moment, then leaned back and sat straight, turning his focus to the mnemonics of the Empty-Spirit Seven-Saber Formula.
His subordinate was working that hard to grow stronger—meanwhile he himself was mired in a stray case, wasting time.
“I’ll solve the case after we reach the Black Alliance. No need to be shackled to it already.”
Setting aside the headache, he immersed himself in decoding the formula.
Inside the carriage, the two of them sank into martial-arts samadhi.
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