The Black Alliance’s Banquet Of Ten Thousand Sounds (3)

“Where would you like to go?”

They had finally reached the Black Alliance. The buildings radiated a massive, unyielding presence that dwarfed even the Martial Alliance’s halls.

“Let’s meet the Lord of the Hall of Ten Thousand Sounds first.”

Cheong Yeon told the Chaos-Blood Squad to finish up and rest, then volunteered to guide Neung Je-gang. Thanks to him, passing through the Alliance gates was easy. He seemed to be carving out a place for himself within the Black Alliance.

They were led to a building bearing a large plaque reading “Hall of Ten Thousand Sounds.” The instant they stepped inside, Neung Je-gang sensed watchers observing them from two points.

“Welcome.”

“I am the Secret Shadow.”

“I’m Go So-jeong of the Martial Alliance.”

“Majil.”

The Lord of the Hall of Ten Thousand Sounds hardly looked like a martial man. Unlike Go Won-gi of the Martial Alliance, he was slender, his appearance unmartial—though he dealt in intelligence like Go Won-gi, the feeling he gave was the exact opposite.

“It happens to be supper time. Rather than stand here, let’s talk over a meal.”

Jingle—

Before anyone could answer, a clear bell-tone filled the room. Its source lay within the lord’s sleeve; true to his epithet, a bridle bell was hidden there though unseen.

“You called?”

Before the bell-tone faded, the door opened and someone appeared.

“Prepare a meal at Unsu Pavilion.”

“At once.”

The man answered and slipped away.

“Shall we?”

The lord led the way.

‘A bit excessively courteous…’

Go Won-gi had treated Neung Je-gang as a junior in the martial world—appropriate by age and reputation. But this lord treated him as an honored guest; even if he had come to help with a case, it felt too much.

“This is Unsu Pavilion. I hope it pleases you.”

“Ah…!”

Go So-jeong let out a breath of wonder.

Unsu Pavilion looked as if it had been built upon clouds. A picture-perfect tower stood over a broad pond; below it, a heavy veil of mist—like clouds—rose from the water. Now and then, koi as thick as a grown man’s forearm burst through the cloudlike vapor.

“How can the mist lie so low?”

Go So-jeong asked again, amazed.

“You don’t feel it? We’re actually quite high. The mist never rises above this point. Unsu Pavilion was built at precisely the height where the fog tops out.”

“Ah…!”

Smiling, the lord satisfied her curiosity.

“Please, up to the pavilion. There are people you should meet.”

It wasn’t only dishes waiting at Unsu Pavilion. Large tables laden with food stood ready, along with three figures who seemed to have arrived in advance to await them.

Neung Je-gang guessed they were the masters of the three sects that led the Black Alliance. Though gathered together, they seemed oddly apart—just as Cheong Yeon had said, they looked ill at ease with one another. Whether that was because they suspected each other in the case—or because they were jockeying for the next Alliance Lord’s seat—was unclear.

“These guests have come from the Martial Alliance to assist us,” the lord said, introducing Neung Je-gang’s party first.

“I am the Secret Shadow.”

“I’m Go So-jeong.”

“Majil.”

They offered light cupped-fist salutes. The lord then introduced the three who waited.

“This is the Master of No-Poison Sect.”

“I am Cheon Jang-myeong.”

Master Cheon of No-Poison Sect—epithet: Poison Saber. Gaunt and tall, he was peculiar: though his sect’s name meant “No-Poison Sect,” he himself used a poison saber. Where the master used poison, the disciples followed; despite the name, No-Poison Sect was packed with experts in toxic arts.

“This is the Master of the Iron-Blood Sect.”

“I am Yang Wi-ryeong.”

The Iron-Blood master who had saved Cheong Yeon—and restored his ruined dantian. Neung Je-gang studied him.

‘What imposing dignity.’

A powerful build and a natural aura of authority—like seeing Guan Yu astride the Red Hare.

“And this is the Lord of Blade Forest.”

“I am Jo Je-hun.”

His frame rivaled Yang Wi-ryeong’s, though he was the shortest of the three. The hands he raised in salute were twice the size of other men’s; he likely excelled not only in saber work but in close-quarters grappling as well.

Introductions done, they sat facing one another with the tables between.

“Normally I would meet you alone to brief you on the case, but these three—having lost their sons—insisted on meeting the Secret Shadow. I know this puts weight on you; I ask for your understanding.”

The lord’s extreme courtesy made it awkward for Neung Je-gang to be as forceful as he had been with Go Won-gi. Courtesy answered by courtesy—there was nothing for it but to respond in kind.

“I understand.”

“Let us eat first, then speak.”

They ate with little conversation. The atmosphere was heavy; Go So-jeong merely picked at her food, while Majil—eyes wide at the splendor—forgot decorum and sampled everything in reach.

When the awkward, weighty meal ended, wine trays were brought. Majil’s eyes sparkled, but Neung Je-gang lifted a teacup instead.

“How was the meal?”

The lord asked, clearly trying to ease the mood rather than jump straight to business.

“Ahem! Lord of the Hall, there’s no need to circle the point. Our guts are burning.”

Yang Wi-ryeong cut in, forestalling delay.

“Ah—my apologies.”

The lord flushed slightly and turned to Neung Je-gang.

“Have you heard the case details?”

“I have. But they’ve changed greatly from what I heard in the Martial Alliance.”

“Indeed. The man whom you were originally to find was discovered dead. It is certain he killed these three gentlemen’s sons—he ambushed with toxins and confirmed the kills using No-Poison Sect arts.”

“Poison?”

“More precisely, a lust-drug—Little-Soul Lust Essence.”

Said Master Cheon of No-Poison Sect.

If it was such a drug, even No-Poison Sect’s deputy master—an expert in toxins—could have been ensnared. Lust was a man’s weakness.

“So there were women present.”

That detail had not been disclosed. If word spread that the deputy masters had gathered to indulge in women, their sects’ honor would be ruined—and the dead men’s reputations would suffer as well.

“Have you detained them?”

“Yes. But they know nothing.”

The lord shook his head. Interrogation had surely been applied—an intelligence bureau excelled at such things. But the plotters would not have left traces with the women; they were merely unlucky pawns.

“Then my job is to find the missing servant.”

“Yes. But can you? We used every resource of this Hall and found not a trace…”

The lord eyed Neung Je-gang skeptically.

“We’ll see. I’ll at least try. Do you suspect any party as the hand behind this?”

“Mm…”

The three sect masters glanced at one another; the lord cleared his throat, reluctant to voice his conjectures.

“I’m a bit tired. I’ll begin the investigation tomorrow.”

Neung Je-gang said. There was no reason to linger here longer.

He stood; Go So-jeong and Majil rose with him. Majil cast a forlorn look at his still-empty wine cup.

“Follow me. I’ll show you to your quarters.”

The lord said, rising and leading the way down from Unsu Pavilion.

“Then…”

Neung Je-gang saluted the three masters and followed.

Just then, the one who had not said a single word—Jo Je-hun, Lord of Blade Forest—spoke.

“Unmask the hand behind this. Do that, and I’ll do everything in my power for you.”

A warrior’s promise was weighty. Though of the demonic path, these were men who ruled great sects, and others were present—they could not go back on it.

“The same for this humble one,” said Cheon Jang-myeong of No-Poison Sect. “Reveal the hand behind it, and so far as my ability reaches, anything you ask.”

As expected, Yang Wi-ryeong offered a promise no different from the other two. They spoke almost in rivalry.

Halfway down the pavilion steps, Neung Je-gang turned, offered them another cupped-fist salute, and said, “I’ll do my utmost.”

The three masters returned his salute and bowed their heads together.

It was hard to fathom how a gathering of such courteous men earned the world’s scorn as “the demonic path.”