The Nature Of Betrayal (3)

“Lord Yang!”

“Master!”

“We greet the Grove Lord. Ten thousand years! Ten thousand years! Ten thousand years!”

The Heavenly Poison Grove warriors dropped to their knees and roared in unison, drowning out Cheong Yeon and the party as if they had never spoken.

“Mm… Yang Wi-ryeong, is it?”

Neung Je-gang murmured.

He had once suspected one of the three sect lords might be the hidden hand. But the clever misdirection of the Lord of the Hall of Ten Thousand Sounds had shifted suspicion to him instead.

Only now did he understand why Yang Wi-ryeong of the Iron-Blood Sect was known as a man fond of travel.

He hadn’t been “traveling” at all. Whenever time allowed, he came here to resurrect the Heavenly Poison Grove.

Yang Wi-ryeong!

In that instant, the other identity of the Iron-Blood Sect’s lord—one of the Black Alliance’s three great sects—was laid bare.

“Hahaha! A pleasure. We’ve traded greetings before, if briefly—haven’t we?”

Yang Wi-ryeong looked to Neung Je-gang as he spoke.

“Cheong Yeon.”

Instead of replying to Yang, Je-gang called to Cheong Yeon.

“Yes.”

“Where do you stand?”

The moment Yang Wi-ryeong was revealed as the mastermind, Je-gang felt the sting of possible betrayal from Cheong Yeon.

But nothing was certain yet. Cheong Yeon might not have known Yang’s true face.

So he asked here and now—choose. Stand with him, or with them.

Though he had resolved not to trust him, Je-gang still wanted Cheong Yeon at his side. Distrust and the desire to believe—both lived in Je-gang’s chest.

If ties with Cheong Yeon were severed here, it would hurt.

“…”

Cheong Yeon couldn’t answer quickly. On one side stood the captain he’d once followed; on the other, the man who had given him a new life. Yang was plotting something, surely—but was that reason enough to betray him?

Je-gang wasn’t the only one awaiting his answer. Yang Wi-ryeong waited, too—sensitive to Cheong Yeon’s choice without even knowing why Je-gang had posed the question.

“Lord, will you answer me honestly?”

“I will.”

Yang nodded to Cheong Yeon’s question.

“Were you truly the one behind it all?”

It was the very mission that had brought Je-gang’s party here.

“Yes. I devised everything. And the deeds were carried out by the Deputy Grove Lord there.”

Yang gestured to a plain-looking old man—one of the two who had arrived with him.

[That one is the missing servant.]

Jo Gwang-yeong breathed into Je-gang’s ear alone. He was exactly the target they had sought—now no longer necessary to seize.

[Who’s the woman?]

Je-gang asked back by silent transmission. He wanted the identity of the woman who’d come with Yang.

[I’m not entirely… Ah. I think I’ve seen her once—when my father went to arrange funds and I tagged along. She’s the General Secretary of the Hwanam Merchants’ Union. But why would she be here?]

A fox…

At Jo’s answer, Je-gang remembered what the Taepyeong Pavilion’s proprietress in Luoyang had said—a “fox.” He could swear this was the very fox she meant—the woman beside Yang.

It paid to know people in high places. Had Jo not been the son of the Lord of Dorim, how would they have known her identity?

“Why did you do it—to the point of killing your own son?”

“‘Son?’ The dead one was no son of mine. I raised him in my son’s place, that is all. He may have believed I was his father, but…”

Ah…

Yang Wi-ryeong was ruthless—and meticulous. Imagine living your life believing a man your father, only to die by that “father’s” design.

Perhaps in some sulfur-flamed corner of hell, that false son waited for his false father to arrive.

“Was the Alliance Lord’s seat so tempting—worth such a scheme?”

“Yes. I must become Lord of the Black Alliance. That was my father’s wish—the seat the current Black Cloud Demon stole from him.”

So it was. The former Alliance Lord had been Yang’s father.

Yang believed the loss of that seat was not due to lack of skill, but to the machinations of other sects with the Black Cloud Demon.

“Did you act alone in this? Were there others?”

Cheong Yeon pressed on—even into questions awkward to answer.

But Yang had sworn already. Though a plotter in shadow, he wasn’t the sort to mewl and hide what was exposed.

“There are others. Those men there came from elsewhere—for their own purpose.”

He pointed to the dead Chief’s subordinates. Their eyes flared.

“Lord Yang! Watch your tongue. Do you think he will overlook today?”

One of them threatened Yang.

“Come now. They can’t leave this place anyway. You can’t see them from here, but there are more of my men at the entrance. None of you will leave alive—so what are you worried about?”

Yang almost sounded like he was pleading. Whoever backed that dead Chief, he wielded power greater than Yang’s.

“Whose men are they?”

Cheong Yeon wasn’t done.

“If you want that answer, swear fealty to me. That is the one thing I won’t say freely.”

“Mmm…”

Cheong Yeon looked up at the sky. Even if Yang was evil, escaping him would be hard. After all, when Yang had saved his life, Cheong had sworn to serve him.

Thump.

Cheong Yeon passed the old man Kang from his back to Jo Gwang-yeong and dropped to one knee toward Yang.

“My lord, I, Cheong Yeon—”

Would he submit completely after all?

“Cheong Yeon! Ask him—what is his connection to the Necromancer Cult.”

Before Cheong could swear absolute obedience, Je-gang’s voice cut in.

“The Necromancer Cult?”

At those words, Bae Ji-sang, Jo Gwang-yeong, and Go So-jeong all started.

No one, however, was more shaken than Cheong Yeon. No matter the grace received, he could not kneel to anyone allied with the Necromancer Cult.

That would defy the oath he’d once sworn upon entering the Eastern Depot—to live for the realm, the Emperor, and the people. Though no longer of the Depot, that vow still lived in him.

“Are you truly connected to the Necromancer Cult?”

Yang did not answer. He only glared at Je-gang.

A pity—Cheong Yeon had been a man he truly wished to have as his own. Now Je-gang had ruined the moment.

“And if I am?”

“Then you and I are enemies.”

Cheong Yeon rose from his knee and walked to stand beside Je-gang.

The turmoil left his face, returning him to himself—though not yet with the unshakeable eyes of the past. His gaze still fluttered now and then. Gratitude, too, was part of his nature.

“Hahahaha! So I raised a jackal. I didn’t know you’d turn on me so quickly. You swore loyalty to me once—now you flip like this? That fellow Gye Yu said you’d never betray once you called a man ‘master.’ Seems that was nonsense. Hah!”

With Yang’s laughter came a name.

Je-gang’s eyes flashed with anger—Gye Yu—the man who had taught him the meaning of betrayal.

So Yang had dealings with Gye Yu as well.

Cheong Yeon flinched again. He’d had more than a few shocks today.

He, too, knew who had branded him and Je-gang as traitors to the Eastern Depot.

If Gye Yu had introduced him to Yang, he must have been paid. Without knowing, Cheong Yeon had become a slave in all but name.

“Hee-hee. Why so noisy about it? In the end you just kill them all. Mountain folk—attack your target, Secret Shadow, already. Heavenly Poison Grove fighters—finish off the rest. The day’s fading; kill quick and rest. Go on.”

The Fox spoke.

“Waaaaah—!”

At last, the Heavenly Poison Grove attacked.

Je-gang drew the Unfeeling Sword. He wanted to cut down Yang and the Fox first, but Yang was no easy mark; and if the Fox stood on par with the mistress of Taepyeong Pavilion, she would not fall easily either.

Besides, he had a more important task than charging alone—keeping his companions alive. He needed witnesses to what he’d seen and learned today.

Cheong Yeon, Bae Ji-sang, and Jo Gwang-yeong would be the surest witnesses.

Papap!

The dead Chief’s men rushed Je-gang.

Heartless Severance was superb one-on-one, but ill-suited to a melee.

Chwa-chwa-chwa—

Blue Surge!

End it fast!

The First Principle, Blue Surge, of the Seven Saber Principles of Empty Spirit burst forth like waves, laden with the Unfeeling Sword’s edge-qi.

Shiiii—

Whirling Wave!

He chained the Second Principle, Whirling Wave. Razor qi from the Unfeeling Sword spun a vortex before him; anything that touched it was shredded and scattered.

“Run!”

The “mountain men” were annihilated; Whirling Wave swept up those near them as well.

Je-gang tore forward through Heavenly Poison Grove fighters stunned by his arts; any who barred his path flew away in sprays of blood.

“Run!”

The party echoed him and chased close behind. The Grove’s rank-and-file lacked the skill to stop them head-on; only after the group had burst past did the fighters scramble to give chase.

“Seal the entrance! Reinforce the guards! If not there, they have nowhere to escape!”

At Yang’s shout, Banwon led a squad to block the basin mouth completely. There were more beyond it; even if Je-gang alone might slip by, without flight arts the others had no exit.

With Je-gang at the point, they finally reached their target zone. All bore minor wounds, but none grievous.

Once they entered the forest, trees served as shields, letting them defend effectively. Anyone injured swallowed antidote.

This was the Heavenly Poison Grove; there was no guarantee the enemy blades were free of poison.

That five people punched through a ring of three hundred verged on miraculous—helped by the enemy’s overconfidence that there was “no way out,” and by Je-gang’s ruthless hand.