Chapter 58

Chapter 58
A heavy quiet descended over the strategic hall, every strategist turning their eyes squarely upon Baek So-cheon. It took no deep insight to perceive the blatant murderous intent behind the summons.

Yet Baek So-cheon showed not the slightest trace of agitation.

“I will go.”

“Absolutely not! Those wretches summoned you with murder in their hearts!”

“Undoubtedly. Yet how can we abandon the captives to their fate?”

“We ought to dispatch Bi-gak or Cheol-geom-dan for a covert extraction.”

“They would have anticipated such a maneuver the moment they demanded my presence.”

“Baek Dae-ju! The men holding them overpowered the Sa-yeong Sect Lord himself!”

Though the Sa-yeong Sect Lord was not an unmatched legend under the heavens, he was nonetheless an expert who had stepped firmly into the Peak realm.

“Do not distress yourselves so. Do you truly believe I would fall before cowards who hide behind innocents to torment them?”

In truth, Baek So-cheon harbored no anxiety. With his inner power fully restored, he had nothing left to fear under heaven. The genuine difficulty lay elsewhere: he had to prevail without exposing the resurrection of his internal arts. Delicate restraint and meticulous control over the flow of combat would be paramount.

Je-gal Hyeon found himself with no alternate course. Bound by the lives of the hostages, he could not bring himself to discard the Sa-yeong Sect Lord and his kin merely to shelter Baek So-cheon.

“You are under no obligation to humor their outrageous demands. Assess the flow of events and act entirely on your own judgment.”

“Understood.”

“Stay on your guard. I will arrange every measure of support from the rear. Ah, wait just a moment.”

Je-gal Hyeon promptly dispatched Sa-ma Il-jung to retrieve an item from his personal chambers. What he brought back was Yong-rin Gap, a protective vest meant to be concealed beneath one’s robes. Bestowed upon him by the Alliance Lord during the great war, it was a peerless treasure said to turn aside both blade and spearhead. Wonderfully light and supple, it caused not the slightest hindrance to movement.

“It is unnecessary.”

“If you spurn even this precaution, I will forbid your departure.”

“My gratitude.”

Baek So-cheon slipped the Yong-rin Gap over his torso under Je-gal Hyeon’s watchful eye. When the time came to dispatch the assailants, this very relic would mask the full extent of his restored might; anyone inspecting the aftermath would assume the miraculous armor had preserved his life through the ordeal.

Departing the central headquarters, Baek So-cheon swung into the saddle and galloped out beyond the fortress gates of the Alliance.

—

Reaching the grounds of the Sa-yeong Sect a short half-shichen prior to the midnight hour, Baek So-cheon found the vanguard of the Iron Cavalry Unit already maintaining a firm cordon around the perimeter. The commanding officer of the fourth contingent stepped forward in greeting.

“Fourth Unit Leader Ju Deok-yang of the Iron Cavalry Unit.”

The warrior stood clad in the regiment’s distinct battle plate, a lengthy spear held in his grasp. The chargers tied nearby were similarly outfitted in mail—stout, yet remarkably nimble beasts bred uniquely for the Iron Cavalry Unit. Famed for both horsemanship and lancing arts, their formation was nearly peerless on vast, open battlegrounds. Though their combat efficacy waned somewhat when fighting on foot, their martial capability remained comfortably superior to ordinary pugilists.

“Hyun-cheon-dae Leader Baek So-cheon. Apprise me of the situation.”

“We have yet to verify their full strength, though their numbers appear modest. Likely three or four men, each masked, rendering their backgrounds unknown.”

“Are there any dead?”

“By fortune, no blood has been spilt among the hostages as of yet.”

The implications were clear: their sole target was Baek So-cheon himself. The culprits were well aware that spilling blood prematurely would force the Murim Alliance to abandon caution and storm the estate. This was certainly no petty spectacle arranged to mock a fallen warrior.

“I will enter.”

“Are you truly certain?”

“Indeed. Leave the matter to me.”

Not a single ripple of hesitation crossed Baek So-cheon’s features.

Ju Deok-yang gave a resolute nod.

“As you wish. Exercise utmost care. Should the situation sour, raise your voice, and we will breach the gates without delay.”

“Naturally.”

Baek So-cheon made his way toward the entrance. Behind him, the Iron Cavalry fighters followed his silhouette with anxious gazes. Many among them knew his past valor; several even owed their very survival to him.

Thud. Thud.

Striking the thick timber of the gate, Baek So-cheon projected his voice clearly.

“I am Baek So-cheon, the one you summoned.”

Before long, the portal yielded with a drawn-out groan.

Creeeak.

A pair of chilling eyes glared out from behind a cloth covering.

“Armed?”

“I carry nothing.”

He had purposefully left Gui-yeong Geom behind. Entering a hostage exchange with a weapon was meaningless, as it would merely be stripped from him at the threshold.

“Hands up for a search.”

“Proceed.”

The masked sentry patted him down thoroughly, confirming not even a hidden stiletto rested within his garments.

“Pass.”

The moment Baek So-cheon crossed the threshold, the heavy wooden gate slammed shut once more.

The courtyard stretched out completely desolate.

The veiled escort guided him toward a detached reception pavilion situated in the annex of the Sa-yeong Sect. There, the captive retinue was clustered. Sa-yeong Sect Lord Gwak Jin-bong, his blood relatives, and his retainers had all suffered blocked acupoints. The common retainers had been subjected to precise strikes that sealed their meridians and cast them into deep unconsciousness. Only three retained their senses: Gwak Jin-bong himself, his wife, and their young son, a youth hovering around thirteen or fourteen winters.

Their captors were surprisingly sparse—merely three individuals. One kept watch over the captives with a naked blade drawn. Another was the escort who had brought him in and now took post near the threshold. The apparent ringleader was perched casually upon the elevated seat at the rear of the chamber.

“Baek So-cheon.”

A heavy, grating voice reverberated across the room. It was unfamiliar to Baek So-cheon’s ears. Judging by the cadence and the age etched around his eyes, the man seemed to be somewhere in his mid-fifties. The subtle pressure he gave off marked him as a Peak realm practitioner—as were all three of the masked figures.

“So the celebrated champion of Murim, whose very name once cast terror into the masters of the Black Heaven Alliance, has finally deigned to appear?”

That sneering remark betrayed a telling truth: he was no affiliate of the Black Heaven. Had he belonged to that faction, he would have spoken of “our alliance’s masters.”

“You recognize me?”

“Naturally. Though you would have no cause to know my name.”

“Who commissioned you?”

“Were I to utter that name, not a soul in this room could be left alive.”

Baek So-cheon turned his eyes toward the Sa-yeong Sect Lord and his kin. They watched the exchange, their complexions drained of color from profound dread.

“If my life is taken, do the rest go free?”

It was an empty proposition. They would invariably drag the hostages along as human shields during their withdrawal. Once beyond reach, who could truly believe they would let the captives walk away unharmed?

“There exists no blood feud between us, does there?”

“Does one require an ancient grudge to harvest a life within this jianghu?”

“A reasonable truth.”

“Are you truly an imbecile? Or do you still fancy yourself the grand champion of Murim, strolling blindly into the jaws of death?”

“It has been ages since anyone called for me. I arrived with gladness in my heart.”

“Call the other inside.”

“Understood.”

The guard overseeing the captives released a sharp whistle. At once, the sentry from the entryway stepped inside.

“Bring this to an end.”

“At once.”

The final masked assailant unsheathed his steel and strode purposefully toward Baek So-cheon. Meanwhile, the second captor pressed the edge of his weapon directly against the boy’s throat.

“Twitch so much as an inch, and the boy loses his head.”

Gwak Jin-bong and his spouse shrieked in desperation.

“No, please!”

“Spare the child! Take my life instead!”

Baek So-cheon fixed his gaze upon the seated leader.

“Grant me one answer before I meet my end.”

The leader raised a palm, halting his subordinate’s advance.

“Speak.”

The thrill of claiming Baek So-cheon’s life filled him with immense pride—an exploit that would be recounted for generations.

“Who hired you?”

“I know not. Only that thirty thousand nyang rests upon your head.”

“Why orchestrate such an elaborate spectacle? It would have been far simpler to ambush me in the shadows.”

“Even stripped of your inner power, you felled a captain of the Cheol-geom-dan in a single exchange.”

“The contractor provided that intelligence?”

“They revealed that you would never allow hostages to perish—especially women and children. With the Alliance’s forces observing outside, their deaths would turn the realm’s venom upon you. The world would say you bartered innocent blood to preserve your own hide. Could your noble spirit stomach such disgrace?”

The leader made a chilling gesture, commanding the swordsman behind him to conclude the business.

“Farewell.”

The masked killer closed the distance from the rear.

Swish.

A lethal arc cut through the air—only to cleave empty space.

“What?”

In an instant of incomprehensible speed, the weapon was no longer in the attacker’s grip, but resting firmly in Baek So-cheon’s palm.

The sentry guarding the boy roared in fury.

“Make a move and they die!”

At that exact breath—

Slump. Thud. Slump. Thud.

All three captives went limp simultaneously, collapsing to the floorboards. The guard towering over the child recoiled in astonishment. Despite his immediate proximity, all three had inexplicably slumped into slumber without a sound. Baek So-cheon had subtly snapped his fingers, casting invisible bolts of force that struck their meridians from a distance.

In that fleeting beat of paralysis!

Shing.

Baek So-cheon’s newly acquired blade tore across the throat of the disarmed swordsman.

Splurt!

The strike was far too swift to evade. A crimson spray erupted as the man tumbled backward into death.

“Kill the—”

The leader could not even finish barking the command to slaughter the captives.

Before his eyes, the thrown sword cleaved through the air and pierced straight through the neck of the guard hovering over the boy. The projectile carried enough residual force to pin itself deeply into the plaster of the far wall, leaving the lifeless sentry to slide into a heap.

The leader stared in raw disbelief. Within the span of a single breath, two Peak realm martial brothers had been effortlessly slaughtered.

“You… your inner power is intact!”

Baek So-cheon advanced toward him, entirely bare-handed, his pace measured and unhurried.

“Your contractor briefed you thoroughly on every detail—save for one.”

“S-spare my life!”

Dropping down as if preparing to kowtow in surrender—

“Die!”

The leader suddenly lunged forward with a treacherous thrust.

Shing.

A pathetic, desperate gamble.

Baek So-cheon shifted aside with fluid elegance, tapped the man’s vital points to paralyze his limbs, and flung his body high into the rafters.

‘Urk!’

Under ordinary circumstances, Baek So-cheon would have pulverized him using the Residual Moon Effect, the third posture of the Beon-cheon Gu-gwon. Yet to mask all evidence of internal cultivation, the scene had to reflect pure swordplay.

Baek So-cheon raised an open palm toward the rear wall; the embedded blade tore itself free with a sharp shudder and flew directly into his hand.

Whoosh.

Suspended mid-air, the leader’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. Trapped in helpless levitation, watching a weapon obey an unseen will—it defied mortal comprehension. His motor points and breath meridians were entirely locked from the moment he had been hurled upward.

‘The sovereign Baek So-cheon of old!’

His frame slowly tipped downward, exposing the bare expanse of his neck.

‘Ah!’

Before another thought could take shape—

Thud.

The severed head struck the floor, followed closely by the lifeless torso.

Baek So-cheon gazed down at the edge of his sword. Channeling true internal energy once more was nothing short of intoxicating. The qi flowed far more harmoniously, accurately, and swiftly than it ever had in the past. A fine shiver ran across his skin, an exhilaration so vast he felt he could burst through the ceiling and ride the winds.

Yet the time had not yet come to unveil the truth.

Suppressing the surging tides, he gathered the energy back into silence within his dantian.

“Huuuuh.”

Exhaling deeply to restore his inner equilibrium, he inspected the slumbering captives. Every one of them was unharmed.

He then set about searching the fallen corpses. From the leader’s garments, he drew out a bundle of currency wrapped in cloth. There were eight ten-thousand-nyang drafts alongside several thousand-nyang notes. It seemed an advance payment of ten thousand had been made, part of which had already been squandered on base indulgences. Baek So-cheon secured the drafts in his breast pocket, intending to trace their origin if an opportunity arose. The other two bodies bore nothing of consequence.

Stepping through the doorway, he emerged into the night air.

The sentries outside started in shock.

“Move in!”

The third contingent of the Iron Cavalry flooded into the hall, their eyes widening at the carnage before them.

Third Leader Ju Deok-yang stared in sheer bewilderment.

“How did this happen?”

“I caught them completely unawares and brought them down before they could react. It was only possible thanks to the defensive armor lent to me by the Grand Strategist.”

Baek So-cheon parted his collar slightly, revealing the gleam of the Yong-rin Gap.

“Ah!”

Ju Deok-yang gasped in realization. Reports had already circulated that Baek So-cheon had cleared extraordinary conditioning without internal qi and had overcome Wong-ho of Bi-gak in raw martial exchange. Thus, not a whisper of suspicion arose.

Ju Deok-yang’s expression brightened considerably. As the officer tasked with the cordon, allowing the hostages to perish would have brought severe censure upon his head.

“A magnificent feat. You have endured a harrowing ordeal.”

“Not at all; Fortune merely favored me.”

Just then, an Iron Cavalry warrior hurried over to deliver a report. Ju Deok-yang turned back to Baek So-cheon with a grim expression.

“One of our men identified the corpses. They are known as the Blood Fang Three Wolves—scoundrels notorious for undertaking sordid assassinations. Have you ever crossed paths with them?”

“Never.”

“Then someone specifically contracted them to harvest your life.”

Baek So-cheon inclined his head.

“I leave the remainder of the cleanup to your capable hands.”

“Rest assured, we will handle it with all due diligence.”

Someone had deliberately orchestrated his demise. Had he truly lacked inner power, surviving such a confrontation would have been nearly impossible—and the slaughter of the hostages would have inflicted an indelible scar upon his spirit.

Who could it be? Could it truly be…

The suspicion that immediately surfaced was painful to entertain, yet before the Black Heaven Lord or the Blood Cult Leader could even cross his mind, that singular name had already emerged.

Regardless of who pulled the strings, the truth would lay bare soon enough.

Meanwhile, Gwak Jin-bong and his family, having regained their senses, fell to their knees in tearful reverence. The boundless joy of parents witnessing the deliverance of their young son was beyond words.

Baek So-cheon offered a polite, clasped-hand salute in return, mounted his charger, and vanished into the enveloping darkness.