Chapter 92

Chapter 92
Baek So-cheon quietly departed Myeol Ji-ryun’s dwelling and set his sights on Yeom Sa-won’s quarters, slipping inside undetected.

In the rear yard of the residence, Yeom Sa-won was running through martial forms. Baek So-cheon had presumed the man would be incapacitated by liquor and pursuing women, making this sight quite unexpected.

Standing sentinel to turn away any uninvited guests was Go-gong, one of his personal bodyguards.

Activating his Shadow Concealment Divine Steps, Baek So-cheon crept forward with tremendous care.

Go-gong failed to perceive his approach. That fact alone proved that Pa-jeong’s previous detection of his movement had been a remarkable feat.

Concealing his presence within the dark silhouette of the wall, Baek So-cheon quietly evaluated Yeom Sa-won’s techniques.

Though Yeom Sa-won wielded a blade, the cramped quarters forced him to circulate only a tiny fraction of his internal energy into each strike.

Even under such limitations, Baek So-cheon could accurately calculate his genuine caliber, picturing the brutal destruction those swings would unleash if backed by full spiritual reserves.

A familiar epiphany washed over Baek So-cheon once again.

*My martial foundation has advanced into an entirely new realm.*

He observed the world through completely transformed senses.

What would transpire if he clashed with Yeom Hwa-sin at this very moment?

Though his mastery of the Thousand-Handed Asura God Sword had not yet achieved total perfection, his chances of prevailing were drastically higher than before.

Still, there was no cause to act hastily. So long as Yeom Hwa-sin remained blind to the restoration of his dantian, the passage of time worked solely in his favor.

Entirely oblivious to Baek So-cheon’s hidden scrutiny, Yeom Sa-won persistently refined his blade work.

Though vain and despicable through and through, the man was not an outright simpleton. Baek So-cheon figured he had agreed to the match simply because he doubted his ability to secure victory without formal parameters. It would certainly not be a trivial clash.

Yet Yeom Sa-won remained utterly confident in his own mind. Even if the duel proved taxing, he could not fathom suffering defeat at the hands of an opponent who possessed no internal energy.

On paper, the contest was meant to win back his bride, but his thoughts were consumed by a different woman entirely: Cheon-geuk.

*Once I triumph in this contest, she will be mine as well.*

He was convinced Cheon-geuk had directed a pleading gaze his way for aid.

*Breaking a savage, venomous creature like that holds a unique thrill. Besides, as the leader of the Sal-su Yeon-maeng, she will prove advantageous in countless ways.*

A depraved smirk crept onto his face as he indulged in this fantasy.

Just then, Jan-baek entered holding a chest—the precise catalyst to pull him further into his delusion.

Jan-baek was far superior to Go-gong, yet even his senses failed to pick up Baek So-cheon lurking in the shadows.

“The Lord has bestowed this.”

“My father?”

Yeom Sa-won eagerly threw open the chest, exposing a suit of protective gear resting within.

“Could this be the Black Dragon Divine Armor?”

It was defensive gear capable of safeguarding everything from the chest down to the lower limbs—a personal treasure belonging to Yeom Hwa-sin himself. A vibrant flush of delight washed over Yeom Sa-won’s face.

“Hahaha! Father holds the Black Dragon Divine Armor in such high regard!”

Any remaining doubts vanished; he was entirely sure of his father’s genuine affection.

“Equipped with this relic, that cur will never claim my life. I will butcher him without fail, Father!”

Taking in the scene from afar, Baek So-cheon instantly saw through Yeom Hwa-sin’s true objective.

*He is driving his own offspring to the precipice of ruin.*

Clad in the Black Dragon Divine Armor, subduing Yeom Sa-won without the use of inner power would become infinitely more grueling. The encounter would turn excessively savage, massively amplifying the probability of either participant dying in the ring.

*Could my assumptions have been flawed? Does he genuinely seek my demise?*

The doubt briefly flashed through his mind despite his convictions.

Yet he shook it off. He could not permit superficial gestures to mislead him. Such an offering was indisputably calculated to push the son toward a fatal end. Baek So-cheon’s intuition had consistently unraveled the dark, deceitful nature of Yeom Sa-won’s mind since the start.

Was this scheme solitary, or were two distinct plots at play?

Did the Blood Cult conspiracy and this clash between the factions operate entirely apart?

Or was it a unified gambit orchestrating the moves of both the Black Heaven Alliance and the Blood Cult?

On the surface, they appeared to progress along separate paths, but assumptions were dangerous. Even the most unthinkable developments could manifest. The fate of the entire Central Plains hung in the balance.

—

The first light of dawn broke, leaving a mere two days before the match would take place.

Beginning in the morning hours, Baek So-cheon closely tracked Pa-jeong, the attendant serving Myeol Ji-ryun.

*Myeol Ji-ryun acts as the public diversion while this fellow manipulates the strings from the dark.*

While all attention drifted toward Myeol Ji-ryun and Yeom Sa-won, that taciturn young guard had been orchestrating moves in concealment.

Baek So-cheon shadowed his movements with extreme vigilance. Even Cheon-geuk had failed to perceive his proximity, yet Pa-jeong had nearly caught him before. His awareness was razor-sharp.

It was hardly shocking; such acute perception was why he had been dispatched in the first place.

Yet there was an upside to the tension: tracking such an exceptional expert compelled flawless discipline and concentration, which in turn accelerated his command over the Shadow Concealment Divine Steps and elevated his technique.

Pa-jeong never ventured outside the alliance perimeter. He lingered around Myeol Ji-ryun or wandered the pathways with an air of leisure. Passive observation revealed nothing out of the ordinary.

*Just what sort of preparations is he executing?*

Even after pursuing him for half the day, no actionable leads materialized.

With the duel rapidly approaching, Baek So-cheon could not squander his time indefinitely, prompting him to head back toward Hyun-cheon-dae.

Waiting near the entrance was Hwang Il-bi, the squad leader of Cheol-geom-dan’s first unit.

“Has everything been going smoothly?”

“I’ve been occupied as of late.”

“I figured as much. I came looking for you a few days back, but you weren’t around.”

“My apologies.”

“Think nothing of it.”

“How are things on your end? Is your squad leader still treating you with respect?”

By “your squad leader,” he referred to Chung Yang, a figure with whom he had previously crossed swords.

“Ah, you really should pay a visit and stir up our esteemed Squad Leader Chung.”

“To what end?”

“Now that he thinks he has me secured, he’s grown neglectful. If you show up and make him think he might lose me, he’ll start treating me with proper care again, won’t he?”

“Haha, quite right. Men always disregard the fish once it’s hauled into the boat, today just as in ancient days.”

“Which is why you need to drop by and have that rogue cursing beneath his breath.”

The reunion after such an absence lifted the spirits of both men. Baek So-cheon possessed no urge to recruit Hwang Il-bi into Hyun-cheon-dae or bind him as an immediate subordinate—not out of any skepticism toward his loyalty or skill.

He understood their compatibility and the man’s competence better than anyone.

Rather, he deliberately left him alone for Hwang Il-bi’s personal welfare. The man possessed the resilience to flourish within any structure. Above all else, he had kin dependent on him.

Baek So-cheon had no desire to disrupt the man’s domestic peace for his own convenience. While he had retained the comparatively frail Im Choong and Beon Saeng, he had allowed Hwang Il-bi his own path. Human relationships rarely operated purely on cold pragmatism.

“There are only two days remaining before the clash. Do you feel confident?”

Lacking any awareness of the restored dantian, he had clearly dropped by purely out of worry.

“That brat won’t even serve as a decent warm-up.”

Hwang Il-bi narrowed his eyes, closely searching Baek So-cheon’s expression.

“Do not force me to leap into the fighting circle.”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t you dare fling yourself forward to absorb his closing blow.”

“Throw myself forward?”

“Simply spectate.”

“Precisely. That is how it should be. Give us a grand spectacle to behold on that day. Everyone is throwing their support behind you—I merely wanted to deliver the sentiment. I’ll take my leave now.”

Just as the man turned away, Baek So-cheon called out to him.

“Il-bi.”

It had been an eternity since he last uttered that name so directly. Hwang Il-bi felt a surge in his chest as he pivoted back around.

“Yes?”

“Fret over the fate of the entire realm if you must—but waste no worry on me.”

Looking at Baek So-cheon, Hwang Il-bi made a silent vow: should Baek So-cheon ever be stripped of his position again, he would follow his lead without hesitation. His previous inability to do so remained the heaviest regret of his existence.

A wide grin spread across Hwang Il-bi’s features.

“Understood. Not a worry in the world. Who among us would worry about you anyway?”

Even so, genuine worry remained.

Others were equally fretful over Baek So-cheon’s impending trial.

While the warriors of Hyun-cheon-dae shared that tension, none felt it more acutely than Im Choong and Beon Saeng. The pair sat huddled inside the Hyun-cheon-dae office, consumed by dread on his behalf.

“Our Brother will certainly emerge victorious, will he not?”

Im Choong responded to Beon Saeng’s anxious questioning.

“You should know better than I. Your martial prowess has eclipsed mine by now.”

“Comparing the two of us is like sizing up an acorn against a chestnut—how could I possibly evaluate the depth of Big Brother’s strength, let alone that Yeom Sa-won’s?”

“How did he appear when you last saw him?”

“It has been ages since I last laid eyes on him.”

“Truly?”

Im Choong felt his tension spike. Had the foe been anyone else, it might be different—but facing the heir to the Black Heaven lineage?

“He will come out unscathed, right?”

“Without a doubt.”

They spun around in shock at the sound of the voice—Baek So-cheon was stepping through the door.

“Brother!”

They had not set eyes on his face since the conclusion of the Jung-kyeong mission.

Baek So-cheon pulled up a seat beside them. Reconnecting after such a long absence brought genuine warmth.

“Set your worries aside on my account.”

“Do you think that’s simple? The wagers being placed on this cursed match are mounting by the hour.”

“You put down money?”

“On your duel.”

“Is that so?”

Baek So-cheon was well aware that high-profile matches naturally birthed gambling rings. He, of course, had never engaged in such pursuits.

“Go and stake every coin you own.”

“What?”

“Place every single piece on my victory.”

Beon Saeng blinked in utter bewilderment. Ever since he had entered Hyun-cheon-dae, he had yearned to exchange casual jests with Baek So-cheon again. Now the atmosphere finally permitted it—a long-awaited reprieve from the distance between a lofty commander and a subordinate, returning to the closeness of brothers.

“And what happens if you suffer defeat?”

“You end up utterly penniless. Is that not the essence of a gamble?”

“You didn’t secretly wager against yourself while instructing all of us to back you, did you?”

“Whatever for?”

“It is far simpler to lose a match than to secure a win.”

“Hahaha. A reasonable observation.”

Listening in, Im Choong studied Baek So-cheon’s countenance with intense focus.

“Even so, you appear… altered somehow. Considerably more unburdened than before.”

In such an anxious climate, that demeanor could be attributed to two things.

The first was the profound advancement of his martial prowess. The second was Cheon-geuk—the serene happiness born from the love they shared.

He had let go of intractable dilemmas, dedicating his focus entirely to what truly mattered.

“Understood. I’m placing everything on you.”

“Hold onto enough for a meal.”

“Understood! Just that amount, and the rest goes on the line!”

“Only this once. Habitual wagers destroy a person’s life. View this simply as a reward for coming to see me—not an actual gamble.”

“Understood. My heart won’t even race over the stakes anyway.”

Baek So-cheon inquired with mild curiosity.

“And why would that be?”

“My day-to-day life is wilder than any game of chance. Just this past summer, I was dealing with those Black Society ruffians out in the most isolated outpost imaginable. Come winter, I found myself clashing directly against the elite Black Vanguard of Black Heaven. Who needs the thrill of a wager after living through that?”

Baek So-cheon offered an amused nod.

“May your life remain perpetually thrilling.”

“The same to you, Brother.”

They were casual words exchanged in passing, yet Baek So-cheon found that they encapsulated the entirety of his existence.

He had always prioritized the well-being of others above his own.

That pattern had ended. That was the reason a vibrant energy hummed within him now—he was not setting out to slay Yeom Hwa-sin for the sake of political alliances, but to secure his own future and personal peace. He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he envisioned the day he would finally turn his back on the alliance forever.

“Indeed, the genuine thrill will only begin once that time arrives. Everything starts from there!”

“Pardon? What starts when?”

His private reflection left Im Choong and Beon Saeng staring in confusion.

Baek So-cheon answered only with a mysterious grin.

*Forgive me in advance. I will not be able to bring you along when that day comes.*

As Baek So-cheon stood up to take his leave, Beon Saeng called after him.

“Are you already departing when you just arrived?”

Stepping smoothly out the doorway, Baek So-cheon offered his reply.