Jeonha-gun stood by the window of the office in the Seonak branch headquarters, gazing out.

Martial artists were filing into the Training Ground in orderly ranks. They were reinforcements dispatched from the Gangseo Division of the Martial Alliance. From every adjacent branch and substation around Junggyeong, warriors were converging.

Having already heard the news, their expressions were grim. They stood ready to face the Demonic Sect in battle. And they were not alone.

Reports came in from all over Junggyeong of skirmishes breaking out between righteous martial artists and Demonic Martial Artists. The atmosphere was tense to the point of violence.

A short distance away, the branch chief Juwol stood beside Jeonha-gun.

“The Alliance Leader has delegated authority over the Celestial Net to Your # Nоvеlight # Excellency.”

It meant: choose as you judge best.

Jeonha-gun felt the weight of it. One misstep here, and he might forfeit his right to succeed his grandfather.

His grandfather never excused mistakes for the sake of kinship. On the contrary, he judged his heirs by even stricter standards. A careful decision was imperative.

“If you are to deploy the Celestial Net, you must do so immediately.”

Time was the Celestial Net’s lifeblood. Once the enemy had slipped away, even a perfect net would be useless.

Juwol’s urgency contrasted with Jeonha-gun’s calm.

‘Whether the fiend is the Blood Heavens Saber or not…’

His gaze drifted beyond the courtyard wall.

‘They are all here.’

Both conspirators and victims.

‘They have no intention of fleeing. They wish to settle matters here and now.’

If that were true, scattering forces with the Celestial Net would be unwise. It would be better to concentrate troops at a single point, making it easier to respond to whatever happened next.

At that moment, an aide entered.

“We’ve found the witness who saw the fiend.”

Jeonha-gun and Juwol both started.

“Bring him at once.”

At Juwol’s order, the aide returned with a man.

He entered with a mixture of fear and tension on his features. He was a street vendor who sold goods at a stall.

“The day before the massacre, a martial artist asked him where the Daejeong Gate was.”

Juwol questioned him.

“Do you recall what the man looked like?”

“He was short and lightly built.”

“His age? An old man?”

“No. He was young.”

Juwol’s disappointment was apparent. He had hoped for someone who had witnessed the Blood Heavens Saber itself.

“What weapon did he carry?”

“He had a large sword strapped to his back.”

At the mention of a large sword, Juwol’s eyes lit up again.

“Can you recall his face?”

“Yes. It was distinctive enough to remember.”

Juwol ordered the aide to take him to the portrait artist immediately and have his likeness drawn.

“It is well known that the Blood Heavens Saber passed on its art to a favored disciple. Perhaps the fiend is that very disciple.”

Jeonha-gun thought otherwise. It was precisely because the evidence had surfaced so neatly that it felt suspicious.

“Do you think the branch chief would ask directions on his way to exterminate a clan?”

Juwol had no reply to that, but he did have another point.

“If that person truly is the sabre’s disciple, do you believe a Demonic Martial Artist would happen upon the gate by sheer coincidence while attending to other matters?”

Jeonha-gun found it equally hard to refute.

If the man turned out to be the Blood Heavens Saber’s disciple, everyone would assume the Demonic Sect was behind this atrocity. No sane person would believe in such a fluke otherwise.

“First, have as many portraits drawn as possible and post them throughout Junggyeong. Finding him is our priority.”

Despite his trust in Geom Mugeuk, Jeonha-gun couldn’t entirely dismiss the possibility that the sabre’s disciple had committed the massacre.

“Deploy the Celestial Net.”

“I will decide when the time comes. For now, focus on finding him.”

“Understood.”

Juwol departed.

Jeonha-gun turned to his extermination unit captain.

“Inform the Little Pill Master that I want him to watch discreetly.”

Moonlight settled softly on each blade of grass.

Geom Mugeuk stood alone in the wide-open field.

He was confident that Seodaeryong would be all right, yet he worried for the Blood Heavens Saber. Its strength made the silence after its disappearance all the more alarming.

‘Master.’

He missed him. He pictured the Grandmaster plunging the Extermination Saber into the earth, leaning against it as he drank.

‘Once this is over, let us share a drink leaning on that very blade, Master.’

At that moment, a figure emerged.

It was Jeonha-gun, walking slowly to stand beside Mugeuk.

“You came.”

“Of course. You called me. You must be busy. Why did you summon me?”

Jeonha-gun took a sheet of paper from his robes and handed it to Mugeuk.

It bore a sketch of a man’s features.

“Do you think it resembles him?”

Mugeuk studied it and answered simply.

“It is identical. As if drawn while he sat before me.”

His words admitted that the portrait’s subject was indeed the Blood Heavens Saber’s disciple.

“Who provided the tip?”

“He asked a street vendor where the Daejeong Gate lay.”

“Considering how many people he meets in a day, it is odd he recalled the face so clearly.”

And he captured Seodaeryong’s features so accurately. Without prior preparation, no sketch could turn out like that.

“A setup?”

“The informant is likely already gone—or dead.”

Having given his testimony and described his vision, nothing more could be done. Killing him would only deepen hatred toward the Demonic Sect.

“Let us verify.”

A thought crossed Jeonha-gun’s mind.

‘Perhaps you had him silenced.’

To deceive me in return.

He realized he did not fully trust Mugeuk after all.

“Where is the Blood Heavens Saber’s disciple now?”

“He is with me.”

Jeonha-gun watched the paper in Mugeuk’s hand.

“Tomorrow this sketch will plaster Junggyeong. Rumors will abound that the fiend is the sabre’s disciple.”

Mugeuk looked at Jeonha-gun.

“That may trouble you.”

Trouble was an understatement. Jeonha-gun was responsible for capturing that fiend. His grandfather would decide on the succession based on how he handled this crisis.

—I want you handed over to me.

The words rose in his throat. He longed to investigate personally and be certain.

He trusted Mugeuk nine times out of ten—but that one doubt tortured him.

“If you are caught, you will never leave. You have mastered the Extermination Martial Way and visited the gate the day before. Yet you know what?”

Mugeuk smiled faintly.

“This man scored first in admissions to the Hwangcheong Pavilion. Though he looks solemn, he is clever. One who would not leave abundant evidence while eradicating a righteous sect.”

Jeonha-gun agreed.

“But the evidence will take on the weight of truth. If you care for this disciple, you must find the true fiend—and swiftly.”

The two stood in silence.

A breeze set the grasses rippling like waves, and insects sang faintly from afar.

“What do you think they seek by going this far?”

Jeonha-gun asked. Mugeuk answered calmly.

“War between you and us.”

Jeonha-gun was stunned. He had assumed their aim was mere discord, not outright conflict.

He looked at Mugeuk to see if he spoke in earnest.

He did.

“I believe these incidents are but the beginning. After deepening the rift between us, they will instigate yet another crisis. Whatever their plan, it will be irreversible.”

Just the beginning?

“They intend to provoke war?”

If they aimed so high, there must be something to gain.

“That, I do not know. I thought it might be the Saber Master’s personal grudge.”

But the scale was too great. They even involved Seodaeryong.

‘There is more.’

Jeonha-gun sighed softly.

“This is difficult.”

Yet Mugeuk had discovered one overlooked fact.

“What is that?”

“You and I.”

Mugeuk met his gaze.

“We are better friends than they realize.”

Jeonha-gun turned his eyes away. He knew this moment had come.

“I trust you only nine parts in ten. Yet you call me friend?”

He summoned his courage. Mugeuk had always been teasing him about this very flaw: trusting others too much, and never himself enough. If he could call Mugeuk his friend, why could he not trust fully?

Unexpectedly, Mugeuk replied:

“You trust me nine parts? I trust you only eight.”

Jeonha-gun thought it a jest, but Mugeuk was sincere.

“You are meant to become a Great Hero. To trust nine parts and still feel it insufficient… You, my friend, are extraordinary. I am the Little Pill Master and you are the Extermination Grandmaster. Yet you trust me nine parts.”

For Jeonha-gun, trusting meant whole or not at all.

“Let us be friends at eight. The eight parts we give will be with all our hearts. The remaining two are for grace—for suspicion, for resentment, as humans we need these too.”

Jeonha-gun studied him in silence. He had never considered friendship this way.

“And if those two betray us?”

“How could they betray when eight remain steadfast?”

Jeonha-gun had never thought of trust so expansively. He always feared that missing one part meant betrayal.

“If eight stand firm, the other two will feel only disappointment. With eight secure, one can shed the burden of absolute trust. And giving trust is harder than receiving it. Complete trust? Let us not lead such a weary life. Let us err and be resented sometimes. Eight parts suffice.”

Jeonha-gun wondered if Mugeuk had long pondered this—if not, how could he comfort the heart so perfectly? How?

“Then we are friends.”

“Of course. Now, would you care to see some bait?”

“Bait?”

Mugeuk glanced behind them. A man stepped out from behind a tree and approached.

Jeonha-gun recognized Seodaeryong from the portrait. He was impressed that Mugeuk had brought him here.

Instead of formal introductions, Mugeuk asked:

“How much do you trust me, out of ten?”

Why ask? Of course it would be ten—Seodaeryong trusted him above all else.

Yet Seodaeryong would not answer so plainly.

“About seven, I suppose.”

Mugeuk turned to Jeonha-gun.

“Even my right arm trusts me only seven.”

“In our first meeting, we began as strangers. That is great progress.”

He once did not trust the sect at all.

Mugeuk handed Seodaeryong the paper.

“Here, as a keepsake.”

Then he told Jeonha-gun:

“We need not plaster this sketch tomorrow.”

Jeonha-gun was stunned. He realized this meant Seodaeryong was now in his care.

“Truly?”

Mugeuk nodded.

“I entrust him to you not because he is the disciple, but because he is my right arm. If he is the fiend, so am I.”

Such faith.

“Why give him up, knowing how hard it will be?”

Jeonha-gun asked, seeing a reason he had not thought of.

“If you fail to find him, they will massacre another clan.”

Jeonha-gun understood. As long as Seodaeryong remained with him, no new atrocity would occur—a decision made for the righteous sect’s sake.

Of course, Mugeuk had another motive.

“I intend to catch them off guard.”

“Off guard? What do you mean?”

“They must have assumed I would never surrender my right arm. They know our bond. What will they do when I hand him to you?”

He intended to use the bait to provoke their true plan, then learn from their reaction.

“I wonder why they involved the Saber Master’s disciple. What role did they envision for my right arm in their scheme?”

Was it merely to sow strife between the sect and the Alliance? Or something deeper?

Mugeuk said to Jeonha-gun:

“In unraveling that mystery, you may face danger.”

They could not know how the Alliance would treat Seodaeryong. Just being together could place Jeonha-gun in peril.

He warned him of danger, yet Jeonha-gun smiled faintly.

“If Seven acts so bravely, am I not a shield?”

His jest brought a welcome smile from Mugeuk.

“Then the seven, eight, nine are truly all assembled.”

The three shared a laugh.

After releasing their tension, Mugeuk looked at Seodaeryong.

“Evil one, now it is time to atone.”