Chapter 9: Chapter 9
Sa Hae-ryeong had no chance in this succession war…
“Why?”
“For now, it may appear that the Mad Dragon Hall Master supports her through his former adjutant Narak, but it won’t last. The First Young Master and the Second Young Master will move to bring her down first.”
Hmm. A shallow breath escaped him. Chwi Hong-ran had been renowned for her brilliant mind since childhood, even within the Murong clan. The probability that her words would become reality was very high.
Besides, Jang I-seo shared the same assessment. Six months at most. The first heir to collapse would be Sa Hae-ryeong.
‘But that’s before I step in. Until the Seventh Young Master finds his footing, Sa Hae-ryeong needs to serve as a shield.’
There was no shortage of tasks. Each one of nightmarish difficulty. Impossible, though? No.
“What’s happened with that kid?”
When Jang I-seo changed the subject, Chwi Hong-ran quietly turned her gaze toward the window. A curtain blocked the view, but as she drew it slightly aside, the figure became clearly visible not far away.
“What are you looking at. Wanna die? Hahaha!”
Late at night, dead drunk, picking fights and screaming like a brat. A hopeless good-for-nothing.
“Mao…”
The corners of Jang I-seo’s mouth rose.
Yes. Him. Seventh Young Master Mao.
Jang I-seo hadn’t stayed at Chiseonru for over ten days just waiting for the Quake Mountain Grandmother.
Shlk. Jang I-seo drew the curtain again and picked up the empty cup on the table. Chwi Hong-ran respectfully filled it and spoke.
“He may be the Seventh Young Master, but he’s a lowborn who runs with thugs. The Cult Leader’s token that grants access anywhere in the cult has been revoked, and all support cut off. We permit him to eat here at Chiseonru, but… the damage to the establishment is considerable.”
“Keep accommodating him for now. I’ll collect every last coin eventually.”
“Yes. I’ll submit a detailed report on the Seventh Young Master shortly.”
“I’m counting on you.”
Jang I-seo smirked and turned toward the window. Chwi Hong-ran lowered her head, hiding her working mouth. She was curious. Why had he taken such an interest in the Seventh Young Master these past few days?
Of course, she had many other questions too.
He was a cult member who called the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult “the Demonic Cult,” who referred to the Cult Leader and the Young Cult Master with reckless familiarity, words no one should dare utter.
She had her guesses. But never asking about Jang I-seo’s true nature was their agreement. And she understood it existed to protect her from dangers that could strike at any moment.
So Chwi Hong-ran always waited. Until he chose to tell her.
“Before long, I’ll be going in as that kid’s adjutant.”
As if reading her thoughts, he finally opened up. Chwi Hong-ran raised her head, unable to contain her joy, her face flushing bright.
“Is that even possible?”
When Hong-ran asked with childlike innocence, Jang I-seo smirked and replied.
“In three days. I’m going in.”
Wow. Hong-ran let out a genuine exclamation. How on earth had he managed to gain entry to the Seventh Small Palace? She’d known him a long time, but he was truly a man whose depths could never be fathomed. No doubt seeds he’d planted were scattered everywhere beyond Chiseonru as well.
“But before that. I should introduce myself properly.”
Jang I-seo’s eyes flashed.
Now it was the final showdown with Mao.
*
– Demonic Cult, Wolha Village, Seventh Small Palace.
Cross the rainbow bridge south from Chiseonru and a dense bamboo forest appeared. Deep within it stood an estate, neither small nor large.
A forbidden zone where no one could enter freely. The Seventh Small Palace, home of the Seventh Young Master Mao.
But calling it a palace was generous. Fewer visitors came than ants. At most, a maid sent by Sa Hae-ryeong occasionally showed up to clean.
Naturally.
Why was a good-for-nothing a good-for-nothing?
The middle-aged envoy who’d come to deliver the Third Young Lady’s message today truly hadn’t wanted to be here either.
“Say that again.”
Perhaps around twenty now.
Judging by appearance alone, he could pass for the First Young Master of a prestigious clan. A strikingly handsome face, tall and masculine.
His build was equally impressive. Tall, built for raw power, with shoulders like a mountain.
Weighty eyes and crimson hair, red as a lotus, pulled back to expose his forehead fully.
In a word, a commanding young man who’d yield to no one anywhere.
“Who’s coming?”
But wherever he’d left his manners, he’d left his guest standing outside while he kicked the sliding door open and sprawled across the porch.
Utterly lawless. Seventh Young Master Mao.
“That is, in two days, an adjutant will arrive, so the Third Young Lady asks that you welcome him warmly. Sir…”
The envoy mumbled with a terrified face, neck craning back. Mao jumped up and charged at him like a feral dog.
“Heugh!”
The startled envoy’s neck snapped straight. Mao wrapped his arm around the man’s head, locked it in his armpit, and barked.
“What, adjutant? Say that again.”
“Urgh, no, um… the Third Young Lady said an adjutant would… ngh.”
“That makes no sense. An adjutant for me? And from no less than my sister? Hahaha!”
“A-air! Air! Urgh!”
Shove! Mao pushed the envoy away. CRASH! The man tumbled into a corner, rolling across the floor. Remarkable strength without even using internal energy. The envoy groaned and wheezed on the ground.
Then.
“Back to your spot.”
Mao climbed back onto the porch with an expressionless face, sat cross-legged, and ordered. The envoy scrambled back to his earlier position at attention, on the verge of tears.
“Fine. What’s the name?”
Mao asked listlessly. The envoy, sweating bullets, answered hastily.
“Jang I-seo. Yes, Jang I-seo.”
“Jang I-su… Never heard of him.”
“It’s not I-su, it’s I-seo.”
“Does it matter. What clan?”
“This… he’s a commoner of outside origin.”
“Commoner? Hahaha! Citizen of heaven?”
“Not that kind of common…”
“Are you an idiot? It’s a joke. Even a commoner has an inheritance, right?”
“Did you mean property? He’s not coming here to die, so an inheritance seems…”
“When I die. Even a beggar has something to his name, doesn’t he?”
As Mao snarled, the envoy bowed frantically, apologizing. Mao snorted and asked again.
“Even a commoner has a rank. Not just anyone applies to be an adjutant. What is he. Hall Master level?”
The envoy tilted his head cautiously and replied.
“Not quite Hall Master. A bit below that.”
“What. Vice Hall Master?”
“Not Vice Hall Master either. A little further below…”
“What? Hahaha! Goes down endlessly, like my own situation. What then, Division Commander?”
“Not Division Commander…”
“What… don’t tell me. Vice Division Commander?”
“Not Vice Division Commander.”
“Hey, you bastard! What’s below that!”
“Squad Leader. Third Squad Leader of the Counter-Espionage Division.”
AARGH! Mao’s scream erupted. CRASH! Even the wardrobe toppled over. The envoy covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut.
After some time passed, Mao finally exhaled, thoroughly poisoned with frustration.
“But since my sister sent him, I suppose I have to take him in.”
“Yes, that would be advisable.”
“Right. Exactly. That’s right. You make a good point. Right. I’ll take him in first, then… strip him of everything he owns and throw him out naked.”
“Excuse me? Isn’t that robbery?”
“Who cares. He’s my adjutant, right? Then everything he has is mine. Correct?”
Right. Correct, you bastard.
The envoy nodded continuously, his mind clouding. This was a man who couldn’t be reasoned with. Vaguely agreeing and disappearing was the shortest path to survival.
Mao, satisfied with the answer, waved his hand dismissively. A cue to get lost.
The envoy backed away inch by inch, wary of a change of heart. Just as he was about to turn and flee.
Mao, staring blankly at the ceiling, spoke.
“Tell my sister I said thanks.”
“Huh? Yes.”
“And leave it.”
“Leave what…”
“The pouch inside your coat. Leave it and go.”
This crazy bastard. The envoy wore a troubled expression and reached into his robes. He pulled out a coin pouch, fished out a few coppers, and asked.
“How much…”
“Or would you rather strip?”
“No…”
With trembling hands, the envoy set the entire pouch down. Then he turned and fled the bamboo forest as if his life depended on it.
Even more insane than he’d heard.
But the truly baffling thing was that a lunatic like that didn’t kill people carelessly. If he had…
The envoy’s trembling gaze turned ice cold the moment he cleared the forest.
“He would have died by my hand long ago.”
Riiiip! The envoy peeled away the skin from his face.
A skin disguise. Far more intricate than the one Sa Hae-ryeong had worn.
Few beings in the Demonic Cult could produce work of this caliber. No. Perhaps only one.
“This dog-shit bastard. Daring to take my money? Siblings going mad as a pair!”
Jang I-seo, the Martial Alliance spy who lived and died for money.
No. Jang I-seo, soon-to-be adjutant.
He had visited earlier, disguised as the envoy.
“Right. I never thought you’d make it easy.”
The mission from the Hidden Pavilion wasn’t to become his adjutant. It was to make him Young Cult Leader.
But a good-for-nothing with a rotten mindset like that was hopeless.
Which left one option.
“You need to be schooled by your big brother.”
Grin. Jang I-seo’s lips curved wickedly.
The Demonic Cult’s good-for-nothing Seventh Young Master, Mao.
The Martial Alliance Hidden Pavilion’s finest operative, Jang I-seo.
The two men’s brutal cohabitation was about to begin.
* * *
– Martial Alliance Hubei Branch, Hidden Pavilion.
Jegal So-mi sat in a narrow, dark room, pulling letters one by one from a sack full of them and poring over each.
The contents varied, and so did their formats. From dot cipher to characters that only appeared when ink powder was dissolved in water. All of these were secret dispatches from Hidden Pavilion operatives across the land.
Naturally, they hadn’t been sent directly. They’d passed through countless intermediary steps.
‘But why won’t they let me turn on the lights? My eyes are killing me.’
Jegal So-mi squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them with a heavy sigh. Even with her martial training allowing her to read perfectly well in this darkness, not a single night pearl in sight. The working conditions were abysmal.
And why did they keep insisting on the mask?
“Stifling.”
It might be different if someone else were here, but only she and her grandfather, Jegal Sang, were permitted access to the headquarters.
And then they’d go home, masks off, holding hands. It was maddening.
“Should I just request a transfer? At this rate, won’t I end up dying alone?”
A perfectly reasonable thought. She’d been growing tired of this work anyway. Nothing ever came as news anymore.
“Hm?”
Just then, she’d been reading a dispatch’s dot cipher idly by touch, and her head dipped.
Then she pulled down her mask with a startled face and traced the dots again carefully with both hands.
What sent her into shock was just two characters.
【Palace Entry.】
Agent 103. His first communication in a very long time since receiving his mission.
“Palace entry? Does this mean he actually got into the Seventh Small Palace? Already?”
Astonishment. How long had it been since the mission was dispatched, and he’d already infiltrated the forbidden Small Palace?
Thump, thump. Her heart, lately slack with boredom, began to race.
“No way. Don’t tell me he’s seriously trying to make the Seventh Young Master the Young Cult Leader? No. That’s impossible. Right?”
The mission she’d dispatched believing absolutely impossible… had begun to move.