The head of a great faction, one of the Sixteen Noble Clans, had died. Such a death, in any form, was bound to bring about changes in the flow of an era.
Especially when that death was caused by external forces.
This banquet, in a sense, was a gathering meant to address those changes.
However, regardless of the reason, the factions that had spread across Zhongyuan had now converged upon a single pond—the Namgung Clan.
It was an incredibly rare occasion for most of them to gather in one place. Whether or not they truly came to mourn was irrelevant; a political battlefield was inevitable in such a setting...
“Oh, Senior Heo Do, you’re here too.”
Seo-jun, however, took a step back from all those undercurrents and simply enjoyed the banquet.
Such a thing was only possible because he had already surpassed the limits of humanity and reached the state of Haegyeong.
A Haegyeong martial artist only needed to concern himself with others at the same level.
In other words, there weren’t many people here who were worth Seo-jun’s attention.
After all, those gathered here were not the Lords of the Sixteen Noble Clans, but merely their elders.
Of course, behind them stood Haegyeong martial artists, but Seo-jun was not the type to be overly concerned with such things.
“So, you know those terms like Jeommechu and Jeomechu that people use these days? They aren’t just random slang for young people, but actually—”
“Hoh… That’s quite concerning.”
“What is?”
“I think I’ve been using that phrase at least once a day since that day.”
Heo Do-jinin stroked his beard in shock. Seo-jun couldn’t hold back his laughter.
“No way, you really liked it that much?”
“Well, I may be a bit old, but I still try to keep my mind young. After all, isn’t that necessary for progress in martial arts as well?”
“Oh-ho, when you put it that way….”
The banquet hall was filled with representatives from almost all of the Sixteen Noble Clans.
Of course, if every single mourner from those clans had attended, the number of people would have been overwhelming, so only a few representatives had come in their place.
Even so, it was a gathering of fourteen out of the sixteen factions, with Kunlun and Peng Clan being the only absentees.
The sheer number of attendees was still far from small.
“So, then, why is it that the Imperial Family sent you instead of the Third Prince?”
At Seo-jun’s question, the Emperor chuckled.
“Well, it looked interesting, didn’t it? When this many people gather, something fun is bound to happen.”
“What a foolish man.”
Clicking his tongue, Seo-jun used Hogongseobmul (Elemental Telekinesis) to pick up a dish from across the hall. It was Mao Tofu—something Chun-bong quite liked.
“Here, Chun-bui, say ‘ah~.’”
“I-I don’t need it.”
Chun-bong, wearing a sulky expression, used her chopsticks to snatch the floating tofu from the air herself. Then, pouting, she shot Seo-jun a telepathic message.
[What are you doing in a place like this?]
And yet, she quickly stuffed the tofu into her mouth.
[So, you’re still eating it?]
When Seo-jun smirked, Chun-bong scoffed.
[You don’t even like this stuff.]
[Yeah, it’s really not my thing.]
Suddenly, the Emperor butted in.
“You’re not eating? This stuff is good. I even make trips to Anhui sometimes just for it.”
Munching on a mouthful of Mao Tofu, the Emperor nodded in satisfaction. Seo-jun simply held up a thumbs-up in response.
“So damn picky.”
The Emperor chuckled.
Regardless of any underlying tensions, the fact that two Haegyeong martial artists were casually conversing created a surprisingly amicable atmosphere in the hall.
Perhaps emboldened by that atmosphere, a woman from the Tang Clan approached Seo-jun with a warm smile.
No man would refuse the company of a rare beauty offering to pour him a drink. Her smile carried both a hint of nervousness and a far greater sense of confidence.
“Great hero, if you wouldn’t mind, may I—”
Holding a liquor pitcher, she naturally placed her hand on Seo-jun’s shoulder.
“Ugh…!”
To be precise, she tried to place her hand on his shoulder, but froze before making contact.
Her hand, which had been reaching for Seo-jun, stopped as if paralyzed, unable to move an inch.
“Oh, I don’t really like being touched.”
Seo-jun, who had stopped her using Hogongseobmul, looked at her with a peculiar gaze.
“So, what now?”
“A-Apologies….”
The woman hurriedly withdrew, her face turning deathly pale.
Gaining the favor of a Haegyeong martial artist was a great honor—but a single misstep could also cost her life.
Their way of thinking was beyond what ordinary people could even comprehend. Being a daughter of the Tang Clan was no invincible shield.
As she hastily retreated, the Emperor burst into laughter.
“Haha! Forget that prickly guy.”
He lifted his cup and downed it in one go.
“My cup’s empty.”
The woman cautiously turned her attention to the Emperor. Seo-jun watched her retreating figure with narrowed eyes.
‘Is she dealing with something within her clan?’
It was strange for a Tang Clan daughter—someone practically of princess status—to take the initiative in offering drinks.
Clicking his tongue, Seo-jun turned to Namgung Sua beside him.
“Want some more?”
“Hmm? Then just one more cup.”
As he poured her a drink, Namgung Sua giggled.
“Chun-bui’s staring daggers at you.”
Just as she said, Chun-bong was glaring intensely at Seo-jun.
“Want a drink too, Chun-bui?”
“I’m fine. Never really liked the taste of alcohol.”
Chun-bong shook her head and glanced around.
When Seo-jun had given the woman that sharp look earlier, the atmosphere in the hall had tensed for a moment.
Even the so-called great figures of the Sixteen Noble Clans were wary of Seo-jun, a Haegyeong martial artist.
Of course, that wasn’t really her concern—but his reaction still bugged her.
‘Does he still hate women?’
If that were the case, then why was he always clinging to her every morning—hugging, touching, causing all sorts of trouble?
“Hmmm….”
As Chun-bong mulled over this, an elder of the Zhongnan Sect suddenly spoke up. His expression was strangely stiff.
“Myeolsa Cheon-gun, would you mind answering a question?”
“Hm? Sure, go ahead.”
Seo-jun nodded casually, but Chun-bong didn’t.
That elder’s expression—it was that look. The look of someone who was deeply displeased with something in this gathering.
‘Is something about to go down?’
An instinctive sense of foreboding settled in, but just as she was about to intervene, Chun-bong sighed instead.
‘Whatever. He’ll handle it.’
Some people only learn when they get smacked in the face by reality.
Did the Zhongnan Sect Elder really believe that his sect leader would protect him even if things escalated? Or did he just have too much faith in his own position?
Chun-bong wasn’t particularly interested in figuring it out.
There were too many people in this world, and by default, that meant there were plenty of people she’d never understand.
She just accepted it as one of life’s inevitable truths.
“The elder of the Murim Alliance, Jo Chung, was killed by your hand. Can you explain the details?”
A loaded topic.
Killing an elder? That wasn’t something one could just brush off. Chun-bong discreetly glanced at Seo-jun’s expression.
“Jo Chung?”
Seo-jun tilted his head, looking slightly confused—until his expression stiffened. His gaze locked onto the Zhongnan Sect Elder with an icy sharpness.
“Oh, that piece of trash.”
His brow twitched, the perfect finishing touch.
‘Not full-on rage. Just moderate rage?’
Chun-bong swallowed nervously.
“He was a Zhongnan Sect Elder before he was a part of the Murim Alliance. I believe I have the right to hear the details of his death.”
It wasn’t an unreasonable statement.
But tone—tone was everything.
The exact same words could carry entirely different meanings depending on how they were spoken.
And Chun-bong could sum up that elder’s tone in a single sentence:
‘One step closer to assisted suicide.’
She instinctively covered her mouth.
“A crane that holds its head too high dies early.”
“What…?”
“That’s something that idiot said before he died. You didn’t get to hear that part?”
The elder of the Zhongnan Sect looked momentarily flustered, clearly caught off guard, but he quickly regained his composure.
“No matter what he said, the way you handled it was far too rash. At the very least, you should have sought some form of approval from Zhongnan. That would have been the proper course of action.”
Gulp.
Chun-bong swallowed hard.
The elder had just officially signed his own death warrant.
At this point, she couldn’t help but wonder—was this guy secretly some hidden Haegyeong master in disguise?
Chun-bong rolled her eyes and took another peek at Seo-jun’s expression.
‘Huh?’
Her brow twitched. His reaction was… surprisingly mild.
She had expected him to snap and rip the elder’s head off immediately, but his anger seemed oddly subdued.
‘Oh, right. The clan head ascended, didn’t he?’
Chun-bong had heard about Namgung Sua’s dream—how her father, Namgung Jincheon, had ascended to the Celestial Realm. Seo-jun had been in a bad mood for days after that.
At this rate, maybe the elder would just lose an arm? Or maybe get his skull dented a little?
Chun-bong watched nervously, waiting for Seo-jun’s response—when suddenly, someone burst into laughter.
“Hahahaha! This is priceless!”
The Emperor.
He laughed so hard his face turned red, then leaned toward the Tang Clan woman beside him.
“What do you think?”
“E-Excuse me?”
The Emperor’s hand grabbed the woman’s chin. Her face instantly paled.
“Look at that fool running his mouth. What does he think is backing him? The Zhongnan Sect Leader? His pitiful rank? Or is his head just filled with flowers?”
“I… I suppose so….”
“You agree? Good. If you want it, then so be it.”
“Huh…?”
The Emperor released his grip, and the woman collapsed onto the floor, her legs giving out.
Grinning, he stretched out his hand toward the Zhongnan Sect Elder.
“Well then, Tang… something? This girl just told me she wants you dead.”
The moment he spoke, an unbearable wave of heat condensed in midair.
A miniature sun blazed into existence—the Emperor’s Heavenly Sunfire Technique at its peak.
It plummeted toward the elder’s head faster than he could react.
SSSSSSSSHHHHHHH—!!
The elder, still seated in his chair, toppled over as the heat wave exploded just inches from his face. His eyes trembled violently.
He had been seconds away from being reduced to ash.
And the only reason he was still breathing…
…was because Seo-jun had stopped it.
Struggling for breath, the elder turned his head toward Seo-jun, shaking.
If he hadn’t stepped in, he would have died right there.
“Wh-What in the…?”
Seo-jun flicked his hand.
SMACK—!
The air itself shook as the elder’s head snapped to the side, sending him crashing to the floor.
Seo-jun didn’t even spare him a glance.
Instead, he locked eyes with the Emperor.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Is there a problem?”
The Emperor smirked, still grinning like this was all some kind of entertainment.
“If someone doesn’t know their place, they should be removed. I’m more curious about why you stopped me.”
“Because it annoyed me.”
The Emperor’s grin widened.
“Oh? You interfering just because you felt like it?”
Seo-jun scoffed.
“Looked fun, huh?”
The Emperor’s eyes widened in mock surprise.
“Oh? You figured it out? But I’m being serious. People like that shouldn’t be left alone.”
“Yeah. You’re right.”
“Oho? So you agree?”
The Emperor’s smile stretched as he casually picked up his drink again. Seo-jun smirked.
“Yeah. That’s why I’m starting with you.”
SWOOSH—!
Seo-jun’s hand sliced through the air, aiming straight for the Emperor’s throat.
The Emperor barely managed to arch his back out of the way, laughing as he did.
“Hahaha! Now this is interesting!”
His fingers curled into claws, ready to counterattack.