As I watched the Sword Demon return to his seat, it felt like the Imperial Martial Gathering was now about halfway to success. The Unrivaled and the Sword King had finished their matches without challenging Im Sobaek, which meant the duels had gone smoothly. In short, the goal was almost achieved. After all, the Blade King had already had a thorough conversation with Im Sobaek the day before. The Fist King, by nature, was an independent man with no interest in becoming Alliance Leader. The same applied to his disciple, Yi Gun-ak. These two were closer to being purely martial artists. What remained was the Sword Emperor of the Namgung Clan... But he only watched the duels and showed no sign of stepping forward. There was no telling when or if he would. In truth, I couldn’t control every part of this Imperial Martial Gathering. Im Sobaek himself would have to step in and manage some of it directly. Even as the Sword Demon quietly returned to his seat, we all stayed silent. Only the Lecher spoke, in a low, subdued voice. “...Master, thank you for your hard work.” The Sword Demon simply nodded. We didn’t bother asking about his left arm. And the fact that he was once called Thirteen was something we were hearing for the first time—so the mood had grown a bit heavy. If he had ever tried to trace his roots after leaving the Demonic Cult, it would only have added to the darkness within him. Because it was obvious he wouldn’t find anything. Everyone must have been killed during the abduction. Really, what was there to say in a moment ? There was an unspoken consensus to just stay quiet for now. It was also a way of showing respect to the Sword King, who had shown great courtesy by patiently waiting while our eldest brother blankly stared up at the sky during their duel. Before anyone could bring up the next match, someone raised a hand. Gongson Wol looked toward someone and spoke. “Does Lord Dosu of the Northern Five Tigers have something to say?” A pale-faced man stood up from the crowd. Now that I looked closely, he seemed to be the same guy who had asked earlier who had won. And looking around where he’d been sitting, I realized something else. ‘The Five Tigers were mostly seated near the White-Robed Scholar’s side.’ That explained it. His vibe matched that of the Scholar’s disciples. Since the White-Robed Scholar had been with a man suspected to be one of the Five Tigers from the start, it meant that even in my past life, he had been deeply tied to the White Path. “We’ve watched the duels of the senior martial kings. If I may be so bold, today’s gathering includes most of the so-called Southern Six Dragons and Northern Five Tigers—post-generation elites. I’ve heard it said that the Southern Four Dragons became the Six without ever participating in a formal duel. So, how about we determine here and now who the strongest of the post-generation elites truly is? Soon, after one or two more duels, it’ll be dark. As everyone knows, the Alliance observes strict meal times—even guests are no exception.” Gongson Wol turned to look at Im Sobaek. Im Sobaek looked toward Lord Dosu. “‘Strongest of the post-generation elites,’ huh... Are you talking about your brother?” “My brother is already over thirty, no longer considered part of that group. I was simply curious, and so I speak up now.” “Let’s not beat around the bush. Who do you think the strongest post-generation elite is?” Lord Dosu smiled and answered. “Of course, it’s me.” “I see. I’ve heard that the Dengpyeong and Dosu brothers are said to be especially strong among the Five Tigers. One day, those who are now called juniors will become kings—this is an important duel as well. Step onto the stage.” Lord Dosu bowed with cupped fists toward Im Sobaek. “Thank you, Alliance Leader.” Thinking about it, their names were absurdly straightforward. Dengpyeong and Dosu together made up the phrase Dengpyeongdosu, often used to refer to the pinnacle of light footwork. Maybe they took nicknames from light footwork techniques? Looking at Dengpyeongdosu, I couldn’t help but think of the Swift Party Leader. And if he was a disciple of the Scholar, then he must be among the top-tier post-generation elites. Back when I was active as the Mad Demon, the Five Tigers weren’t well-known. Something must’ve happened that wiped them out. It wouldn’t be surprising if they were killed by the Demonic Cult—or captured and executed by Im Sobaek. Either way, I couldn’t know every detail of such people’s fates. Anyway, as Lord Dosu, who had declared himself the strongest, stepped onto the stage, the Lecher beside me muttered, “He’s calling himself the strongest? What utter nonsense.” Then the Sword Demon, who had been watching Lord Dosu quietly, spoke to his disciple. “He doesn’t seem weak. Sometimes personality and tone are unrelated to skill—he might be doing it on purpose.” The Lecher looked a bit surprised, then focused back on the stage. Just then, I locked eyes with Im Sobaek, and strangely, it felt like the Alliance Leader already knew most of the people gathered here. He wasn’t flaunting that knowledge—he was simply overseeing the duels with a spirit of inclusion. Lord Dosu, now on the stage, looked around and spoke. “Any of the Six Dragons may challenge me. Or a master of the Five Tigers. Let’s settle this before the sun sets. Lord Hao, would you care to step up? I hear you’re one of the Five Dragons.” He’s calling me one of the Five Dragons? The phrase had a rather unpleasant ring to it. It felt like I’d been singled out as one of the least important among the already-not-so-important. The Lecher snickered beside me. “He says you’re a Five Dragon...” I stared at the Lecher in disbelief. “Then what are you, one of the Six Dragons?” I turned to face Lord Dosu. “Lord Dosu, do you truly believe you’re the strongest of the post-generation elites?” “Excluding my older brother, yes.” “To me, you seem like you’d rank around sixteenth. Perhaps you’d better step down now.” Lord Dosu glared at me. “If you add the Six Dragons and Five Tigers, that’s eleven. Include the Fist King’s disciple and it’s twelve. Throw in two or three masters I don’t know, and you’re about sixteenth. That’s a generous estimate.” As people laughed, even Lord Dosu chuckled along from the stage. “I’ve heard rumors that you’re unusually good at talking nonsense—and clearly, the rumors were true.” “It’s fascinating that you’d know, considering we’ve had no contact. You must’ve done a lot of research.” “Enough chatter. Get up here.” “The title of ‘strongest post-gen elite’ is a contest between Mongrang and Yi Gun-ak. I won’t step up.” I had just provoked all the post-generation elites. And I wasn’t lying. Lord Dosu gave a mocking smile. “I know Mongrang, but... Who in the world is Yi Gun-ak?” Trying to drag me onto the stage—now that’s arrogant. I didn’t train just to bicker with the likes of him. Lord Dosu looked around and spoke again. “Yi Gun-ak, who even—” He stopped midsentence and stared at the man who had stood up. Yi Gun-ak, who had been quietly watching beside the Fist King, rose to his feet, revealing a massive frame like a mountain. Yi Gun-ak looked toward the stage and said, “These nicknames like Dragon or Tiger... so childish.” A fool, but an honest one—he said whatever came to mind. Lord Dosu provoked him. “Let’s see who’s really childish, then.” Yi Gun-ak was about to head for the stage when the Fist King spoke. “You lost to Mongrang yesterday. I hear there were some unfortunate circumstances, but a loss is still a loss. What did you learn from the senior martial kings' duels?” Yi Gun-ak replied with a shocked expression. “Yes, you're right. I lost.” “Then of course Mongrang should step up for this. You still have much to learn. Sit down and stay quiet.” Wow—even I was impressed. In my past life, I had never seen Yi Gun-ak that well-behaved. As he sat back down, he spoke up. “I lost in a duel yesterday to Mongrang of the Wind-and-Cloud Mong Clan, so I will not step forward.” Suddenly, all attention turned to the Lecher, who stood up with a smug, unbearable expression. Lord Dosu laughed /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ heartily and addressed the Lecher. “Lord Mong, come on up. They say you’re the strongest.” The Lecher nodded with visible glee and took a step forward. Just then, ominously, the Sword Demon’s voice rang out. I looked between the two, struck by a sense of déjà vu. ‘What is this...? I’ve got a bad feeling about it.’ The Sword Demon asked the Lecher, “Are you truly the strongest of the post-generation elites?” “As far as I recall, you lost to the Lord of Hao at Baekungji, and again in front of our inn, ending up flat on your back. Am I mistaken? Was it a dream? Even Yi Gun-ak acknowledged his loss and is holding back—yet you?” The Lecher blinked with the same expression as mine. “That... wasn’t a dream, I think.” “Then are you really qualified to step onto the stage?” The Lecher gave a sheepish laugh and replied, “Ahaha... well, yeah. I won’t step up.” He slumped back into his seat. What the hell is wrong with our eldest brother? The Sword Demon looked at me and gave the answer. “There are rare beauties in the audience today, and your heart is full of desire to show off. That kind of mindset is unsuited for today’s duels.” The Lecher and I both understood at the same time. Even the Lecher nodded obediently. Apparently, the eldest brother had struck a nerve. Truthfully, I’d planned to fight one of the martial kings. So now, I had no choice but to rise and head toward the duel stage. And then—something happened to me for the first time in my life. As I walked, a thunderous cheer erupted around me. I froze and looked around. Without any signal, nearly all the Murim Alliance troops were clapping and cheering for me. Since when did I get so popular with a bunch of guys? It was such a pointless, useless popularity. Still, it was enough to lift my spirits, and even Im Sobaek, seated at the highest position, was clapping while trying to suppress a smile. I waved my hand half-heartedly in response to the cheers and muttered quietly, “Let’s wrap this up quickly.” It was an incredibly awkward moment. ‘Hey, guys... I was the Mad Demon in my past life.’ I received that fiery ovation all the way to the stage. Amidst it, I heard various shouts: “I fought alongside the Lord of Hao in Namak!” “I was part of the Eastern Troops under Lord Hao’s command!” Hearing those words, my awkwardness vanished. Looking around again, I realized that many of those who had fought with me were in the audience. ‘This is... a strange feeling.’ The Alliance members were treating me as a comrade-in-arms. Even Jang San of the Nine Sword Unit, watching from afar, was waving at me—making it all the more surreal. Gongson Wol’s voice rang out. “This is a duel between Lord Dosu, who rose to fame as one of the Northern Five Tigers, and the Lord of Hao, named among the Southern Six Dragons by the Alliance Leader. Please bring the short wooden swords...” I received the wooden sword brought by an Alliance member and looked at Lord Dosu. He inspected his own sword with a relaxed smile, then glanced around and spoke. “By the way, Lord Baekri Han, Lord Seomun Dan, and Lord Namgung Hwi of the Six Dragons are all present. Why is no one questioning why the Lord of Hao is stepping forward as the strongest? Have the Six already ranked themselves?” I found myself nodding—his point was valid. Then a man from the Seomun Clan spoke. “According to what Wi Mu-gyeol of the Wi Clan said, the top seat among the Southern Six Dragons belongs to the Lord of Hao.” Lord Dosu looked at him. “Lord Dan, is that true?” “Mu-gyeol rarely jokes. So it’s probably true. Lord Dosu Han Seogwang—frankly, I’m more curious whether you’re really the top of the Five Tigers. If you are, then this will determine whether the Tigers or the Dragons are superior.” Out of nowhere, the heir of the Seomun Clan revealed Lord Dosu’s full name, and my opponent showed a brief flicker of surprise before falling silent. Perhaps the Jianghu doesn’t have that many secrets after all. The clans must’ve done their homework on the Five Tigers. Lord Dosu turned to me. “Lord of Hao, are you ready?” I shook my head and replied shamelessly. “I’ll wait. Say the word.” I stared at Lord Dosu. If he was truly a disciple of the Scholar, then his strength might well surpass that of the Butcher, considering his place in the martial world. I glanced at the White-Robed Scholar’s face, but could read nothing. So I cleared my mind of all distractions—the excitement, the cheering, the martial kings’ duels, the crowd, even the silent Scholar. Then I looked again at my opponent, this man called Dosu, and organized my thoughts. One of the Northern Five Tigers. A disciple of the Scholar. Though I had a hunch that the White-Robed Scholar might not be his master. A man bold and frivolous enough to call himself the strongest. This place—the Murim Alliance. And the unintended exposure of the Scholar’s own power to the world. Now that I was ready, I said to Dosu: But even within my own arrogance, a trap lay hidden. It took quite a long time before I truly realized... That the Dosu standing before me was a formidable enemy.