Yulha Nangnang glanced briefly at the title of the manuscript, Catalogue of Extermination and Demonic Suppression. Her lips parted.“May I ask what this is? The title is... quite grandiose.”


    Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head.


    “It seems we should get to the main topic first.”


    “Very well. Let’s do that.”


    “What is the meaning of this behavior?”


    The Inspector General stood below the pavilion, glaring, while the Huashan Sect Master and Ma Gwang-ik Lord sat facing each other. Hesitant, Wei Ji Myohwa finally took her seat in the center.


    "Not long ago, the Heavenly Master sustained serious injuries from Il Sado. Fortunately, it wasn’t fatal.”


    “...That is indeed fortunate.”


    Jeong Yeon-shin replied, recalling the resolute face of the Heavenly Master of the Huashan Sect.


    A supreme swordsman who had mastered the Subtle Fragrance of Plum Blossoms Technique. Jeong Yeon-shin had narrowly won against him during the Murim Alliance’s founding tournament. At the time, the Heavenly Master had already been injured internally, but he’d shown no discernible weakness.


    Now, however, Jeong Yeon-shin had heard he was fighting for his life after falling to Il Sado of the Bloodflame Cult while Jeong had been recuperating.


    “I came here to check on your condition. The forces of demonic and heretical sects rampaging through Shaanxi are too strong, and we lack enough skilled hands. The strife between the righteous and the unorthodox sects is another headache. Even inns and temples are in ruins.”


    “My subordinates are working in the area.”


    Jeong Yeon-shin’s voice was calm. Currently, more than half of Ma Gwang-ik’s forces were out in disguise, maintaining order outside.


    As their commander, Jeong had sent them. It was tiresome to endure the overly protective behavior of his comrades, who insisted on staying by his side out of concern for his safety.


    They were sharp-eyed enough to notice the faint growth of his injured limbs and make a fuss over it. Even their teasing—spoon-feeding him and joking about the timing of his recovery—was difficult to tolerate.


    “Enough already.”


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