Reincarnated Sword Ghost

Chief Strategist

Would they not even give a brief moment of rest?

Jeong-un rarely found himself thinking that way.

It wasn’t truly because he wished for rest.

It had been a considerable amount of time since he left the gates of the Heavenly Martial Hall after receiving a mission.

He had swung his sword many times in the underground cave beneath Nokmun Mountain, and afterwards, he had annihilated an Evil Faction force in Jinyang Prefecture.

Regardless of the accomplishments, quite some time had gone by.

Surely, a bit of rest could be warranted.

”One could think it’s lack of consideration.”

Yeom Baek, who was walking ahead, spoke.

It seemed he too shared the same thoughts.

”I have no complaints.”

He was sincere. Somehow, he only found the urgent handling of matters to be a little curious.

Even if he had gone back to his lodging, he would have just grabbed his sword and headed straight to the private training hall.

There were several martial arts he needed to refine.

”They say in the martial world that the time of the Heavenly Martial Hall’s chief strategist is worth more than a fortune; so many wish for even a moment with him, but it’s never granted. Even trivial conversations are not allowed.”

”I suppose I should be grateful.”

Yeom Baek glanced back briefly at Jeong-un and said,

”This time, it’s the opposite case.”

”...?”

”The chief strategist has bought your time with that fortune.”

”... Isn’t that extortion?”

Yeom Baek snorted.

”Didn’t know you could joke.”

”...”

But I’m not joking, he muttered inwardly.

’Zhuge Cheon-woo, that was the name, wasn’t it?’

The only thing Jeong-un knew about the chief strategist was his name.

Aside from that, he only knew a little about his family.

Descendants of the first Chancellor of Shu Han.

Renowned for their intellect, with many members among the bloodline serving as officials, wielding considerable influence over the royal family.

That was how they ended up included among the five great families.

They soon arrived at their destination.

Jeong-un looked up at the three-story pavilion.

For the office of the Heavenly Martial Hall’s chief strategist, situated in such a grand compound, it was rather modest in size.

Two martial artists stood at the entrance, but upon seeing Yeom Baek and Jeong-un, immediately opened the door.

Perhaps they had been previously notified—without even confirming their business, they simply bowed to Yeom Baek.

They climbed two flights of stairs, passed through a short corridor, and arrived at the office door.

”Chief strategist, Blue Scale Corps member Yu Jeong-un has arrived.”

”Let him in.”

With that, Jeong-un entered as the door was opened.

Yeom Baek, who had led the way, left without looking back.

It was clear this was to be a private audience with the chief strategist.

”Sorry to have called you so soon.”

”It’s nothing.”

Jeong-un sat facing Zhuge Cheon-woo, who was seated behind a large desk.

A naturally dignified atmosphere was the first thing he noticed. It wasn’t just the profound internal energy he surely possessed.

Looking at the face that gazed steadily at him, Jeong-un could sense the dignity formed over a lifetime of respect.

’So this is the man...’

Though his hair was streaked with white—evidence of his age—his handsome features made it hard to guess how old he really was.

And, just like the other martial artists of the Heavenly Martial Hall, the modest black uniform looked perfectly suited to him.

”Even if it wasn’t about this recent affair, I had wanted to talk with you at least once. But it’s hard to find the time.”

”I’ve heard you’re extremely busy.”

Jeong-un recalled what Yeom Baek had mentioned earlier—that it was difficult to secure even a moment with the chief strategist, and even offering gold would not suffice.

”I’m talking about your time.”

”...?”

Zhuge Cheon-woo smiled as he spoke.

”I have nothing here that makes me busy. It’s said around the Hall that you spend all day in the training hall. Who would dare disturb a martial artist refining his skills?”

”...”

”But this matter is urgent and required. I hope you’ll understand.”

”Please, tell me.”

A gentle breeze slipped through the lattice window.

A piece of paper lying on the desk fluttered quietly.

Jeong-un glanced at it.

It was the paper Yeom Baek had written on and sent flying out the window earlier.

”You—did you truly see the Demonic Cult leader?”

”I do not know.”

Zhuge Cheon-woo’s expression became curious.

”You do not know?”

”I saw someone claiming to be the cult leader.”

”...”

At that, Zhuge Cheon-woo lowered his gaze and stayed silent for a moment, as if pondering something.

Then he slowly spoke,

”You’re from Hanzhong, aren’t you?”

”Yes.”

”Some ten years ago, there was a martial artist of innate talent in that region. A typical tyrant who oppressed the people for his own luxury, but to an extreme degree. He mobilized a hundred or so young men to dig his grave ahead of time, claiming he would play with the First Emperor in the afterlife once he died.”

”...”

That would make him a traitor by the law.

Mobilizing people for labor was a right reserved for the royal family alone.

For someone to have abused that many people, it should have been obvious.

Why did the officials there turn a blind eye?

Zhuge Cheon-woo continued,

”The officials there were also on his side. Apparently, he promised them all his wealth upon death. They anxiously awaited the day he had designated to die. But then...”

Zhuge Cheon-woo trailed off, then resumed speaking.

”When the day finally arrived, this man ordered the newly dug grave to be covered back up. The common folk, not understanding, had to cover the earth they’d just dug with their own hands. When one official went to ask for the reason, the tyrant killed him, saying he’d finally found someone who wished for his death.”

”Is the man still alive even now?”

Jeong-un asked quietly, and Zhuge Cheon-woo shook his head.

”It was your corps leader who beheaded him.”

”...”

Jeong-un recalled the robust energy Yeom Baek gave off.

He was now counted among the top one hundred martial artists. What must he have been like ten years ago?

”Evil Faction types don’t lurk in deep mountain valleys to quietly build power. As soon as they develop even a little internal energy, they appear and oppress the people. These guys are only cautious near Beijing, where the emperor resides. There are so many throughout the Central Plains that it’s tiresome. But as for the Demonic Cult—they are even more disturbing, just thinking about them.”

”Isn’t that why the Heavenly Martial Hall exists?”

When Jeong-un asked, Zhuge Cheon-woo smiled faintly and inquired,

”I hear you have no great ambition for accumulating achievements. Is that true?”

”Yes.”

Jeong-un answered calmly.

That was, in fact, something often spoken about him.

”People like you are the hardest to manage.”

Jeong-un looked at him with curiosity.

The hardest to manage? Did the chief strategist not know how diligently he had accepted each mission without complaint?

He asked,

”... What do you mean by that?”

”Do you know why rising stars—the so-called prodigies—gather here from all over?”

”Isn’t it to accumulate achievements and build a name for themselves?”

Martial artists were those who would draw swords for trivial slights.

Even those of the Righteous Faction were not much different; they were just a little more merciful to the common folk.

Stories still circulate of life-and-death duels being challenged because a sect was insulted.

Conversely, it meant they placed more importance on honor than anyone.

In that sense, the Heavenly Martial Hall was the perfect place to build such honor.

To act as chivalrous heroes through martial power and receive recognition for it.

If someone joined the Hall, beheaded Evil Faction villains, and returned home, they would be treated as a hero just for that alone.

Watching Jeong-un think this way, Zhuge Cheon-woo smiled slyly.

”You have no idea how much effort it took for me to get those words out of your mouth.”

”Excuse me?”

Jeong-un furrowed his brow slightly and retorted. What was that supposed to mean?

”In reality, the Heavenly Martial Hall is merely a tool for each martial sect to borrow talent. Sects, once reluctant to release their talented martial artists, now willingly send them themselves once the Hall started to look beneficial to them.”

Jeong-un opened his eyes wide. He had never thought of it that way.

He’d unconsciously assumed everyone was here to strive for achievements.

’Ah...’

He’d always heard the Hall was short on manpower.

Now that made sense.

Jeong-un, having finished his thoughts, spoke up.

”There’s a reason you make us take exams and compete, isn’t there?”

”Hmm?”

Zhuge Cheon-woo replied with a questioning tone.

”If the Hall looked like just any place that anyone could join, the sects wouldn’t send their disciples. It might even look like a lowly place volunteering for difficult work.”

”...”

”But when only strong young men who win through competition gather here to do noble tasks, the place appears prestigious. That’s why there’s always talk of the Hall being shorthanded. To prodigies thirsty for fame, it sounds like they are truly needed here.”

Zhuge Cheon-woo looked at Jeong-un as if seeing something fascinating.

He already knew Jeong-un was a prodigy, able to lead even among first-year martial artists.

The Jegal Clan was a martial family, but not a household of martial artists.

They specialized in all sorts of technical knowledge, including mechanisms and formations.

Royal relatives in official ranks played a big role.

Yet this boy before him had an unmistakably extraordinary spirit.

Perhaps this is what being ”well-trained” means, he thought.

’And on top of that, he’s perceptive.’

With just a few words, Jeong-un got right to the heart of the matter.

That was insight.

Not something one could learn just by studying.

Innate intuition was a talent that surfaced in all fields. It was likely connected to martial talent as well.

Feeling secretly pleased, Zhuge Cheon-woo spoke up.

”You’re wrong about one thing.”

”Excuse me?”

”The Hall truly is very shorthanded. Even with hundreds of rising stars gathered, it’s still not enough. That’s precisely why the report you brought is so alarming.”

”...”

”It’s not just the Demonic Cult. The Blood Cult you reported already seems to be gathering significant power. Trying to take over a region while remaining hidden? That in itself tells us a lot.”

Jeong-un recalled the words the villain had spoken before dying.

He’d talked about innate talent, urging Jeong-un to join their cult.

Jeong-un had brushed it off as nonsense, but as Zhuge Cheon-woo said, there was a lot to read between the lines.

’It means there are plenty more just like him.’

And the one he called his master was referred to as the Blood Lord.

The meaning alone made it clear it was a term for their leader.

”The information you brought will be handled with care. You’ve done very well. I’ll notify the General Affairs Department so you can receive a suitable reward.”

A reward. Coming from someone in the chief strategist’s seat, it would not be trivial.

Still, Jeong-un focused instead on the previous words.

”You won’t make it public?”

”Make what public?”

”The fact that remnants of the Demonic Cult appeared.”

Zhuge Cheon-woo looked at Jeong-un for a while before speaking.

”Those are not mere Evil Faction rabble. They claim descent from great traitors to the state. Reporting quickly to the royal family comes first.”

Then he smiled when he caught Jeong-un’s expression.

”Rest assured. I have no intention of hiding what you went through. They will be eradicated. Perhaps you’ll even lead the way.”

”I wouldn’t refuse.”

”Thank you.”

Zhuge Cheon-woo nodded with satisfaction.

Then, as if thinking of something trivial, he asked Jeong-un,

”Oh, by the way.”

”...?”

”Are you sure the Immortal Spirit Pill wasn’t there?”

Jeong-un met the transparent eyes of this renowned figure.

’......’

For some reason, his stomach tickled. Without realizing it, Jeong-un circulated his true ki to calm his energy.

”It was not there.”

”As expected, just a baseless rumor. You must be tired—go ahead and rest.”

Jeong-un bowed politely.