Chapter 400

Xiao Lun was seated at a massive dining table, enjoying a meal.

The table was so large, several adults could lie across it with room to spare—and it was piled high with countless dishes.

These were delicacies so rare, not even the wealthier citizens of Neo Seoul could dream of tasting them, let alone those in the slums.

Yet seated at the table, including Xiao Lun himself, were only four people.

Tan Ryung, Chu Wei, and Cheng Ming—those who led the Southern District.

The three men—Xiao Lun, Tan Ryung, and Chu Wei—devoured the food voraciously.

They tore the meat apart with their bare hands and stuffed it into their mouths. Their hands and lips gleamed with grease, but they didn’t care in the slightest.

Only Cheng Ming, the lone woman, ate with some restraint—picking at the food delicately with chopsticks.

What could have fed ten people was gone in an instant, leaving behind piles of gnawed bones on the table.

“Excellent.”

Xiao Lun finished eating, smiling in satisfaction. At that, as if they had been waiting for it, Chu Wei, Tan Ryung, and Cheng Ming also set down their utensils.

Their rule was simple: once the eldest finished eating, the rest stopped as well.

Chu Wei spoke up.

“The food tastes better than usual.”

“I changed chefs. Do you approve?”

“Yes. Far better than the last one.”

“I thought so too.”

Xiao Lun valued these internal meals among the leadership deeply.

They were a chance to build camaraderie and to settle important matters while sharing food.

“We haven’t gathered as a family in a while. I thought it was time to sit down for a meal together again—glad you enjoyed it.”

“It was a most satisfying meal.”

“Thank you for the food.”

Xiao Lun always emphasized one word above all: family.

It was his belief that those who shared blood must stick together above all else.

Suddenly, as if something came to mind, he asked,

“How is Woo-hang doing?”

“He’s been wandering all over the Southern District.”

“Oh?”

“Coming from the countryside, I suppose everything seems novel to him. He’s been pestering people with endless questions. Also—he met with Zeon recently.”

Xiao Lun’s expression perked up with interest at Chu Wei’s report.

“And?”

“As expected, the recruitment attempt failed.”

“No surprise there. If he were that easy to sway, we’d have brought him into the fold already.”

“The silver lining is that he’s staying in the slums and doesn’t seem interested in any of Neo Seoul’s power structures.”

“If he were, we’d already be knee-deep in blood.”

Unless something significant happened, Zeon rarely entered Neo Seoul.

And when he did, it was only for a short while.

If he ever started forming connections with any particular district, Xiao Lun wouldn’t have stood idly by.

Zeon was a strategic weapon—one capable of upsetting Neo Seoul’s entire balance of power.

His ability to manipulate sand was absurdly overpowered. If he sided with any one faction, the others would be wiped out.

Because of that, every district closely monitored his movements.

Fortunately, Zeon had shown no particular ambition and kept to the slums.

Tan Ryung asked cautiously,

“Are we just going to leave Jang Woo-hang alone?”

“What, are you feeling threatened?”

“No, of course not.”

“Woo-hang is as good as family. If we don’t look after someone from our own homeland, who would ever follow us?”

“You’re right.”

“I know what’s on your minds. But there’s no need to worry. Woo-hang may be from our hometown—but you’ve been with me since you were infants. You’re my true family. Woo-hang will never take precedence over you.”

At Xiao Lun’s declaration, faint smiles appeared on the other three’s faces.

The truth remained uncertain, but Woo-hang had said that the Subterranean City housed ten thousand Awakened.

If they could open a line of exchange, that would mean ten thousand additional troops.

Which was why the Southern District’s leadership couldn’t help feeling some unease.

But Xiao Lun’s words had reassured them.

“Alright. Off you go. Everyone back to their duties.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Until next time.”

“Thank you for the wonderful meal.”

The three offered their thanks to Xiao Lun before exiting.

Left alone, Xiao Lun walked over to the window.

From there, the Southern District sprawled before him—but what truly caught his eye was the towering form of City Hall beyond.

Despite mobilizing all the manpower in the Southern District, they had never succeeded in building a structure taller than City Hall.

It was just a few stories’ difference, but to Xiao Lun, it felt like an insurmountable wall.

There was a fundamental gap between the City Hall and the Southern District.

Technology, magical engineering, Awakened power levels, systems—City Hall surpassed them all.

Because of that, Xiao Lun always felt inferior to Jin Geum-ho.

No matter how hard he and the Southern District tried, they always fell short before that massive wall.

But for the first time, a possibility had emerged—one that could close the power gap in a single stroke.

“If there really are ten thousand Awakened in the Subterranean City, we could make up for our lack of strength instantly… if it’s true.”

The problem was whether Jang Woo-hang’s claim of ten thousand Awakened was even remotely accurate.

Frankly, Xiao Lun didn’t fully believe it.

The Subterranean City’s population was 300,000. To have 10,000 Awakened meant one in thirty was Awakened.

Neo Seoul, with twenty million people, had fewer than 100,000 Awakened. Roughly one in two hundred, if that.

And yet the Subterranean City had a ratio seven times higher than Neo Seoul? It was obviously inflated.

“At the very least, they’ve exaggerated tenfold. If they even have a thousand Awakened, that would be lucky. Still, even that would significantly boost our forces.”

Add the Subterranean City’s resources and 300,000 population on top of that, and the Southern District’s destructive power would skyrocket.

The real issue was establishing a safe trade route between Neo Seoul and the Subterranean City.

“If Zeon helped, it might be possible… but that’s never happening.”

Right now, Zeon was the only one who could move through the desert as if it were his own backyard.

Even trained navigators had to gamble their lives to cross it. And the farther you went from Neo Seoul, the more exponentially the danger increased.

So until everything was perfectly prepared, there was no point in rushing into an exchange with the Subterranean City.

Nor was there any need or capacity to transfer Neo Seoul’s magical engineering technology. Jin Geum-ho had a tight grip on all of it.

A smile crept onto Xiao Lun’s lips.

“If the ones who came with him are even close to his level… they might be useful tools.”

His plan was simple: extract whatever value he could, while he still could.

Then—

Knock, knock.

“May I come in?”

A voice accompanied the knocking.

Xiao Lun’s smile vanished instantly.

The voice belonged to none other than Jang Woo-hang.

He composed himself quickly, masking his thoughts as he spoke.

“Enter.”

“Thank you.”

The door opened, and Jang Woo-hang stepped in.

“Did you rest well?”

“Thanks to your hospitality, I was able to rest comfortably and do some sightseeing.”

“See anything you liked?”

“It was truly amazing. It felt like looking at the cities of our past. How did you come up with it all?”

“I never forgot my bloodline or identity—not even for a second.”

“Incredible. Elder, you are the true embodiment of greatness.”

“Tch…”

Xiao Lun’s expression cracked slightly at Woo-hang’s excessive flattery.

He couldn’t help but feel pleased by the praise.

He quickly composed himself and asked,

“So, what brings you to me today?”

“While exploring the Southern District, it struck me—you seem like the true master of this blade.”

With that, Jang Woo-hang unfastened the sword at his waist.

Xiao Lun looked at the offered blade with curiosity.

“Isn’t that your weapon? Put it away. I don’t accept used swords from others—I’m not that desperate.”

“This is a gift from the Lord.”

“A gift?”

“The Lord bestowed this sword upon me and told me to find someone who could use it to serve the Subterranean City—and pass it on.”

“What…?”

“This sword…”

Jang Woo-hang’s voice dropped to a hushed tone.

Sensing the unusual mood, Xiao Lun’s gaze sharpened.

“…is the Sword of King Goujian of Yue.”

“The… Sword of King Goujian?”

“Yes. The very blade once wielded by King Goujian of the ancient Yue kingdom. Though sealed by the Lord to look like an ordinary sword, infuse it with mana and you’ll see its true form. Go ahead.”

“You’re saying… this is really Goujian’s sword?”

Xiao Lun’s voice trembled.

He couldn’t possibly not know.

When the ancient continent was split into countless nations, Goujian ruled one of them.

After losing a war, he endured humiliation and submitted to his enemy.

He famously “licked bile” as a symbol of his patience and determination for revenge—and eventually triumphed.

The sword he used was the legendary Goujian Blade.

But the one in Xiao Lun’s hand didn’t match the version he’d seen in historical records.

Still, he did as Jang Woo-hang suggested and poured mana into it.

Crack!

As the mana entered, the sword’s seal broke. Cracks formed across its surface—and then it gleamed with light.

Moments later, the light faded, revealing a completely transformed blade in Xiao Lun’s hand.

Jang Woo-hang spoke.

“No one knows why, but after the world collapsed, the Goujian Blade in the museum was imbued with mysterious power. Perhaps it carries King Goujian’s desire to rule the land.”

“To… rule?”

“Yes. According to legend, the one who holds this sword shall become the ruler of an era.”

As Xiao Lun gripped the sword, his eyes turned red.

But he didn’t notice.

He was too enraptured by the resonance of the Goujian Blade—echoing through his hand.

“The… ruler of an era…”

The resonance was so intense, Xiao Lun couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sword.

＊＊＊

Zeon was walking through an unusually murky alley.

Even though it was broad daylight and the sun blazed overhead, the street felt as dark and gloomy as night.

This place—shrouded by powerful protective wards much like the Goblin Market—was Guro’s black market.

While it couldn’t compare to the Goblin Market in scale or quality, it was still large enough to attract a considerable number of patrons.

Especially criminals and scavengers—this place was their haven.

Unlike the Goblin Market, there was no identity verification required. Anyone could enter and trade freely.

The quality of the goods wasn’t on par with the Goblin Market, but for those desperate enough, even this place held value.

The reason Zeon, who usually frequented the Goblin Market, had come here was simple.

He was searching for the Wolf Fang Unit.

They had failed to sell ghost beetle shells at the Goblin Market.

Following that incident, the Goblin Market authorities launched a full investigation into how an unverified individual had slipped through the barriers.

The results revealed that someone had exploited a loophole in the warding system and manipulated the records—essentially hacking the barriers, much like hacking a computer in the old days.

In response, the Goblin Market went into full lockdown, multiplying security efforts.

Barrier technicians were mobilized en masse to patch the vulnerabilities and reinforce the entire system.

That meant any future infiltration attempt by the Wolf Fang Unit would be nearly impossible.

With the Goblin Market now out of reach, the only place left for them to operate was another black market—like this one. Which was why Zeon had come to scout out the area.

He was hoping to pick up any clue, no matter how small.

Zeon pulled the hood of his robe low over his head, concealing his face.

Thanks to that, no one recognized him.

“Hey, mister. Come take a look.”

“Looking for a blade? I’ve got just the thing.”

“Check this out—picked it up just the other day.”

The black market vendors called out to Zeon.

He glanced briefly at them and kept walking.

It was obvious at a glance that they were hawking junk—trying to scam unsuspecting customers.

The black market was exactly that kind of place.

It was where people got robbed blind in broad daylight.

The reason wealthier folk preferred the Goblin Market was trust. Here, trust didn’t exist.

If you got scammed, people laughed and called you a fool.

If you looked even slightly naïve, the vendors would swarm you like piranhas.

Then Zeon’s eyes landed on something out of place on one of the display tables.

A bundle of yellowed paper—covered in red, grotesque writing that looked as if it had been written in blood.

The script itself was bizarre, but what really caught Zeon’s attention was the strange energy emanating from the bundle.

He approached the vendor of the stall.

“What is this?”

“Picked it up from some bumpkins. Said it was a charm that brings good fortune back in their hometown. Interested?”

The vendor’s eyes gleamed with greed as he looked at Zeon.

His gaze clearly said, Got myself an easy mark.

Zeon smiled.

“How amusing. A charm that brings good fortune, huh?”