Chapter 36 - Just One Thing

The two things happened almost simultaneously. The moment Li Qingyu answered his question, a blade shot out of the darkness toward the back of Limon’s neck.

It was a flawless ambush: a swift, silent sword strike that would have killed even a fairly high-level player before they knew what had happened.

TAP.

“...!”

But just before the blade could cut his neck, Chao froze. The masked figure in martial attire had appeared as if out of thin air and thrust a sword at Limon, only for its tip to be caught between two fingers held straight. The blade hovered a hair’s breadth from his neck.

“The Voidless Advancing Sword Style... A fine sword art. Even among the Seventy-Two Martial Schools, it’s one of the finest arts for an ambush.”

Limon spoke languidly without looking back or taking his sword from Li Qingyu’s throat. He had caught Chao’s blade simply by reaching one hand behind him.

“But only when the ambush works.”

An ambush was only useful if the target failed to notice it. Against someone who already knew it was coming, even the finest sword art meant nothing. Unless Chao had a sure opening, a direct challenge would be far better than a half-baked ambush. Like a master correcting an inadequate pupil, Limon pointed out the mistake and concluded quietly.

“If you want to use the Voidless Advancing Sword Style for an ambush, go practice that shoddy stealth technique of yours first.”

As though humiliated by the lecture on top of the failed ambush, Chao gritted their teeth and twisted the sword, aiming for Limon’s fingers. Unless those fingers were made of iron, the move would cut his hand, even if it failed to sever them.

‘What...!?’

But after twisting the sword, Chao found its blade still trapped between Limon’s fingers. He had not held it by brute force and let his hand follow the movement. It was the opposite: he had moved his fingers before Chao twisted the sword, avoiding the edge. And that was only the beginning.

Whether Chao pushed, pulled, or swung, Limon’s fingers were already where the blade would naturally go. Chao gripped the hilt, yet the sword seemed to move at the will of the man holding its blade. The uncanny sensation made Chao’s hair stand on end.

‘He’s reading the path of my sword!’

Limon kept his gaze fixed on Li Qingyu, seeing through and blocking Chao’s swordplay as though he had no need to turn around. Shaken by the unthinkable situation, Chao hurriedly changed tactics. Rather than match him in a contest of moves, Chao drew psionic energy to its limit, intending to channel it into the sword. Surely even Limon could not stop Chao’s full strength with two fingers alone.

“Chao.”

Before Chao could put that power into the blade, the call made them flinch and go rigid. It was not merely the overwhelming psionic energy flowing from somewhere. It was the voice, familiar beyond measure yet sounding utterly strange in its icy coldness.

“Who said you could point a sword at my husband?”

Li Qingyu had stopped Chao with a single word. She regarded the attendant with eyes dark as night, then raised a slender, pale hand and lightly flicked her fingers, heedless of Limon’s sword against her throat. The gesture was exquisitely beautiful—graceful as a movement in a play, and so slow she looked incapable of swatting a fly. Its result was anything but graceful.

BANG! CRASH! CRUNCH!

As if struck by an invisible giant, Chao flew backward, smashed through a display cabinet, and slammed into the wall, coughing up a gush of blood. This was far worse than being knocked senseless. The injuries could prove fatal. Li Qingyu did not so much as raise an eyebrow.

“This time, you overstepped not just my boundaries, but your station.”

Whether Limon had once been the Seven Dragons Society’s enemy or now held a sword to her throat, he was the man she, a princess of the Black Dragon Clan, was to marry. Ambushing him without her permission was an intolerable act of insubordination and presumption. Li Qingyu made that clear before issuing an order.

“Chao, as of this moment, you are dismissed as my bodyguard. Withdraw and reflect on your conduct until I summon you again.”

“P-Princess...”

Chao seemed more shocked by the dismissal than by being hurled across the room. Despite coughing up another gush of blood, the attendant tried to speak. Li Qingyu offered no chance to explain. Gazing at Chao with beautiful obsidian eyes, she asked quietly, “Are you going to make me say it twice?”

“...!”

Chao flinched, but only for a moment. Staggering upright, the attendant sheathed the sword, placed a fist against an open palm in salute, and answered in a trembling voice. “I... obey.”

SWISH.

Chao vanished as though melting into the darkness. Was using stealth to withdraw, despite internal injuries that made even moving difficult, a last attempt to preserve some pride? Or was it to spare the beloved princess an uglier sight? Li Qingyu did not dwell on the reason. She turned back to Limon, looking apologetic.

“I’m sorry for the trouble. Chao is so rigid that flexibility simply isn’t in their nature.”

Chao had only just withdrawn in a bloody heap, and Limon’s blade was still at her throat. Yet Li Qingyu behaved as if the whole thing had been a minor mishap—or as if she could not see the sword at all. For a moment, Limon regarded her with a strange expression. The shy look on her face made it hard to believe she had just cast Chao out so coldly. Then he spoke with some reluctance.

“Aren’t you being a bit ruthless with someone so close to you? Chao looked pretty shaken.”

The Seventy-Two Martial Schools were no ordinary arts. Only those whose natural talent, character, and loyalty had been thoroughly tested could earn the right to learn these supreme arts of the Seven Dragons Society. Anyone who mastered one so young belonged to the Society’s highest elite. And if Li Qingyu had made Chao her bodyguard, the attendant must be someone she trusted with her life. Casting aside such a person in an instant was enough to make even Limon, the target of the ambush, uneasy.

“Hmm. Even I think I went a little too far.” She could have settled it with a reprimand. Resorting to violence had been excessive. Li Qingyu nodded as she murmured to herself.

“Then why did you do it when you knew that?” Limon was almost dumbfounded by how readily she agreed. Her answer was simple.

“Because if I hadn’t done at least that much, Sword Lord, you would have cut Chao down, wouldn’t you?”

A little pain was better than death. If this also helped Chao overcome that rigid nature, it would accomplish two things at once. At her cheerful explanation, Limon scratched his cheek. “Well, that’s true.”

She was not exaggerating. The moment Chao had tried to raise their psionic energy, Limon had subtly shifted the fingers holding the blade, preparing to cut Chao’s throat. Had Li Qingyu acted a moment later, Chao’s head would have fallen before the attendant could bring full strength to bear.

Sensing his intent to kill had been the bare minimum. Even Limon thought Li Qingyu had handled it well by punishing Chao first and ordering the attendant away. If she had tried to make a show of punishment while going easy on Chao, he would not have let it pass.

“But Princess, aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What might that be?”

There was one flaw in her response, something Li Qingyu had ignored. Tapping the tip of his sword against her pale throat, Limon said coldly, “It’s fine to save your bodyguard, but you’re the one whose head could come off at any moment.”

When he had asked whether she was the mastermind who had set Lee Cheon-gi against him and driven Yu Na-gyeong to her death, Li Qingyu had calmly admitted it. She had said that to the man who had stormed the Blue House and fought the Infinite Monarch to collect a blood debt. That alone gave Limon ample reason to cut her down. With his sword already at her throat, it was only natural that Chao had attacked him to protect her.

“May I explain a few things before you cut my throat?” Li Qingyu showed not the slightest fear. She merely asked for a chance to explain.

“Explain what?”

“I’d like to tell you exactly how we brought about your downfall, Sword Lord.”

For a moment, Limon was at a loss. Was she a villain in an old tale, offering to explain to her victim how she had ruined him? With a blade at her throat, no less. It was absurd.

“You think I’ll listen?”

“Yes.”

“... What makes you so sure?”

“Because you came here to collect a blood debt.”

At her answer, Limon frowned.

“You said it yourself, Sword Lord. The most important thing when collecting a blood debt is not to mistake the target.”

She seemed utterly certain that a man who had wrung the truth out of even the Infinite Monarch to verify that debt would give her at least one chance to defend herself. Li Qingyu smiled brightly. Limon narrowed his eyes at her before finally snapping, “Then talk.”

His displeasure was plain, but it was unmistakably permission. With a faint smile, Li Qingyu began. “As you know, Sword Lord, the Seven Dragons Society has long tried to spread the teachings of our founders.”

That was the Society’s goal: to recreate the paradise once ruled by the seven dragons. For hundreds of years, it had been both their faith and their obsession.

“But you thwarted us every time. Unfortunately, we had no power to overcome you.”

Limon had been the one to stop them: an absolute being who never lost and never compromised. Bribes, beautiful women, enticements, persuasion, pressure, negotiation, hostages—nothing worked on him. Worse, the monster neither aged nor died. To the Seven Dragons Society, Limon was nothing short of a nightmare.

“Then, when the constellations appeared thirty-two years ago, someone suggested something. If we couldn’t beat you, why not simply stop trying?”

“... What did you say?” If they couldn’t win, they would simply refuse to try? Limon stared at her as though she were claiming victory by pretending defeat did not count.

Instead of answering him, Li Qingyu smiled and asked, “Have you never found it strange, Sword Lord?”

“Found what strange?”

“Dungeons hold enormous economic value. It wouldn’t be surprising if disputes over their ownership broke out between nations.”

“Why tell me something so obvious now...?”

“But has any such dispute ever turned into a war?”

Limon’s face stiffened before he could stop it. In the Iron Age, dungeons were geese that laid golden eggs—limitless treasure troves. The number and kinds a country possessed determined how many players it had and how much dungeon material it could extract. A single dungeon on a border was valuable enough to go to war over. Yet, as Li Qingyu had said, there had never been a war over one.

As Limon fell silent at the realization, Li Qingyu continued, as if this were only the beginning. “Players are also quick to become intoxicated with their power.”

“Do you really think none of them has ever wanted to found a country of their own, or cause chaos for no reason at all?”

Of course not. Having worked as a PAB agent, Limon knew how readily players who believed themselves the protagonists of the world committed outrageous acts.

“After you defeated the Demon God, the dark mages abandoned their vain ambitions and came out into the open.”

“But did every dark mage disappear? Do you believe not one of them tried to use the changing times to turn the world upside down again?”

That was just as impossible. Dark mages used magic forbidden by God. However openly they lived now, defying the natural order and causing chaos seemed instinctive to them.

“And yet, since the Iron Age began, there hasn’t been a single major war anywhere in the world.”

People today might consider that natural. The world was more prosperous and its people more civilized than in the past, so of course there were no wars. But Limon had seen countless times how brutally those who called themselves civilized slaughtered people they deemed barbarians, and how readily rulers started wars for even a small advantage. He knew how strange this was.

“Do you think all of that was a coincidence?”

Seeing Li Qingyu’s quiet smile, Limon understood everything. He could not help but understand. “... Hey, wait.” He realized what her words implied—why she was telling him all this—and was appalled. “Don’t tell me that’s how you brought me down...!”

“Yes. That’s right.” Li Qingyu smiled at Limon as he gaped at her in disbelief. “There’s only one thing we did to bring you down, Sword Lord.”

They could not beat Limon. So they would not try. The method was simple: never give him a chance to win in the first place. It was the single scheme they had pursued for the past thirty-two years.

The Seven Dragons Society had once been shunned as the Demon Cult for its willingness to commit any massacre to overturn the world. Now its princess cheerfully confessed what that scheme was. “We used every resource the Seven Dragons Society had to keep world peace.”