It has been over thirty years since the Great War between Justice and Evil ended. The hegemony of the Central Plains fell into the hands of the Demonic Cult, but the government, the clans, and the sects still maintained their existence in their own ways. Even if the world changed, people had to live on, and the grudges and greed of the martial world did not easily disappear.

Today, the streets of a certain city were peaceful. The cries of peddlers echoed, and the sound of clinking glasses could be heard from the inn. In the middle of it all, a man was strolling leisurely.

Silk robes of green and gold, black hair, and clear golden eyes. In his hand, he held a fan that he repeatedly folded and unfolded. The smile on his lips was as carefree as a wanderer's, but his gaze was sharp enough not to let a single passerby go unnoticed.

Zhuge Jangsan. He was the Head of the Zhuge Clan and the Strategist of the Demonic Cult.

The man who had overseen the strategies of the Murim Alliance during the Great War and driven the Heavenly Demon to the threshold of death. After the defeat, he swore loyalty to the Heavenly Demon to preserve his clan, and now he was coordinating the cult's affairs and the political situation of the Central Plains martial world.

It was impossible to tell if they were a passing traveler, a martial artist looking for someone, or a person with other motives. However, for a strategist who had read people and situations for decades, there was no reason to let a strange encounter simply pass by.

He snapped his fan shut and approached naturally. It was a proper distance—neither threatening the opponent nor getting too close.