TSBIRBV Ch 17

Chapter 17 Grand Ambition (1)

“Sit.”

The golden snake coiled itself into a circle.

“Stand.”

It raised the front half of its body straight up, as if splitting its form into upper and lower halves.

“Baembeam, shake—no, tail.”

At this point, most would expect some irritation, but Baembeam merely tapped its small golden tail into the palm of Yegyeol’s hand.

“Heart.”

Coiling itself into a circle, then bending its head and tail, the Millennium Thunder-Horned Python formed the shape of a heart—looking even more loyal than a well-trained dog.

“Mm. Perfect.”

Clapping his hands together, Yegyeol laughed in delight.

Jinyoung’s expression turned odd at the sight of Yegyeol playing so casually with the golden serpent.

His lord had returned, as expected, with that troublemaking and troublesome guest in tow. Even when they were in the middle of crushing part of the Demonic Path’s Six Great Houses’ schemes, Yegyeol always seemed to be keeping an ear tuned toward Kunlun—Jinyoung should have realized things would end up like this.

But even he had not expected the Millennium Thunder-Horned Python—the creature that had thrown Qinghai into chaos—to be hiding in the saddle of Jeokroe.

‘And to think it would follow Master Wen so obediently…’

Even Jeokroe, a quasi-spiritual grade steed, was highly selective of its rider. Unless it was Hongyeo, it ignored people entirely, and if someone tried to force themselves into its saddle, it would throw them off and trample them under its forelegs—a truly vicious animal.

If that little golden serpent really was the Millennium Thunder-Horned Python, it should be just as ferocious—yet it followed someone as physically fragile as Yegyeol without resistance.

Yegyeol explained that the Python followed him because he had rescued it from the Yin-Soul Demon. No matter how one looked at it, the fact remained—it was strange.

“If you told it to die, I think it might even pretend to.”

“How did you know? Baembeam—bang!”

Yegyeol formed his hand into the shape of a gun and aimed it at the serpent. At the sound of “bang,” the snake flopped to the floor as if shot. Jinyoung’s mouth fell open so wide it looked like it couldn’t possibly open further.

“Even a grub knows how to roll… and here we are.”

Regardless, Yegyeol hummed a little tune and held out his hand to Baembeam. The golden snake, as if waiting for this, slithered up his arm and coiled around his wrist like a bracelet—looking perfectly stable.

Though it could not speak with humans, Baembeam—the Millennium Thunder-Horned Python—had its own story.

For the first time in decades, it had shed its skin and, in its most vulnerable state, been dragged from its hiding burrow. Passed from one scoundrel to another, it eventually ended up in a cage so cramped it could not move a muscle.

The last human to claim it had brought the cold-sensitive snake to the summit of Mount Kunlun to hide, with no time to prepare for hibernation—the rapidly plunging temperature had been killing it slowly.

To die of cold… it would have been recorded in the species’ history as one of the most pitiful ends imaginable.

Then this human—Yegyeol—had filled it with the power of thunder. Not just any power, but energy so pure and strong that it far surpassed the qi the Python had accumulated over hundreds of years.

It could read human vitality. The more thunder power Yegyeol poured into it, the more his own life wavered like a candle in the wind. And yet, he wrung out even his last breath to pass strength to the Python.

Then, with lips nearly blue with cold, he took off his own coat and laid it over the serpent’s body.

In that moment, the Millennium Thunder-Horned Python became Baembeam—and it became Yegyeol’s.

A story that no human would ever know.

“When will Senior Brother arrive?”

Yegyeol asked Jinyoung. His tone was polite, but there was something about the slight shake of his wrist that bothered him.

Already aware of what had happened to the Yin-Soul Demon’s corpse, Jinyoung knew that snake could release lightning bolts even more frightening than venom.

“He will arrive late tonight. He instructed me to make sure you were resting before then.”

“You’re telling me not to even wait to see him, after leaving me here for the first time?”

Lowering his eyes quietly, Yegyeol murmured with a touch of loneliness.

Jinyoung said nothing—more precisely, he couldn’t.

Je Haryang hadn’t even finished settling matters in the Ten-thousand Great Mountains region when he’d heard news of Yegyeol. He had raced back to Kunlun in one stretch, returning with Yegyeol—battered yet again—in his arms.

Seeing someone who still seemed not just young but almost boyish facing death this often, even Jinyoung had begun to feel pity. Several physicians had come into the manor with their eyes covered, taken his pulse, and shaken their heads.

Yegyeol’s state was much like when they had first found him on the riverbank at Mount Kunlun’s base—though not as severe, there were clear signs of a weakened body.

Je Haryang had firmly held Yegyeol’s hand all through the night as he muttered nonsense in his sleep and clawed at the air, but departed for the desert just before dawn.

Left behind, Jinyoung had tended to Yegyeol’s recovery for his lord’s sake—but by tonight, that duty would be ending.

“Will Lord Yaryul Hongyeo be coming as well?”

“I’m not sure.”

Jinyoung had no idea where Hongyeo was; as an excellent horseman, he was often sent far afield.

If not for the flute Hongyeo had given Yegyeol, they might not have learned of the Yin-Soul Demon in time—his foresight had been remarkable.

‘It feels odd to still call him a guest at this point.’

Deciding that soon he’d have to find another title, Jinyoung spoke again.

“By the way, you don’t seem surprised that this isn’t the same manor as before.”

Even though Yegyeol had been moved here while unconscious, he hadn’t once asked where he was upon waking. Though he looked delicate, there was something curiously bold about him.

“What?”

“I mean, wondering what kind of merchant guild operates with such secrecy…”

At Jinyoung’s probing tone, Yegyeol chuckled.

“Will you tell me if I ask?”

Faced with that obvious, direct gaze, Jinyoung answered without hesitation.

“This is one of our hidden safehouses. It’s a bit closer to where my lord works. There are several secret passageways as well—perhaps I’ll show you another time.”

There wasn’t even an attempt to disguise it with the word “chamber of commerce” anymore.

Secret passages, though…

“Is it alright to tell me that?”

“This much is allowed within my discretion.”

He puffed out his chest like a child showing off.

“From the first time I saw you, I thought you were Senior Brother’s right hand.”

Jinyoung’s lips curled into an obvious smile. His first impression had been strict, but Yegyeol now thought him surprisingly easy to coax—and burrowed deeper into bed.

“Then I’ll get some sleep ahead of time.”

“It’s so bright out, though.”

“When Senior Brother comes at night to see me, I want to surprise him.”

Yegyeol winked as he spoke, and Jinyoung could only laugh. So the young master wasn’t just human—he was a rabbit, carrying his liver outside his body for all to see.*

Je Haryang, upon returning, wasted no time confirming that Yegyeol was indeed sleeping soundly. Seemingly reassured, he immediately called Jinyoung in.

The waiting Jinyoung delivered his overdue report.

“The guest is recovering steadily.”

The slow pace of recovery was because Je Haryang had been away.

“Strange. He still hasn’t gotten out of bed? Compared to when I first found my disciple, he should be in much better condition now…”

At that time, the physician had said there was no chance the patient would survive—killing him swiftly would have been mercy.

Now, the physician they consulted said that while Yegyeol’s vitality was greatly diminished, rest and timely recuperation could prevent a lifetime of frailty.

If anything, the now-slowed recovery made little sense to Haryang.

“What about the investigation into his past?”

“Even using Samrang’s old connections, we found nothing. It’s as if he fell from the sky.”

“….”

Haryang fell silent.

“What’s the general situation otherwise?”

“We’ve caught several rumors spreading—mostly in Qinghai, though not yet all across the Central Plains.”

Jinyoung summarized the intelligence Samrang’s unit had gathered.

“The most credible one says the Demon Sect sent an elite squad to retrieve the Millennium Thunder-Horned Python and killed the Kunlun disciple who witnessed them in the process.”

“So after all the work to make him ‘alive,’ he’s now ‘dead.’”

Haryang spoke with self-deprecation, though there was no displeasure in his expression—if anything, there was a peculiar undercurrent of satisfaction.

“What about how my disciple was treated in Kunlun?”

“With vigilance running high right now, we’re waiting for an opportunity. However—”

Jinyoung hesitated but knew this was a truth he’d have to deliver eventually.

“We do know he never once appeared at the training grounds where the second-generation disciples trained together, and there’s testimony from workers that he always ate alone.”

Haryang’s fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of his chair. His brow was perfectly still, but the slow-drifting killing intent in the room was unmistakable.

“I never thought… my martial uncle could be such an ill-mannered person.”

His voice was colder than ice. Jinyoung lowered his gaze.

The deep blue bruise on Yegyeol’s wrist had long since faded, but Haryang had not once forgotten the grip that had left it.

“I misjudged him. I thought a master capable of producing a disciple like mine must have some admirable quality…”

At this point, Jinyoung was no longer surprised that his lord’s judgment became erratic whenever Wen Yegyeol was involved.

“Have you recovered the disciple’s letters hidden in Baekyang Jin-in’s study?”

“Yes. Eleven in total.”

Haryang checked the envelope Jinyoung handed him.

From the strokes and the way the ink trailed off, he could tell they’d been written while conserving every drop.

“…They say a true calligrapher never blames the brush, but my disciple’s handwriting is excellent.”

His voice sank lower.

He hadn’t sent his disciple to Kunlun to make him live frugally, denying himself food, clothing, and desire. Even if he could have surrounded him with the luxuries of royalty, he had sent him there—and could no longer recall the exact reason.

“What about why he went up the peak the day he met the Yin-Soul Demon?”

Jinyoung replied promptly, as if he had been waiting.

“Baekyang Jin-in told him the tea water was gone and sent him to fetch perennial snow.”

Though not overly fond of Yegyeol, Jinyoung disliked the thought of others bossing around the treasured guest his lord cherished.

Haryang was frighteningly silent. The killing intent that had been swelling in the room dissipated in an instant.

To an observer, he might have seemed calm—but Jinyoung saw his fingers slowly pressing into the middle of the chair’s armrest, cutting into the material without a sound, like plunging fingers into wet sand.

To think that was pure grip strength without even using inner energy—it was a stark reminder of how terrifying this man truly was.

After one deep breath, Haryang spoke.

“Cut off support to Kunlun.”

A cold smile crept onto his face.

“If they so wish to live purely and nobly, I should grant that wish.”

“As you command.”

He had already broken the Kunlun Agreement. Even if cutting off the support he had continued out of guilt brought fresh accusations of betrayal, his late master in the next world wouldn’t condemn him.

And even if he did—it no longer mattered.

The only thing left for him to hold onto now… was Wen Yegyeol.

notes:

Jeokroe (적뢰) — “Scarlet Thunder,” the name of the red steed.

Quasi-spiritual grade creature (준영물급) — classification below a true spiritual beast, still rare and powerful.

“Liver outside the body” idiom — a Korean metaphor for someone overly naïve or trusting, exposing their vulnerability for all to see.

Samrang (삼랑) — a division/unit working under Je Haryang in intelligence and operations.

Perennial snow (만년설) — snow that never melts, often from high peaks, considered very pure and used for special tea or medicine in wuxia settings.

Kunlun Agreement (곤륜지약) — an implied pact or arrangement for mutual support between Je Haryang and the Kunlun sect.