TSBIRBV Ch 22

Chapter 22 The Tang Clan of Sichuan (1)

“So hot. Seriously hot.”

Yegyeol mumbled weakly, his body slumped. The heat made him sweat buckets, and after so long in the saddle, his backside hurt as well. The saddle itself was of the finest quality, but the real culprit was the poor condition of the roads in this era.

“You really don’t handle heat well, do you?”

Yegyeol and Samrang were riding at the front of the Qinghai Trading Company’s caravan. Haryang had suggested that he ride in a carriage instead, but Yegyeol had chosen a horse, thinking he might as well use this trip to get used to riding.

“I thought I was bad with cold, but it turns out I dislike heat more,” Yegyeol said with a crooked smile. Still, perhaps because of his memories of having once been a Kunlun disciple in his previous life, he could endure cold.

Samrang, watching his drooping posture, realized something strange—he wasn’t holding the reins properly, both arms dangling, yet somehow the horse wasn’t straying off the road at all.

Looking closer, she spotted the Millennium Thunder-Horned Python peeking its head out of Yegyeol’s sleeve, holding the reins in its mouth.

“Wow… I thought Jeokroe was smart, but Baembeam is even more impressive.”

Yegyeol couldn’t help puffing up with pride.

When he’d first gone limp with exhaustion and Baembeam had taken the reins in its mouth, he’d been surprised. But in that brief time, the snake seemed to have learned exactly how to control the horse just from watching him.

“Of course the martial artists never noticed—they were too busy thinking about taking its inner core.”

One of Samrang’s eyebrows twitched. She wasn’t entirely free from that category of “martial artists” herself.

“That’s true enough.”

It was one thing for a snake to hold the reins of a horse—it was another for the limp Yegyeol to never lose his seat. When she’d checked his pulse before, he didn’t have a body trained in martial arts, yet his balance was beyond that of most trained fighters.

He’s… strange, she thought.

Usually, she made a habit of committing information about those she dealt with to memory, but now her attention shifted beyond, to the large city walls in the distance.

“We’re about to arrive in Chengdu, Sichuan. Sichuan has the Qingcheng Sect, Emei Sect, and the Tang Clan all coexisting, but here in the provincial capital, the Tang Clan holds the most power. Be wary of anyone whose eyes glint with green light.”

“You mean Tang Clan martial artists?”

“If there’s a conflict, it gets troublesome. And they use poison. If you’re unlucky, you won’t get the antidote in time and could lose function in certain organs. Even skilled martial artists survive because of their internal energy—ordinary people…”

Samrang shook her head.

“Well, they probably won’t bother anyone belonging to the Qinghai Trading Company.”

Her gentle smile masked the light warning—because it came from someone who usually seemed so relaxed, Yegyeol took note of it… to an extent.

“To be safe, keep Baembeam hidden. It’s so small that few are likely to notice, but better safe than sorry.”

“Don’t worry.”

Yegyeol, knowing perfectly well why Samrang refused to call it “the Millennium Thunder-Horned Python,” glanced down at his sleeve.

“I’m not letting anyone take what’s mine.”

Samrang narrowed her eyes briefly at the faint possessiveness in his tone before facing forward again.

Strange, really—by background alone, Yegyeol was once the direct disciple of an eminent orthodox sect, yet at times she felt a certain kinship with him.

When they first met, he’d had one foot in the grave, and even now there wasn’t a trace of cultivated internal energy in his body—but she still felt he was dangerous.

Interesting…

Samrang had never once doubted her survival instincts. Her instincts had always led her to life.

Yet here she was, thinking she might one day fall to an unarmed, completely untrained “civilian.” It was enough to make her wonder if her long-honed intuition had finally broken.

But if instinct and reason came into conflict, her choice was already made.

The caravan halted once outside the city gates, but thanks to their solid connections, inspection was swift.

Yegyeol blinked at how impressive the Qinghai Company was—he’d never passed through even an airport security checkpoint this quickly.

In Korea, the authorities feared that an S-rank esper leaving the country would settle abroad, so they always detained him during departure checks. Abroad, they viewed him as a potential threat. Even with his powers sealed, being an unassigned, underage esper meant a serious risk of “berserk incident” or terrorism linked to anti-esper factions.

After enduring hours of interrogation, he’d emerge to find his parents exhausted in the waiting area. It had happened so often that their annual family trips simply stopped.

They were just… ordinary people.

They had tried to cope with a son who had suddenly awakened as an S-rank esper, but cracks still found their way in.

The Qinghai Company rented an entire estate in Chengdu as their lodging. Dealing in high-value goods, they clearly preferred not to stay in inns.

As soon as the porters finished unloading, a martial artist with a faint green glow in his eyes appeared to greet them.

“We’ve been expecting someone from the Qinghai Company.”

For him to come so quickly was proof of the Tang Clan’s influence in Chengdu—there were no cell phones to send messages ahead, so the fact that they were “waiting” meant their information network was exceptional.

“I am Jin Sam, caravan master for the Qinghai Company. Who will be in charge on the Tang Clan’s side?”

Jin Sam glanced around as he asked. Yegyeol narrowed his brows slightly.

“Haha, Master Jin, long time no see.”

From the Tang Clan step forward a genial-looking man. His qi was well contained, but the green poison aura in his eyes was strong enough to be seen.

“Young Master Tang, it’s been a while.”

“I’m not a young master anymore—soon to be married.”

“Ah, then we must drink to celebrate.”

The two men’s conversation flowed easily as they entered the estate, naturally moving to business discussions.

Yegyeol took a seat without fuss. As he had told Je Haryang, he was here to observe and learn how the trade worked, recording the transactions.

Once the mood had lightened with some small talk, Tang Seoak brought up his purpose.

“The Tang Clan may need to raise our fees for those we assign to guard the caravans.”

No one paid Yegyeol any attention—he may have been young, but literate aides were rare enough that bringing him along wasn’t unusual.

At first, he diligently took down the actual content and flow of discussion. But when the price negotiations began, the back-and-forth became endless.

He soon lost interest and, with a serious expression, began doodling instead.

I miss Senior Brother.

What kind of esper travels all the way to Sichuan of his own will, only to die of lovesickness?

When has an esper ever seduced a guide in some noble, honorable fashion? I should just fight dirty.

No—remember, the goal is to annihilate the target completely. Be cautious. There’s no GPS in the Central Plains.

Were Senior Brother’s chest muscles always that big?

It was pure stream of consciousness. Some parts were less than proper, but since he wrote them in Korean, no one would understand even if they peeked.

It was just like high school days, when he’d scribble things like “pork stir-fry for lunch” in hanja on the corner of his mock exam paper.

He said not aging a day was thanks to some great opportunity—what kind? he added, more seriously.

“The current situation isn’t looking good. The Green Forest bandits have been active, and now word is the Long River Water Alliance has been stirring, too.”

He almost wrote “Green Forest” and “Long River Water Alliance” in Korean by habit, but caught himself and switched to hanja.

“We’ll think it over and send word.”

“We trust Master Jin will make a wise decision.”

At last, Tang Seoak rose, clasped his fists politely, and departed with his men.

“How was it?”

Jin Sam approached Yegyeol, bowing slightly.

“Very…”

Yegyeol dragged his brush in thick strokes over his doodles, blacking them out.

A waste of good paper—but really, who was going to say anything?

Strictly speaking, he wasn’t the caravan master’s aide; he was a parachute-in, here to “learn the ropes.” In Korea or the Central Plains alike, no one wanted to call out someone placed directly under the boss.

“…Interesting. But slower-paced than I’d imagined.”

“The Tang Clan is one of the Five Great Clans. We must mind their dignity.”

“Complicated.”

Jin Sam chuckled at his polite understatement.

“In time, you’ll learn. I will see to it.”

Afterward, Yegyeol had to find a way to shake off Jin Sam, who stuck to him like glue. Regardless of what he said about teaching him the trade, it was obvious he wanted to curry favor with the new guild master.

Like all espers, Yegyeol had no interest in anyone but his guide, and Jin Sam’s persistence annoyed him. Under the pretext of sightseeing with Samrang, he slipped out into the streets of Chengdu.

“Persistent, isn’t he?”

It was almost mealtime, yet they left without eating.

“I figured I’d get angry if they interrupted my meal, so I came out—now I’m hungry.”

“Then let’s head to that inn over there. The wheat noodles are good.”

Samrang, apparently familiar with Sichuan, navigated the bustling streets with ease before stopping in front of an inn.

In the noisy interior, a server spotted them quickly and bustled over.

“Welcome, guests. Two of you?”

“Two. No shared tables. How much for a bowl of noodles today?”

“Yes! Three copper coins per bowl!” the server answered brightly.

“We’ll have three bowls of noodles and one bottle of bamboo-leaf liquor.”

Samrang ordered for them, but Yegyeol was still dazed from the moment he had heard the price.

Even after they sat down and steam rose from the bowls, his eyes were still distant.

“Three copper coins… per bowl…”

There was no meat, and the broth was clear enough, but it was seasoned and filling enough.

In modern terms, he likened it to the price of a side order of udon at a Japanese restaurant—about 3,000–4,000 won. Which meant one copper coin was roughly 1,000 won.

A hundred copper coins make one silver coin. A hundred silver make four gold coins…

Stirring the noodles with his chopsticks, Yegyeol set them down and looked very seriously at Samrang.

“…What do we do? I think… we have way too much money.”

Notes:

• Long River Water Alliance (장강수로맹) — a large river-based pirate organization.

• Five Great Clans (오대세가) — in many martial-world settings, the five most prestigious and powerful martial aristocratic families.

• Bamboo-leaf liquor (죽엽청) — a traditional Chinese/Sinic-style liquor infused with bamboo leaves.

• Parachute-in (낙하산) — Korean slang for someone placed in a position through direct backing from the top rather than merit, often untouchable by normal colleagues.