TSBIRBV Ch 26

Chapter 26 The Tang Clan of Sichuan (5)

“You’re leaving already?”

Still clutching his head, throbbing with a hangover, Caravan Master Jin came out to see them off. Sitting on horseback, Yegyeol stuck his lip out in a pout.

“I heard there was a lot to see in Sichuan, so I was looking forward to it, but it’s just too hot here—and every place I go, the air stings my nose. I’ve already seen the contract get signed, so it’s fine if I leave, right?”

For first-time visitors, it wasn’t uncommon to find Sichuan’s air stifling. The people here used spices liberally, and the province boasted many plants rarely found in other regions.

Remembering how Yegyeol had complained about the heat from the very day they arrived, Jin’s expression softened slightly.

Shouldn’t be letting my guard down already, though.

“Still, I’d feel uneasy letting you travel alone. At least take some of the company’s guards with you.”

“My bodyguard Samrang is all I need.”

Riding alongside him, Samrang waved her hand lazily. In some respects, she appeared even less imposing than the person she was supposed to be protecting.

But Jin knew full well just how dangerous she could be—crossing from Qinghai to Sichuan, she had once lopped off the head of a prowling beast in the dead of night as easily as harvesting a rice stalk.

“Then travel safely.”

In the end, he backed off. They were already mounted and packed—trying to convince them to stay was pointless. Besides, as Yegyeol said, the contract was done; it wasn’t strange for him to depart now.

Looks like I’m going to be working under a whimsical boss.

The previous master of Qinghai Trading had never appeared in person, always sending a proxy. Then suddenly came the news of a change in leadership—followed by the appearance of a fair-faced youth. Jin had been flabbergasted. What kind of place was Qinghai Trading, to put such a young man at its head?

When he heard the boy would be accompanying him to Sichuan “to learn the trade,” Jin had been secretly nervous—worried he might have followed to uncover the deal he’d made with the Tang Clan.

But the more time he spent with the youth, the more he seemed exactly what he appeared: a young man raised in comfort, naïve, inexperienced—easy to fool.

Should’ve made sure Tang Seoak got to entertain him.

A pity, but he would just have to wait for another opportunity.

“Stay healthy until we meet again.”

Offering this pleasant farewell, Yegyeol left the manor with Samrang at his side—three if you counted Baembeam.

“They took the money from the Tang Clan without a second thought, but it feels like they were genuinely worried about me,” Yegyeol commented once they had passed through the city gates and into the mountain roads.

Samrang laughed. For someone who had so decisively cut ties with Kunlun, he could sound surprisingly guileless at times.

“If you think everyone who takes a bribe is the worst scum under the sky, you’d be mistaken. Most of them are just ordinary people.”

Yegyeol looked at her with interest as she continued:

“Ordinary ability, ordinary convictions, ordinary backbone… That’s why they sway with small temptations.”

It was a fair point.

From within the forest, Yegyeol’s acute ears picked up the sound of hidden breathing. He pulled on his reins.

“They should be showing themselves about now.”

Samrang smiled wryly.

“Well, well.”

Planning to deal with them before her charge even noticed, she spurred her horse and streaked into the trees, waiting until the enemy entered the range of her concealed weapons.

“What the—?”

“B-block them!”

But she did not allow a counterattack. Her sudden charge was meant to draw every eye to her—and while her hand seemed poised to draw a sword, slender throwing needles appeared between her fingers, whistling through the air to lodge in her targets’ acupuncture points.

Sidestepping a hurled axe, she drove a sharp kick into an attacker’s knee. Her movements looked light and agile, but the sound of bone breaking was heavy and final.

Slipping past each assault by a hair’s breadth, she seemed almost precarious—yet anyone facing her could see she was smiling as if she were having fun.

We’ve made a mistake!

Each time her shadow flickered between the trees, a Green Forest bandit’s scream followed.

Leisurely as if on a stroll, Yegyeol rode to the forest’s edge, dismounted, and approached—just as a man stumbled out with his face intact but the rest of him battered, reaching a trembling hand toward him.

“P-please, s-spare me…”

“The last one.”

Reappearing behind him, Samrang kicked him between the shoulders. Placing a boot on the back of his head, she looked freshly satisfied.

Offering her a small nod of thanks for saving him before blood could spatter his clothes, Yegyeol crouched before the bandit.

“You the chief of this fortress?”

“Y-yes! Are you from the authorities? Or… one of the chivalrous warriors of the martial world?”

The man rubbed his hands together desperately.

“I’ll never again attack innocent passersby! I’ll quit this life and go back to honest farming—please, just spare me!”

He delivered the plea so movingly it seemed he practiced it. With that voice, he could have been an opera singer.

“But if you quit, that would be a problem.”

“…Eh?”

“It’s our first meeting, but I came to talk business.”

“What do you mean…?”

Yegyeol spelled it out clearly so he’d understand:

“I’m here to take over your stronghold.”

“So this is an iron caltrop?”

“Yes. We smear it with poison and scatter it on the road—then when someone or their horse steps on it, they just—”

The bandit chief’s explanation was almost enthusiastic. Yegyeol had thought he only had an opera singer’s talent, but apparently he’d make a fine home-shopping salesman as well.

“What? Die? That’s awful!”

When Yegyeol’s eyes went round with mock horror, the chief sprang up, waving his hands.

“No, no! Those fast-acting poisons are very expensive. We use ordinary paralytic poison. Just freezes them up for about one il-dagyeong.”

(Note: ‘Il-dagyeong’, literally “one tea interval,” is roughly fifteen minutes.)

Fifteen minutes was plenty for bandits to subdue travelers.

“So you’re telling me you’ve never actually killed anyone?”

Sweating bullets, the chief bobbed his head repeatedly.

“’Course not! With the Tang Clan here in Sichuan—not to mention Emei and Qingcheng—there’s no starting a bloodbath.”

Yegyeol nodded. When disturbances occurred too often near a martial sect, the sect would dispatch disciples—to maintain security, win public favor, and give younger members some real fighting experience.

“All right. Finish this next job and I’ll let you keep your life, so be cooperative.”

Still bowing meekly, the chief swallowed his tears. His palms were soft and smooth, not a single callus—he was clearly raised as a young master, making him perfect hostage material. But the bodyguard standing behind him was far too intimidating to risk it.

“So what do you want us to do?”

“Nothing hard. Just what you’re good at.”

“You mean… banditry?”

“That’s right. Soon there’ll be a caravan passing this way. The Tang Clan’s escorting them, but surely the heroes of the Green Forest can put up a fight—don’t you think?”

Tempted by how lightly he spoke of it, the chief visibly recoiled at the mention of the Tang Clan.

“Y-you want us to raid a caravan guarded by Tang Clan martial artists—without killing anyone?!”

“Mm-hm. They’re carrying some very expensive goods from the Western Regions. Snatch those and you’re set for life.”

As he spoke, Yegyeol gestured behind him. Samrang stepped forward smoothly, resting a hand on the hilt of her sword belt, loose at her waist. The chief flinched with an awkward cry, shoulders hunched.

How did such a coward become chief?

“I’ve got a conscience—you can borrow my friend here.”

Pointing to Samrang, he earned a strangled look from the chief, who stomped futilely in frustration.

“But it’s the Tang Clan! They use poison! They might dissolve us in a single handful of venom and leave nothing!”

Yegyeol didn’t answer—he just smiled. The pressure in that smile was hardly ordinary.

As the silence stretched, the chief sagged and asked weakly,

“Do we really have to?”

Still smiling lazily, Yegyeol nodded.

“You will.”

The meaning in his tone was deep, but the terrified man understood none of it. Yet from behind, Samrang was watching Yegyeol’s back with a spark of fascination in her eyes.

“Let’s get some rest before the caravan comes. Get him some water—and a place for me to sit.”

Handing his horse’s reins to the chief, Yegyeol strode casually into the midst of the Green Forest men.

Truly… shameless as any master of the martial world.

Even though they’d been beaten badly by Samrang and were clearly terrified, he was walking straight into the enemy’s den without a single sign of tension or fear.

“But aren’t you afraid? That chief’s still a martial artist of the unorthodox path, trembling or not.”

Following quietly, Samrang tested him.

“Why would I be, with Samrang at my side? If anything seemed off, you’d handle it before I even had time to be in danger.”

It was less trust in her specifically, and more in Je Haryang, who had assigned her.

“Borrowed authority is the best.”

Samrang chuckled. “I doubt that’s all there is to it… but I’m glad you trust me. If that’s the case, entrust me with your pet as well, and I’ll—”

“Oh, I suddenly feel like eating eggs!”

Feigning deafness to cut her off, Yegyeol quickened his pace.

Notes:

• Il-dagyeong (일다경) — literally “one tea time,” a traditional unit of time in East Asia approximating fifteen minutes, often used figuratively to describe brief durations like the effect window of a poison.