TSBIRBV Ch 28

Chapter 28 The Tang Clan of Sichuan (7)

Even after committing an act that could truly shake the heavens and the earth, he looked like a child who had just played with fire.

Yegyeol smacked his lips.

A jagged rush of excitement clawed all the way up to the crown of his head and refused to subside. After using this much power, he felt drunk on omnipotence — that thrilling high that made it seem as though he could do anything, mixed with the pull of simply surrendering his body to this strength.

But Yegyeol slowly lowered his hand and closed his eyes.

As he regulated his breathing, the air around him began to sting; the noise of the world pressing in on him grew sharper. The sound of the wind tearing through the forest assaulted his ears like needles. The esper’s heavenly punishment (천형) that had lain dormant thanks to Haryang’s guiding was beginning to return.

I want to see Senior Brother.

Of course, this alone wasn’t enough to send him into a full-blown rampage. It only made the desire grow stronger — that if he could just collapse into Haryang’s broad chest and sleep deeply, all fatigue would melt away.

Meanwhile, Samrang’s expression was the steeliest it had been since the day she met him.

She had known the Millennium Thunder-Horned Python could handle lightning — but that much power?

Setting fire to a bandit fortress wasn’t particularly hard. But to burn an entire wide complex like that, you would need to carefully prime it with oil and help the flames spread. And the time it usually took for the fire to grow that intense?

This is no Thunder-Horned Python… it’s a Thunder-Horned Dragon.

More than anything, one detail was stuck in her mind.

“Your eyes were golden just now, Guild Master…”

“Golden?”

For Yegyeol, this was news — the last time he had used his powers without restraint was just before crossing into the martial world, and he hadn’t had much chance to see his own reflection.

They say espers with strong elemental affinities sometimes have eye color changes…

“Or maybe the lightning just reflected in them?”

Seeing him tilt his head, as confused as she was, Samrang felt her own composure loosen. It had all happened in an instant and lightning had been everywhere; for someone to wield lightning in their own body was, according to every piece of knowledge she had, impossible. And yet hadn’t the Thunder-Horned Python stuck its head out and done something just before the bolts fell?

She swallowed the unease and clicked her tongue.

“…To think you’ve tamed a lightning-wielding spirit beast — truly, something no one else has done.”

And this is why staging is so important.

Yegyeol applauded his own choice to call Baembeam out in full spectacle. It was a bit embarrassing, perhaps, but shame was worth less than life. His goal was not the brand of a heretic outlaw, hunted until the day he died — it was enjoying a quiet old age in the company of Je Haryang.

Well… maybe we could include Baembeam too…

Rolling his eyes and finishing his calculations, he shrugged and went on:

“The history of the jianghu isn’t short. Someone might’ve met a better companion than me — but when have martial artists ever gone around spilling the details of their own lucky encounters?”

Samrang now seemed fully convinced.

“You burned the stronghold to throw the Tang Clan off your trail?”

“If they don’t want to pay the penalty fee, they’ll think of any excuse. This way, with their precious treasure burnt in the fire along with the fortress, we nail it down as their fault from the start.”

Yegyeol grinned.

“And… I wanted to deprive those bandits of a place to return to.”

Destroying evidence isn’t enough for a perfect crime — you have to remove witnesses too.

“I’ll keep them as porters till we reach the black market. Once they find out they’ve no home to go back to, they’ll beg me to take responsibility for them. Then we stash them away and pull them out when we need them for something similar later.”

Samrang tilted her head.

“Mmm… Do we have the resources to hide all twenty of them from the Tang Clan’s search and feed and clothe them?”

“You can manage that, can’t you?”

The sly look in his eyes was sharp.

“We’ve got plenty of money — am I wrong?”

“Of course, it’s doable.”

She covered her mouth and laughed. He had a predator’s knack for knowing when she was probing and snapping back.

“Besides, I’m the one who let them live. If they go back to banditry and harm civilians, or if the Tang Clan tortures them to death, I’ll sleep poorly.”

It was a brazen remark from someone who wouldn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow over a nightmare.

“They deserve at least the guarantee of a lifetime job, don’t you think?”

Samrang felt genuine pity for the Green Forest men — they would never escape this man’s grasp again.

Of all the places to have set up, why did it have to be in the Guild Master’s path…

“I’ll carry out your orders.”

Lacking conscience, she shed her sympathy as easily as brushing off dust. She hadn’t taken this job expecting a normal employer. Things were turning out far more interesting — and fun — than she’d imagined.

Trailing smoke behind them, the two of them strode casually out of the fortress.

By the time the Tang Clan pieced together what had happened and tracked them there, all that awaited them were the skeletons of burnt buildings and piles of ash.

“This is my first time in a black market.”

The bright brown head swiveling around so openly in the dim place was painfully conspicuous. Watching him quietly, Samrang deliberated.

He looked like a careless drifter — easy pickings. With that face, there were bound to be people who would strip him of all he had and then try to sell him off.

Well… I’d pity the kidnappers.

Recalling the spiritual beast coiled around his wrist, she put her worries to rest. This so-called escort mission was feeling more like a vacation.

“The Heukjeom (Black Spot) is the largest black market in the Central Plains. There’s not only one in Sichuan — it’s held in rotation through Chongqing, Hubei, Henan, Jiangxi, Anhui, and other regions. There are things you can only get there, so people cross the whole continent to come.”

Yegyeol listened closely. In his previous life, he had never explored this side of the martial world; it was fascinating.

Had he failed to enter Kunlun, it wouldn’t have been strange for him to end up in a place like this.

No real welfare policy, an emperor whose gaze doesn’t reach every corner of the realm. No civic organizations. No press to publicize child abuse or the brutal conditions of child labor…

Here, the station you were born into was almost certainly the one you would die in. That’s why so many threw themselves into the rivers and lakes (jianghu) to chase their dreams of fortune and renown.

The deeper they went into Heukjeom, the more red lanterns lined the corridor overhead. A musk-like scent hung in the air; the people passing by were anything but ordinary.

Noting the patterns carved into the lanterns, Samrang led him through until she brought him to a particular room.

“Please wait here; I’ll call for Heukjeom’s manager. Will you be fine alone for a bit?”

“I’ll be fine. If anything happens, I’ve got Baembeam.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly at that — in truth, what she worried about was Baembeam itself.

“It’s best not to cause trouble in Heukjeom. You’ll regret it.”

Her words could not have been more ominous.

“I know. I’ve heard enough stories to know places like this are run by some frightening character.”

“…Yes. The master of Heukjeom is indeed a very frightening person.”

Calmly agreeing, she opened the door — only to pause, look back, and add:

“But if you see anyone strange… you know what to do.”

Yegyeol waved his left hand lazily. Baembeam, who had been the star of the show during the lightning storm at the fortress, now lay docilely coiled around his wrist.

Samrang stepped out lightly.

It was a fairly quiet floor, reserved for certain levels of clientele. Faintly, from a distance, came the plucking of a pipa. Yegyeol thought he recognized the melody and hummed along with his eyes closed.

It wasn’t that he loved the song.

It was just that the occasional footsteps, the breathing and murmurs of passersby, were starting to itch at his nerves. The sound wasn’t loud enough to call noise, but enough to irritate him when he wanted to rest — and he was smothering it under song.

But the short peace ended quickly.

“…Ah.”

Maybe he should just ignore it — but then Baembeam pressed his hand with a damp snout. Opening his eyes, Yegyeol sighed.

“There’s always some nuisance wherever I go.”

And just as well — someone was stomping down the hall, flinging open each door and shouting for someone.

The door to his room was no exception.

“Where’s Heukdu?! To think he could swindle me, Geoak Wangsahn, and hide in Heukjeom!”

Strong, loud, and stupid — the flawless trifecta of a musclehead.

“There’s no one like that here. Move along.”

There was a noticeable lack of energy in Yegyeol’s voice. At the sight of a frail-looking young man, the self-proclaimed Geoak Wangsahn boomed,

“I’ll see for myself. Wait — are you the boy always hanging around with Heukdu?”

As the man all but tore the door off its hinges, Yegyeol’s lip twitched.

Should I just burn him?

The impulse sizzled inside him, a sensation coiled at his core since awakening as an esper. But before he could act, the man’s hand shot out and seized his wrist.

“I’ll take you hostage to draw Heukdu out!”

Damn martial artist!

If he couldn’t master light footwork (qinggong), he’d have to find some other way to counteract the speed difference.

That was one problem — but another was the narrow corridor and the iron grip dragging him along, bringing back a very old sense of powerlessness.

“Don’t touch me!”

He lashed out almost reflexively, but the man, apparently trained in external martial arts, didn’t budge.

Just as he reached for Baembeam, a frosty voice rang out.

“A mess.”

Almost at the same time, something whistled through the air and struck Geoak Wangsahn in the temple. The man went flying sideways into the wall and collapsed.

Silence claimed the hallway.

Forgetting to breathe, Yegyeol lifted his head to look to the end of the corridor. Standing there, at the beginning of the red lanterns, was a small-framed man.

Half-shrouded in shadow, half in the dim, swaying light, he seemed small — yet something about him was impossibly vast. From the moment their eyes met, Yegyeol could not look away. The dryness in his mouth and the tightness in his chest told him plainly: this was a supreme master.

The face was unfamiliar, the build was unfamiliar, even the voice was unfamiliar.

And yet… and yet why did it feel—

“Clean this up.”

At the quiet order, the Heukjeom guards arrayed behind him moved in unison to drag Geoak Wangsahn away.

Heavens above.

Yegyeol fought to keep his lips from going slack. Tearing his gaze away from the man as if under a spell, he pushed off from the wall and began walking as though simply returning to his room.

Though a little unsteady, he kept himself upright — a sight that would tug at anyone’s conscience. Just before reaching his door, he let his foot slip.

“Ah!”

As he stumbled to the floor, a steady hand came to catch him.

Without missing a beat, Yegyeol leaned into the all-too-familiar embrace. A chilling current raced up his spine, setting every nerve alight.

When his lips parted, the tremor in his voice needed no acting:

“…Senior Brother?”

notes:

• Heavenly punishment (천형) — in this context, a kind of innate backlash or curse that manifests in espers when their powers are unstable or overused.

• Jianghu (江湖 / 강호) — “rivers and lakes,” referring to the world of martial artists, wanderers, and outlaws.

• Light footwork / Qinggong (경공술) — martial movement techniques allowing great speed, nimbleness, or even running along walls.