TSBIRBV Ch 45

Chapter 45 An Ill-fated Relationship (2)

The moment, a strange gleam flickered across Namgung Un’s eyes. But Yegyeol, distracted, didn’t notice — what caught him instead was the blood trickling down from between Un’s brows.

“Tsk.”

Yegyeol reached out with his bound hands and wiped the blood from Un’s face. His own clothes were stained, but he didn’t care.

“There should be golden wound medicine on the ship we boarded from.”

At Yegyeol’s unhesitant demeanor, Namgung Un blinked slowly. The youth before him was different. How so, even he couldn’t say precisely — only that even after hearing the name Namgung, he showed neither wariness nor fear.

It was… alien.

Before Un could fully dwell on the sensation, he stiffened — someone was approaching their cell.

Yegyeol had sensed it already, even before Un reacted. Unless it was someone like Samrang, who wore quiet breath and lightened steps by deep habit, no one could avoid his heightened senses.

But since for now he was playing the part of a mere guild master, he only feigned response after Un turned his head.

“…Who’s coming?”

Before Un could answer, the door burst open. It was the pirate who had fawned obsequiously at the Jiaolong King’s side.

“On your feet.”

Assuming he was being called, Namgung Un staggered upright. The pirate watched him rise, then sneered and lashed out with a kick to his shin.

“Ugh!”

He reeled but did not fall. Despite suppressing his irritation, Yegyeol caught the steel of a warrior in Un’s bearing.

“Always so stiff-necked, these orthodox types.”

The pirate smacked his lips, tempted to kick again. Instead, he grinned.

“Well then, best behave, Young Master of Namgung.”

The mock honorific was as much ridicule as respect. Even told to step aside, Un stood in silence, unmoved.

“Tch, look at you.”

The moment the pirate’s lips twisted, Yegyeol threw himself forward, intercepting the incoming kick meant for Un.

He staggered, collapsing to the floor where Un had stayed upright — but not a sound of pain left his lips.

“Mun gongja!”

Un cried out at Yegyeol’s fall, but the youth struggled onto unsteady feet, ignoring him.

“If you’ve taken hostages, then you want ransom. Do not inflict more violence upon Namgung gongja.”

Though no martial training graced him, the guild master stood tall, confronting a seasoned river-thief without flinching.

Un stared at his back in shocked silence. For someone unconnected, a mere merchant-youth — to step in front of him like that was utterly foreign.

“Move.”

“Acknowledged.”

Yegyeol nodded. He was prepared to handle whatever came, even dragged away.

“Hold, I’ll protect you!” Namgung Un objected.

But Yegyeol shook his head.

“Take care of yourself, Namgung gongja.”

Guides in this world are reckless with their own bodies, he thought, clicking his tongue inwardly. Un’s eyes widened. Yegyeol followed the pirate out.

The door was closing when Un called behind him:

“Mun gongja!”

Ah — he forgot to tell him it was fine to use his name.

He had failed to protect him.

Namgung Un’s face hardened with frustration, holding back a flood of helpless rage. If only he had stayed with the Azure Sky Flying Corps instead of traveling apart, chasing more “worldly experience.” Regret gnawed at him.

Even trying to compose himself, the image would not leave his mind: that slight back, stepping forward to shield him.

As direct heir of Namgung, he had always thrown his body into what he believed was right. Since walking into Jianghu, Un’s acts of chivalry had been endless. But never before had a powerless commoner stepped forward for him.

“…Yegyeol. Mun Yegyeol.”

Murmuring the name of the one taken, Un realized the déjà vu he had felt before. The syllables rolled awkward on his tongue, but he had heard it somewhere.

And then his mind conjured an image: the reddened, livid face of Baekyang Jin-in, Great Elder of Kunlun.

Only a few weeks ago, in Anhui, Un had tracked a demonic thief stealing sacred pill-elixirs, leading even the Azure Sky Flying Corps upriver to Qinghai. Their pursuit had carried them as far as Mount Kunlun.

There, he had heard from Baekyang Jin-in himself: an esoteric beast and pill had vanished from Kunlun halls. At the same time, an internal disciple burst in to report:

“The First Disciple, Mun Yegyeol, has vanished from the Alchemy Hall!”

Mun Yegyeol. That was the name.

Baekyang Jin-in’s fury was incandescent.

“That accursed fiend has stolen away my disciple!”

It was rare to see the Daoist, ever chanting the Buddha’s name, wracked by such ire. He never said explicitly who this “fiend” was, only pressed that it was “sect business” and refused further answers.

Un had promised then to lend the Azure Sky Flying Corps to Kunlun’s search. From that, he had learned more.

“Before the Kunlun Massacre,” Baekyang Jin-in had confessed, “I had raised a disciple. That child perished that day, fighting fiercely against demons. Yet decades later, by the grace of the Primordial Celestial, a boy of the same visage was guided back into my arms. Though his body could not learn martial arts, I took him in anew. That… is the boy now vanished.”

Grinding his teeth, he concluded:

“The same demon waited decades for Kunlun’s fall, coveting what I hold precious, and has abducted him once again.”

It hadn’t made perfect sense. But Un had only bowed, pitied his elder’s loss, and given the promised aid. He then broke away with a small cohort toward Sichuan, watching the local sects. In Chengdu, he sheltered with Okhyeong Sect.

Debating whether to return to Anhui, he learned Okhyeong had been employed to guard a caravan down the Yangtze. Desiring to see Jianghu’s “trade routes” firsthand, he asked to join.

The Okhyeong lord’s son, a friend since the Yongbong Gathering, accepted readily.

Yet Un had detached the Azure Sky Corps, commanding them to stay back and follow at distance. To infiltrate the caravan as one of the Okhyeong.

Thus he came — among them Yipseon, Tang, and their lavish cargos of Western luxuries glittering, shocking even the Namgung heir.

But what had caught his eye was not treasure, but the pale young man of his own age, said to occupy a major station of the caravan.

Rarely did he come out from his carriage, even aboard ship only glimpsed briefly on deck.

Until the pirates.

Only after being imprisoned together, and hearing his name — had realization struck too late.

“Mun Yegyeol…”

If he truly was Baekyang Jin-in’s disciple, this was no simple disappearance. It was abduction.

The memory of that frail back shielding him wove with suspicion, twisting his heart.

Had the seemingly loyal woman shadowing him — Samrang — actually been sent to watch him? To restrain him?

He remembered clearly: during the pirate assault, she treated him harshly. Too harshly for a true bodyguard.

Were they trying to spirit him away before the Jiaolong King seized the ship?

Un did not know who precisely Yegyeol was. Only that Baekyang Jin-in longed for him, that some enemy had taken him, and that — for all that — he remained a kind youth, defending strangers even while in chains.

Why he posed as a guild’s scion, Un could not discern. But to parade him as “important” was likely less suspicious to others than to drag him as a slave.

No marks of violence… but who knows what means were used to coerce him into compliance.?

Un tried to calm his racing heart. But the image of those soft brown eyes stayed lodged in his mind, fluttering.

Sinking cross-legged, Un shut his eyes, forcing his breath steady, steady.

How much time passed? A bird’s cry rang, rhythmic and regular from afar.

Un’s eyes opened. For an instant, lightning-golden light flared and vanished within them.

“…So, we’ve arrived.”