TSBIRBV Ch 68

Chapter 68 The Bride Lies Sleepless (6)

An esper in the Central Plains was a frail creature who couldn’t even requisition a private plane. Yet Je Haryang’s disciple, Yegyeol, was the sort of ability-user who could borrow a near-spirit-beast-grade horse handled by his lord’s men.

The moment he could stand, Yegyeol went looking for Red Thunder. He worried Hongyeo—who had recently brought him to Black Spot’s Sichuan branch—might already be far away, but fortunately, Hongyeo was still in Chengdu.

When Yegyeol asked to borrow Red Thunder to deal with the one who had laid him low, Hongyeo readily passed him the reins.

For some reason, persuading the favorable Hongyeo was easy. The next barrier, however, was Samrang.

“Perfect time to crash his day—just when he’s riding high,” Yegyeol said.

“That man is finished anyway,” Samrang replied, shaking her head as she recalled their lord’s rage. Tang Seoak had always been fated to be torn apart by the Jiaolong King someday; this incident merely shortened his span.

“I want to watch him despair up close,” Yegyeol said.

“Aren’t you from a Daoist sect?” Samrang asked.

Yegyeol spread his hands. “I’m Senior Brother’s disciple.”

She flinched. He likely said it unthinkingly, yet it was the right answer, however unintended.

Shaking her head, Samrang let him go—not so much out of respect for his will as out of curiosity about his character. Either way, persuasion succeeded, and Yegyeol rejoiced.

As for the last barrier—Senior Brother—he didn’t know. After the meeting where the Black Ghost hinted that Black Spot would handle Tang Seoak and the mercenary in its own way, Yegyeol hadn’t seen him again. If Haryang had objected, Yegyeol wouldn’t be standing here at all.

Since coming to the heartlands, not a day seemed to pass without relying on Senior Brother’s grace. He had become master of Qinghai’s largest guild thanks to Haryang; even being taken hostage by the Jiaolong King and released was due to Haryang’s network.

Yegyeol remembered his past resolve to flaunt an esper’s competence and felt conflicted. Not a word the senior espers at the Center had said was wrong. Espers were just pretty garbage.

I might be the most guide-dependent esper in history.

Red Thunder moved like literal red lightning. A few saw them pass, but with his face covered and his speed high, no one could recognize him.

Yegyeol reached the rendezvous with the Jiaolong King at the last possible moment and met Wang Hotak. Thus he could safely play the hostage, as if he’d been kept in Jiaolong hands the whole time.

“Done with your business? Then get lost,” Wang Hotak said, flapping his hand—near-taunt. The Azure Corps stood their ground, calm.

Namgung’s warriors were no cowards, nor ignorant of pride. Their young lord had not yet issued an order.

“Since you count well, let me say it plain—harbor any other thoughts and you’ll get what’s coming,” Wang said, a jocular face cut by a cold smile. “The black water of the Yangtze swallows rich and poor alike.”

Will you endure such insults? came Tang Seoak’s voice in Namgung Un’s ear—just as he’d been waiting to send it. He didn’t truly burn at the provocation. He whispered that Qinghai’s guild master and the Jiaolong King were in league.

He was certain that Mun Yegyeol, poisoned, could not walk out of the King’s hands so hale. Namgung might not, but the young heir would suspect Tang’s plotting. Stir a young man’s competitiveness and plunge the scene into chaos—then plot for the aftermath.

“Send my regards to the river’s mistress,” Un said—and withdrew.

“Master Namgung?” Tang’s call was thick with confusion. Un did not turn; he supported Yegyeol and led him away from the bank. Tang, masking his dismay, blended into the Azure Corps and followed. Wang Hotak knew his face, being Yeon Sosho’s man.

Only after leaving the reeds entirely did Un inspect Yegyeol closely and issue orders.

“Captain—escort the guild master with me. Vice-captain—watch the perimeter; see if we are followed. Third squad—move ahead and clear the road.”

“By your command!”

As Namgung Un examined Yegyeol, Tang Seoak strode up.

“So—Azure Namgung has chosen to compromise with river pirates?”

“We came to rescue a hostage,” Un answered coolly. “That is my purpose on this river. Master Tang seems to think otherwise.”

Yegyeol started; Un’s tone toward Tang was more imperious than expected. So he wasn’t wearing the heir’s title for show, he thought—wondering how such a “good” nature, like Senior Brother’s, would navigate this harsh Jianghu.

Tang held his tongue. No longer Tang’s field captain, not even carrying the clan head’s writ—he was not Un’s equal. He had even slipped out of Sichuan in secret. The gamble that needed success had failed. What cards remained?

His shadowed gaze slid to Yegyeol. “I am glad you return so unscathed, Master Mun.”

Yegyeol said nothing—only trembled the hand that rested on Un’s back for support. Un gave him a questioning look.

“…What happened while you were hostage?” he asked gently.

Yegyeol bit his lip. “I… would like to speak only to Master Namgung.”

The voice was thin as thread.

“Is there something you cannot say before me?” Tang demanded—Yegyeol’s blatant avoidance drying his lips. He had to block Mun from speaking with Un alone. In this fog where nothing could be seen, one thing was clear: the Qinghai guild master was not on Tang’s side.

“Please… understand…” Yegyeol murmured, tugging Un’s sleeve, feigning evasiveness. Un stepped to place himself between them.

“The guild master needs rest,” Un said.

“Then Master Namgung should let him rest—instead of prying into enemy matters from a man who has barely caught his breath,” Tang shot back.

The air tightened with tension; it was little short of accusing Un of being blinded by merit and handling a civilian roughly. The Azure captain stepped forward, hand on hilt. Tang smiled thinly inside—hit me a few times if you like. Blur the focus first; then begin the workings…

“It was you!” Yegyeol cried, as if he could no longer bear it—voice ragged with pain. “Our merchant ship—captured whole by the Jiaolong ship—because of you!”

Tang’s eyes flew wide. Struck before he could ply his arts of slander and intrigue, his mind rang.

“How could I seek your harm? Tang and Qinghai have long had friendly ties,” Tang said, aghast at finding himself accused. He kept his tone even, but seeing a bookish whelp who knew not a single form take cover behind Un to denounce him pricked his inferiority and stoked his anger.

“But after I became guild master, I hired Yikseon Gate and Okhyeong Gate for escort!” Yegyeol blurted—then went pale, slapped a hand over his mouth, and hunched behind Un.

“No—no. Forget what I said. To speak ill of a great clan’s blood on the say-so of river scum—hostage-life must have driven me mad,” he whispered, shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs, jaw set.

He looked the very picture of a young guild master determined to swallow secrets lest pressure fall on his company—choosing silence for Qinghai’s sake.

“It was I who erred—pressing him so when he has yet to steady himself,” Un said at once.

“…You don’t mean to believe him,” Tang asked, desperate. From the first entanglement with Mun Yegyeol, one calamity after another had frayed his nerves.

“There will be a thorough inquiry,” Un said, holding Tang’s gaze. “I swear it.”

The words were formal—respecting an equal. Yet Tang could not rejoice. He knew Un meant to make it a matter of clan to clan.

What now?

Back in Sichuan, Tang Seoak moved swiftly. First, he shifted a portion of his guilt onto Tang Eonbo. She had long served as his hands and feet—an ideal scapegoat. In the cell, Eonbo—who had adored her cousin—looked up at him, face vacant.

“Cousin… no, isn’t it? You would cut me off so completely?”

“If I shoulder everything alone, I die. If we divide the burden, we both live,” he said gently, as always, coaxing her to unify testimonies and keep her mouth shut. But for once, his sweet words failed.

“Cousin…”

Her face crumpled, tears falling. “I have borne your burdens all along—and now, for that, I sit in a cell. If we ‘both live,’ what changes? Next time the same thing happens, you’ll throw me away just as easily.”

“Eonbo,” he said—gentle but stern, the tone of old. To her, it carried no weight.

“I pity you,” she said.

Tang ground his teeth. “You, too—do you pity me?”

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