TSBIRBV Ch 148

Chapter 148 Even If You Deceive Heaven, Deceive an Esper (1)

Yegyeol nodded off in the carriage.

“Lord Mun, Lord Mun!”

At the voice beside him, he startled awake. Samrang was watching him.

“We’ve arrived in Chengdu.”

“Mmhh—already?”

The endless jolting ride that had once had him grumbling felt like a memory from long ago. Or perhaps he was simply too drowsy.

Or maybe it’s just because my guiding is overflowing.

When guiding is abundant, an esper can adjust his hypersensitive senses with ease. At first, after crossing into the Central Plains, Yegyeol had reacted sharply to every stimulus around him. But lately, with no shortage of guiding, his senses had been free.

That aside…

Yegyeol looked down at his fingernails.

No more, no less—they had grown back exactly as before. His worry that they might never grow again after breaking proved needless; they had returned quickly.

Could it be that the moment I crossed into the Central Plains, my body’s time became fixed?

Considering that neither hair nor nails seemed to grow, the possibility was there. He just couldn’t be sure.

After all, with reincarnation on top of dimensional travel, there could be no proper explanation or theory to describe his circumstances. Yegyeol decided to take it in stride.

If ten years from now his face was still fresh and youthful, he could worry then.

It’s not like I can claim martial training kept me from aging…

“So—have the people from the workshop arrived?”

They had come across the Central Plains for business with Sunye Workshop. They’d also said they wanted to see Sichuan brocades in person, so rather than ask them to come all the way to Cheonghae, Yegyeol had decided to leave Cheonghae for the first time in a while and head to Chengdu.

Take care on your way.

When Yegyeol had cautiously told Haryang he had to travel to Sichuan on business, he had agreed at once.

As if he’d never laid down a travel ban, his clean, decisive consent left Yegyeol stamping his feet in frustration.

They said Senior Brother’s heart demon is that severe—so is it really all right for me to leave like this?

Jinyoung had told him that he himself was Haryang’s heart demon.

So Yegyeol had decided not to stray far from Haryang’s side, to prevent the demon from worsening. If Haryang had suffered thinking his disciple dead, then surely having him alive, bustling about nearby, would ease the symptoms.

Still, it was fortunate he had the identity of the Black Ghost. Haryang was kind, but not foolish—if the heart demon ever grew truly unmanageable, he would seek Yegyeol out himself.

“I don’t get why we had to come all this way by carriage and boat. It’s not like they’ve got thunderstones there.”

Grumbling like a child with separation anxiety, Yegyeol drew Samrang’s reply.

“I think I know why.”

“See? You can’t live in this world taking losses. If I’d forced them to repay their debt back then, we wouldn’t even need to meet today.”

At that, Samrang only clicked her tongue, apparently finding no value in responding.

Yawning, Yegyeol stepped down from the carriage and entered the trading house estate. As the steward bustled out with word that fine tea had arrived, Samrang, standing behind Yegyeol, suddenly spoke.

“Oh. And good news.”

“Good news?”

“A tiger has walked into our pen.”

“A tiger?”

Blinking in confusion, Yegyeol watched Samrang’s lips move silently.

The Dire Tiger—Pang Munhyeong.

Ah. Right.

Yegyeol recalled his fellow fan.

Now he held quite a few puzzle pieces in his hand. Just a little more, and the whole picture would come together.

With Pang Munhyeong’s help, the process would be smoother.

And the Pang Clan of Hebei is close with the Huangbo Clan of Shandong.

Not as much as Jinju’s Un Clan in Hebei, but still one of the Five Great Sects, and positioned beside rival clans whose information they surely held.

“Oh—the village in Cheonghae?”

With funds amassed from selling red sandalwood, Yegyeol had bought outright the village that had been ravaged by the Red Blood Sect’s Tal Biryung, only to be saved by the young hero Je Haryang.

At first it had stood empty, but now two groups resided there.

One was the Green Forest bandits he had used to strike at Tang Seoak. The other was the children once exploited in Hangzhou by One-Eyed Jang Chil and the Red Blood Sect.

Those who had parents to be found were sent back. But among the kidnapped were children whose parents had sold them, and many who had been taken because they had no ties at all.

In other words, their circumstances were much like Yegyeol’s in his previous life.

When Yegyeol had hinted he wished to take them in, Haryang had urged him to do as he wished. Now the children lived peacefully in the village under the guardianship of the Green Forest bandits and Samrang’s watchers.

To avoid erasing their self-reliance, they were made to gather firewood or help with meals, but that was all.

Most of the village’s running was handled with the Green Forest bandits’ labor.

Samrang had even remarked that tending the soft children had, oddly enough, reformed the bandits somewhat. Many of them had fled harsh childhoods themselves, only to throw their lot into mountain strongholds.

An unexpected benefit.

“Yes.”

“I’ll have to visit soon.”

If he spoke of villagers and never met them, even the Dire Tiger might grow suspicious.

“It’s a bit much, leaving Senior Brother’s side so often. Why am I so busy…”

Yegyeol grumbled again.

After a few sips of the steward’s fine tea, he met Gu Young-ik from Hangzhou.

“It has been a while.”

“You’ve come far.”

Even if Yegyeol, young enough to be his son had he married a little earlier, acted high and mighty, the man only chuckled gently. His goodness was excessive.

“This time I’ve brought many samples.”

The taut set of his shoulders suggested he was confident this time.

“Let’s see them.”

The silks Gu Young-ik had carried all the way from Hangzhou each shone with dazzling hues. No bleeding or blotches marred them; the colors spread evenly across the whole cloth, flawless.

As he examined them one by one, Yegyeol frowned.

“These are excellent. Let’s make a contract.”

They were far too fine to reject. Gu Young-ik’s face bloomed into a radiant smile. For a middle-aged man to beam like a boy was pleasant to see.

All the more so since Yegyeol remembered how steeped that face had been in fatigue and despair.

“Since you’ve come all the way to Sichuan, you should see the brocades before you go.”

At Yegyeol’s words, pushing aside the silks, Gu Young-ik leapt to his feet.

“You’ll take me yourself?”

Unable to say no, Yegyeol nodded.

A short walk brought them into the bustling streets. Among them was one where sellers of brocade clustered together, a street so famous that people came from across the Central Plains.

Samrang, serving as guard, wore an openly displeased expression at the crowded hour.

“If we go this way, there’s the silk street.”

Following behind, Gu Young-ik’s eyes glazed as soon as he saw the brocades. Yegyeol, who had thought him trailing well, had to double back when he found him loitering before the first shop, as if beholding the world’s most beautiful view.

A man who would follow a stranger home for a bolt of silk.

“Plenty of brocades reach Hangzhou, but to see such quality lined up in rows—it’s the first time.”

Clearly, in his field of expertise, he could gauge value at a glance.

Even Yegyeol found the street a brilliant spectacle. The striking colors of the brocades hung in rows, fluttering in the wind, caught every passerby’s eye.

Most dazzling of all was the red silk embroidered with patterns. Couples with expectant faces flitted between the bolts of bright crimson.

Preparing for a wedding?

Through the layers of hanging silk, a shadow flickered. As Yegyeol turned his head toward the rippling cloth, he suddenly saw a figure he knew.

Not the face, not the hem of clothing, and yet his heart was pulled.

Half-seen, slipping between the brocades, the figure’s shadow drifted farther when the wind blew, closer when it stilled.

Though he knew it was an illusion, he could not shake the sense of wonder.

Like a ghost. Like a vision. Chasing that figure, Yegyeol found a narrow alley between shops.

A dark, cramped path most passersby, entranced by the silks, would overlook. There stood a man with a bamboo hat pulled low.

Not large, but solidly built. Scars lingered on the skin glimpsed between his collar.

Yegyeol barely held down the corners of his mouth from rising.

Though countless people passed before him, all he could see was the Black Ghost beyond.

The Black Ghost, lips moving soundlessly, met the gaze of Yegyeol, who stood rooted like one struck by lightning.

[I will come to see you soon.]

He mouthed the words by sound transmission. Yegyeol opened his lips to ask what he meant, but the throng hid him from view. By the time he forced his way through the press, the Black Ghost was gone.

How cruel.

Hardly had they parted at Cheonghae before he followed him here, only to flee before Yegyeol could even speak.

It rankled that he could not learn martial arts. No matter how many people thronged the streets, Haryang could whisper into his mind—while he could only listen.

Still, he wondered what excuse the Black Ghost had found to return, after declaring they would only meet in public.

“Lord Mun?”

Though only a moment had passed, Samrang was suddenly close, calling him.

“Was someone there?”

“No.”

Yegyeol shook his head.

“No one.”

Shaking his head as if nothing had happened, he raised his wrist.

“Pick out some silk for Baembaemi. The black night robe I gave him last time was too dreary.”

Though it was clearly a distraction, Samrang only answered sourly.

“Your bonded beast shines so much that it needs the dark colors.”

Perhaps sensing it was the subject of conversation, Baembaemi stirred. Yegyeol soothed the tickle at his wrist with a gentle stroke, then turned back to Gu Young-ik, who still lingered before the first shop.

“I’m spoiled thanks to you—ah, I mean, thanks to the Lord of the Trading House,” Gu Young-ik said, overwhelmed at the armful of brocade gifted to him.

“It’s not indulgence. It’s to work you harder.”

At Yegyeol’s words, he only smiled brighter.

“Of course.”

Pointed words had little effect on a man who smiled through anything.

Heaven was truly unkind. He was an esper barely able to care for his own guide, and yet there were fools in droves around him. Look away for a moment, and they’d have their last coin stolen by a swindler.

Still, if I take care of that man, at least Old Man Hwang’s ancestral rites won’t be in jeopardy.

Thinking that alone justified it, Yegyeol escorted Gu Young-ik to the inn where he would stay in Sichuan, then returned to the trading house.

When will my lovely uninvited guest come?

He did not have long to wait.

The next morning, the trading house was thrown into a frenzy by an unexpected visitor.