TSBIRBV Ch 160

Chapter 160 An Offer That Cannot Be Refused (6)

“Ah.”

Startled by a jolt, Yegyeol stirred awake, his mind still hazy from a dream.

“Your expression isn’t good. Did you sleep poorly?”

Haryang, watching over him like a living landscape painting, asked gently. Yegyeol shook his head.

“Just… a nightmare, that’s all. Senior Brother, when did you come sit beside me?”

Haryang lightly tapped the bridge of his nose.

“You were nodding off, and it seemed like you’d bump your head against the side of the carriage.”

Now that he thought about it, the firm support against which he had been leaning wasn’t the carriage wall but Haryang’s shoulder. Hastily, Yegyeol wiped at the corner of his mouth, worried he might have drooled, only to see Haryang smile faintly.

No stains on his clothes, at least.

Relieved, though still a little doubtful, Yegyeol looked up at him.

The carriage was fairly wide, but still confined by its limits. Sitting so close, Haryang’s eyelashes seemed near enough to count. Yegyeol unconsciously swallowed.

“Oh dear.”

Haryang reached out. Yegyeol stiffened, forgetting even how to breathe.

“You’re sweating.”

A sleeve brushed across the nape of his neck, wiping away the cold dampness. Haryang’s gaze lingered on him with quiet concern.

“What kind of dream was it?”

“Just… something from the past.”

Deflecting, Yegyeol quickly tossed the question back.

“By the way, what brings you all the way to Xining?”

After parting ways with the Black Ghost in Sichuan, Yegyeol had tidied up the remaining affairs before returning to Qinghai. It had been a little earlier than usual, but excuses were easy to craft—finalizing a contract with Seonye Workshop, perhaps, or tracking down more counterfeiters beyond Sichuan.

The truth was, he had left in a hurry. That way, no one would suspect his unsettled state was because of the Black Ghost.

Yet, to his surprise, he had encountered Haryang at the Qinghai Trading Company headquarters in Xining. Since they had met, Haryang had suggested returning together. Naturally, Yegyeol had boarded the carriage at his side.

Like a snake slipping over a wall, he had been dragged into Haryang’s company without protest, simply grinning foolishly before dozing off.

As expected, sleep comes easily at my guide’s side.

In Korea, he had struggled even at night, plagued by sleeplessness. He hadn’t reached full-blown insomnia, but he had rarely slept deeply.

And yet, here he was—dozing inside a carriage rumbling along an unpaved road.

“Nothing much,” Haryang replied softly.

“It’s just that… without you by my side, it felt lonely. We’ve spent quite some time together recently.”

Indeed, they had spent long days together on the trip to Hangzhou.

“So I thought perhaps going somewhere livelier would help ease the solitude, and came out to Xining.”

“Ah…”

“I didn’t expect to meet you on your way back today, but it seems I came out to greet you.”

He added with a broad smile, “Isn’t it a delightful coincidence?”

Yegyeol froze, tongue-tied.

Not coincidence, but fate,—a foolish line of flirtation flashed across his mind, and he thought he’d sooner bite his tongue than say it aloud. He only nodded instead.

“If I had known Senior Brother was waiting, I’d have returned sooner.”

Resting his chin in one hand, Haryang muttered, “Strange, isn’t it? I spent twenty years alone, yet only now do I feel loneliness.”

Though spoken like a musing, the words reached Yegyeol clearly. Stroking the sleeve where Baembaemi was coiled, he struggled to steady himself.

In that cramped carriage, the urge to climb onto Haryang’s lap was overwhelming, but he couldn’t bring down the tower he had worked so hard to build.

One look into Haryang’s eyes told him—the summit was within reach.

“Hmm?”

The carriage jolted to a halt. Though he sensed something amiss, Yegyeol feigned ignorance, tilting his head.

“Have we arrived at the manor already? It hasn’t been long since we left Xining.”

He could sense about twenty people outside, in addition to the coachman.

Bandits? Or perhaps…?

If only Samrang were here, she’d handle it already.

But Samrang had stayed behind in Xining to finish company matters.

“Shh.”

Rising quietly, Haryang leaned close and pressed a hand over Yegyeol’s mouth. Enshrouded by his shadow, Yegyeol was reminded anew of his overwhelming size.

Feeling his body stiffen from tension, Haryang brushed his thumb over the bridge of his nose in silent apology.

His breath, hot and damp, pooled in Haryang’s grip, circling within. Yegyeol held his breath desperately.

Crash!

Something pierced through the wall beside his head. Haryang caught it with immediate precision, as if he had been expecting it all along.

It was an iron arrow (철시, Cheolsi), clearly aimed at those inside. Instead of burying itself deeper, it spun within Haryang’s hand before snapping in two.

Yegyeol studied the broken shaft. Unlike ordinary arrowheads, the tip was twisted into a strange, unfamiliar shape—not something common in the Central Plains.

Is that why it managed to pierce the carriage?

Combined with internal force, such a feat wasn’t impossible.

Haryang suddenly kicked the door open. The assassin, standing close to check the reaction, was struck by the door and hurled backward. Drawing his sword in one swift motion, Haryang dove into their midst.

A black arc sliced through the air, and a mist of crimson followed. One of the assassins crumpled, dead before his comrades’ eyes.

The others faltered, but Haryang would not allow prey to escape. It was as though they were moths, throwing themselves into flame, drawn helplessly into his sword’s path.

Watching with the sharp vision unique to Espers, Yegyeol realized—it wasn’t that they were rushing him, but that they were being pulled in.

This isn’t Kunlun’s technique.

Once a dragon soaring through clouds, he now walked the earth, holding life and death in his grasp. At Haryang’s swordpoint, there was no mercy, no righteousness—only pitiless death.

“Huff… huff…”

The last assassin standing gasped, his body convulsing though trained to conceal even breath.

“Well now.”

Haryang tilted his sword, touching the man’s chin. The assassin’s eyes flared crimson, and with a tearing sound, his clothes split as his body swelled grotesquely.

His muscles bulged monstrously, his size nearly doubling, his eyes glowing red in the shadowed woods.

It was reminiscent of a Strength-type Esper’s power, yet twisted, warped into something far more grotesque.

Yegyeol anxiously glanced at Haryang. He had seen Gates and monsters before, but Senior Brother was only a martial man of the Central Plains—surely he might be startled.

But Haryang only stepped back calmly, observing.

Why give him time to transform…?

He wasn’t supposed to be some villain waiting for a magical girl’s transformation.

Even so, Yegyeol’s heart grew restless.

The fully transformed assassin let out a bestial roar. Now towering even higher than Haryang—already a tall man—he was nearly two heads larger.

Seeing him charge, Yegyeol tensed, ready to intervene at the slightest sign of danger.

Haryang didn’t flinch, not even as the attack bore down upon him.

He’s watching every move… but why doesn’t he dodge?

Crash!

A thunderous impact shook the ground. Yegyeol leapt from the carriage in alarm. Through the rising dust, Haryang’s figure emerged—unscathed.

Catching sight of Yegyeol, he moved his lips in silent transmission.

[Yegyeol. Be good and stay put.]

The stern tone made Yegyeol flinch, though a faint trace of laughter lingered in the sound, like a caress against his ear.

Despite the sudden ambush, his tension melted away.

When the dust cleared, the ground where Haryang had stood was gouged deep, and a nearby tree lay uprooted.

The assassin’s power was far greater than before. Again and again, he charged at Haryang, who dodged with the narrowest margin. Yegyeol’s eyes tracked every movement, his breath catching at the close calls.

But observing closely, he noticed—the assassin was not in full possession of his mind. Otherwise, he would have realized that Haryang was subtly leading him further from the carriage.

“So. This is your limit?”

Measuring, Haryang sheathed his sword.

Why?

Even knowing Senior Brother would not fall so easily, golden sparks flickered at Yegyeol’s fingertips.

Baembaemi peeked its head out of his sleeve, then, spotting the creature, ducked back inside with a nervous hiss.

The assassin stomped forward. Haryang raised a hand.

“Grrk—!”

For the first time, the mutated man groaned. No matter how he strained, he couldn’t escape Haryang’s grip.

To an observer, it looked like David against Goliath—but here, Goliath was the one being overpowered.

“Your endurance is ruined, and your mind shattered.”

Dark energy coiled around Haryang’s hand. Yegyeol’s eyes widened as he saw the assassin’s fingers blacken and harden.

Is that… demonic arts?

“There’s nothing to be gained from you.”