TSBIRBV Ch 180

Chapter 180 Pillow-Side Litigation (7)

Only a moment ago, all Yegyeol had thought of was hurrying back to Je Haryang. Yet now, strangely, his feet would not move.

I should go…

If need be, he had been ready to use force, to break away from Namgung Un and Hwang Geolgae. The Central Plains were far too vast, and once separated, they would be hard-pressed ever to meet again.

The martial world had no cell phones, no internet.

It had been a miracle that the young Yegyeol, not yet dead, had crossed the breadth of the realm and reached Kunlun. Meeting Haryang there again had been no less a miracle.

And more: Yegyeol, reborn centuries—perhaps millennia—later, had thought he could never return. No matter how he searched, the martial world, Kunlun—these existed only in fiction. Even if time machines were invented, even if an esper capable of bending time appeared, it was doubtful he could ever find his way back to Haryang.

Yet even so, I found him again…

There must not be parting in this meeting.

Fate had ever so easily torn Yegyeol and Haryang apart. First it had been distance; second, time itself—or even another dimension. It was wise to assume there would be no third chance. And so Yegyeol, wrapping up his irrational attachment in the guise of reason, clung all the more tightly to Haryang.

Upon their reunion, his senior brother had not only spared his life but given him a new one. He had freed him from the esper’s accursed destiny and accepted both his love and his desire.

But what had Yegyeol given in return?

He bore no regret for having once saved Haryang’s life at the cost of his own. To save his benefactor and hero with his worthless life had been worth everything.

Yet only now did he understand: what he had done then was not to save Haryang, but to cast him into the abyss.

“Senior brother…”

Could what they said truly be so?

The words slipped out as a sob, but Haryang, standing silently, gave no answer.

“Come, quickly. The candied hawthorn you so wanted will melt away.”

As though nothing had happened, he spoke lightly to his disciple whose face was contorted with anguish.

“Or… have I kept you waiting too long, and you are angry with me?”

A faint smile touched his lips, tinged with worry. Yegyeol’s wet lashes trembled.

Anger? He almost wished it were so. That he held back from stepping near because of betrayal, because Haryang had hidden the truth of being the Heavenly Demon—that would be easier.

But Yegyeol—he had no right to be angry, no right to resent. Even if the revered senior brother had become a villain.

It’s me… it’s because of me…

The whole of it was unreal.

Elder Hwang’s revelation, Namgung Un standing to block his way—none of it seemed real.

The most unbelievable thing of all was Je Haryang, hand outstretched toward him.

It’s as though the space he stands in has been cut away from the rest of the world.

The gentle voice, the kind expression—everything as always. Only that gaze, fixed solely on Yegyeol, blind to all else, was unbearably fervent.

If I don’t go? What happens then?

Dizziness made him sway. From behind, it must have looked as if he were stepping forward, for Namgung Un cried out in desperation:

“You must not go—!”

He hurled himself forward, only to be hurled back as if striking an unseen wall. Yegyeol started and turned.

“Lord Namgung…!”

“Kh—!”

Blood spilled from Namgung Un’s lips with a cough. He was wounded within.

Haryang, skewer in hand, looked as if out for a stroll.

Could what unfolded behind him be so different from what stood before his eyes?

“Senior brother, just—just a moment.”

Yegyeol staggered forward. His shock was such his body would not obey, but he had to reach Haryang.

I must stop him. If the young master of Namgung is harmed, there will be no undoing it.

Already it was widely known that Yegyeol was the head of the Cheonghae Trading House. Should Namgung Un be hurt or killed, the first thing to be torn apart would be the gift Haryang had given him.

While Yegyeol, legs trembling like a newborn fawn, made his way forward, Haryang waited with infinite patience. When at last he drew near, Haryang’s sleeve enfolded him protectively.

It was the robe Yegyeol had chosen for him. However wide the sleeves, however long the hem, Haryang wore them with effortless grace.

And yet…

The hand clutching his shoulder now was harsher than ever before. But Yegyeol made no sign of pain.

“We’ve seen enough sights for today. Let’s return. Yes?”

“If you wish it.”

Haryang pressed the skewer into his hand. He clutched it with trembling fingers. Pretending not to notice, Haryang tousled his hair as always, tender as ever.

To the eye, they were nothing but a warm and devoted pair of brothers.

All the more because of this, Namgung Un wiped the blood from his mouth and shouted:

“Heavenly Demon or not, how can you seize an innocent man and toy with him for your own selfish desire!”

His eyes blazed at Haryang.

“Release him!”

Ah, heavens…

It was like watching a rare and endangered creature fling itself before a wild beast.

Half-clinging to Haryang’s sleeve, Yegyeol pleaded:

“Let’s go. Quickly.”

But Haryang’s steps slowed, then stopped.

“Toy with him?”

He repeated the word as if tasting it, his gaze turning at last to Namgung Un. It was the gaze one might cast upon an insect.

Sensing danger, Hwang Geolgae hurried to draw his attention.

“Your master, Red Elder, once spoke of your bond with Kunlun’s deceased disciple.”

Should the young master of Namgung die at the Heavenly Demon’s hand, the martial world would be thrown into chaos.

“No matter how alike, they are not the same man.”

Wrinkles trembled on the elder’s cheeks. To stake his life on preventing a war between righteous and demonic paths—such was a Beggar’s Sect elder indeed.

But his provocation brought a result none could have foreseen.

“My disciple, dead?”

Haryang smiled faintly.

“Here he stands, alive before me.”

He drew the frozen Yegyeol close and brushed his lips against his forehead. It was too ardent, too tender to be called mere affection.

Yegyeol tried to push him away, but once within his arms, escape was impossible.

“Not here… Too many eyes. Later, when it is just us, I will do it properly.”

He whispered as if indulging a petulant child. But all present heard him clearly.

“Ah—what is this…”

Elder Hwang trembled violently, face flushing crimson from neck to brow.

Damn it. This is why I held back…

Yegyeol’s expression crumpled. Now the whole martial world would know.

There was no LTE in the Central Plains, but the Beggar’s Sect had its ways.

Not only had he saved his senior brother only to cast him into a pit of infamy, but now he had turned him into a depraved demon king who consorted with a disciple thought dead.

“Heavenly Demon or not, what you do now insults both the living and the dead!”

“So what?”

Haryang covered Yegyeol’s ears with both hands.

“Even if I were a beast coupling with my disciple, what could you do?”

Of course, though his ears were covered, Yegyeol heard every word. But he could not reveal it, only rolled his eyes anxiously.

“And suppose I had indeed seized an innocent, brainwashed him, and toyed with him—what then?”

Namgung Un’s face contorted with agony.

“Would you save him?”

Haryang, holding Yegyeol from behind, radiated the presence of a lord of ten thousand demons, ruler of the boundless mountains.

And Yegyeol, caught within his arms. His frame was not so slight, yet there he seemed fragile.

With lashes lowered, he looked the picture of a blameless prize, ensnared unknowing.

Haryang spoke to Elder Hwang:

“The Beggar’s Sect cannot withstand me.”

Then his eyes shifted, landing on Namgung Un.

“Nor can Namgung.”

The words fell like a stake driven into the ground—more provocation to Namgung than to Hwang.

Could I endure three moves?

The bitter weight of helplessness filled Namgung Un. Three moves—even that only if the Heavenly Demon permitted it.

Haryang, hands occupied with Yegyeol, seemed unguarded. A blade might pierce anywhere. And yet not a gap could be found.

This is worse than facing the Flood Dragon King.

Since childhood he had endured harsh training, praised as the foremost genius of his generation.

But the Heavenly Demon—without so much as a twitch of a finger—had wounded him within by pressure alone.

That the young master of Namgung should be no more than three-move fodder…

As the truth struck, despair and shame twisted his face. To act, knowing he could achieve nothing, was mere recklessness.

Above all—

Yegyeol might be hurt.

Namgung Un squeezed his eyes shut. A successor of the Namgung Clan could not afford even the smallest mistake against the ruler of demons.

If the sword should stray…

Would the master of ten thousand demons treasure a mere substitute?

Because what lay on the scales was not his life but Yegyeol’s, Namgung Un dared not believe.

In the end, he let his hand fall from the sword.

Haryang laughed low, as if he had expected no less.

“Wise indeed.”