TSBIRBV Ch 211

Chapter 211. Revelation (6)

“Samrang. Try throwing a punch at me.”

Dragged out on yet another walk because Yegyeol claimed he wanted to stroll after they had already surveyed nearly everywhere and cleared out whatever needed clearing, Samrang blinked round eyes at the sudden request and asked in return.

“If you get hurt, then I’ll be the one crossing the Yellow Springs, won’t I?”

“Oh… well, nothing to be done. Let us pray to Heaven and Earth that I dodge well.”

“What in the world.”

Samrang stared at him with a look of incredulity.

“If I truly wished to die, I would think of a dozen other ways before trying to punch you, Mun Gongja.”

“There’s simply no one suitable around, that’s all.”

If Yegyeol had asked Jinyoung, he would have been met with the look of someone who thought he’d just heard the most absurd nonsense under the sun. If he asked Hongyeo, she would go straight to his elder brother and confess the entire request without hesitation.

As for Haryang… well, asking him was out of the question. He had no doubt that would be more dangerous than being struck by Bambam’s tail.

A Heavenly Demon, and yet somehow not frightening at all…

Yegyeol’s lack of crisis awareness could be blamed entirely on his elder brother.

“To think you’d call me the only one worthy of being beaten to death.”

Samrang rolled her eyes playfully.

“No. You saw the Geum Patriarch yesterday.”

Waving his hands, Yegyeol shrugged.

“I just want to confirm what I can do.”

A life is only one, so he could not dare test it recklessly. Yet sometimes he did wonder—which was faster, the reflexes of an esper or those of a martial artist?

It’s about time I found out.

Dragging Samrang into this was practically a guarantee that Haryang would hear of it. Thus far he had delayed making any firm decision, playing at being the helpless disciple stripped of martial skill. His body was not weak, but he had chosen to feign frailty.

Until now, his priority had been not so much protecting himself as ensuring his elder brother never cast him aside.

But those days as a mere merchant lord were long past. Now, he was in the Ten-Thousand Mountains.

The malice, greed, and grudges here will be more layered than what a mere merchant lord ever faced.

At first he had been too consumed by Haryang’s true identity to think of such things. After that, he was too furious over what his elder brother had endured, venting by blasting apart the Ten-Thousand Mountains at every turn.

Then, upon seeing Geumya yesterday, he realized—overt provocateurs like that were rare. Most would approach the Heavenly Demon’s “concubine” with far subtler, more insidious schemes.

If they come for me now, it isn’t just me they’re trying to seize—it’s Haryang’s hair they’re reaching to grasp.

Hostages. Threats.

Yegyeol had known many whose lives had been ruined simply for being espers’ guides. Yet for him, it would not be the same. He would bring misfortune to his own guide for entirely different reasons.

To be Haryang’s weakness instead of his salvation? To endanger him rather than save him? That could never be allowed.

He could not simply avoid being a burden—he had to ensure he was no chain at all. The thought of Haryang being forced to cut away parts of himself because of him was unbearable.

Samrang had been about to refuse flatly, but the earnest light in Yegyeol’s gaze made her pause.

Scratching at the back of her head, she relented.

“Not here. Too many eyes. Let’s find somewhere else.”

Guiding him between buildings, she led him to a training yard. It was hidden enough from sight and seemed little used.

One by one she unstrapped her armaments, each piece landing with a heavy thunk on the ground. After rotating her wrists a few times to adjust to the change in weight, Samrang turned to him.

“Shall we begin right away?”

Samrang was one of the few who knew of the possibility that Yegyeol had once been experimented upon by the demonic sect. She had tended to him whenever he was poisoned or injured, enough to know that even if he wasn’t an esper, he possessed a recovery rate far beyond that of any ordinary man.

And then there’s that snake…

Her eyes narrowed. Perhaps it was her imagination, but when separated from Yegyeol, the creature seemed weaker. Once, with Yegyeol’s permission, she had even tried training Bambam. Back then she had thought the thunder-serpent was merely holding back its power.

But her doubts had grown recently.

When Yegyeol was dragged to the Ten-Thousand Mountains, the Heavenly Demon had entrusted Bambam to her. Enraged by the forced separation, the serpent had grown vicious, its lightning scorching enough to injure servants even when she was absent only briefly.

And yet… she had seen it burn down halls and fell trees with bolts of lightning. Could such a being leave a mere hand scorched if it truly struck in wrath?

She still remembered examining the servant’s mangled hand and frowning in confusion.

Perhaps the serpent had held back deliberately. Perhaps not.

I want to test another theory…

She clicked her tongue.

Martial artists could wield all manner of forces, but lightning was among the hardest. To harness thunder within human flesh was near impossible.

Of all the sects, the Namgung clan’s swordsmanship was said to best embody thunder’s force—but even they had never truly summoned the heavens’ bolts.

“Like this?”

Her fist shot forward, halting just before Yegyeol’s nose. Though she had given fair warning, the sudden strike aimed directly at his face was more taunt than spar.

Close enough that a dragonfly’s wing might have slipped between. One mistake, and his face would have been shattered.

“Mm…”

Yet Yegyeol did not so much as blink, calmly watching the blow to its very end. With an esper’s perception, this speed was not so hard to follow.

“Too soft. Put in more strength. Faster.”

Samrang rolled her eyes.

She hadn’t thought such a threat would cow him, but she had not expected him to meet it with such composure either.

Hadn’t he never even stepped onto the jianghu as a martial artist?

Still, if she pulled back now, he’d only pester her elsewhere. Better to settle it here.

Besides, until she returned him to Qinghyeong Hall, his safety was her responsibility.

“Are you really going to dodge?” she murmured.

“If you get hurt, my precious little holiday is gone.”

But her next strike carried true weight, slamming forward with a whistle like tearing air.

Yegyeol fixed his eyes on her hand, observing the flickering blur as though watching light stutter.

Whether she had woven in the mysteries of speed, her hand seemed multiplied, striking from countless directions at once. Each was real, each a blow that in the span of an instant could have been delivered dozens of times over.

She’s more serious than I thought.

Working under Haryang, she would normally temper herself. But Yegyeol had given her too many reasons to vent.

“How much power was in that?”

Samrang pulled her fist back just before his face once again.

“Hmm. Perhaps four-tenths of my external strength.”

“And in the martial world, what level is that?”

“About a first-class martial artist. Not quite a peak master.”

Yegyeol frowned thoughtfully, then said,

“Then try again. At the level of a peak master.”

“No.”

“You can stop just like before.”

“Still no.”

Deliberately imitating Yaryul Hongyeo’s stiff tone, Samrang answered firmly.

“Aren’t you curious, Samrang?”

Yegyeol tilted his head.

“You must want to know. Where I’ve been, what I’ve done, why I’m so reckless. What I can do.”

That was no taunt—it was permission. A reasonable offer.

“Test me. See for yourself.”

Samrang exhaled, pushing back the hair that had fallen into her face.

“…If only you’d offer extra vacation instead of such words.”

“Even if I did, you wouldn’t take it. You’d only pretend to strike properly. That would be no use.”

He shrugged. He did not know the levels of the martial world. If she deceived him, he could not tell.

And in the jianghu, one hair’s breadth could mean life or death.

I have to be able to defend myself.

The Haryang he knew now was endlessly defensive, desperate to shield Yegyeol from every threat—even himself. He had even tried to send him away to Mount Kunlun after twenty years of longing.

But that was not his elder brother’s nature; it was what endless loss had carved into him.

There was no such thing as eternal safety. If there were, men would never have imagined Paradise.

So one day, when despair came for Haryang, Yegyeol would need the strength to save him. To pull him up with his own hands.

If they call me a monster for it, so be it. It’s worth the bargain.

Clenching his fist again, Yegyeol bared his teeth in a smile and looked at her.

“Well? Am I wrong?”