TSBIRBV Ch 245

Chapter 245. Thunder Dragon Ascends (5)

It all began with a letter that Samrang handed him.

After the report that followed the Biheeyeon incident, she had been given new orders and was preparing to depart from Taehyang Hall. Before leaving, she sought Yegyeol out.

“I had some business at the Qinghai Trading Guild,” she explained. “Someone there left a letter addressed to you.”

Yegyeol accepted the envelope, tilting his head. “Am I… even allowed to receive this?”

He’d heard that Samrang had gone to the Central Plains for investigations after the attack on the Cheonghyeong Pavilion’s annex, but he hadn’t expected her to return carrying mail.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said casually, shrugging her shoulders. “I’ve already checked the contents.”

Meaning, anything suspicious had already been filtered out. After that brief explanation, Samrang hurried off—she still had to manage the aftermath of Biheeyeon and track the rebellious forces hiding in Shanxi. The fact that she’d stopped by at all just to hand over the letter was impressive in itself.

When Yegyeol unfolded it, recalling the second guide he’d met in the Central Plains, his eyebrows twitched.

“The sender’s… Young Master Tang?”

Honestly, he’d expected it to be Namgung Un.

No, wait. If it had been Namgung Un, the letter never would’ve reached me in the first place.

Even without explicit orders from Senior Brother, Samrang was too perceptive to deliver something that dangerous.

So, without suspicion, Yegyeol began to read.

If it was Tang Shiegi—the earnest, squirrel-like cousin who was nothing like the conniving Tang Sogak—then it was probably harmless.

“To Young Master Mun,

It has been some time. Do you still remember this Tang?

I have not returned to Sichuan for a while, and so my letter comes rather late.

In this time, I have devoted myself to my martial studies and continued to cultivate—”

Nothing of real importance so far. No wonder Samrang hadn’t bothered to censor it.

If I had to guess, Yegyeol thought dryly, he’s gearing up to ask me for romantic advice again.

Skimming past the pleasantries and filler, he froze when he reached a particular line.

“Thus, an opportunity has arisen for me to meet Lady Hwangbo.

The Martial Alliance has announced the upcoming Dragon-Phoenix Assembly.”

“…Oh.”

Yegyeol blinked, eyes lingering on the name.

Dragon-Phoenix Assembly.

A grand martial tournament organized by the Martial Alliance itself. Only the most promising young talents of the martial world—those deemed heirs of their generation—were eligible to compete.

And those who distinguished themselves were later invited by the Alliance to form a special fellowship, traveling and working together under the same title: the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly.

While its leader was officially chosen by reputation, in practice, the position always went to the tournament’s champion. It simply looked better that way.

Twenty years ago, Je Haryang had been that champion. Elected unanimously by the three Dragons, three Tigers, and three Phoenixes of that era, he became the Assembly’s head.

Yegyeol faintly remembered the time when the young heroes of the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly had come to Kunlun Mountain.

At the time, people had been disappearing near Qinghai. Believing it the work of bandits, the Martial Alliance sent the young members of the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly to investigate.

Since their leader, Je Haryang, hailed from Kunlun, they had a decent pretext to journey that far west.

Yegyeol, then a boy hiding to study after running errands for Baekyang Jin-in, had peeked out upon hearing a loud voice—and spotted a group of young men and women.

He recognized them instantly from the introductions at the welcoming banquet, and from the way his fellow disciples had whispered their names in awe.

“But seriously, why’s it called the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly?” grumbled a man with a tigerish look—Pang Munhyeong, the so-called Fierce Tiger.

“Probably just an old tradition,” replied a silver-tongued youth named Hwiho Jinryong, who hailed from some secret sect known for its mysterious arts.

“Why not the Dragon-Tiger-Phoenix Assembly? Feels unfair. They’re only praising dragons and phoenixes.”

The young successor from the Jegeol Clan rolled his eyes. The great sects and noble families were always in a quiet power struggle—the Nine Sects versus the Five Great Clans.

So, the title “Dragon” was given to the promising heirs of the Nine Sects, and “Tiger” to those of the Five Clans. To most, it was just a matter of symbolism—but to that thickheaded Pang from the Hebei Peng Clan, it was a genuine grievance.

“Well, it can’t be helped,” said another voice then—a calm, smooth one.

Yegyeol thought back, trying to remember if Senior Brother had smiled when he said it.

“How could our predecessors have predicted that geniuses like Brother Pang, Brother Namgung, and Brother Jegeol here would appear in this generation?”

The haughty looks on Namgung’s young heir and Jegeol’s successor softened, while Pang Munhyeong laughed sheepishly, scratching his head.

“Haha, I see. I guess you’re right.”

Simple-minded, yes—but brimming with admiration for Haryang.

Only one seemed unimpressed: the so-called Wise Dragon of Wudang, whose eyes flickered faintly.

“Brother Pang, enough teasing the Kunlun Dragon. Come study the map—we might be heading toward the desert.”

The speaker was a woman—slender, elegant, with an aloof beauty that bordered on coldness.

That was Chae Bong, also known as Hwangbo Yakrin.

Even then, Yegyeol had thought—no wonder rumors linked her and Senior Brother together.

To stand beside Je Haryang and not be overshadowed took rare presence.

She hailed from the Hwangbo Clan, one of the Five Great Clans, and among the renowned “Three Phoenixes of the Martial World,” she was said to be the most dazzling.

A young warrior with both pedigree and brilliance, standing shoulder to shoulder with Je Haryang—together wielding their swords against evil and racing toward a future of glory and legend.

A woman like that could converse with a man like Haryang about his ideals—perhaps even the ones he had never shared with anyone else.

For a moment, the faint light that touched her face—the look in her eyes, her fleeting expressions—reminded Yegyeol of Haryang himself.

So that’s what people mean when they say two people suit each other.

He’d thought that back then, even as he quietly withdrew, feeling a strange tightness in his chest—a confusing mixture of admiration and something faintly bitter.

He hadn’t known what it was then, being so young. But that small shadow of envy… had a trace of jealousy buried within it.

“Mmm… So the current leader of the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly is Young Master Namgung,” Yegyeol muttered, frowning as he shook off the memory.

Je Haryang had become none of the things he once imagined.

Not a hero.

Not a chivalrous wanderer.

Not anyone’s husband.

If he hadn’t fallen into the hands of the Demonic Cult, he might have lived in peace, dreaming of this same Assembly—of gathering with peers beneath the banner of martial unity.

Yegyeol wasn’t asking for the world to acknowledge Haryang’s sacrifice.

But still, it burned.

Pang Munhyeong’s alive, isn’t he?

Just as Hwangbo Yakrin had survived to become clan head, the others—Namgung, Jegeol, and even that arrogant Wudang “Wise Dragon” who once scowled at Haryang—were likely still out there.

But how many of them remember him?

The Fierce Tiger had remembered.

Back then, that loud man had cornered Yegyeol, ranting that everyone acted as though the Kunlun Dragon had never existed. Even knowing the risk of such talk, he’d vented anyway—perhaps out of his blunt nature, perhaps out of long-simmering frustration.

And how many others chose silence instead?

The Dragon-Phoenix Assembly was for the most promising talents of each generation. Those who survived were now surely elders, sect leaders, or clan heads.

They must have buried the name Je Haryang as though it were ancient history—holding new tournaments, crowning new heroes, and spinning the wheels of the martial world as though nothing had changed.

No, Yegyeol wasn’t just bitter because he was a petty esper. Anyone would feel the sting.

So he decided he’d do something a little bad.

And it was fortunate, he thought, that Senior Brother now had business in Shanxi. Being apart from his guide was never pleasant for Yegyeol anyway.

Thus, a plan was born—his own romantic martial escapade.

It was flawless.

With the matters of the Gong and Myeong Clans settled, Haryang could safely leave for a while, and Yegyeol could act freely under his alter ego—the Black Ghost.

Wait a minute…

A small issue surfaced.

Senior Brother doesn’t know I’ve figured out he’s the Black Ghost, does he?

That was obstacle number one.

Among all Cheonmas in history, Je Haryang’s face was the most recognizable to the martial world. If he appeared in the Central Plains in his true form—it’d be like waving a VIP ticket to the next Great Demonic War.

Sure, he could disguise himself, but if he ended up facing high-ranking Alliance officials, and his identity got exposed, things would spiral out of control.

The second obstacle… was Haryang himself.

From what Yegyeol had seen recently, Senior Brother had no desire to go to Shanxi.

So, he decided to run away.

Once he left, Haryang would, of course, follow. He’d assume his disciple had fled, and use his “Black Ghost” persona to chase him down.

Meanwhile, Yegyeol would move ahead, investigating the suspicious movements that seemed to originate from Shanxi.

It was a perfect plan—every variable accounted for.

And just to be safe, he had a backup.

If all else fails, dump it on the Martial Alliance.

It was their jurisdiction anyway. Haryang was simply being the good, overly responsible man he was—picking up the mess before it turned into a wildfire. If Yegyeol nudged things just right, the Central Plains martial world would handle it themselves. A win-win.

So when Haryang had called for him earlier, saying he had something to show him, Yegyeol had just finished drafting a reply to Tang Shiegi—

Explaining that he was trying to find a way to attend the upcoming Dragon-Phoenix Assembly, and asking for his help.

The letter was ready. All that remained was to hand it to Hongyeo at Taehyang Hall, who would send it by messenger hawk to Qinghai, and from there, it would reach Sichuan.

Everything was set.

At least, until he realized why Haryang hesitated to go to Shanxi—because of the Hwangbo Clan.

Still going, though.

Yegyeol smiled faintly, hiding his thoughts as he gazed at the moonlit beauty beside him.