TSBIRBV Ch 250

Chapter 250. The Runaway Disciple and the Reclusive Tiger (5)

“How’s the tea? The leaves were grown through the winter and roasted right here in the village.”

“It’s very fragrant. I didn’t think tea leaves could grow in such barren soil — it’s astonishing.”

Yegyeol spoke sincerely. If they made this tea a local specialty and distributed it through the Qinghai Trading Company, the profits would be considerable.

Peng Munhyeong smiled, deeply pleased. The man ought to change his title from Reclusive Tiger to Farming Tiger.

Who would’ve thought he was such a natural at agriculture…

Commanding the former bandits to serve tea and prepare refreshments with such ease — his manner was nothing short of impressive.

Moreover, Peng Munhyeong believed that Yegyeol — or rather, “Je Haryang” — had been born in this very village.

“So, you’re heading to Wuhan for the Martial Arts Tournament?”

When Yegyeol emptied his teacup, Peng Munhyeong asked. With an awkward smile, Yegyeol nodded.

“Yes.”

The bandits flinched and avoided his gaze, terrified that their eyes might meet his. If the Reclusive Tiger were any more perceptive — or any less easily distracted — Yegyeol might have already been found out.

When Peng Munhyeong turned his head, Yegyeol discreetly opened his palm, letting a faint ring of lightning flicker across his skin. The Green Forest men, recalling how lightning once burned their mountain fortress to ash, scrambled away in terror.

Serves you right for staring.

He clicked his tongue. He really ought to conserve his energy.

And yet, curiously, even after parting from Haryang, his internal state was remarkably stable. If he could maintain it at this level until reuniting with the “Dark Ghost” version of his Senior Brother, he’d have little else to wish for.

“This time of year… yes, the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering should be happening soon,” Peng Munhyeong murmured thoughtfully. “But you’ll need to move quickly if you want to enter the preliminaries.”

“Oh, I’ve been lucky. I’ve made a connection and received an invitation.”

He intended to get the official letter from the Tang Clan’s young master. He had already explained why he would be entering under the name Je Haryang instead of Mun Yegyeol.

To be safe, he also planned to have Peng Munhyeong vouch for his identity as a respected martial artist. That way, there would be no risk to him.

What still worries me, though… is Namgung Woon.

He recalled the young martial artist he had last met in the back alleys of Soryeong Fortress. Now the head of the Dragon-Phoenix Society, Namgung Woon would undoubtedly attend the tournament.

If he was even half as upright as the original Je Haryang, he was surely still blaming himself for the incident in which his “friend” — Yegyeol — had been abducted.

Still, Yegyeol had made his own preparations for that as well.

Whether they’ll work is another matter.

“Hmm… I suppose it can’t be helped.”

After a long silence, Peng Munhyeong suddenly spoke, propping his chin on one hand.

“I’ll go with you.”

“…Pardon?”

Even though he’d half expected this, Yegyeol couldn’t help but widen his eyes.

“You might have experience in trade,” Peng said, “but you’re still new to the martial world, aren’t you?”

Yegyeol nodded solemnly.

“Yes. I know that well. I plan to start from the bottom — like a traveling peddler again.”

“The martial world will cut your nose off the moment you blink,” Peng said grimly. “It’s no place for those who only pursue martial purity. Besides…” — his eyes softened slightly — “my younger brother may not realize it, but your very presence is bound to cause upheaval.”

For a man as straightforward as Peng Munhyeong to speak of martial politics was almost comical. Anyone who knew him would have fainted on the spot.

Yegyeol’s lips twitched, but he kept his expression carefully composed.

“Is that so?”

“It is,” Peng sighed heavily.

After all, this Je Haryang was supposedly from the same village as the “Je Haryang” who had once saved him.

Even with an invitation, it was uncertain whether the young man could reach the finals — or even participate fairly. Peng had seen firsthand how the once-promising Je Haryang of Central Plains had been buried and forgotten.

He couldn’t allow a second Je Haryang to meet the same fate.

When word spread that Peng Munhyeong was leaving, half the ex-bandits in the village groaned in despair, and the other half swallowed their tears.

But Yegyeol stood smiling brightly among them, and the fields they’d cultivated so carefully were now filled with tender, budding sprouts.

If they angered him — that merciless man who once burned down their stronghold — he might just call down lightning on their crops.

“Then, I’ll leave the rest to you,” Peng said.

“Yes, sir! Have a safe journey!”

“Mm. This friend here says he’s going to visit his family’s field. Go with him. I’ll fetch my things.”

Peng Munhyeong strode off, and though the bandits stared after him with tearful eyes, he didn’t look back once — perhaps sensing that if he did, he’d see something he shouldn’t.

Yegyeol motioned to Hongyeo, who immediately understood — he was to stand watch.

“Come with me,” Yegyeol said, beckoning the Green Forest men once Peng was far enough away.

The land registered under his false identity lay on the outskirts of the village.

He spread his palm open.

“You’ve all been working diligently, haven’t you? I think I should give you a reward.”

Though his tone was generous, it sounded more like a threat to them — probably because of the crackling lightning coiled around his hand.

The man who had once led the bandits stepped forward, trembling.

“A r-reward… what kind of reward, sir?”

“I heard you’ve grown fond of farming. True?”

“Y-yes! I’ll never return to banditry again!”

“That’s right! We’ve sworn to follow Brother Peng and do good for the rest of our lives!”

“Please, spare us, young master!”

Yegyeol chuckled.

“Oh, come on. I said it’s a gift — why are you shaking like I’m about to punish you?”

The men glanced nervously at one another. One cracked open an eye — only to see Yegyeol’s palm flare with blinding lightning.

The electric arc burst outward, striking the barren field on all sides.

“K-kkaaa—!”

One of the bandits nearly fainted.

Peng Munhyeong had explained that poor soil needed to rest between harvests, which was why this field was currently empty.

But still — calling down lightning on it?!

Their faces turned red, then pale, as if their very blood had frozen. What if there had been crops there? What if he’d destroyed everything? The thought alone made their heads spin.

“Now the next harvest will go well,” Yegyeol said cheerfully.

It was, after all, a natural nitrogen fertilizer.

At first, he hadn’t realized this was possible, but after crafting lightning-infused weapons, he noticed how the surrounding plants thrived unusually well.

After some thought — and remembering a lecture he’d once attended at the Esper Center — it all clicked.

It had been called “Understanding Your Ability.” The director had explained how lightning generated heat that caused nitrogen and oxygen in the air to combine, creating compounds that enriched soil when absorbed by rain.

Which is why the god of lightning, Baal, is also the god of fertility… or something like that.

He’d forgotten it until now — but the realization thrilled him. His power wasn’t purely destructive; it could also create, nurture, and sustain.

Of course, moderation was key. But used wisely, it could be invaluable — perhaps even solve some of the food shortages that plagued the Ten-Thousand Mountains.

“…Ah, he’s fainted.”

One man caught the collapsed bandit and looked at Yegyeol anxiously.

“Do you really think… the crops will grow well?”

He’d already realized Yegyeol meant no harm — a survival instinct honed through years of reading people.

This was the man who had once decided which merchant caravans were safe to rob and which were not.

“If you don’t believe me, plant something and see,” Yegyeol shrugged.

His casual air — almost insolent — only reinforced how little he cared to flatter or threaten. He had no reason to.

Bowing awkwardly, the man dragged away the unconscious one, his fellows lifting the body’s legs as if he were carried on an invisible stretcher.

They stole several fearful glances back before fleeing.

When the last of them had disappeared, Yegyeol rolled up his sleeves and called softly,

“Baembaem, come out.”

The little snake poked its head out, its golden scales shimmering with opalescent light. It was breathtaking every time.

“It feels like whenever I use power, some of it comes back to me afterward,” Yegyeol murmured. “I think that’s your doing. What do you think?”

Baembaem opened its mouth wide with a determined hiss — as if to roar.

Between its tiny, deer-like horns, a glowing orb of electricity gathered. Yegyeol felt the energy flow through Baembaem and back into him, seamless and warm.

“…Incredible.”

His eyes widened. Among espers, he had always been the type to burn energy fastest — lightning was volatile by nature, dispersing uncontrollably. He’d been warned countless times: if you don’t want to die, don’t unseal your powers until you meet your Guide.

Yet here was Baembaem — returning the power he’d lost.

No wonder my energy’s been so steady lately…

His greatest fear when running away had been the lack of guiding — especially before facing the “Dark Ghost” again. To win the tournament, he would need to maintain perfect control until Haryang arrived.

Even though he trusted his Senior Brother completely, he still intended to act cautiously.

That was also why he’d agreed to travel with Hongyeo — partly as a sign that he wasn’t hiding, and partly so that, if things went south, he’d have someone strong to rely on.

Testing his power just now, after feeling that strange imbalance while threatening the Green Forest men, had been a good call.

“My Baembaem’s such a good boy.”

Everything was falling into place perfectly — yet a hollow ache lingered in his chest.

Knowing the emptiness couldn’t be filled, Yegyeol held the small golden snake gently in his arms and turned his gaze toward the distant Ten-Thousand Mountains — where Haryang would be.

The faint silhouette of the mountains blurred against the far horizon.

…Hurry and come after me.

He had left first — and yet, he missed him this much.

Letting out a quiet laugh at his own shamelessness, Yegyeol turned and walked toward where Hongyeo awaited.

The Martial Arts Tournament was drawing near.