TSBIRBV Ch 256

Chapter 256. The Audacious Impostor (5)

Fugitives, smugglers, black market escorts, even discreet bodyguards hired by nobles—

the Flood Dragon King’s reach extended far wider than Yegyeol had imagined. And that realization pleased him greatly.

If Haryang’s enemies were moving in the Central Plains, then Yeon Sosho would surely have caught wind of it.

“I heard you’ve been staying beyond the desert all this time,” he said with a faint smile. “You seem remarkably well-informed.”

“I’m embarrassed to admit it.”

Their laughter was polite, practiced—eerily similar, as though they were siblings sharing a private joke.

“I can’t point to anyone specific,” Yeon Sosho said after a pause. “But there’s something that’s been troubling me.”

“What is it?”

Yegyeol leaned in slightly. Knowing her temperament, she wasn’t one to speak vaguely without reason.

“Hmm… where should I begin?”

She paused, then began in a measured tone.

“As you know, in the martial world, not a single day passes without bloodshed.”

“Yes.”

In his previous life, before entering Kunlun, Yegyeol had spent his childhood in Hangzhou.

By the time he was old enough to understand the world, he had already seen too many martial artists cross blades over petty slights—learning early that human lives were far cheaper than they should be.

“Sometimes, to dispose of the bodies, they tie heavy stones to them and sink them in the Yangtze,” she continued. “But the river always gives back what it takes. So I see more corpses than I’d like.”

Yegyeol nodded silently.

“Lately, though, there’s been a surge of martial artists showing signs of poisoning. Not long enough dead for their bodies to decay, yet with limbs necrotic, lips blackened…”

At that, Yegyeol recalled the demonic cultivator Chilsa Noho, whom they’d encountered at the inn. He was dead, so clearly unrelated—but the resemblance was unsettling.

“Could it be the work of a master who uses poison?” Yegyeol wondered aloud.

Yeon Sosho gave a soft, humorless laugh.

“If so, then they must know teleportation, not mere movement arts. The bodies appear everywhere—both east and west of the river, without any pattern.”

Yegyeol blinked slowly, murmuring, “So, not one person, but several.”

Yeon Sosho nodded, clearly impressed by how quickly he’d caught on.

“That’s what I suspect as well. Even the Sichuan Tang Clan seems to have noticed the anomaly—they’ve begun their own investigation.”

Yegyeol’s eyes gleamed. By coincidence, his next destination was Wuhan, where he was to meet none other than the Tang Clan’s young master.

“This is very helpful,” he said sincerely.

“Then I’m glad,” Yeon Sosho replied with an easy smile.

Yegyeol added, “It would be best if this news reached my Senior Brother’s ears as well. Don’t you think?”

“I usually report such matters at our regular intervals,” she said smoothly, “but I’ll send word earlier this time.”

Her answer flowed effortlessly, like the river itself.

“The wind is getting cold,” she said then, bowing slightly. “I’ll be heading in to rest.”

“Sleep well,” Yegyeol replied.

As she turned to gaze out over the vast, glittering expanse of the Yangtze, Yegyeol watched her for a moment. The river was indeed magnificent—but the way she looked at it, tenderly and endlessly, spoke of something deeper.

She loved this river. It wasn’t just her domain—it was her life.

Descending the steps, Yegyeol accepted a small packet of medicine from one of her subordinates and made his way to Peng Munhyeong’s cabin.

He didn’t truly believe the man had taken to his bed because of seasickness, but still, it seemed polite to check.

“Brother Peng,” Yegyeol called, knocking. “How are you feeling?”

“Other than some dizziness and fatigue, the same as ever,” came the gruff reply.

So… lovesickness, not seasickness, Yegyeol thought wryly.

“You should rest more. I brought you some medicine—it might help.”

Without even asking what it was, Peng took the seasickness pill and swallowed it. Watching him, Yegyeol rolled his eyes. This man can gift away a priceless antidote brew, but doesn’t think twice before downing a stranger’s pill.

“I feel a little better already,” Peng murmured after a moment.

So it really was seasickness after all? Yegyeol tilted his head.

Peng splashed his face with water a few times, then muttered under his breath, “…I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“About whom? The Captain?” Yegyeol asked, feigning ignorance.

Peng sighed dreamily, his gaze unfocused. “Her arms. The way she moves them—so graceful. Do sailors develop muscles like that from rowing?”

It wasn’t an answer, but a lovestruck monologue.

Yegyeol froze. Not from rowing, he thought. From wielding the Flood Dragon Whip—a weapon disguised as rope.

Even her clothes reflected that: short-sleeved, practical—made for swift movement without hindrance.

Though, honestly, it’s her crew who do the rowing.

“Yes,” Yegyeol said mildly. “The Captain is indeed a strong woman.”

Peng nodded gravely. “Even among martial artists, few have shoulders and arms like that. At Hebei Peng Manor, most of the disciples neglect their physical training, obsessed with inner energy instead…”

“Perhaps you should discuss cultivation with her,” Yegyeol suggested kindly. “She’s no stranger to martial arts herself. You might even spar next time.”

Peng’s eyes brightened faintly. “…Do you think so?”

But his expression soon clouded over.

“Still… when you greeted her earlier…”

Yegyeol’s lips parted in realization. Ah. She had said she was enjoying her newlywed bliss. No wonder Peng was crestfallen—he thought she was married.

He considered hinting otherwise, but thought better of it. A botched matchmaking attempt could go either way: earn him drinks—or a slap.

And truthfully? If chaos did break out, it’d be entertaining—but he had too much on his plate right now.

“I’m sure you’ll find an even better match, Brother Peng,” Yegyeol said diplomatically.

As he pondered how to shift the topic, something came to mind. The Antidote Brew pendant was still hanging around his neck.

“I still have the Poison Ward Elixir you lent me,” he said. “I should return it.”

But Peng waved his hand with a dismissive sigh.

“No, keep it till we reach Wuhan.”

“This precious thing?”

“I won’t be needing it. The martial world is treacherous, and one never knows what dangers might arise on the road. It’s safer with you.”

“Why did you carry it to begin with?” Yegyeol asked curiously. He could imagine Peng spitting out poison mid-fight and continuing to battle unbothered.

“My younger brother gave it to me,” Peng said after a pause. “He’s the one managing the clan in my stead. Good kid—has to do all the tedious work while his hot-blooded older brother roams around.”

Yegyeol blinked. For a moment, he’d forgotten that this was the most renowned warrior the Peng Clan had ever produced. Yet he seemed perfectly content to let his brother hold the title of Clan Head.

Power often poisoned even blood ties, but the way he spoke of his sibling—with fondness rather than envy—made Yegyeol smile faintly.

“Then your brother must treasure you deeply,” he said. “To entrust you with something as rare as that elixir.”

Peng scratched his head sheepishly. “I’d say he just got tired of saving my hide. I’ve been in… too many messes.”

His voice carried a hint of embarrassment beneath its usual gruffness.

“Almost died a few times,” he added. “He gave it to me hoping I’d survive the next one.”

The martial world was relatively peaceful these days. For someone like Peng to have brushed death repeatedly, he must have ventured into the darkest corners of it. Yegyeol felt a flicker of sympathy for the brother he’d never met.

Honestly, having this man as an elder brother would be exhausting. He never stayed still, always charging headfirst into danger, unguarded, fighting demons barehanded for the sake of justice.

“He insists I keep it,” Peng murmured.

Yegyeol rose to his feet. “Then I’ll make good use of it. Rest well, Brother Peng.”

“Mm. You too.”

Peng nodded and waved half-heartedly. Yegyeol expected him to collapse onto his too-small bed, but instead, the burly man began practicing stances right there in the cabin—trying, it seemed, to expel his turbulent thoughts through movement.

Consistent, at least, Yegyeol thought, closing the door quietly behind him.

He couldn’t help but wonder if the reason Peng was so gentle with him was because he reminded him of that brother. There was something about being called “younger brother” that softened even the fiercest men.

Returning to his own cabin, Yegyeol lay down on the narrow bed.

The rocking sensation of the ship was stronger now—clearer when lying down. He was grateful, not for the first time, that he didn’t suffer from seasickness.

Funny. I used to get nauseous even in a carriage.

He remembered how worried he’d been the first time he boarded a ship on the Yangtze. But ever since traveling with Haryang and absorbing his guiding energy, he’d miraculously stopped feeling ill.

The memory made him chuckle—and ache.

It was strange, how loneliness crept in at the edges of humor.

Must be the river breeze, he told himself, pulling the thin blanket up to his shoulders. But his hand froze midway.

“…It comes so easily now,” he whispered.

The blanket was too light. Too empty. Normally, a strong arm weighed down the other side like a stone, grounding him.

He pressed his temples, trying to banish the thought—but it only grew stronger.

How long had it been since he’d left? And yet, even in this narrow bed, he felt the absence of his lover as if it were carved into the air beside him.

He could close his eyes to ignore the emptiness, but the ache in his chest had no such switch.

All of it felt so unfamiliar. And the strangest thing of all—was sleeping alone.

How long had it even been since I last shared a bed with Senior Brother?

He thought of himself, not long ago, gleefully planning his “great escape.” Back then, his greatest worry had been running low on guiding energy. Yet now, loneliness stung sharper than any void of power.

He’d lived alone for so long that solitude had once been as natural as breathing. So why did it hurt now?

Lying awake, Yegyeol stared at the ceiling until dawn’s first light spilled through the small window. Moonlight shimmered on the rippling water outside, casting silver reflections that danced across his face.

As his eyes grew heavy, one last thought drifted through his mind—soft and unguarded.

I already want to go back.