TSBIRBV Ch 259

Chapter 259. The Audacious Impostor (8)

The woman who had taken the Reclusive Tiger’s offered hand led them deeper into the village. Soon, they came upon a small house where the remaining townsfolk had gathered closely together.

So this is where all the signs of life came from.

There were barely any young adults—only a few small children and mostly the elderly. None of them looked well. The woman reassured them that the visitors meant no harm before ushering the group further inside.

She poured water—not tea—into small cups and sat down heavily before them.

“I heard this village used to be larger,” Yeon Sosho remarked. “There are far fewer people than expected.”

The middle-aged woman exhaled deeply.

“They’ve all left.”

“Was it because fishing has declined…? Or trade?” Yeon Sosho asked.

“No. Neither.” The woman shook her head. “Half… went missing. The rest… fled.”

It was a strange answer. There were no man-eating beasts in this area, so what could possibly have driven them away?

“I’d like to hear this in more detail,” Peng Munhyeong said gently.

The woman nodded. “When you came in, did you notice the burned-down house near the edge of the village?”

Yegyeol nodded. He had already guessed that was the source of the smoky scent Hongye0 had detected earlier.

“That was once a dojo.”

“A dojo?”

“Yes. One day, a man who claimed to be a bodyguard-for-hire drifted into the village and decided to settle here. That wasn’t unusual—travelers came and went often—so we welcomed him. He said he would open a training hall to teach simple breathing and movement exercises.”

“Mmm.”

“He said it wasn’t true martial cultivation, but that it would strengthen the body and loosen tired muscles. The young people were intrigued. It didn’t cost much, and if they grew stronger, their work would be easier.”

At first, it all seemed harmless. One young man with a bad back reportedly improved after three months of lessons, easily lifting heavy loads afterward.

Even people around the woman’s age began to attend. Some of her friends persuaded her to join, saying it made them feel younger. But exercise was never her taste, so she eventually stopped going.

“Then one day, the master—the one who ran the dojo—told one of the young men that he had talent for martial arts.”

Talent.

Yegyeol could imagine it: a young fisherman from a riverside village, suddenly told he had the potential for martial mastery.

There would be joy, surely, but also bitterness. Had he been born into a martial family, or been lucky enough to join a sect, he might have achieved greatness. Still, he would feel deep gratitude toward the man who recognized his gift—perhaps even devotion.

“The master took him under his wing for special instruction. The boy grew incredibly strong—strong enough to beat back a petty bandit once. People started calling the man ‘Master Hwang’ and respected him.”

So far, it sounded like a tale of small fortune, not tragedy.

“Master Hwang treated that first student as his disciple—his deputy, even. Before long, the young man began leading the other youths, and a kind of hierarchy formed.”

The woman sighed heavily.

“They began collecting offerings ‘for Master Hwang’s sake,’ shirking their patrol duties, and making others do the unpleasant work—like gutting fish. Some people must have found that appealing, because soon everyone started flattering Master Hwang, begging to learn real martial arts instead of just breathing techniques.”

Soon, there was no young person left who wasn’t attending the dojo. All of them strove to catch Master Hwang’s attention.

“Master Hwang took on more disciples—two, three at a time. But the first disciple grew jealous, and there was… a fight. A bloody one.”

The woman’s voice trembled as she spoke.

“He wasn’t a bad boy,” she whispered. “He wasn’t kind, but he never hurt others for gain. I don’t know what happened to him…”

Her eyes reflected the sorrow of someone who had lost a familiar soul to something incomprehensible—tinged with guilt, confusion, and grief.

“Master Hwang said it was his own failing and that he would strip the boy of his martial power. He subdued him, and afterward claimed the youth, devastated, left the village. At least… that’s what he told us. But that was only the beginning.”

Yeon Sosho’s expression hardened.

“The next disciple took the boy’s place, and for a while, the village seemed peaceful. But after a year or so, the students began acting strangely. Those who practiced his breathing and movements the longest started locking themselves in caves, saying they were close to ‘completing’ something. They stopped eating, stopped sleeping.”

“Demonic cultivation…” Peng muttered grimly.

The martial world had no shortage of techniques that eroded the mind while granting power.

“I went to confront him one night, to tell him to stop teaching whatever that was,” the woman continued. “But when I looked inside, all the disciples were kneeling, chanting strange incantations. It wasn’t anything I’d ever heard before.”

She shook her head, visibly uneasy at the memory.

“I backed away quietly. But… I think Master Hwang saw me. I ran home and wrote a letter—gave it to a bodyguard staying in the village, and begged him to deliver it to the Golden Fish Guild. I told them something was terribly wrong in Yeogok Village and pleaded for help.”

“Ah…” Yegyeol exhaled softly.

Now he understood who that drowned Golden Fish Guild warrior must have been—and who had killed him.

The others seemed to come to the same conclusion but said nothing. The woman mistook Yegyeol’s sigh for sympathy and went on.

“Three days later, all the young men who attended that dojo left the village,” she said. “They said they had somewhere to go. Even when their parents clung to them, they pulled away, cold as strangers. Their eyes were… wrong. Like they were bewitched.”

The longer she spoke, the more Yegyeol was reminded of the tale of the Pied Piper of Hamelin.

“Some of the youth had dreamed of leaving someday, but not like this. Those who left for the cities always saved money and prepared. This… this was unnatural.”

Her jaw clenched; her reddened eyes shone with a dry, exhausted despair.

“Families feared their children would disappear next, so they fled—whole households, gone overnight. That’s how the village became empty.”

She pressed her brittle eyelids with her fingers, then set down her untouched cup.

“Was burning the dojo an act of revenge?” Yeon Sosho asked quietly.

“No. One of Master Hwang’s disciples came back—lurking around, watching us. I thought he meant to harm whoever was left, so I burned it down to drive him off.”

The woman looked utterly spent. Most of the youth were gone; those who remained had fled in terror of Master Hwang. Only the frail, the old, and a few orphaned children were left.

She had been standing guard alone, waiting for a threat that could come at any time. Exhaustion was inevitable.

“Then the first disciple—the one he supposedly stripped of martial power—may not have left willingly,” Peng muttered. Yegyeol nodded grimly in agreement.

“Why did you stay?” Yeon Sosho asked.

“How could I leave my home? I’ve lived here all my life. And… the Golden Fish Guild was supposed to send help. When they arrive, everything will be all right again…”

“No,” Yeon Sosho said flatly.

The woman blinked.

“They won’t be coming.”

The Flood Dragon King’s tone was cold as steel.

“On our way here, we found the body of a Golden Fish Guild member floating in the river.”

The woman’s eyes widened in disbelief. She had clung for days to the hope that help was on its way. That single thread of faith had kept her sane. Now it snapped—and despair flooded her face.

“The man was likely killed by that ‘Master Hwang’ or one of his disciples,” Yeon Sosho continued. “Tell me—did the man show any signs of using poison?”

“Poison?” she echoed weakly, then shook her head. “No… nothing like that.”

“Did he have any knowledge of herbs?”

“Not at all. One of his students once ate the wrong plant and fell deathly ill.”

So, the man knew a form of cultivation that caused madness over time—but not poison. Yet the Golden Fish Guild warrior had died from an extraordinarily rare toxin, potent enough to kill through the waters of the Yangtze itself.

“There must be an accomplice,” Peng muttered darkly.

It was only a small village. Hardly worth the effort of a year’s deception, let alone the price of such an expensive poison. And Master Hwang hadn’t even stayed—he had fled.

No matter how Yegyeol calculated it, the numbers didn’t add up.

Did he bear a grudge against someone here?

There was that cut across the tattoo on the Golden Fish Guild man’s arm—deliberate, vindictive.

As he pondered it, something clicked in Yegyeol’s mind.

Wait.

Master Hwang hadn’t left alone. He’d taken his disciples with him—all of them.

Those young men had lives rooted here, families, homes—yet they had followed him without hesitation or preparation. If it had been one or two, it could be dismissed as devotion or madness. But all of them?

Some eat eagerly at a feast; others turn away. Some rejoice at fine silk; others find it unpleasant to touch.

But for everyone to move in unison like this? That was no natural loyalty.

“About this Master Hwang,” Yegyeol said suddenly.

“Do you think,” he asked softly, “that taking those disciples was his goal from the very beginning?”

“Well…” The woman hesitated. Clearly, the thought had crossed her mind before.

He had taken only the young and able—those who could work, fight, or be sold.

“The Emperor forbids human trafficking,” she said bitterly, “but what would a simple villager like me know of such dealings? If that’s what this is, then… they’re gone beyond reach.”

“I’ve no knowledge of such things,” Peng said, shaking his head. He was a man of fists and action, not information.

Yeon Sosho might have known more, but she couldn’t reveal her identity as the Flood Dragon King. Hongye0 was in the same position.

“I know,” Yegyeol said, a faint smile curving his lips.

“To be precise,” he added, “I happen to know someone who does deal in that kind of information.”

His tone was calm—but his eyes gleamed with quiet resolve.

Senior Brother… how far have you come?