TSBIRBV Ch 270

Chapter 270. Yongbong Gathering (10)

“Yes.”

Though he must have overheard every word exchanged with Samrang disguised as the physician, the shadow in his gaze made Yegyeol’s chest tighten with unease.

What is he thinking?

His mouth felt dry with nervousness.

“I’ve prepared a carriage,” said the Black Ghost.

“Wait— I have a companion!” Yegyeol blurted, deliberately referring to Hongye.

“I sent him back.”

“Do you even know who he is?”

“Have you forgotten you once requested my assistance with information? Naturally, I’ve also ensured the safety of Lord Mun’s attendants—Black Spot always protects its clients.”

With that, Haryang strode forward in the guise of the Black Ghost. Even without fully employing his martial art of Bone-Concealing Technique, the man’s stature was far from small. Yegyeol hurried after him, unwilling to let his Guide slip away again.

Because of the heavy crowds, the carriage had been stationed outside the competition grounds. As Haryang held the door open, he watched Yegyeol intently, his stare heavy with something between scrutiny and obsession. Pretending not to notice, Yegyeol stepped inside.

The man followed him in and shut the door. The carriage lurched forward with a low creak, and the light filtering through was cut off. Even the windows were draped with dark fabric.

The space was almost suffocating in its intimacy.

To be alone in such a closed carriage with the Heavenly Demon in disguise…

Anyone in the martial world would have screamed and fled to the farthest corner of the Central Plains. But Yegyeol—Yegyeol found it pleasant, almost like a date.

As the carriage began to glide smoothly along, he wondered fleetingly if the driver outside—silent and unseen—was perhaps Hongye after all.

“You’re still too soft-hearted.”

The Black Ghost’s sudden comment made Yegyeol blink in confusion.

Loosely interpreted, it meant: You’re too kind for your own good. But without context, he couldn’t understand where that remark came from.

“For someone destined for greatness among the righteous sects,” Haryang continued coolly, “it doesn’t look good to be seen mingling with riffraff from the unorthodox faction.”

Riffraff? Yegyeol nearly laughed. Coming from the grand figurehead of the Demonic Sect, the irony of those words made his lips twitch.

“And yet,” the man murmured, eyes narrowing slightly, “in the middle of Wuhuan, with the Yongbong Gathering still underway, you dared to follow me out…”

His voice trailed off, but his eyes fixed on Yegyeol’s face. Perhaps it was just imagination, but it felt as though he was testing him.

It made sense, Yegyeol supposed. Attending the Yongbong Gathering immediately after learning martial arts—it did sound like something a reckless young man driven by pride and ambition would do.

He must know I’m using the alias Je Haryang. Then what’s he trying to provoke me into saying?

Of course, since he wore the mask of the Black Ghost, Haryang could feign ignorance and test Yegyeol’s intentions freely. If he were truly “the Black Ghost,” he’d naturally find it strange that someone under an alias would join such a grand tournament.

Truly, his Senior Brother’s schemes ran deep.

“I have no plans to achieve great things,” Yegyeol said with a small shrug.

“I only plan to cause great trouble.”

The tone was laced with quiet mischief.

Haryang didn’t respond immediately. He simply regarded Yegyeol for a long moment, then rested his chin on his hand and turned toward the curtained window. Since no one outside could see in, that motion created an invisible wall between them—cold, impenetrable.

His aloofness might have hurt, but instead, Yegyeol felt oddly relieved. It gave him the chance to quietly observe the man before him.

His shoulders… they’ve lowered a little since earlier.

No one else would have noticed, but Yegyeol did. The man who had been so tense before had finally relaxed.

So I’m not the only one who’s happy to see the other.

When he wasn’t there, Yegyeol’s mind filled with endless doubt and longing—but when he was close, everything fell quiet. In Haryang’s presence, there was no room for suspicion.

He’ll have to take responsibility for that, Yegyeol thought, lips twitching faintly.

They rode in silence for a long while before the carriage finally stopped.

Haryang stepped out first, and Yegyeol followed, immediately catching the scent of water thick in the air. Over the man’s shoulder, he saw the expanse of deep blue rippling under the light.

Dongho Lake.

The area around Dongho in Wuhuan was lined with teahouses and inns catering to scholars and wanderers seeking poetic retreat. Some looked lively; others appeared deserted, shuttered and quiet.

The carriage stopped before one such building—a wooden structure, elegant but unmarked, nestled between busy establishments. So unassuming that most passersby didn’t even spare it a glance.

The Wuhuan branch of the Demonic Sect? Or perhaps the Black Spot’s local base?

Either way, it was clearly one of his Senior Brother’s hidden places.

Inside, they were greeted by a refined woman dressed in silk, who led them to a private room and promptly withdrew.

The chamber was unusually spacious for the era, with a wide window opening toward the lake. No other buildings obstructed the view; only the serene water stretched beyond, shimmering faintly.

Neither spoke as tea was brought in. When at last the silence broke, it was Yegyeol who spoke first.

“I didn’t expect you to come so soon, especially after I sent that correspondence to Sichuan.”

Considering Haryang had departed from the Ten-Thousand Mountains, it was astonishing. The distance from Xinjiang to Hubei should have taken months, yet here he was already.

In his heart, Yegyeol swore it had felt like a thousand years of waiting.

Even without rest, the journey should have taken two months. Yet the man had arrived as though propelled by sheer will.

Yegyeol and Hongye had traveled with Jeokroe, switching between horseback and boat. And still, he had caught up.

Did he really follow using lightness skill the whole way?

The thought made Yegyeol shiver in awe.

He had once fought Haryang while half-mad, and the man had subdued him without leaving a scratch. During the Biheeyeon incident, Haryang had faced challengers personally, but none strong enough to reveal even half his true power.

Now, seeing him again, Yegyeol realized just how terrifyingly vast that strength was.

If I ever ran to the other side of the continent, he’d catch me within a day.

He thought of the prisoner who had once shackled himself to Haryang, willing to die just to slow him down, and couldn’t help but laugh inwardly.

Had Haryang not been busy dealing with the Gong and Myeong clan masters, he might well have boarded Goryong’s ship alongside him.

“Since Lord Mun seemed unlikely to ever see me again,” Haryang said softly, “I had no choice but to seize this chance greedily.”

There was weight in his words.

The Black Ghost raised his teacup, took a slow sip, then set it down.

“I simply wished not to offend you again,” Yegyeol replied, his tone calm though a tremor hid beneath. “So I waited until there was a proper reason to meet.”

“I heard about the affair at Yegok Village,” he continued quietly, lowering his eyes. “I was desperate to resolve it quickly… and your name was the first that came to mind.”

His voice dropped to a murmur.

“I hesitated, not wanting to reach out to you only for business. But the longer I waited, the harder it became to trace the missing people. In the end, I could only turn to you.”

“Not a word more or less than what you wrote in your letter,” Haryang said.

The sinister edge from earlier was gone, replaced with something simple, restrained.

“So, I understand. You no longer intend to share your nights with me.”

“Black Ghost,” Yegyeol began, but faltered.

He looked as if he wanted to soothe and apologize at once, but could do neither—only the faint trace of hesitation remained on his face.

“Still, since it was your request,” the man said evenly, “I did my best.”

Reaching into his robes, he withdrew a bamboo scroll and placed it on the table.

“Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to locate all the missing villagers.”

He pushed the scroll toward Yegyeol.

Seeing his serious expression, Yegyeol assumed he’d found only a few. But as he unfurled it, his eyes widened.

Of the twenty missing, the whereabouts of twelve were listed. More than half.

How…?

Even with Black Spot’s network spread across the land, this was the Central Plains.

No identification, no records—only names, appearances, and vague origins. Finding people under those conditions was near impossible.

No fingerprints, no portraits, no surveillance—only word of mouth and intuition.

Yet somehow, between chasing him across provinces and racing to Wuhuan, Haryang had still investigated the Yegok villagers’ fates.

“Most were sold to ships bound for the sea,” Haryang said. “The rest were taken to the salt fields.”

They had lived by the river, after all; their knowledge of water made them valuable. Sold where their skills could be exploited most efficiently.

“That made them easier to trace.”

A faint smile crossed his scarred face. The twisted lines of his scars moved oddly, but to Yegyeol, the expression was familiar—exactly like Haryang’s usual smile.

“Still,” Yegyeol said, “I’d heard that Black Spot refrains from human trafficking. To have tracked them down so swiftly… it’s impressive.”

“Black Spot may not trade in people,” Haryang replied, “but we know those who do. Find the right men, and the net tightens easily.”

Even so, the speed was unbelievable.

It was almost as if the organization had a system built specifically for finding people.

Yegyeol drummed his fingers lightly on the table, sorting through what he’d heard.

“Then what of the remaining eight?”

“I couldn’t confirm their whereabouts yet,” Haryang admitted. “But the twelve we recovered are being brought here. Once they arrive in Wuhuan, we’ll gather their testimonies and cross-check the rest.”

“I see… thank you,” Yegyeol said softly, bowing his head over his teacup.

“You seem quite satisfied,” Haryang remarked at last.

The man who had been avoiding his eyes finally met them directly. His gaze—dark as an abyss—felt as though it might pull him under.

Just as Yegyeol began to feel his breath catch from the weight of that stare, Haryang’s lips curved faintly.

“Then tell me,” he said quietly, “how do you intend to settle the account?”