TSBIRBV Ch 281

Chapter 281. Cause and Effect (8)

The crowd roared—cheers, shouts, the stamping of feet.

Namgung Un blinked slowly.

Could silence ever be this loud?

“You… you are…” murmured Jeok Nogae.

The first emotion that surfaced on his weathered face was shock—quickly shifting to joy, then to horror, and finally, to a wistful sorrow.

“What are you… doing here?”

The old beggar’s eyes swept around them, gauging whether there were any recognizable figures nearby who might also know Je Haryang.

Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—none of the major figures of the Martial Alliance were present. He had heard that Wudang’s Yong Hyeon-jin was here, but it seemed he had withdrawn after his disciple’s defeat.

The cold sweat running down Jeok Nogae’s back eased slightly.

“I came to cheer for a friend who’s competing today,” said Je Haryang, his tone light and untroubled.

If he had revealed himself deliberately, there should have been some deeper motive—but his expression was utterly calm, almost casual.

“Just as you have, Elder Jeok.”

Namgung Un’s jaw tightened.

He hadn’t told a soul why he’d left Wuhan, nor whom he had gone to find.

And yet this man—this Heavenly Demon wearing Je Haryang’s name—looked at Jeok Nogae and immediately saw through everything.

“Smile,” Haryang said gently. “It’s a joyous day, isn’t it?”

He was smiling himself—genuinely, without deceit.

And somehow, that only made the old beggar’s heart tremble harder.

After all the years he’d spent walking the edge of life and death, few things could shake him now—but this smile, this warmth in that man’s face, was terrifying.

Had I ever seen him smile like that before?

Every memory Jeok Nogae had of Je Haryang was painted in grief and ruin. He had always been a man swallowed by sorrow—a man who seemed incapable of smiling.

And that was precisely why this moment felt so perilous.

He steadied his trembling hands, but Namgung Un’s pallor showed no sign of recovery.

“Did you come to stop me?” Jeok Nogae asked quietly. “To stop me from meeting… him?”

Haryang leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, and let out a short laugh.

“I wouldn’t dream of getting in the way of a reunion between old friends.”

“Then why… come here, of all places, and now of all times?”

Jeok Nogae’s confusion deepened.

He knew this man—once. But Je Haryang was no longer the same. He was the Heavenly Demon now, ruler of the Demonic Cult, master of all heretics.

And yet, here he was, sitting in the very heart of the Martial Alliance’s territory, revealing his face to an old acquaintance—only to say he was cheering for a friend.

For someone of his rank and power, such carelessness was unthinkable.

If word got out that the Heavenly Demon had infiltrated Wuhan, it could spark another Great War between the orthodox and demonic sects.

No—long before that, half the martial world’s fame-hungry warriors would descend on him, desperate to make a name for themselves by dying at his hands.

Even now, with the Dragon–Phoenix Assembly underway, the city was teeming with martial prodigies. If they realized who sat among them, they would form a net of steel and fire across the sky.

No one—not even the Heavenly Demon—could possibly survive that.

Unless, Jeok Nogae thought grimly, the man before me truly is Je Haryang.

His mind drifted back, years into the past—back to the Shinweolmujé Secret Cave Incident.

At the time, countless martial artists from across the Central Plains had gathered, drawn by rumors of the strongest martial art in existence.

According to the Beggar Sect’s investigation, the cave was real.

Greed blinded them all; they sought the treasures, weapons, and sacred arts said to be sealed within.

But Je Haryang had come to Jeok Nogae in secret, warning him that it was all a trap—one laid by the Demonic Cult.

Jeok Nogae had shared that warning with the Martial Alliance Chief, but it wasn’t enough. No one believed them. The greedy accused the Alliance of trying to keep the treasures for themselves.

They rushed in anyway—and nearly all perished in the snares laid by the Cult.

Je Haryang had risked his life to save them.

And yet, what had been his reward?

“A demonic spy! He lured us here to die!”

Jeok Nogae still remembered the woman’s shrill accusation echoing in his ears.

“I came to see my disciple,” Haryang said now, his gaze drifting toward the stage where the next duel was about to begin.

“I was invited.”

“Invited?”

Jeok Nogae tried to read the man’s eyes, but the black depths of them revealed nothing.

“And you…” Haryang said, turning to Namgung Un, “you’re a familiar face.”

Namgung Un hid his trembling hands beneath his sleeves.

The suffocating pressure he’d felt when their gazes met—his body had recognized it before his mind did. That was killing intent.

The mask Haryang wore made him look even more inhuman, but in truth, it helped. The flawless, almost divine face Namgung Un had seen back in Xining had been far more terrifying.

Je Haryang of Kunlun had been taken by the Demonic Cult years ago. And yet before him sat a man far too young to be explained by any art known to man.

If he has truly remade his body, Namgung thought, then he’s at least at the Transcendent Realm.

A realm spoken of only in legend.

Not even the gathered masters of the Nine Great Sects and the Five Noble Families could stand against him.

But to expose his presence here—within the Martial Alliance’s own stronghold—would ignite a massacre before anyone could even blink.

Namgung Un, raised as the heir of a great clan, had been taught the weight of responsibility since birth. And in this moment, the scales before him held human lives. He dared not tip them.

His mind flashed back to Xining—

To that day when he had watched, helpless, as Yegyeol was dragged away.

That was the first time Namgung Un had ever tasted true inner turmoil.

“Have you come to take him away?” he asked quietly.

Haryang tilted his head. “Perhaps.”

Even as he spoke, his eyes lingered on Namgung Un, as if appraising him.

The young man’s martial aura was impressive for his age—proof of immense talent, good fortune, and relentless training.

Had they met under different circumstances, Haryang might have even liked him.

But Namgung Un had once tried to rescue Yegyeol—from him.

And that alone earned him the faint, crooked twinge of emotion Haryang couldn’t quite name.

Yegyeol always liked men like this.

His disciple had never hidden his admiration for chivalrous heroes.

And in truth, Namgung Un reminded Haryang of his own younger self.

Yegyeol had once confessed that he disliked it when large men suddenly approached him. Haryang remembered vividly—the first time his disciple had been taken hostage by a madman, screaming in sheer panic.

Since then, there had only been two exceptions:

Black Ghost, and Je Haryang himself.

But there was one more exception Yegyeol didn’t yet know—

Namgung Un.

Back in Xining, Haryang thought, when that man all but carried Yegyeol away, there was no resistance. No struggle.

If Yegyeol had resisted, Haryang would have known instantly.

He could still recall, word for word, the raw scream Yegyeol had let out when the Mad King of Heukjeong had seized him.

Why Yegyeol didn’t recoil from Namgung Un, he didn’t know. But that fact alone was enough reason to regard him with suspicion.

Even Black Ghost doesn’t make me this uneasy.

“I do intend to bring him back,” Haryang said at last, his tone deceptively mild.

The words were calm, but the provocation within them was unmistakable.

“This is the heart of the Martial Alliance,” Namgung Un said coldly. “Even you… cannot simply take him by force.”

He deliberately avoided the word Heavenly Demon, but the meaning was clear.

“If that’s what you believe.”

Haryang’s smile curved like a blade.

“Shall we test it?”

Then came the sound—

A deep, foreign vibration that rippled through the air.

It wasn’t loud, yet it resonated like thunder rolling beneath the earth.

The commoners in the audience, already raucous with excitement, didn’t notice. But every martial artist with heightened senses shot to their feet.

What is he doing?!

Haryang’s face betrayed nothing.

Just as Namgung Un opened his mouth—

“Cough, cough…”

Jeok Nogae let out a hoarse, feeble cough, like a dying man.

Haryang saw through the act immediately, but Namgung Un turned toward him in alarm.

“Now, now,” the old man said, wheezing deliberately, “let’s all calm down.”

He stepped between them, gripping Namgung Un’s shoulder firmly.

It wasn’t about trust. He simply knew that Namgung Un had brushed against the dragon’s reverse scale—its forbidden spot.

And no man who angered a dragon ever met a pleasant end.

He wanted to keep the young man alive.

“Today’s an auspicious day,” Jeok Nogae said gently. “Let’s not ruin it with a brawl.”

Haryang’s gaze fell upon him.

He wanted nothing more than to erase Namgung Un from the world—but he owed Jeok Nogae too much.

He owed him for finding Yegyeol, for bringing him back, for telling him where his disciple’s body had been laid to rest.

Without Jeok Nogae, Haryang would never have known where to scatter his ashes.

And if he hadn’t gone there, year after year, he might never have seen Yegyeol again.

Haryang lowered his lashes.

“It seems my self-discipline still falls short.”

“…Self-discipline, is it?”

Jeok Nogae chuckled weakly, though it wasn’t amusement he felt.

To anyone else, the words would sound humble. But to him, they were almost cruel.

A lesser man might have been crushed by such disparity. But Jeok Nogae had lived too long, risen too far, to be consumed by envy now.

So instead, he steered the conversation away.

“Well then,” he said, “the duel should have started by now. Something must have gone wrong.”

“Perhaps.”

Just then, the referee of the Martial Alliance stepped onto the stage.

He raised his voice, channeling internal energy so that all could hear.

“Today’s competitor, Je Haryang, is under investigation for violating the rules of the Dragon–Phoenix Assembly! If any wrongdoing is confirmed, he will be disqualified, and his opponent, Moyong Hwi of the Moyong Clan, will advance by default!”

A stunned hush swept through the arena.

Though the disqualification was not yet official, the announcement had already swayed the crowd’s opinion. The verdict might as well have been written.

Jeok Nogae’s faded eyes trembled violently. Namgung Un’s jaw fell open in disbelief as he stared toward the stage.

But Haryang—

Haryang only smiled.

“Ah,” he murmured softly. “Now this… this is the martial world I remember.”