HDCLSSRS Ch 129

Chapter 129 The Third Prince (5)

 

“I’ll bring people right away. There’s no medicine here, no firewood, no food. If this continues, you really will die.”

“This much won’t kill me.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’ve experienced worse injuries before.”

Seong Muyeon shook his head.

“This isn’t the time for stubbornness. Just wait a moment.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

Baek Ryeoil spoke as if he meant it. But when he tried to straighten his clothes, his body swayed violently and he had to brace himself against the wall.

Alarmed, Seong Muyeon rushed to hold him up.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“I won’t stay here alone… After all, I saved you with just one arm. Getting out won’t be any harder.”

Baek Ryeoil was set on his obstinacy, fever burning him into delirium. Trying to enter the torrential river again in that state would be sheer madness. But Seong Muyeon had no way to physically restrain him.

“All right, fine. I’ll stay.”

As soon as Seong Muyeon gave in, Baek Ryeoil slumped to the ground as though he had only been waiting for that answer, leaning his head weakly against the stone wall. Then he stretched out his hand toward Seong Muyeon.

“Come here.”

When Seong Muyeon leaned into his embrace again, Baek Ryeoil gazed fixedly at his eyelashes, as if he had discovered something wondrous.

“You know, Seong Muyeon… there’s something I want to tell you…”

He fiddled a little with his hair before parting his parched lips, whispering in a dreamy, languid voice sweet as honey.

“No! Don’t!”

Seong Muyeon hastily covered his mouth, breaking into a cold sweat inwardly.

‘This is a total death flag!’

The kind where they say: When I get back, I’ll propose to her.

Or: I should tell you, but you’ve always been like a son to me.

Only for such words to become their last dying testament.

If Baek Ryeoil were to die now, the world might as well end.

That could never happen.

“If you have something to say, you can tell me after we get out.”

“All right. I’ll tell you when we’re out.”

When Seong Muyeon firmly stopped him, Baek Ryeoil obediently nodded, conceding. Seong Muyeon tried pressing a cold cloth to his forehead to bring the fever down, but it hardly helped. Not long after, Baek Ryeoil leaned his brow against Seong Muyeon’s head and drifted off to sleep.

Thanks to that, Seong Muyeon finally had time alone to think.

He had never expected Seong Muguk to harbor such an idea—it had shocked him to the core.

And as for the Yeongdan…

To be honest, the offer had tempted him. His anger had surged only because Baek Ryeoil’s name had been mentioned.

But it wasn’t as though he harbored any desire to join Seong Muguk in ruling over the Central Plains. What truly tugged at his heart was the Yeongdan itself.

The Demon Sect, in the end, was doomed to vanish. He could use them, drink the marrow dry, and cast them aside. There was no guilt gnawing at him.

Ever since his mother’s death, Seong Muyeon had loathed the Demon Sect to the bone. If he had the chance, he would burn them down and shred them into pieces without hesitation.

Of course, if the Yeongdan were created from Seong Muryong, it would be distasteful—but not so much that he couldn’t make himself swallow it.

Seong Muryong, after all, would live his life as a devoted disciple of the Demon Sect, never swaying from that path. Eventually, someone would kill him. It was only a matter of whose hand.

Seong Muyeon was yanked from his grim contemplation by the weight of Baek Ryeoil’s head dropping against his shoulder.

‘…….’

Once, he wouldn’t have hesitated. He would have accepted the offer without lingering thought.

But now, something had changed. Time and again, he had disappointed Baek Ryeoil, and each time, it had left him unsettled.

This was not the kind of thing Baek Ryeoil could simply forgive.

If he made a choice that stood against Baek Ryeoil this time, it could mean parting from him forever.

‘At the very least, I should tell him beforehand… that would be the proper thing to do.’

Even if Seong Muyeon left, he hoped Baek Ryeoil would know why. Perhaps he might even speak with him about it.

But that chance never came.

Not long after Baek Ryeoil collapsed unconscious, rescuers finally found them. He was immediately carried to the Jegal Clan residence for treatment.

He suffered through fever for a full day and night before finally regaining consciousness. His temperature slowly receded, but his injuries were too deep; he remained bedridden for quite some time, dozing his days away in sickness.

Fortunately, when he met Kang Woong again, he saw no serious wounds on him. The boy broke into tears upon seeing his master bedridden.

It was said Kang Woong had been the first to notice that Baek Ryeoil and Seong Muyeon had gone missing, leading the search effort himself. Along the way he had even discovered the unconscious Banggyeom. Though that one had been imprisoned again afterwards, Baek Ryeoil had been too ill to pay him a visit.

The Jegal Clan, having been ravaged by the Ghostslayer Unit, was left in ruins.

Countless people were dead; even more were wounded. Jegal Un wandered the manor all day with a dark face, cheeks flushed with rage, simmering silently like boiling iron.

Even when wrath overtook him, he never shouted or ranted like most men did. Instead, he narrowed his brows slightly and lashed out with cold and cutting words. If his mood soured further, he would even twist a smile across his lips and sneer.

“Does Wudang not teach disciples to clean up after themselves? Here in the Jegal Clan, even a three-year-old will tidy away my teacup after I’ve finished.”

The towering Wudang elder, Hyeonjin, was struck dumb as if by lightning. Watching from the open window for a breath of air, even Seong Muyeon dropped his jaw in astonishment. From the look of his greying hair, it must have been decades since the elder had last been on the receiving end of a scolding.

Yet when Jegal Un’s eyes locked on his, Seong Muyeon quickly turned his head away.

Though Baek Ryeoil had argued the entire night, eventually making it clear that Seong Muyeon bore nearly no responsibility for what had happened, the gazes directed at him remained less than friendly.

‘Better not to meet their eyes.’

He shut the window again, trying to pretend indifference.

But it was already too late.

“Seong Muyeon.”

Jegal Un barged in through the door without announcement. As the master of the household, there was no place within the Jegal Clan he had to seek permission to enter. But if Seong Muyeon had been an ordinary guest, he would surely never have been treated so roughly.

“Let’s talk.”

After reassuring the worried Kang Woong, Seong Muyeon followed him. Days after the ambush, the man finally seemed to have regained some time and composure.

Jegal Un brought him into a lavish reception hall, clearly used by only the clan’s highest elders. Its gleaming gold ornaments radiated wealth, power, authority—all together pressing down upon the air.

The ordeal had drained the luster from his once-bright skin, leaving it dull, and his temper was at its nadir. Seong Muyeon braced himself to endure curses and tirades of any kind.

But unexpectedly, Jegal Un tossed a pouch before him.

Clink, clatter—

“……”

Inside were gold ingots.

For a moment, Seong Muyeon feared he might be paying blood money before dealing a blow—but no, that was not it.

“Items we confiscated. Since their owner has vanished, I’m passing them on to the family.”

“Ah.”

The pouch had belonged to Seong Mujai.

“…There should have been one more thing.”

When Seong Muyeon muttered this, Jegal Un snorted dismissively.

“Don’t dream of it. The Yeongdan is being kept in this manor’s deepest, most secure location. Anyone reckless enough to step inside will be turned into a pincushion by arrows and hidden weapons. And even if they survive that, they will stray forever inside the mechanical labyrinths of the Jegal clan’s arcane arrays⁴ until someone comes to save them.”

“Well… at least it sounds secure enough.”

Jegal Un fixed him with a sharp stare, leaning forward across the table.

“Did you think you could hide the greed in your eyes by acting calm? You cannot deceive my gaze, Seong Muyeon.”

Seong Muyeon returned the glare without backing down.

“It belonged to me originally. Isn’t it natural that I should wish it back?”

Flames seemed to spark in Jegal Un’s eyes as he hissed softly through clenched teeth:

“In this disaster, we lost kin. You had better behave yourself. No one here will mind watching you turn into that pincushion yourself.”

Seong Muyeon only shrugged. He had no intention of meddling with their devices or arrays anyway.

“Where did they take the Sixth Young Master?”

Now Jegal Un steadied himself, drew a deep breath, and asked in a composed posture.

“I don’t know.”

“Strange… however you managed to sweet-talk the Merciless Sword, that night you risked your throat shouting in defense of your own innocence. And yet, the elder of Yanghagak does not share that opinion.”

At that, Seong Muyeon’s heart sank with dread—had the Jegal master somehow discovered the Third Prince’s proposal? But Jegal Un instead raised another point.

“The report says the assailants passed you by without striking. That they let you be. Is this true?”

“……”

It was indeed true. The Ghostslayer Unit had seen him, then deliberately looked away and left him untouched.

“You cannot answer. Then I’ll give you one last chance—tell me the location of their stronghold.”

Jegal Un’s eyes grew savage.

“I truly do not know.”

“Keep insisting, and you’ll regret it. Have you forgotten that one of your men still rests in our hands?”

Seong Muyeon finally recalled Banggyeom. The Ghostslayer Unit had ignored him, taking only Seong Mujai.

“Release him. Banggyeom knows nothing. His only crime is serving his lord.”

“Exactly. Which means if you won’t talk, we’ll make him talk.”

“Are you saying—the Jegal clan would torture an innocent man into a false confession?”

“How dare you!”

Crash!

Jegal Un kicked the table aside. Patience lost at last, his hand shot out to grab Seong Muyeon by the collar.

“Was it not you who leaked the information that night? How else could the Demon Sect have mapped out our clan’s inner halls, and stolen the Sixth Young Master from his cell while our eyes were drawn elsewhere? Tell me—how could such a thing be possible otherwise?!”

Jegal Un’s eyes gleamed, mad with rage.