TSBIRBV Ch 212

Chapter 212. Exposure (7)

“…Young Lord Mun, truly.”

Standing a step away, Sarmang, who had pretended not to hear his earlier request, met Yegyeol’s gaze.

“Your heart is far too black.”

No matter how one tried to cover it up, this was an undeniable fact.

The Lord had never raised issue before simply because, even when his disciple behaved with a touch of audacity, so long as Yegyeol was at his side, he cared not in the slightest.

“And yet… strangely enough, I cannot quite imagine Young Lord Mun ever becoming a threat to the Lord.”

A threat. When one chewed over the word, it was almost comical.

Mun Yegyeol was Je Haryang’s weakness. The Lord had not even bothered to conceal it.

If someone were to drive a blade into the Heavenly Demon himself, it would not inflict half the agony that Yegyeol’s claws could.

If someone were to kill Mun Yegyeol, it would be the same as killing Haryang outright.

How could one call such a double-edged sword—a weapon that cuts no matter which side you grasp—something as mild as a “threat”?

Yet Sarmang could not, for the life of her, summon the notion of banishing Yegyeol from the Lord’s future. It was a most peculiar thing.

“Very well. I shall grant your request.”

Rolling her shoulders, Sarmang’s once languid, careless expression sharpened into that of a drawn dagger.

“But even you, Young Lord Mun—if you do not wish to squander all your cards, you would do well to be careful.”

“I am ready.”

Yegyeol met her gaze with brazen composure.

Let her strip away whatever she thinks she can.

It was precisely Sarmang’s cold reason and judgment that would serve as the firmest lock upon his secrets. In truth, a child with too vivid an imagination might be the one to pierce his essence more quickly.

In short, his suggestion was bait—merely to compel Sarmang into doing what she would otherwise never do.

As Yegyeol grinned slyly, her second strike came flying.

Even without warning, he fixed his eyes squarely on her fist.

The force behind her punch was fiercer than the first. Left unchecked, it could easily smash his face to pulp. A careless dodge could mean a shattered nose or even a burst eye. Even an Esper’s regenerative abilities would struggle to restore sight once lost.

Yet to take the blow head-on would mean a fractured skull.

Since falling into the Central Plains, no threat had presented itself so vividly. Strength, speed—both beyond any human measure. The only certain thing was its trajectory: straight and true.

Etching the path precisely into his vision, Yegyeol did not dodge. Instead, he thrust his own face forward into its line, as though daring it to strike.

Sarmang felt a shiver ripple up her spine. It was too late to halt the blow.

“Young Lord Mun!”

Her face twisted like a specter as she cried out. Whether Yegyeol could evade even if he tried was another matter entirely—her outcry was pure reflex, born of dismay.

Yet Yegyeol’s eyes never wavered from her fist.

Sarmang was indeed fast.

But…

Gold flickered within Yegyeol’s eyes, like the very lightning he wielded.

Not faster than light…!

In a single instant of concentrated focus, his skull felt as though it might burst from the heat. But with danger pressing close, the adrenaline surged, coursing through his body.

At the final heartbeat before her fist could crush his face, Yegyeol slipped aside and seized the inside of Sarmang’s arm.

It was not great force, but it was contact nonetheless.

“…!”

Sarmang’s eyes flew wide. She had braced herself for the horror of shattering his features into paste, but never had she expected him to actually grasp her.

She had set her punches to the level of a peerless master, yet her instincts as an assassin were always to avoid being touched herself. She was no common killer—she had mastered her clan’s hereditary technique, the Dark Deception, Shadowless Step (黑僞無影行). For Yegyeol to accomplish such a feat in the blink of an eye was staggering.

“How did you…”

Her dazed murmur cut short as her gaze fell upon his face. In that moment, her expression twisted into a silent scream.

The instant her eyes focused on him again, Yegyeol instinctively raised his hand to his cheek.

“Ah.”

Blood dripped, pat, pat, down his face.

Yet her fist had not even grazed him. The wound had been carved by the sheer wind pressure of her strike.

So. Without protective inner force wrapped about me, my durability truly is lacking.

Had he chosen, he could have shocked her arm in that instant. Which meant, even against a top master, he had a chance of victory. That was a satisfactory gain. But unlike those who trained in martial arts, he had no protective qi upon his flesh, no external arts to shield him—his body would always be vulnerable.

“Oh… mm… where did I put the wound salve?”

The moment she noticed the scratch, Sarmang’s face blanched.

What mattered now was not Young Lord Mun’s inhuman reflexes.

If the Lord saw even this tiny scar on his disciple’s face…!

This was a catastrophe she had never foreseen. She was not used to sparring without killing intent. Assassins struck to kill, not to exchange blows.

“It’s fine.”

Yegyeol wiped the blood with his thumb. The wound vanished as though it had never been, leaving only a faint trace like smudged red paint.

It was a technique—funneling the guiding energy in his body into a single point to accelerate healing.

So I finally make use of this.

Recalling his old center director who had hounded him endlessly—If you learn it, it will become flesh and blood—Yegyeol chuckled.

Sarmang stared at him, her expression caught between bewilderment and something unreadable.

It was likely because, since reuniting with Haryang, Yegyeol had always concealed such alien facets of himself. Now he had revealed them without hesitation.

She may wish to know more… but too bad. I have no intention of telling her.

He had offered plunder, but never promised to yield meekly.

Having once again spun a grand deception, Yegyeol beckoned with a flick of his hand.

“Again!”

His shout carried almost boyish delight. Sarmang could only swallow a sigh. By the look of things, she would have to earn her keep yet again today.

“Ah… why not just ask the Lord himself to spar, instead of choosing me?”

Trailing behind to Cheonghyeong Hall, Sarmang grumbled. It was not that fighting at full strength had exhausted her, but that mentally she was pushed to the brink.

She had strained herself to the utmost to ensure Yegyeol was not harmed—yet the man himself hurled his body into danger without a flicker of hesitation.

I would rather dig a burrow and endure five days within, awaiting a target. This is…

“Train with the Lord…?”

Yegyeol blinked in blank astonishment.

The weight of that look made Sarmang flinch. Perhaps she had gone too far—even for her, telling someone to spar with the Heavenly Demon was excessive.

He must be terrified…

But Yegyeol’s aghast expression spoke otherwise.

“Where would he even strike me?”

So that was it.

Sarmang’s own face was as though she had been struck on the back of the head. He was not frightened—he was worried. His perspective was almost alien to the Central Plains.

Indeed, Yegyeol had never once struck back during their bouts. He only slipped into the openings her attacks left: brushing her arm, nudging her wrist, pressing her shoulder. And when she instinctively avoided such contact, he chased after her with almost childish persistence.

Eventually, he always managed to touch her. As though it were a game of tag.

Judging by his approach… it seems he means to wield that lightning serpent.

If he could channel thunder through skin-to-skin contact, it would indeed be a fatal stratagem.

But whether such a spirit beast would answer swiftly in actual combat was another matter entirely. Yegyeol had worn it coiled about his wrist through their sparring, but had never called upon its lightning.

…And perhaps he need never do so.

Unless he intended to kill her outright, there was no reason. No matter how much protective qi one bore, no human could be certain how long they could withstand the true fury of heaven’s thunder.

In the end, Sarmang brushed her worries aside. Spirit beast or no—how could a mere human command lightning?

“Ah. I am weary.”

Yegyeol shook his head, understandably so after moving so much. Yet to Sarmang, the complaint sounded unbearably smug.

“You had best wash at once. The scent of blood still lingers.”

At her suggestion, Yegyeol nodded. A day spent dueling with Sarmang had left him with more than one scratch. Should Haryang learn of it, this “training” would surely be cut short—and that was the last thing Yegyeol wanted.

“Don’t worry. I’d already planned to steep myself in hot water.”

Heading toward the bathhouse, Yegyeol glanced back.

“Thanks for today. Did you gain anything?”

“Who can say…”

Sarmang regarded him with shadowed eyes. Whether she truly knew nothing, or simply withheld her words, was impossible to tell.

What a remarkable poker face, Yegyeol thought, and smiled blithely.

“Really? Then I’ll be counting on you again.”

He waved his hand lightly and slipped into the bathhouse.

Sarmang bowed her head and withdrew.

The hot steam closed around him, wrapping his body in warmth, as Yegyeol stepped inside.