TSBIRBV Ch 224

Chapter 224 Star Instructor of the Ten-Thousand-Great-Mountains (1)

Yegyeol knelt and sat demurely. Not even back in elementary school, during that palace etiquette program where they had been forced to practice bows, had he behaved so politely.

Across from him, Haryang sat with a grave expression, staring down at a cup of tea that had long since cooled.

Having been swept into the formation and attacked Haryang in the chaos, Yegyeol had resolved to confess everything. That was why, even in the midst of their coupling, he had spoken of death and reincarnation. That was why, when he awoke to his Senior Brother tenderly washing his body in the morning, he had asked for a conversation.

Haryang listened without touching his tea, lips never once wet. He remained silent for a long time. In that span, the steam above the cup vanished entirely.

At last, after muttering as though chewing over something heavy, Haryang lifted his head and met Yegyeol’s gaze.

“I see. So… it’s true you died that day, and you were born again.”

Though his face was calm, the slight pause betrayed that even to name the Massacre at Kunlun was painful for him.

“…Yes.”

Yegyeol nodded.

“And the place you awoke was not the Central Plains. There were men who possessed powers the common folk could not—like martial artists, but different. Ability-users.”

“Yes.”

He had kept the explanation vague, unable to describe modern Korea in detail. Yet Haryang grasped every essential point.

No wonder, Yegyeol thought with pride, this man had been hailed as the foremost genius under heaven.

“And your power was among the rarest—you could command lightning itself.”

“Yes. I even made the Lightning-Wood with it. I used it to kill the One-Eared Ghost, and… in little ways, like setting fires here and there.”

Even at the mention of arson—his deliberate burning of the Ten-Thousand-Great-Mountains—Haryang did not so much as twitch a brow.

“And that serpent…?”

“It’s a powerful spirit, but… mm, no. I’ve never sent it out myself. Just as Hongye wields her Thunder Hammer, I have it as a companion. More like a friend than a weapon.”

At times, of course, he had used it for appearances.

“So that’s how it was…”

At last Haryang seemed to accept it all. He rubbed at the corner of his eye, as though weighed down by old emotions—perhaps by tears long withheld.

“How did you come back here?”

“There was… an accident. An automobile. That is—a kind of carriage, but vast, made of complicated machinery. I was riding it when enemies struck. Fighting them, I lost consciousness. And when I opened my eyes, I was in Kunlun.”

“Your clothes then… I remember. Torn so badly they were hardly recognizable, singed nearly to ash. I thought the fabric was peculiar. If it was from another world…”

The signs had been there, if one looked closely. But at the time, Haryang had been too shattered to care about anything but saving him. His disciple, believed dead twenty years, had returned alive—what else could he see?

And afterward, the cloth had been burned away entirely.

“…There is something that troubles me.”

Haryang’s voice dropped, somber.

“What is it?”

Yegyeol straightened, like a new teacher awaiting a question from a pupil, only his eyes soft and warm.

“Your coming here—does it not mean you might go back?”

His words fell heavy.

“I don’t think so.”

Yegyeol answered at once.

“I don’t know exactly how I crossed over. But to recreate that situation now is impossible.”

Since awakening to find Haryang again, he had often battled such anxieties, imagining every possibility.

“When I crossed, I had only just begun using my sealed powers again, and I was in a state of rampage. At the moment I pushed my strength to its limit, my ability clashed with those of two other Espers. That world has many of them. But here—there are none.”

And there should never be. He had no wish to return, not even by accident.

“Most of all, I’m stable now. I don’t think I’ll ever rampage again.”

For that, of course, he owed his Senior Brother’s constant presence. They were together every day, entwined so completely that Yegyeol, with his endless guiding, had become the Esper most prone to collapsing in exhaustion in history. Rampage? Impossible. If only he could boast of this to his fellow disciples—what envy that would stir.

“Rampage… like deviation into inner demons.”

Even after hearing it was near impossible, Haryang’s face remained grave.

“Yes. But unlike martial artists, one does not enter rampage simply by touching heart demons. It only comes when pushing beyond the limits of one’s strength.”

“Then you must take care.”

Yegyeol nodded. He had walked this perilous world thus far without even using his powers—what were the chances now that he would need to drive himself to such a point?

“…You’re taking this more easily than I thought.”

Yegyeol laughed awkwardly.

Haryang shook his head, answering honestly.

“Truth be told… it still doesn’t feel real.”

“…”

“At times I think—perhaps you became an immortal in the afterlife, and came back because you pitied your Senior Brother.”

As if Yegyeol had died and returned as an angel.

“But to make such a judgment would be to dismiss your difficult confession.”

At those words, Yegyeol’s throat tightened.

“…Senior Brother.”

“Thank you for telling me. I will do my best to accept it as it is.”

A pang of guilt struck him. He had, after all, deliberately concealed the truth about Guides.

If explained poorly, in this age it would be mistaken for some demonic technique of harvesting yin and yang through touch. Absorption arts like the dreaded Soul-Stealing Demonic Skill existed, draining others’ qi. Even lesser lustful techniques of dual cultivation were whispered of, some within the Demonic Sect itself.

…If we had not already been bound in flesh, I might risk telling him. But now, when we lie together every day, why stir trouble?

For now, Esper would suffice. Guides would come later. He would see how much truth Haryang could bear.

“You needn’t force yourself.”

So saying, Yegyeol held out his hand and conjured a ring of electricity.

Two spheres of lightning—one oval, one round—spun in opposite directions.

“I’ll show you proof.”

A trick so dazzling one might wonder why the circus ever ignored him.

“Ah.”

Haryang’s eyes widened slightly. His face held wonder, even admiration.

Yegyeol, who knew too well the look of those who saw him as a monster, recognized instantly that this was not revulsion.

“You don’t find it unpleasant? That I had such strength and hid it?”

Had he not always feigned frailty, dangling off his Senior Brother like a helpless burden?

“A martial man hides at least thirty percent of his true skill.”

Haryang’s face was serious. Not untrue.

But Yegyeol had hidden not thirty percent, but nearly all of it.

“I hid ninety-nine percent…”

He shut his eyes tight and confessed, ready to be called deceitful.

“That is what makes you clever.”

Haryang spoke what Yegyeol himself could not. He turned his face aside, embarrassed.

Had anyone else praised him so, he would have boasted shamelessly. But from Haryang, those eyes shining with truth, such words left him weak.

“…May I touch it?”

For that reason, perhaps, Yegyeol froze at his question.

“This?”

Startled, he banished the lightning globe before Haryang’s hand could reach it.

Even now his heart pounded with the memory of awakening to Haryang’s face smeared with his blood. And now, what—was he to stand aside and watch lightning burn him alive? Impossible.

“This is not the Central Plains. You must learn how to face martial men.”

His tone was unexpectedly stern.

“But I don’t intend to fight them.”

Haryang’s brows lifted, faint surprise.

“I’ll stay by Senior Brother’s side—or leave it to Samrang.”

Impudent words, yet Yegyeol spoke them with pride.

He knew his limits. And Haryang would never scold him for leaning on him.

As expected, Haryang merely stroked his hair, like a master fond of a pup.

“Even with the serpent at your side, you’ve relied too much on fortune. A spirit-beast is a lure for others. Someday, you may be separated.”

The words sobered him at once, spine straightening.

“No matter how thorough I am, no matter how lucky you are—we must prepare for the worst.”

“…True enough.”

The question was how. Surely he did not mean to shackle him in cold iron and lock him in the mountains for life.

Then what was in his mind?

“This lacking disciple seeks his Senior Brother’s teaching. Do you have some stratagem?”

Yegyeol folded his fists in mock formality, teasing.

Haryang smiled, as if awaiting it.

“First… shall we begin with martial arts?”