TSBIRBV Ch 242

Chapter 242. Thunder Dragon Ascends (2)

“When I took over the preparations for Biheeyeon, it was already complete, so I did not inspect it further.”

Even through the fog of her anger and fear, Hyeon Soyang’s tongue produced a steady stream of lies.

“You mean to tell me that, despite your close relationship with Lord Gong, you knew nothing? The close ties between the Hyeon and Gong Clans are known throughout the Ten-Thousand-Great-Mountains. Are you truly trying to deceive me?”

Haryang’s voice, low and cold, rolled through the chamber with the weight of thunder.

Even among the noble demonic families, some were bound more tightly than others. And among them, none were more closely allied than the Hyeon and Gong Clans—a relationship so intertwined it could almost be called a pact.

“How could I, my lord?”

Startled by the sharp clatter of her trembling teacup, Hyeon Soyang rose abruptly, dropping to her knees.

“You volunteered to take over Biheeyeon’s unfinished preparations precisely because of your… rapport with him, did you not?”

“Yes,” she admitted softly. “That is true. Lord Gong and I were as close as siblings. I merely wished to minimize the problems that might arise in his absence.”

A quiet sorrow clouded the old woman’s expression.

“I know it was wrong to protect even the servants of a criminal, and I accept punishment for that. But as for the dais… I swear I knew nothing. Had the explosives gone off, surely I would have perished as well. You saw it yourself, my lord—I remained at my post for the entirety of Biheeyeon.”

She bit down on her lip, then added with weary honesty, “Even in old age, one still values one’s life.”

Though her words were meant to conceal lies, they blended neatly with the truth of her ignorance regarding Myeong Jinyu’s intentions. Together, they painted a convincing picture.

Perfect.

The cunning old demoness was certain she had survived this.

After all, the Cheonma would not kill her. He had already reduced the Eight Noble Families to Six—surely he would not cut them down further.

Lord Gong was imprisoned. Lord Myeong had already fallen. That left only four of the eight.

Any more would be dangerous.

There had been cult leaders in the past who dreamed of eradicating the noble clans entirely, but none had dared act on it. The families had grown with the cult itself, their bloodlines flowing through the Ten-Thousand-Great-Mountains like veins through a living body. If they weakened, so too would the Ilwol Cult.

The current Cheonma, Je Haryang, was not a fool.

He had become a public enemy of the orthodox sects after the “Scroll of the New Moon” incident. He would not tear apart the very cult that sheltered him.

Haryang was a man who moved with reason, not impulse. Had he been ruled by wrath and vengeance, he would not have stopped at destroying the Wi and Ja Clans—he would have burned the entire mountain range to ash.

Hyeon Soyang trusted her judgment.

“One last question,” Haryang said.

He slid a report across the table toward her—the one Samrang had compiled, containing information about the jiangshi disguised as a servant. It included a brief description and a sketch of the face.

“Was it you who let this servant—surname Hyun—into the event?”

Hyeon Soyang narrowed her eyes at the portrait, studying it for a long while before shaking her head.

“Regrettably… I do not recognize this person.”

Haryang observed her closely.

She concealed herself well, but there was genuine frustration in her tone—an unfeigned regret at not knowing the face.

So the one who sent the jiangshi was someone else.

Haryang retrieved the report.

“Very well. I appreciate your cooperation. Return to your quarters and await further instruction.”

“…And my charges, my lord?”

“It seems only you regarded Lord Gong as a brother,” Haryang replied evenly. “Had he truly seen you as a sister, he would have warned you about the dais.”

Without changing expression, Hyeon Soyang rose and bowed.

“I shall take my leave.”

Her steps did not falter, not even once, as she exited. Only after she had been escorted away by the Muyeong Guard did Haryang finally move.

He drew aside the beaded curtain, crossed into the adjoining chamber, and opened a trapdoor hidden behind the folding screen.

A familiar face peeked up from the darkness.

When Yegyeol’s eyes met his, he grinned guiltily and offered an innocent laugh. Haryang extended a hand to pull him up.

“I told you to stay in your room.”

“I wanted to hear what you two were talking about.”

During the collapse of the sacred flame, Yegyeol had been the first to rush forward and support the structure. Despite Hongyeo’s help, rumors had already spread that he’d fainted from exhaustion. To manage the situation, Haryang had swiftly ordered Jinyoung to escort his disciple back to Taehyang Hall.

Thankfully, most of the cultists only remembered the Cheonma’s heroism, not Yegyeol’s near-disaster.

“I doubt Lord Hyeon would’ve acted rashly with me present,” Haryang said, his voice stern, “but had she sensed you nearby, she might have struck without hesitation. Some people draw blades the instant they feel a presence.”

When he frowned, Yegyeol lowered his brows and muttered, “But this place is protected by a formation, isn’t it? I knew where I could hide safely, so you don’t have to worry so much.”

He had been concealed within a passage beneath Taehyang Hall that led directly to the underground training chamber. Its mechanical design carried sound perfectly from above while blocking any from below—and the formation masked all traces of energy. Even a master would not notice someone hiding there.

To Yegyeol, the hidden tunnel was clearly intended for eavesdropping on conversations from the main chamber above.

A shady purpose… but undeniably useful.

Not that Haryang needed such a thing. Still, since he hadn’t stopped Yegyeol from listening, he must have decided it was harmless.

“Lord Hyeon is suspicious,” Haryang said, “but she doesn’t seem to know much about this affair.”

“She must’ve checked the dais at least once,” Yegyeol replied. “We could hang Baembaem’s shed skin there next time—just to be safe.”

“And what do you expect a spirit beast’s shed skin to do, exactly?”

Haryang pinched his cheek—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make a point.

“Ow.”

“Ah.”

Yegyeol pretended to pout, and Haryang quickly withdrew his hand, looking almost apologetic—as if worried he’d used too much strength.

“Hug me,” Yegyeol demanded, stretching his arms toward him.

Haryang’s brows knit briefly in exasperation. Jinyoung, Samrang, and Hongyeo were expected any moment. But in the end, he relented, pulling Yegyeol into his arms.

Settling comfortably on Haryang’s lap, Yegyeol adjusted his posture, only to notice the faint upward curve of Haryang’s lips.

Is he humoring me… or did I actually trick him?

Before he could decide, Haryang shifted his hold. Yegyeol reflexively clung to his shoulder—just as shadows passed beyond the paper door.

“My lord,” came a voice.

“Enter.”

The three arrived—Jinyoung, Samrang, and Yao Hongyeo.

Hongyeo immediately dropped to one knee, her expression solemn.

“I beg your pardon, my lord.”

Jinyoung didn’t look surprised—only resigned, as though he’d expected this.

“My lack of vigilance led to disorder at the scene. I accept any punishment.”

“Rise,” Haryang said quietly.

But Hongyeo did not move.

He sighed. “Who could have predicted that the direct descendants of the Myeong Clan, blessed with all the privileges of life, would sacrifice themselves so readily?”

After Myeong Jinyu’s death, his potential successors had flung themselves at the sacred flame, trying to destroy the structure. All of them perished in the ensuing chaos.

“But still—”

“Enough,” Haryang cut in firmly.

“This meeting is for strategy, not punishment. That will come later.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Hongyeo rose.

“I have spoken with Lord Hyeon,” Haryang continued. “She’s trying to distance herself from the incident. My guess is she told Lord Myeong about the explosives.”

After all, she had taken over Gong’s work. For her to never inspect what he’d left behind would be completely out of character.

“Still, she likely didn’t expect him to go so far.”

“Those who prize faith think differently from those who value their own survival,” Samrang observed.

Among them, he knew the noble clans best.

“Lord Myeong’s devotion to the true Cheonma ran deep. When the previous leader rose, he was among those who protested that an unworthy man had seized the title. So when you, my lord, became Cheonma, he rejoiced.”

Then, in a lighter tone, he added, “That joy turned to hatred the moment you halted our march on the Central Plains.”

The shift from worship to betrayal explained Myeong Jinyu’s extremity.

Then Yegyeol spoke.

“I don’t think it was just an assassination attempt.”

If they’d only wanted Haryang dead, the amount of explosives would have been much greater.

And besides, during the duel, Haryang had been in the arena—some distance from the dais. Even if the explosives ignited from the sacred flame, he could have easily escaped.

“From what I’ve seen, Lord Myeong cared more about symbols than outcomes,” Yegyeol said thoughtfully.

Power struggles in Murim were often just that—power struggles—but when faith was added to the mix, strange things happened.

“The sacred flame is the cult’s most divine symbol. Using it to ignite explosives… it feels like he wanted it to look like divine punishment, like the gods themselves were condemning this gathering.”

The problem was that the “god” in question was Haryang.

“He was trying to tarnish your majesty,” Yegyeol concluded.

“My majesty…” Haryang echoed, almost puzzled by the word.

“I am no true god,” he said quietly. “I simply stole the seat from the one it was meant for.”

His gaze flicked briefly to Jinyoung before he looked away.

Yegyeol, ever attuned to him, noticed—but pretended not to. He stared straight ahead, thinking, The appointed heir… did Jinyoung have something to do with that?

He recalled asking, long ago, about the title of Magun. Haryang had explained that it referred to the successor to the Cheonma.

“Then…” Yegyeol hesitated, then brightened.

“That’s it, isn’t it? They’re trying to put forward a different Cheonma!”