TSBIRBV Ch 247

Chapter 247. The Runaway Disciple and the Reclusive Tiger (2)

“Yegyeol…”

It was a call laced with genuine anguish. But the esper, heartless as ever, ignored it completely and pressed his guide further.

“There’s no real reason you can’t go, Senior Brother. Are you really going to just sit back and watch those remnants do whatever they want?”

If there was one thing Yegyeol hated more than the hypocritical Murim world that had turned its back on his Senior Brother, it was the Demon Physician.

He had heard from Samrang about what Haryang had endured all those years ago—how could he not hate that man? Even worse, the bastard was already dead, leaving no one to vent his fury upon.

And now, the enemies who had inherited that cursed man’s work were using the Demon Physician’s research to create new weapons against Haryang. Yegyeol wanted nothing more than to grind their hopes and dreams into dust.

“Let’s go together, please?”

For the first time, Haryang moved. Yegyeol thought he was about to free him from the gentle restraint of his arms—but instead, the man reached up and brushed Yegyeol’s cheek with the clean back of his hand.

“There’s no need to worry too much.”

The words, soft but firm, were a refusal wrapped in affection. Yegyeol’s fingers went slack. His body folded against Haryang’s chest, defeated, and the man let out a faint sound—half sigh, half laugh.

“You promised you’d grant me anything I asked for…”

Yegyeol shot him a look filled with wounded reproach.

“How can a man of his word go back on his promise like that?”

“To me, your safety is worth more than keeping my word as a man,” Haryang whispered, his face still flushed. Even bare as he was, that solemn expression somehow suited him.

They’d come full circle again.

So, he’s already set Samrang’s team to gather intelligence, Yegyeol thought grimly.

If Haryang refused to bring him along, then he clearly intended to go alone.

He might hesitate because of the Hwangbo Clan, but he’d never just sit idle while those bastards act unchecked.

He would let Yegyeol stay in safety, then swoop in at the perfect moment to destroy them all in one strike.

Not exactly the behavior of a “dark hero,” but still the classic kind of righteous swordsman out of some old wuxia tale.

“So while you’re away from the Ten-Thousand Great Mountains, I’m just supposed to sit here and wait?”

Propping his chin on his hand, Yegyeol muttered with a pout that almost looked sulky. Haryang slowly stroked the back of his head before replying.

“…The Demon Physician’s research mainly involved the jiangshi, the corpse ghouls.”

His voice was slow and heavy, the lingering heat of their previous indulgence softening every word.

“At first, they couldn’t even mimic human movement properly. Their joints were stiff, they were slow, and easy to dispose of. But their numbers were vast, and they never tired. Those with little experience or weak cultivation often fell to them, surrounded on all sides—only to become new ‘materials’ themselves.”

Yegyeol blinked.

“The jiangshi grew faster and stronger with every generation. Eventually, they even began using martial techniques they had practiced in life. What once barely matched a low-grade fighter could now overpower the heads of mid-tier sects.”

Creatures impervious to blades, untiring, and armed with martial arts—what human could stand against that?

And the stronger those monsters became, the more varied their ‘materials’ grew. Had Haryang not slain the Demon Physician before he perfected the Asura Blood Ghoul, the world might have ended in ruin.

“The man is dead, so I doubt his research was ever completed. But if even half of what he created remains…”

Haryang’s eyes darkened like a sky before a storm.

“I am… a coward, Yegyeol.”

“Liar.”

The word flew out instinctively.

“You don’t look like one at all.”

Haryang gave a faint, bitter smile.

“Is that so? Then I suppose that means my act of pretending to be a brave man isn’t entirely wasted.”

Hearing such words from someone so far removed from vanity made Yegyeol blink in surprise.

“But, Yegyeol…”

He drew a slow breath and added softly,

“In any case, I don’t ever want to imagine a world where I lose you again.”

He had lost once before—and knew too well the kind of pain that came with it.

Yegyeol reached up and cupped his face. When he looked into those deep, shadowed eyes, a shiver of fear stirred in his chest. Maybe Haryang was right. Maybe if he interfered recklessly, he’d only end up hurting him again.

But instead of saying that, Yegyeol leaned forward and thumped his forehead hard against Haryang’s.

“Yegyeol—!”

He sounded startled, even tripping over his words as if he’d bitten his tongue. Yegyeol, pressing a hand to his chest, sat up straight and stared down at him. The wide-eyed shock on Haryang’s face was infinitely better than the gloom from before.

It hurt—a lot, actually—but the tears pricking Yegyeol’s eyes weren’t from pain. They were from frustration.

“Why even think about ‘what ifs’? Just don’t let them happen.”

It might have sounded like a childish tantrum, but his tone was unwaveringly firm.

“I’m really strong, you know. Way stronger than you think.”

The honesty and conviction in those eyes made Haryang feel something unfamiliar.

He’d spent his whole life preparing for the worst. But this young disciple of his, perched bold as sin atop the body of the Demonic Lord, was telling him that “what ifs” were meaningless.

He should have found the statement absurd—but instead, something fluttered in his chest.

Joy? Curiosity? Awe?

After sorting through the flood of emotions, he finally gave it a name.

Anticipation.

“You’ll see,” Yegyeol said confidently.

And truly, there was nothing more dangerous than someone who said “you’ll see.”

“So that’s why you’ve got to help me pull this off.”

Calling Samrang to him, Yegyeol got straight to the point.

Despite being busy cleaning up the Bihee Hall incident, Samrang didn’t even flinch when Yegyeol said she needed to help him run away from the Ten-Thousand Great Mountains.

I thought she’d ask how running away had anything to do with a ‘century-long plan,’ Yegyeol mused.

But instead of protesting, Samrang just listened—calmly, even as Yegyeol explained that it was for Haryang’s mental health, the cult’s stability, and, of course, to utterly humiliate the righteous sects of Murim.

She was so composed that for a second, Yegyeol wondered if Hongyeo’s soul had possessed her body.

I thought she’d at least blink. Damn, she’s tough.

After all, she led the cult’s spy network. A poker face came with the job.

“I assume you knew I might refuse?”

“Of course I did.”

He’d actually figured there was a nine-in-ten chance she’d say no.

Their relationship was complicated. Sure, they’d built a certain level of trust and camaraderie, but Samrang was Haryang’s subordinate, not Yegyeol’s friend.

For all her composure, her loyalty to Haryang was absolute.

“Yet you still thought you could convince me…”

“Even if you said no, I’d still find a way to sneak out.”

“There’s no option where you tell him and go together?”

“I tried hinting at it, but he won’t move until the very end. When he finally leaves, I’ll be left here with you, Jinyoung, or Hongyeo guarding the mountain.”

Which meant Haryang would keep a defense force stationed there.

“We can’t exactly abandon the Ten-Thousand Great Mountains completely, but… yes, splitting forces would weaken us,” Samrang murmured, her sharp mind already calculating. “So what does the cult gain if you go first?”

“I’m going to use the righteous sects a little.”

Samrang’s eye twitched. She’d heard him joke about messing with the orthodox factions before, but she hadn’t realized he was serious.

“How exactly?”

“Shanxi’s right in the middle of their territory, right? Honestly, we could just sit back and watch them destroy each other—but Senior Brother’s too much of a good person for that. So I’ll make the first move.”

“You’ll… intervene?”

Yegyeol smirked.

“I’ll ‘subtly inform’ them about the great danger threatening the world and act like a hero. Let them think they owe me one.”

Samrang blinked, then let out a slow exhale. “That’s… unexpectedly cunning. Almost demonic.”

“Wasn’t I a Kunlun disciple once?”

“Wasn’t?”

“I switched masters recently. Let’s not dig up the past.”

The light tone couldn’t mask the seriousness in his eyes.

“I know he’ll be furious when he finds out I left on my own.”

Yegyeol avoided saying “run away” outright, but they both knew that’s what it was. Samrang didn’t bother to correct him.

“I’ll take responsibility,” she said suddenly.

“I’m not afraid of that,” he replied quietly.

Her dark eyes met his.

“He’s not the kind of man who would ever cut off a hand or foot just to ease his pain.”

Yegyeol understood immediately. Yes, that was exactly who Haryang was.

“But leaving the Ten-Thousand Great Mountains now isn’t wise,” she continued, voice dropping low. “The Lord may seem calm, but like all demonic beings, he carries a seed of madness. You might be disturbing something that was already on its way to resolution. Are you still going to go?”

He’d go to Shanxi sooner or later. His hatred toward the Demon Physician wouldn’t fade with time or death.

But if Yegyeol went first—forcing Haryang’s hand—it could put him in serious danger.

“Yes. I have to.”

Even if he stayed, nothing would change. Haryang would still treasure him, guard him, and treat him gently forever.

But who would protect Haryang?

The madness Samrang spoke of… it came from Yegyeol himself.

“You know this obsession of his—it’s not good for you,” she warned softly.

Foolish Samrang, Yegyeol thought, stroking Baembaem as the snake coiled lazily around his wrist. That’s exactly what I want.

His mind didn’t work like normal people’s. He stitched together all his broken edges into something that looked almost whole.

If pure love wasn’t possible, then he’d settle for something unbreakable—even if it meant they could never part, never escape each other.

“If I were the kind of person to calculate gain or loss,” he said gently, smiling like an angel, “I never would’ve let myself fall in love with him in the first place.”

Samrang was silent for a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice was cool and crisp.

“Helping you won’t be difficult.”

Her answer made Yegyeol’s eyes widen slightly—he’d expected a longer fight.

“But don’t forget,” she added, “the only reason trust exists between us is because you genuinely have the Lord’s best interest at heart.”

It was a warning, clear as steel.

Yegyeol smiled faintly, comforted instead of threatened. Her words confirmed that she was firmly on Haryang’s side. They were all in the same boat—sink or sail together.

“I know.”

His face turned serious.

In his past life, he’d died in Murim, body and soul torn apart. This time, he’d been given peace, and people like Samrang and Hongyeo—competent, loyal, alive—because of Haryang.

Even if he lived a hundred years, he’d never repay that debt. Haryang never asked for anything in return, which only made it heavier.

And Yegyeol had no intention of forgetting it.