TSBIRBV Ch 257

Chapter 257. The Audacious Impostor (6)

“You don’t look well. Did you not sleep?”

It was early morning when the group gathered for breakfast. The moment Hongyeo saw Yegyeol, he could tell that he’d stayed up the entire night and asked out of concern.

“Let’s just say I spent the night realizing how foolish I am.”

Yegyeol’s usual bright expression was dulled, a faint sharpness replacing his warmth. Without his habitual smile, he looked less like a mischievous youth and more like the man he was—a young adult marked by sleepless reflection.

“But the one who stayed up all night tending to the horses is you, Hongyeo. Yet you look fine.”

He deftly shifted the topic.

“Jeokroe helped,” Hongyeo replied simply. His expression softened slightly. For a man so taciturn, he showed remarkable gentleness toward animals—especially toward Jeokroe.

“And Baembaem? Is it with Jeokroe?”

“Yes. I asked if it wanted to come along, but it burrowed into Jeokroe’s mane, so I left it there.”

Normally, Baembaem never left Yegyeol’s side. But since Jeokroe often accompanied Hongyeo on long missions, the snake hadn’t had many chances to bond with the horse. Perhaps, now that they were traveling together for an extended time, it had decided to stay with its friend.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? They’re completely different creatures, yet so close. Horses usually panic just seeing a snake.”

“They’re both intelligent,” Hongyeo said quietly.

As they chatted, Peng Munhyeong ambled in. Whatever turmoil clouded his mind, he had slept well enough—his face was smooth and freshly washed.

When all three were seated, one of Yeon Sosho’s subordinates came and went several times before breakfast was laid out. Since cooking with fire was difficult on a ship, the meal was mostly fruit and dried rations.

After stepping out briefly, Hongyeo returned with a small teapot, steam curling from its spout, and poured warm tea into Yegyeol’s cup.

“Wait—how?”

Before Yegyeol could finish asking, Yeon Sosho appeared, her lips curved in faint amusement.

“He heated stones with Sammae Jinwha and set the kettle on top,” she said.

Like master, like subordinate.

Yegyeol glanced at Hongyeo, thinking wryly that if there were a competition for “Most Frivolous Use of Martial Arts,” both Hongyeo and Haryang would take top spots.

“…Before serving you, I lived as a nomad,” Hongyeo explained seriously, misunderstanding the reason for Yegyeol’s stare. “In the highlands, fires don’t catch easily or burn long, so we often heated stones to cook.”

A simple, earnest explanation.

“It’s good for fatigue,” he added. “If we had some milk, it would’ve been even better.”

Before he could sound too wistful, Yeon Sosho interjected lightly, “We don’t have mare’s milk or camel milk on board, but once we dock, we can easily get cow’s milk.”

At that, Hongyeo merely replied, “That won’t be necessary,” and fell silent again.

Yegyeol found it oddly amusing how they spoke so few words, yet the silence between them didn’t feel awkward. He took a sip of the hot tea—his body relaxing as warmth spread through him.

“Captain Yeon,” Peng Munhyeong began hesitantly, “will you be traveling with us all the way to Wuhan?”

“Well, that’s the plan for now,” she said with a smile. “But if something urgent comes up, I may disembark early. Still, don’t worry—this ship will safely deliver you all to Wuhan.”

Her soft laugh followed, warm as the morning sun.

“I-I heard you’re newly married,” Peng blurted, his tone a mix of courage and panic. “Won’t your husband be… lonely, if you’re away for so long?”

Yeon Sosho tilted her head thoughtfully, then smiled again.

“I hadn’t considered that,” she said lightly. “I suppose I’ve been too absorbed in work lately. But my duty to my guest comes first. I’ll have to make it up to him once I return.”

Her lips curled into a knowing, crimson smile.

Yegyeol drained his tea silently, and Hongyeo refilled his cup without a word.

Peng murmured, “I see…” his voice tinged with melancholy.

After finishing her meal, Yeon Sosho rose gracefully. “I’ll check on the ship’s condition.”

The moment she disappeared from sight, the Reclusive Tiger slumped in his chair like a man struck by lightning.

Yegyeol clicked his tongue softly. He looked like someone who’d just finished a grueling hour of exercise without a single drop of rest.

“The tea’s quite good,” Yegyeol remarked.

“I’m glad it pleases you, benefactor,” Hongyeo replied. “I’ll make it again.”

“Thanks.”

They were in the middle of quiet conversation when Yegyeol suddenly froze. A disturbance was spreading above deck. Peng and Hongyeo, both alert, perked up their ears almost at the same moment.

“What’s going on?”

“I’ll go check,” Hongyeo said, springing to his feet.

“I’m coming with you.”

They climbed the steps to the deck—where a group of sailors stood rigid, their faces grim, staring at the surface of the river.

At first, the sunlight dazzled their eyes. The water glimmered brilliantly, as though scattered with silver coins. Then the truth became clear.

Those flashes of light weren’t reflections. They were fish scales—thousands of them—belonging to the dead.

“What in the world…”

“Gods…”

The Yangtze stretched endlessly, and the sheer number of lifeless fish was staggering—too many to count, no matter how many hands tried.

The river was vast, yes. But for everything in it to die at once—this was no ordinary poison.

“The Yangtze isn’t some small pond,” Yeon Sosho said, her face hard. “To kill so many creatures at once, the toxin must be extraordinary.”

Even the deadliest venom would normally dilute in such a massive flow, leaving only mild sickness in its wake. For this… the amount used must have been colossal—or of such potency that even the Tang Clan would take caution.

“Nearby villages might have suffered casualties,” she muttered.

Her expression was steely, her usual poise replaced by fury. As the river’s ruler, she understood the scale of what had been done here. Her own men—her riverfolk—might not have escaped unscathed.

“At first, we thought it was just a few dead fish drifting by,” a sailor reported. “But soon they came in waves—thick as you see now.”

“Then this is the source,” Yeon Sosho said grimly.

She seized a long oar from one of her men and thrust it into the water, stirring hard. The dead fish parted as the current quickened, and the ship began to move again, slowly cutting through the polluted stretch.

Her movements were measured but powerful. Sweat gathered and rolled down her forearms, glistening in the sunlight.

Thwack.

Suddenly, her oar hit something solid.

“…A person?”

Peering between the glimmering fish, Yegyeol saw what she had pushed aside—a human body.

“Shall I retrieve it?” one of the sailors asked quickly.

“Don’t be a fool. You’ll poison yourself.”

Yeon Sosho’s tone was cold and sharp. She jerked her chin toward the stern. “Bring a net.”

At her command, the sailors moved swiftly. The net they brought was no ordinary fishing tool—it was larger, the cords reinforced. It was meant for hauling heavier, less lively cargo.

Yegyeol and Hongyeo stepped forward to help, pretending ignorance so that Peng wouldn’t suspect how familiar they were with such procedures.

“I’ll throw it,” said Yeon Sosho. “Help pull it in.”

The rope attached to the net was passed around, and Peng was the first to wrap it around his arm. The sailors followed, hands tightening in readiness. Yegyeol moved to join, but Hongyeo had already taken the last open space beside them.

Yeon Sosho cast the net skillfully, aiming to catch only the corpse—but several fish came up entangled as well.

“Pull!”

The combined effort brought the net onto the deck. Peng’s immense strength helped haul it up quickly. But the trouble came next.

“Argh!”

Some of the fish caught alongside the body had razor-sharp fins. A few sailors cried out as their arms and legs were slashed open.

“Poisoned?”

The more experienced ones reacted instantly, tearing fabric from their sleeves and flushing the wounds with water. Yeon Sosho and Hongyeo assisted swiftly. Meanwhile, Peng, worried more people might be injured, swept the remaining fish off the deck with one broad motion, flinging them back into the river.

Yegyeol didn’t just stand and watch—he had something on him that could help.

“Brother Peng,” he called, “would it be all right to use that Poison Ward Elixir you lent me?”

At the mention of the antidote, the sailors’ eyes widened. Out here, without access to medicine, that elixir was a lifeline. Delay the antidote too long, and amputation often became the only option.

Every gaze turned to Peng. Without hesitation, he nodded.

“Of course. They serve Captain Yeon.”

One by one, Yegyeol handed the antidote to the poisoned sailors, letting each take a sip before passing it on. As the pain faded and relief flickered back into their eyes, he found himself reminded of the innkeeper and the boy he’d helped not long ago.

Strangely, Peng followed closely behind him, almost like a large, overprotective dog.

Yegyeol found it odd—this wasn’t the sort of man to hover over minor injuries.

…The power of love, perhaps?

That seemed the simplest explanation: Peng’s concern stemmed from loyalty to Yeon Sosho, and thus extended to her people.

But he was wrong.

A moment later, a quiet voice brushed his mind through sound transmission.

[Even when you trust someone,] Peng’s voice murmured, [you shouldn’t reveal the treasures you carry. Learn that, little brother.]

He hadn’t been worried about the sailors at all. He was anxious—for Yegyeol.

Had it been his own business, Peng would’ve crushed any would-be thief and forgotten about it. But this time, it was Yegyeol—his younger brother.

[I won’t stop your kindness,] he added, [but be more careful.]

Yegyeol nodded solemnly.

He knew Peng was right—but the men he’d saved weren’t mere sailors. They were river bandits.

And yet, what was there to fear in offering help? After all, the queen of those bandits stood right before him.

“Lives should be saved,” Yegyeol whispered quietly.

Something flickered in Peng Munhyeong’s eyes at those words—a sudden swell of emotion, fierce and fleeting, before it faded into silence.