TSBIRBV Ch 261

Chapter 261. Yongbong Gathering (1)

Namgung Un strode forward and reached out toward Yegyeol. His hand—one that should have been steady and sharp from years of swordsmanship—was trembling.

Watching that hand hover so close to his cheek, Yegyeol’s throat burned with a primal hunger.

Guiding…

It had been nearly a month since he left Xinjiang. The reservoir of guiding energy that once overflowed like a dam now stood nearly as low as it had been when he first began sharing his body with the Black Ghost.

His body, spoiled by abundance, grew tired more easily and felt pain more keenly than it ever had in the Ten Thousand Mountains. In the past, he had lived always thirsty, never knowing the taste of rain—but once he’d experienced it, the very threshold of his need had changed.

Thankfully, Baembaem’s new ability kept him from falling into a frenzy.

And now, right before him, stood an unknowing guide—oblivious, yet unbearably close.

For just a heartbeat, Yegyeol wanted to surrender to that hunger.

Ah… just one touch, and he would feel relief.

But—

“…Yegyeol?”

Before he could fall into that warmth, Yegyeol stepped back, forcing a smile.

“It’s been a long time, Young Master Namgung.”

Ironically, he found that he didn’t want the guiding at all.

Not a soul in this martial world even knows what that is, he thought.

It was ridiculous.

It wasn’t as if he were trying to cheat. Even among espers with ordinary lovers, guiding couldn’t be refused—it was a medical necessity, not a moral choice.

And it wasn’t as though Yegyeol had approached first; Namgung Un had been the one to step forward. Hongyeo stood nearby, watching everything—so there was no chance of Haryang misunderstanding.

Even so, Yegyeol’s heart balked.

“How did you end up here?” he asked, forcing the topic elsewhere—though he realized instantly how foolish the question was.

This was a guesthouse rented by Tang Segi. Of course Un would be here by invitation.

“Ah, so you heard I was coming from Young Master Tang.”

“Yes.”

Yegyeol had known they would meet eventually—Un, the previous champion of the Yongbong Gathering, was bound to be present—but not this soon.

The shock of it all, compounded by the strain of suppressing his instincts, made his mind stutter like a broken machine.

“Do the two of you have things to discuss?” Peng Munhyeong’s voice cut in gently. “My brother and I have only just arrived in Wuhan. We’d like to rest.”

Sensing Yegyeol’s discomfort, the Reclusive Tiger was trying to help.

“No, it’s fine, Brother Peng,” Yegyeol replied quickly. “There are matters I need to speak about with Young Master Namgung. Please, go ahead and rest.”

Only then did he remember the others’ presence.

“…All right.”

Peng Munhyeong patted his shoulder softly and sent a sound transmission.

[If you need help, call for me.]

With that, he withdrew inside. Only Hongyeo remained, standing like an unmoving pillar.

Yegyeol glanced around. They had, unfortunately, met in the garden—an open, echoing space.

“There might be listening ears here. Let’s speak inside.”

Un nodded heavily and led the way.

To Yegyeol’s surprise, the annex was empty. When he looked around, puzzled, Un explained, “Young Master Tang went to meet Miss Hwangbo. He said you arrived earlier than expected, so he asked me to greet you in his place.”

It made sense. Tang Segi had likely trusted Un with this task since he already knew Yegyeol through introduction. With Un’s sterling reputation, there was no reason to refuse.

Yegyeol bit his tongue. Life was full of variables, and this was one he hadn’t accounted for. Without telegraphs, phones, or even reliable messenger pigeons, changes in schedule couldn’t be communicated quickly in the martial world.

“When Young Master Tang said you were coming, I couldn’t believe it,” Un said, walking down the corridor. “After you disappeared like that—”

He stopped when Yegyeol shook his head.

Instead of replying, Yegyeol turned to Hongyeo. “Hongyeo, I’d like to speak privately with Young Master Namgung.”

Alone. The words didn’t need repeating.

Hongyeo studied him quietly. He didn’t even spare Un a glance, which Yegyeol found oddly reassuring.

“…I’ll wait outside,” Hongyeo said finally.

“Good.”

Yegyeol opened the nearest room and stepped in.

Leaving Hongyeo at the door meant Un couldn’t simply snatch him away. Still, Yegyeol glanced toward the window—securely shut. If anyone tried breaking through, it would make enough noise for Hongyeo to storm in.

And I’m not about to go quietly anyway, he thought.

Un moved his hand, forming a thin, shimmering barrier in the air—a sound-blocking technique. It wasn’t as wide as Samrang’s or Haryang’s, but it was skillfully done.

“You can speak freely now, Yegyeol.”

“Freely? About what?”

“If you’ve been taken against your will, I want to help.”

He left unsaid by whom.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Yegyeol said coolly.

The last time they met, Un had tried to “rescue” him—acting on Baekyang Jin-in’s orders. Haryang had pursued and reclaimed him, revealing his true identity as the Heavenly Demon in the process. Un, having witnessed it all, had learned the truth through the Beggars’ Union’s elder.

“…I’ve met a senior expert,” Un said, lowering his head, his tone heavy with shame. “He told me of the Heavenly Demon’s past.”

“What?”

Yegyeol blinked. That was unexpected. There were indeed people in the martial world who remembered Haryang’s history—but very few who knew his connection to Yegyeol.

Wait. The elder from the Beggars’ Union was with him that day.

One man in that sect had known Haryang’s story intimately.

So that old man’s still alive.

Yegyeol felt a flicker of something—unease, perhaps—but Un’s next words froze him completely.

“The martial world… the righteous sects… owe him a debt.”

“…What?”

It was a sentence Yegyeol never imagined hearing from the heir of the Namgung Clan—the very pillar of the orthodox world.

“But even so,” Un continued, his hands clenching, “that doesn’t justify forcing another to wear his name and live his life.”

He lifted his gaze to Yegyeol’s.

The expression—pained, determined—made Yegyeol’s chest twist.

“If you escaped, Yegyeol,” Un said quietly, extending his hand, “then I—and the Namgung Clan—will protect you.”

To protect the weak.

To aid those in peril.

That was the duty of one born into the Namgung name—the head of the Five Great Families.

“…So this time, you won’t take me to Baekyang Jin-in,” Yegyeol said softly.

It wasn’t a trick, nor a calculated lie—just a genuine, startled question.

At that, Un’s expression crumpled.

“I’m sorry. Truly sorry, Yegyeol.”

His voice trembled with sincerity.

“I was blind. I learned only later that Baekyang Jin-in wasn’t the man he seemed.”

“I…” he faltered, feigning hesitation, and Yegyeol clicked his tongue inwardly.

So that’s why he’s being so kind.

In Un’s eyes, Yegyeol was a victim—a boy kidnapped by the Heavenly Demon after enduring cruelty under Baekyang Jin-in. Someone who’d been treated as a replacement, too frightened to escape until now.

Un was the very image of a righteous hero—much like Haryang had once been. He knew right from wrong and had the courage to correct himself.

But Yegyeol didn’t want a hero.

He didn’t want righteousness.

He wanted Haryang.

At least it seemed he wouldn’t be dragged off to Mount Kunlun this time. But that was all.

He’d come prepared for this moment, after all.

The “Vile Demon Sect” plan—his cover story.

He would claim he was in Wuhan on an important mission. That he was bound by a demonic seal and couldn’t defy orders. He’d show Baembaem, tell Un to touch it, and release a faint electric current—proof that his body was cursed through an enchanted familiar.

He’d say that if he didn’t return to the Ten Thousand Mountains, he would suffer unbearable torment and die.

Which wasn’t even a lie. If he didn’t go back to Haryang, he would die—just not the way Un would think.

But now…

Namgung Un truly doesn’t believe Haryang is evil.

The realization left him shaken.

He’d come here to turn the orthodox world upside down, to ruin their celebration. He despised their peace—peace built on the erasure of a man’s name.

Who among them would remember Je Haryang as a hero?

That injustice had gnawed at him for years. Haryang himself might have accepted his fate calmly, but Yegyeol couldn’t.

No one saw the Heavenly Demon as pitiable, or wronged, or human. No one cared what he’d endured in the mountains, what betrayals had broken him, or why he’d chosen to bear the weight of a world that hated him.

The thought made Yegyeol furious—furious enough to want to flip the banquet tables of the righteous world and watch them shatter.

When he’d decided to come to Wuhan, plotting to deceive Un had stirred no guilt at all. He’d think Haryang a villain anyway, Yegyeol had told himself. So why not use that against him?

But this Namgung Un—

This man who said the martial world owed Haryang a debt, who wasn’t even of Haryang’s generation—

Meeting him felt like seeing a sprout forcing its way between stone, or a flower blooming in a wasteland.

And I was planning to lie to him?

Yegyeol suddenly couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The tension left his body; his stance loosened, almost casual.

“…And what if I’m not being held against my will?”