TSBIRBV Ch 266

Chapter 266. Yongbong Gathering (6)

Master Yonghyeon’s eyes trembled slightly, and Cheongyong tilted his head in puzzlement.

“Yes. Do you happen to know him?”

“No.”

The denial came too quickly. Realizing it, Yonghyeon softened his expression at once, smoothing over the sudden stiffness with a faint smile.

“It’s just… the name startled me. It happens to be the same as someone I once knew, long ago. Tell me, what weapon does he use?”

“I heard he’s a martial artist who uses his fists.”

“Ah… a pugilist, is he?”

Yonghyeon stroked his beard, a ripple stirring faintly in his chest.

The saying came to mind—once bitten by a snake, even a rope looks like one. It was exactly that sort of fear.

Of course, it was absurd. There was no way the real one would ever appear at the Yongbong Gathering.

“Yes. Continue your training diligently,” he said at last.

With his tension eased, Yonghyeon’s features relaxed into their usual kind, affable calm as he patted his disciple’s shoulder.

Cheongyong bowed his head, voice firm with resolve.

“I will make sure to win, Master. I’ll bring honor to our sect.”

“Jinju Eon Clan?”

At the dinner table, Peng Munhyeong frowned.

“What business do you have with them?”

“They picked a fight in the barracks today. Thought it’d be good to know a bit about who they are.”

“Ah, those muscle-brained idiots.”

“The one I saw was carrying a sword, actually.”

“Oh, right. They dabble in swordsmanship too. But I’ve only fought their fist users, so I forgot about that part.”

It was just like him—Peng Munhyeong, the famed Mad Tiger, remembered people by their martial arts, not their faces. Clearly, he wasn’t going to be much help on that front. Yegyeol turned instead to the man sitting beside him.

Tang Segi, seated shoulder-to-shoulder with one of the top martial experts in the land, looked about as tense as a squirrel cornered by a hawk.

Instead of holding his chopsticks normally, he had wedged them between his fingers like throwing knives—proof that his body, on pure reflex, had assumed a fighting stance even at the dinner table. The trembling chopsticks had speared a lonely bit of vegetable.

Honestly, what a coward.

“Tang Gongja.”

“Y-yes? Yes, what is it?”

He jumped, startled, eyes wide as he looked up at Yegyeol.

Though Tang Segi had been the one to eagerly invite Yegyeol to dine with him—wanting to show his gratitude—he hadn’t accounted for Peng Munhyeong tagging along. The Mad Tiger’s presence made him visibly uneasy.

Yegyeol had offered to eat separately to ease the tension, but Tang Segi had refused—saying that to abandon a guest halfway through a meal would be an unforgivable breach of manners.

“Do you happen to know someone named Eon Chaegwol of the Jinju Eon Clan?”

The two men were of similar age, and although the Eon Clan wasn’t one of the Five Great Houses, it was still a prestigious martial family. It wouldn’t have been strange if Tang Segi knew him.

“Hmm… Eon Chaegwol… Eon Chaegwol…” Tang Segi muttered, eyes rolling upward in thought.

“I’ve heard there’s a promising young swordsman of that name from the Jinju Clan. But I’ve never associated with him personally. He doesn’t seem to mix with our circle—mine, or Namgung’s.”

He scratched his head sheepishly, apologetic for being of little help—then suddenly snapped his fingers.

“Oh, but I have heard that while his martial skill is excellent, the people he associates with aren’t exactly… reputable. My father advised me to keep my distance.”

His expression was open and unbothered, his tone as mild as always. He clearly had no issue with his father dictating his social life.

Such a well-bred young master, Yegyeol thought with faint amusement.

“Are you curious about the Eon Clan?” Hongyeo asked quietly.

Yegyeol nodded. “I think they’ll keep pestering me for a while, so it’s best to know something about them.”

Hongyeo lowered his gaze slightly before replying.

“They are one of the martial families tied closely to the military.”

“The military?”

“They couldn’t rise to the rank of the Five Great Houses, so they sought influence through a different path.”

“Ah.”

So, they had turned away from the martial world’s hierarchy and leaned into political power instead.

[If it troubles you, I can handle them myself.]

Hongyeo’s voice touched his mind again, gentle but firm. Yegyeol gave the slightest shake of his head, subtle enough that only Hongyeo would notice.

Of all the things I’ve lost, not being able to use telepathy is the most inconvenient, he grumbled inwardly.

Aloud, he said, “I think I understand now why he was so full of himself.”

“Was he that rude?” Tang Segi asked carefully.

“He tried to strike Hongyeo.”

Tang Segi’s face darkened immediately. “How could that happen?”

“He bumped into him first, then apologized—until he realized Hongyeo wasn’t a contestant. Then he wouldn’t stop hounding him.”

Both Tang Segi and Peng Munhyeong turned to look at Hongyeo. The man—taller than either of them by a head—met their gaze with calm discomfort.

“It was nothing,” he said simply.

“See? He says that, but it still worries me,” Yegyeol replied lightly.

Peng Munhyeong, who had been sipping his drink, snorted. “Why not just beat him up and be done with it?”

“My next opponent is a Daoist from Wudang. Even if I win, I doubt I’ll face Eon Chaegwol afterward.”

Peng gave him a pitying look. “I didn’t mean in the arena, lad.”

Of course, the famed “Mad Tiger” wasn’t suggesting a duel, but something more… direct.

Yegyeol turned his head away, pretending not to hear. He was, after all, fighting under his Senior Brother’s name—Je Haryang. He couldn’t exactly start committing crimes in public.

Had it been the real Yegyeol, Eon Chaegwol would already be hanging upside down in some alley by now. But not here. Not while he wore another man’s name.

“Then how about handling it Tang Family style?” Tang Segi suggested suddenly, eyes sparkling.

Ah, there it was. Ever since Yegyeol had helped him during the Hwangbo Yurhui affair, the Tang heir had been desperate to return the favor somehow.

“The Tang Family way?”

Tang Segi nodded eagerly and produced something from his sleeve—a needle so fine it was thinner than a strand of hair.

“This!” he said proudly.

“It looks like a hidden weapon,” Yegyeol observed.

“Indeed. A feather needle coated with the Tang Family’s secret medicine.”

He puffed up his chest with pride. “If you prick him with this—just once!—then within half an hour, you’ll know exactly what he ate ten years ago!”

He added, beaming, “No side effects! Undetectable!”

Yegyeol almost laughed aloud. Beneath that harmless, squirrelly demeanor was the cunning heir of Sichuan’s infamous poison clan.

“I didn’t expect you to go so far for me, Tang Gongja,” he said smoothly, lowering his gaze with a show of gratitude.

Then, sighing softly, he added, “But if I were caught using poison, wouldn’t that disqualify me from the tournament?”

“Oh… oh, right. That’s… true,” Tang Segi said, crestfallen.

Yegyeol smiled faintly, his tone warm but resolute. “My goal is to win. I can’t risk anything that might jeopardize that. But I’ll remember your kindness.”

He was deadly serious about the Yongbong Gathering.

Having entered the finals under Je Haryang’s name, he had no choice but to claim victory.

“Of course! Of course!” Peng Munhyeong bellowed with a grin, clapping him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit, lad.”

“It’s… quite difficult, though,” Tang Segi murmured.

Yegyeol shrugged lightly. “I trust you both. I only meant to share a small worry, not a burden.”

In other words—if Eon Chaegwol caused trouble again, he knew these two would have his back.

“Whatever happens, I’ll stand with you,” Peng declared heartily.

“As will I—since what concerns my Lord naturally concerns me. Of cour—huh?”

Tang Segi reached out impulsively to grasp Yegyeol’s hands, overcome with emotion—but blinked in surprise when Yegyeol deftly slipped them away.

“Truly dependable,” Yegyeol said cheerfully instead, raising his cup with a sly grin.

The toast broke the moment’s tension. Tang Segi, quick to forget his embarrassment, laughed and clinked cups, soon drinking himself into a pleasant daze before retiring for the night.

When Yegyeol stood, Hongyeo rose silently to follow.

At the door to his quarters, Yegyeol turned suddenly, catching him off guard.

“Why are you following me, Hongyeo?”

He asked it plainly. With Samrang or Jinyeong, he could at least pretend it was familiarity—old bickering softened into reluctant affection. But with Hongyeo, their relationship had always been distant yet civil.

Back when he’d been planning his “escape,” even Jinyeong had been shocked to see Hongyeo involved. After all, wasn’t he the one most likely to report everything directly to Senior Brother Haryang?

Yet, it was thanks to Hongyeo that Yegyeol had managed to slip past the guards of the Ten-Thousand Mountains without alerting him.

Which made Hongyeo’s quiet loyalty both puzzling and… strangely touching.

“I only acted upon what I believed to be my Lord’s will,” Hongyeo said calmly.

“When I was sent to Kunlun, you gave me that flute—the one that could summon the Thunderbirds,” Yegyeol murmured.

“Senior Brother never intended to bring me back. Yet you gave me a way to return, knowing it went against his wishes.”

“Did I?” Hongyeo replied mildly, his voice as unreadable as his face. Then he added, “But you had the will to return. Relationships are always pulled toward the stronger will. It wasn’t difficult to predict you’d come back.”

Yegyeol blinked, caught off guard by how simply he said it.

“But how could you possibly—”

“When you spend enough time among animals,” Hongyeo said, “you learn to read their hearts. Their desires are simple and direct, unclouded by deceit.”

“…Are you saying I’m that easy to read?”

Yegyeol’s tone was half incredulous, half offended. Every layer of charm, calculation, and misdirection he’d built up had been carefully crafted—borrowed, even—from the most cunning Espers of the Center.

And yet this quiet, stoic man had seen through it all effortlessly.

Hongyeo’s faint smile deepened, barely perceptible. “You act with instinct, not malice. You pursue your wants honestly, and without calculation. In that sense, yes—you are very much like them.”

“…To think I was that transparent. How embarrassing.”

“It’s nothing remarkable,” Hongyeo said blandly. “But it’s late. You should rest—there’s a match tomorrow.”

He moved to close the door for him. Just before the wood slid shut, Yegyeol spoke again.

“You seem to know a lot about the Jinju Eon Clan.”

He asked it casually, though the truth was, he was a little unnerved by how easily Hongyeo had seen through him earlier.

How could someone who lived his life deep in the Ten-Thousand Mountains know so much about a martial family all the way east in Hebei Province?

“Do you… have some connection to them?”

Hongyeo’s answer came quietly, without hesitation.

“Of course.”

He looked Yegyeol straight in the eye.

“I was the servant who ran away from the Jinju Eon Clan.”

No hatred. No anger. Not even sorrow. Just that calm, detached tone.

Yegyeol froze.

“Have a peaceful night,” Hongyeo said softly.

And the door slid shut with a gentle thud.