TSBIRBV Ch 298

Chapter 298. Rumors of the Rivers and Lakes (2)

Senior Brother… if you lived in the modern world, you’d be an actor, Yegyeol thought to himself, lips curving faintly in amusement as he brought a warm morsel to his mouth. It had been only last night that Haryang confessed he was the Black Ghost.

Yet at dawn, he appeared before him, perfectly at ease, disguised as one of his subordinates.

And even to prepare breakfast for me…

He must have predicted that Tang Segi would return by this time.

Was he trying to test whether Yegyeol could recognize him even after revealing his identity as the Black Ghost, showing up as Yaryul Hongyeo the very next morning?

Perhaps, in his own way, Haryang found amusement in it.

Yegyeol briefly wondered where the real Hongyeo was before his thoughts wandered back to the events of dawn.

It wasn’t until the first light of morning that Haryang finally released him. Half-exhausted, Yegyeol confessed everything he had plotted since leaving Shiman Dae Mountain:

Dragging his esteemed senior brother down from those sacred peaks.

Tossing that precious man beyond the desert’s edge, into the hypocritical, self-righteous world of the orthodox sects.

And finally—his plan to herd the “rats” gnawing away at the heart of Shiman Dae Mountain into the same den as those so-called righteous hypocrites.

If that is truly what you desire, Haryang had said after listening in silence.

Then, without rebuke or admonishment for the disciple who had run away, he drew Yegyeol gently into his arms.

No protest, no persuasion—just the quiet, wordless act of pressing his lips to Yegyeol’s throat as though inhaling the very scent of his being was the only thing that mattered.

Was the shock therapy too effective?

It was such an unexpectedly smooth acceptance that Yegyeol could only think wryly of it that way.

The two men had remained entangled on the bed until sunrise, laughing and whispering in between their exhaustion. Half play, half sincerity—Yegyeol had even braided Haryang’s hair, and when the latter sat up, Yegyeol instinctively wrapped his arms around his neck.

You’re leaving already?

There’s something I must do. But I’ll be back soon.

Even as he gently uncurled Yegyeol’s arms, Haryang pressed a lingering kiss to his wrist, leaving faint marks like a brand. Then, throwing on the clothes scattered across the floor without care, he stood bathed in sunlight—the shape of his body faintly outlined through the thin fabric, beautiful and dangerous.

Yegyeol said nothing, simply followed him with greedy eyes, wanting to memorize every motion. He nearly groaned aloud when Haryang tightened his sash.

After the man left, Yegyeol buried himself in the warm bedding still heavy with his scent, and drifted into a brief, sweet sleep.

When he woke to the clatter of movement downstairs, a neatly folded set of clothes was waiting by the door—not the ones he’d tossed aside the previous night.

He truly comes and goes like a ghost, Yegyeol thought as he dressed himself and descended the stairs—only to find Tang Segi and “Hongyeo” waiting below.

Or rather, his senior brother in Hongyeo’s guise.

“By the way,” Yegyeol said casually, “why is there a chicken here?”

The bird had been clucking softly all morning, irritatingly persistent.

“I heard snakes enjoy eating fresh eggs,” Haryang—disguised as Hongyeo—answered.

“Beambeam’s a little too small for that, don’t you think?” Yegyeol replied smoothly after a pause. “He can open his mouth quite wide, but he’s still a baby.”

Beambeam was no ordinary snake—an ancient spiritual creature that had lived far longer than the combined ages of everyone present. But Yegyeol, blissfully unaware of that fact, simply smiled.

“Hmm… I suppose I’ll have to make a steamed egg dish instead,” said Haryang.

“That sounds delicious,” Yegyeol agreed with a nod.

It was strange—just hours ago they had spoken of conspiracies dark enough to threaten both the Demonic Sect and the entire martial world, and now they were chatting idly about cooking while enjoying breakfast. The contrast made him laugh.

“By the way,” Tang Segi interjected suddenly, “have you heard the news?”

“What news?” Yegyeol asked.

“Your next opponent, Young Master, will be a disciple of Mount Emei.”

He had expected shock, but both Haryang-in-Hongyeo’s-skin and Yegyeol stayed silent.

Realizing too late that Yegyeol likely knew little about the martial world’s politics, Tang Segi hurried to explain.

“She’s one of Emei’s most formidable young talents—both fierce as a yaksha and skilled enough to back it up. She’s also received the title of Phoenix, much like Lady Hwangbo Yulhui.”

In all of the Central Plains, fewer than ten young martial artists bore the titles of Dragon, Tiger, or Phoenix—each of them a prodigy destined to dominate their generation.

“She’s known for her terrifying speed,” Tang Segi continued. “At her age, she once killed the master of a Green Forest bandit faction in a duel.”

Her ruthlessness was infamous, especially for a disciple of a Buddhist sect.

But Tang Segi restrained himself from saying more—after all, the Tang Clan and the Emei Sect were rivals for dominance in Sichuan. Careless words would be unwise.

“She sounds… fearsome,” Yegyeol said mildly—far too calm for such a description.

“If she’s trained under the Nine Great Sects and has seen real battle, she’s no one to underestimate,” Haryang added from beside him, his voice that of Hongyeo.

“The thing is,” Yegyeol said with quiet confidence, “I can’t imagine losing.”

Haryang—his brows twitching faintly under Hongyeo’s guise—leaned back, the smallest crease appearing between them. For someone who rarely showed emotion, even that slight frown was telling.

Yegyeol, amused, pretended not to notice.

Finishing the last bite of fish, he smiled. “I promised my one and only lover I’d win the championship of the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly.”

For a moment, Haryang just looked at him—speechless.

“So, I will win,” Yegyeol said softly.

The charged silence between them made Tang Segi fidget. He quickly scooped up his bowl, stuffed the remaining food into his mouth, and swallowed hard—his supposed noble upbringing utterly gone.

“I—I’ll take my leave now,” he stammered.

Whatever was going on between those two, staying any longer might actually kill him.

After drinking from his canteen, Tang Segi suddenly realized that the pair would be left to clear the table themselves. Feeling guilty, he turned back to help—only to freeze mid-step.

Yegyeol was laughing softly, his hand resting on Hongyeo’s neck in a gesture far too intimate to be casual.

Huh.

Unable to even make a sound, Tang Segi met “Hongyeo’s” eyes—and bolted upstairs.

There, catching his breath, he convinced himself he must have misunderstood. Yet, deep down, he couldn’t deny it: the air between Yegyeol and Hongyeo was charged, unmistakably.

What on earth happened in a single night?

He decided to quietly sound out their relationship once Peng Dae-hyeop returned.

His companion Gweho, who had left the inn with him earlier, still hadn’t come back—likely caught up reminiscing with his younger brother.

When Tang Segi finally calmed his racing heart and went downstairs again, Yaryul Hongyeo was just rising from his seat.

The dishes and boxes had already vanished, replaced by a steaming teapot and two cups.

Ah, too late again, Tang Segi thought, frowning faintly.

“I should get going,” said Hongyeo.

“Off to early business, I see. Will you be back by evening?” Tang Segi asked, thinking he might prepare a proper dinner if so.

“Hard to say,” Hongyeo replied, his tone elusive. Then he glanced at Yegyeol and added, “Perhaps… earlier than that.”

“Take care,” Yegyeol said softly.

As Haryang stepped through the door, Yegyeol’s eyes followed him until even his shadow disappeared. Only then did he turn to Tang Segi, who was still awkwardly standing by.

“Sit. It’s called Silver Needle White Tea,” Yegyeol said, gesturing.

“I keep being treated here,” Tang Segi chuckled.

“I owe you much, Tang Gongja. I’m sure Yaryul Dae-hyeop is grateful as well,” Yegyeol replied easily, already guessing that Haryang’s earlier hospitality had extended to Tang Segi, too.

“It was nothing, truly,” Tang Segi said, relaxing at last.

Yegyeol lowered his gaze to his teacup—and noticed something odd. A small piece of paper was wedged between the saucer and the cup.

Always stay cautious.

He brushed his fingers over the note, his lips twitching with a barely restrained smile.

Once, being told to “be careful” had been routine for him—ever since he began showing signs of awakening as an Esper, everyone around him had repeated the same words endlessly.

Don’t hurt others. Don’t lose control.

But this was different.

Haryang’s concern was not for the world. It was for him alone.

And that simple truth filled Yegyeol with a quiet, glowing joy.

“The aroma is wonderful,” Tang Segi murmured, fully at ease now.

At that moment, someone appeared at the doorway—

A man with a small golden snake coiled around his wrist.

Yegyeol instantly recognized him as the real Yaryul Hongyeo.

“W-wait—didn’t you just leave?” Tang Segi gasped, staring.

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since Hongyeo had supposedly departed; the teapot on the table was still steaming.

“Ah.”

Hongyeo gave a brief nod to excuse himself, as if he’d simply stepped out for a moment.

“Already finished your business?” Yegyeol asked evenly.

“Yes.”

Their exchange was brief and perfectly calm.

But… didn’t they look awfully close just a moment ago? Tang Segi thought wildly.

Feeding him meat, deboning fish, whispering together—it had all looked so… intimate.

And now they acted as though nothing had happened at all.

For Tang Segi, it was a baffling morning.

Even as he discreetly kept watch the rest of the day, Yegyeol and Hongyeo behaved with utter composure. When Peng Munhyeong returned and asked what was wrong, Tang Segi couldn’t bring himself to explain.

Still, the confusion of that morning soon faded from his mind—because afterward, a string of far more thrilling and extraordinary events unfolded, sweeping all else away.