TSBIRBV Ch 309

Chapter 309. The Bird Leaves Its Nest (1)

Late at night, six horses bearing riders passed through the gates of Wuhuan.

A thin drizzle of rain fell steadily, whispering against their cloaks.

At the entrance of a grand manor, the leader dismounted and removed her bamboo rain hat.

The woman’s expression was unreadable, her age difficult to discern.

She brushed away the strands of wet hair clinging to her cheeks, revealing the hard lines of muscle beneath her soaked sleeves. A faint white scar marked the back of her hand where her dark, sleek hair had brushed against it.

Though her features were beautiful, her bearing was unmistakably that of a warrior.

She handed her reins to a servant and strode through the manor gates without hesitation. Water dripped steadily from her clothes, but no one dared to comment.

One of the attendants, who had been waiting within, rushed out to greet her.

“Where is Yulhui?”

That was the first thing the woman asked as she wiped her face with a towel offered by a maid.

“She is resting in her room, madam. She said not to disturb her since you would arrive late.”

“Good. She’s earned her rest after such a great endeavor.”

A glimmer of warmth softened the cold, sharp features of Hwangbo Yakrin, matriarch of the Hwangbo Clan.

The sudden gentleness in her stern face could have startled anyone who knew her.

“What of the results of the Dragon and Phoenix Tournament?”

There was a trace of anticipation in her voice. Because of the Wulin Alliance meeting held in Wuhuan, she hadn’t yet heard the final results.

In her heart, Yakrin had been certain that her daughter would claim victory.

Among the new generation of martial artists, only that Thunder Sword Dragon could stand against Yulhui.

This year’s tournament was a special one—particularly since the Namgung heir had not participated.

At the previous tournament, her daughter’s health had been poor, keeping her from achieving her full potential. She had spent every waking hour in the training hall, polishing her techniques to perfection.

At an age when she should’ve been dressing up and going out to play… who does she take after, to be so upright and earnest?

The attendant, after a nervous pause, finally spoke.

“…She placed second, my lady. The Hwangbo Clan’s honor shines brightly.”

The faint smile that had hovered on Yakrin’s lips vanished.

“I see. A pity.”

A pity? No—she was angry.

What could her daughter possibly have lacked that she failed to win?

Suppressing a sigh, Yakrin asked, her voice as sharp as a blade slicing through wind,

“Then who was the victor?”

“Je Haryang.”

“…What?”

“His name is Je Haryang.”

The woman’s face went deathly pale, as though she’d just seen a ghost.

That name—here, in this time, in this place—she had thought she would never hear it again.

Her blood and qi surged wildly, twisting inside her as fear and guilt struck all at once. A memory rose unbidden—

the man who once stood high above her, and herself, looking up at him from the shadow he cast.

She clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Cough—!”

She spat blood. Her eyes burned blue with rage and panic.

Truly… he never ceases to torment me.

Her subordinates rushed forward to support her, but she brushed their hands aside fiercely.

Standing tall and unyielding, Yakrin glared ahead with blazing eyes.

“…I must see Yulhui. Now.”

“What do I do… what should I do…”

Hwangbo Yulhui paced restlessly inside her room.

It was long past the hour for sleep, but she couldn’t close her eyes.

Her mother—the clan head—was on her way from Shandong.

And she had not won the tournament.

Yulhui clenched her eyes shut, remembering the promise she had made.

What about Grandfather… what about the Galtho Hall?

Tears welled up and slipped down her cheeks.

Her mother had promised: if Yulhui won the Dragon and Phoenix Tournament, she would grant her one request.

But the result had been second place.

She hadn’t been crushed by the loss itself—it was a clean defeat, and she knew she still lacked experience.

But when would the next tournament come? How long must she wait?

Will Grandfather still be alive by then? And Grandmother…?

She hugged her knees tightly, her thoughts spiraling endlessly.

Bang!

The door flew open.

A woman entered, her presence like a storm at the height of the monsoon.

Dripping wet, with rain-darkened hair and a face Yulhui knew well—

it was her mother, Hwangbo Yakrin, head of the clan.

“Mother, heavens! You’re soaked through. I’ll have the servants prepare a hot bath—you must change into dry clothes.”

Yulhui jumped up and hurried toward her. Her mother’s hand, when she touched it, was ice cold. The shock of it made her flinch, though she tried not to show it.

But Yakrin did not move.

“Je Haryang.”

“Ah…”

Yulhui’s head dropped instantly at the name.

So she already knows.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t win.”

Yulhui bowed deeply.

“It’s fine.”

Yakrin placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. The warmth of that gesture made Yulhui’s heart ache with relief.

Maybe—maybe this was the moment. Maybe she could finally bring up Galtho Hall.

“That Je Haryang,” Yakrin said suddenly. “What does he look like?”

Yulhui hesitated at the strange shift in tone. She could feel her mother’s grip tightening slightly.

She had expected her to ask about recruiting him into the clan, not about his appearance.

“Brown hair, brown eyes… I think. When he gathers his inner energy, they gleam faintly gold. He’s slender, looks young—sometimes, almost boyish.”

Her mother’s hand slipped away. Yulhui caught a glimpse of her fingernails—ragged, torn.

No… I must’ve imagined it.

“I see.”

There was something in her mother’s voice she didn’t recognize—relief.

Yakrin had come fearing the worst after hearing that the winner, the Heavenly Thunder Dragon, practiced a fist-based art.

But hearing the description, her fears eased.

The Je Haryang she knew had black hair and black eyes.

His face—what was left of it—was nothing like what her daughter described.

No transformation could make that man appear youthful again.

And golden eyes? That must be a unique technique—proof enough that this was a different man entirely.

A mere coincidence of names, she thought, her heart finally settling.

How fortunate it was that some ghosts stayed buried.

“It sounds like you grew close,” Yakrin said in a gentler tone.

“I heard he’s a friend of the Tang clan’s young master from Sichuan.”

At that, Yakrin truly relaxed.

If he were really that Je Haryang, there was no way he’d associate with a Tang noble.

As her mother’s mood softened, Yulhui hesitated, then spoke carefully.

“Mother…”

Yakrin made a small motion with her chin, signaling her to continue.

It was now or never.

Yulhui closed her eyes tightly and blurted out, “About Galtho Hall—”

“…I told you,” Yakrin interrupted coolly, “I would consider that matter only if you won the tournament.”

“But I was runner-up,” Yulhui pleaded. “I tried my best.”

To place second among all the rising stars of the martial world was no small feat.

And yet, having to beg like this filled her with shame.

“A promise is a promise. Without victory, I cannot grant your request.”

Yakrin’s voice was firm, her expression cold.

“What have I always taught you?”

“That principles and rules must be upheld…”

“Exactly. So you understand why I must refuse.”

Her mother’s face was composed, unyielding—so familiar, so unapproachable.

Yulhui swallowed her tears.

As the next successor of the Hwangbo Clan, she couldn’t show weakness. Crying would only make her mother’s disapproval worse.

“But Grandfather—he’s unwell. And he’s still confined in Galtho Hall.”

“The Grand Elder is merely taking responsibility for his choices,” Yakrin said flatly. “Principles must be upheld.”

Her tone grew colder.

“Then at least… can you lessen the restrictions? Or let me visit him again—”

“Yulhui.”

Her mother’s voice cut through her words.

“It’s late. I’ve had a long journey. I’m going to rest.”

As Yakrin turned to leave, Yulhui bit her lip until it hurt.

It felt like standing before a wall she could neither climb nor break through.

Her breath came shallow and heavy.

By the time she lifted her head, the door had already closed.

Only the faint puddle of rainwater on the floor proved her mother had ever been there.

Yulhui took a few shaky breaths and sank onto her bed—then her gaze fell on the sword resting beside it.

Grandfather… I’m sorry.

She remembered the old man who’d laughed as she waved her wooden sword as a child.

He had given her this blade.

But after her mother became clan head, he had been confined to Galtho Hall—

for his “poor judgment.”

Whenever she managed to visit, he always smiled, pretending everything was fine. But she knew better.

‘Are you uncomfortable there, Grandfather?’

‘With your grandmother by my side, how could I be uncomfortable?’

Yulhui sighed softly, eyes drifting to the window.

The rain had eased.

Her mind was too restless to stay still.

Should I… go out? Without Mother’s permission?

She hesitated.

But resentment burned hotter than fear.

Making up her mind, she donned her rain cloak and slipped out through the window.

Despite the late hour, the streets of Wuhuan still glowed with light.

Lanterns shimmered through the rain, their reflections rippling across wet stone.

The tournament had ended less than a week ago—festivities still filled the city.

The further she walked toward the bright lights, the closer she came to the pleasure district.

Normally, she would never have set foot there.

But tonight, she wanted a drink. Anything to quiet her thoughts.

What should I do…

She debated turning back—but the thought of facing her mother again in the morning made her chest tighten.

Leaning against a wall in the alley, she watched people pass by.

Then someone turned, eyes widening.

“Miss Hwangbo?”

It was Tang Segi, clutching a gourd of wine to his chest, staring at her in surprise.

And beside him stood—

The Heavenly Thunder Dragon.

The winner of the Dragon and Phoenix Tournament.