TSBIRBV Ch 310

Chapter 310. The Bird Leaves Its Nest (2)

“Here’s the wine! Wine has arrived!”

Yegyeol set down the wine jars in the inn. Tang Segi followed suit, but stumbled as he lowered his own jug. Before it could hit the floor, Yegyeol swiftly caught it.

“Ah, ah—thank you, Lord Je.”

The dazed squirrel of a man mumbled his gratitude.

Yegyeol only cast him a brief glance before turning his gaze to the true cause of Tang Segi’s distraction.

“Miss Hwangbo, shall I have them bring up some hot water? You’re completely soaked.”

Though Hwangbo Yulhui wore a rain cloak, she hadn’t fastened it properly, and half her clothes were drenched.

When asked what she was doing out at this hour, she hadn’t answered clearly. So when Yegyeol offered for her to come dry her clothes at the inn where he and Tang Segi were staying, she had followed somewhat dazedly.

Ah… Senior Brother’s kin. I couldn’t just ignore her and walk past.

Yegyeol couldn’t help but be concerned for the frail-looking Yulhui.

If it were Hwangbo Yakrin, that was another story—but her daughter seemed like a decent enough person. Something about her even faintly reminded him of Je Haryang, softening his heart.

“I’m fine. I only worry I might be intruding.”

At that moment, Peng Munhyeong, the boisterous “Raging Tiger,” popped out.

“Intruding? Not at all! We were just celebrating after the Dragon and Phoenix Tournament. A hero of Mount Geumho like you has every right to join us!”

“A celebration? But the tournament ended several days ago.”

Yulhui tilted her head curiously.

“Well, this brother of mine here just returned from meeting the Peng Clan head,” someone explained.

Peng Munhyeong laughed heartily.

“We thought to share a belated toast in honor of the victory—but of course, we ran out of wine! I was about to fetch some myself, but these fine fellows insisted on going instead.”

“Ah, I see.”

Yulhui finally understood why she had met Je Haryang and Tang Segi in that alley.

As a servant handed her a towel to dry herself, Yegyeol asked,

“Would you care for a drink, Miss Hwangbo?”

“No, I should really return. My mother will be worried—”

She paused mid-sentence.

“Actually… if it’s not too much trouble, may I stay a bit longer?”

Tang Segi nearly jumped for joy.

“Of course!” he said eagerly.

And so, their group gained one more member.

Peng Munhyeong grinned and set out extra cups.

“The more, the merrier. Sit, all of you!”

Just then, “Yaryul Hongye” emerged from the kitchen, carrying several dishes of savory snacks.

Yegyeol fought to suppress a laugh as he caught Hongye’s gaze.

They look so different, and yet no one notices? Truly incredible.

He slid a bowl of hot soup filled with clams toward Yulhui.

“Miss Hwangbo, have some of this. It’ll warm you up.”

He hadn’t meant anything by it, but in truth, this was the first meeting between uncle and niece—though only Yegyeol and Je Haryang were aware of it.

“Thank you.”

The noisiest at the table was, of course, Peng Munhyeong.

“I’ve seen our brother here duel several times now, and each time I’m astonished anew!”

He hadn’t even emptied one cup yet, but his face was already flushed, his voice loud with excitement.

“Even on our way to Wuhuan, he struck down bandits and river pirates left and right. To see someone so young command his inner energy so perfectly—it’s a marvel!”

That’s not inner energy, Yegyeol thought wryly. That’s just brute strength.

“I know a scholar from the Pathless Sect, but even he can’t unleash such destructive power. And to think—it’s been less than a year since he began training, yet he’s already the champion of the Dragon and Phoenix Tournament! A genius born once in a millennium!”

Wrong again, Yegyeol thought. It’s not genius—it’s just that I awakened as an Esper at that level from the start.

Still, he smiled modestly.

“Not at all. I was simply fortunate.”

He glanced at Hongye—Je Haryang in disguise—and saw the faint curve of a smile hidden behind his cup.

“A great dragon has risen in the martial world,” Peng Munhyeong proclaimed grandly.

In truth, the enemies Yegyeol had defeated were nothing compared to the foes Peng normally faced. His extravagant praise came more from nostalgia than sincerity.

Yegyeol lifted his cup, taking a small sip. The harsh scent of strong rice wine stung his nose.

“And our brother here has earned the grand title of Heavenly Thunder Divine Dragon, hasn’t he? Hahaha!”

“It’s Heavenly Thunder Dragon,” came a soft, dangerous sound—as if something had just cracked.

“Huh?”

Before Peng could react, Yegyeol smoothly took away his cup, smiling brightly.

“Heavenly Thunder Dragon,” he corrected. “It’s far too grand a title already—I hardly deserve it.”

“Yes, yes, Heavenly Thunder Dragon!” Peng laughed again, nodding.

Yegyeol’s smile only grew more dazzling.

“I’ll work hard to live up to the reputation of my sworn brother, the famous Peng.”

Je Haryang—still wearing Hongye’s false face—gracefully replaced Yegyeol’s cracked cup with a new one.

While Peng talked the most, the one drinking the most was Hwangbo Yulhui.

After silently listening for a long while, she suddenly asked,

“…You said you learned the Thunder Spirit Fist? Did you have a master who taught you?”

Her tone was subdued, almost melancholy.

So she’s been wandering the streets at night over the tournament results, huh?

Despite placing second—an extraordinary feat—she seemed weighed down by disappointment. Likely, someone had scolded her for not winning first.

Yegyeol frowned slightly.

She wasn’t even truly his niece, but seeing her looking so dispirited made him feel uneasy.

“My master, you say…”

His gaze flicked to Haryang.

He remembered the nights training beneath him in the Ten Thousand Mountains, the countless hours in the underground arena. A wistful look softened his face.

“I was fortunate enough to chance upon a secret manual, so I cannot claim a formal master.”

They had agreed beforehand not to reveal Je Haryang’s name to anyone from the orthodox sects.

“It’s hard to imagine that the legendary Thunder Spirit Fist Master truly existed, given the scant traces left behind. But still—”

He paused at just the right moment, letting the curiosity build.

When he sensed he had everyone’s full attention, he continued.

“I wish to become a martial artist as great as the hero who gave me my name.”

His eyes drifted past the teary Peng Munhyeong, settling naturally on Haryang.

Through Hongye’s mask, the man’s smile was faint but unmistakable—the most openly fond expression he’d worn all evening.

Yegyeol took another sip of his drink.

It was sweet. Fragrant. Sweeter even than fruit.

“I, too, have someone I admire,” Yulhui murmured.

“I wanted to help him, but nothing ever goes the way I hope. It hurts so much.”

“Miss Hwangbo…”

Her voice was trembling now, soaked in wine and emotion. Tang Segi shifted anxiously, wanting to help but not daring to touch her.

“It’s all my fault for being weak. But still, still…”

A tear slid down her cheek.

“M-Miss Hwangbo, please, have some water,” Tang Segi stammered, thrusting a cup toward her.

But she shook her head stubbornly.

“No. I’ll drink wine. Wine suits me better.”

Her face—normally so composed and dignified—was flushed red. Tang Segi, overwhelmed by the sudden boldness, set the water down without protest.

“I think you should stop now,” said “Hongye.”

It was the first time Je Haryang had spoken to his niece—his tone calm, almost detached.

No one would have guessed what lay beneath that mask.

“…You sound just like my mother,” Yulhui muttered, smiling faintly.

Yegyeol nearly flinched. He didn’t particularly believe in “blood calling to blood,” but that coincidence was a bit too precise.

“My mother’s such an incredible woman,” Yulhui continued, “but I’m so weak. What am I supposed to do?”

At the mention of Hwangbo Yakrin, Yegyeol stole a glance at Haryang, but the man’s face remained impassive.

“I’m such a disappointing daughter…”

“There’s no such thing as a disappointing daughter,” Yegyeol said lightly. “No rule says you have to be as great as your parents.”

“I didn’t even win the tournament. I fall for people I shouldn’t. And—and…”

Drunkenly, she began counting her flaws on her fingers.

Yegyeol cut her off.

“You did win second place. Everyone knows how skilled you are. The nickname ‘Golden Tiger of Mount Geumho’—did you win that through a children’s game?”

(For the record, Yegyeol had earned his nickname through an entirely different sort of chaos.)

“That’s…”

Yulhui pressed her lips together, at a loss.

“If you keep being scolded like that, you should just—”

He hesitated. With Haryang sitting right there, was it wise to say it?

But his mouth acted faster than his reason.

“—run away from home.”

A piece of heartfelt advice from one who had lived it—though the speaker didn’t dare meet the piercing gaze he could feel on his cheek.

Yulhui blinked at him, then suddenly burst out laughing.

“Haha, you’re a funny man, Lord Je.”

She swayed, nearly knocking her head against the table.

The sound that followed was soft—not because she’d fallen gently, but because someone had caught her.

Of course, Yegyeol thought. That would be him.

“Oh dear, what do we do now?” Tang Segi exclaimed, eyes round with panic.

In his fluster, he sloshed wine all over his own chest without noticing.

Given how calmly she’d been drinking, no one had realized how much she’d actually consumed.

“We should send word to the Hwangbo estate,” said “Hongye.” “It would be disastrous if they learned that the young lady of such a noble house had fallen asleep in an inn full of men.”

Peng Munhyeong gave a low whistle.

“Oh, Yaryul Hongye, how proper of you. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak so many words at once.”

Haryang shut his mouth firmly.

“He’s just concerned,” Yegyeol explained. “Hongye’s always soft when it comes to beasts and children.”

(Though in truth, the real Hongye had a soft spot only for animals.)

Still, Yegyeol felt no guilt for the lie.

After the Hwangbo servants came to retrieve the unconscious Yulhui, the drinking continued. One by one, everyone succumbed to the alcohol—everyone except Yegyeol and Haryang.

“She’ll be fine, right?”

Yegyeol murmured, thinking of Yulhui.

Haryang’s reply was quiet, but layered with meaning.

“Who can say…”

Before Yegyeol could ask what he meant, Haryang drew him close, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

“So,” he whispered, “you plan to run away again?”

Yegyeol gave a sheepish grin.

And the next morning—

Hwangbo Yulhui appeared before him and declared,

“I’m running away from home.”