TSBIRBV Ch 332

Chapter 332. The False Dragon King (2)

He said that as though coughing up pain itself.

Yegyeol, gazing at his furrowed brows in faint confusion, asked,

“You’re saying it hurt — because I didn’t call your name?”

“I know it sounds strange.”

Namgung Un murmured in quiet defeat, lowering his gaze.

“Every time you called me ‘Young Master Namgung,’ I couldn’t help but remember that day in Seonyeong Province.”

Even the sorrow shadowing his expression suited him perfectly.

“Of course, I was in the wrong,” he continued. “I acted on only one side of the story, never taking the time to learn the truth. I truly believed I was doing the right thing back then… but when I look back now, I feel nothing but shame.”

His gaze met Yegyeol’s — calm, untainted by resentment, only heavy with self-reproach.

“So if you’ve withdrawn your affection, I have no right to protest. Still… I’m weak. I can’t help but want more.”

His voice sounded uncharacteristically subdued. Yegyeol scratched his head.

“You mean you want things to go back to how they were before?”

“Don’t you think… we’ve gone a little beyond that?”

Namgung Un smiled faintly as he asked the question.

It wasn’t merely his name he wanted to reclaim — it was something far deeper.

In his eyes, Yegyeol saw attachment, perhaps even longing. It was no longer simple friendship, nor mere goodwill; it had grown into something far more complicated.

That’s…

The emotion had reached a dangerous threshold, one that could no longer be dismissed.

Yegyeol, who rarely took interest in anyone outside of Haryang, felt a flicker of alarm.

It’d be best if he never realizes it fully.

He shrugged lightly and said,

“You’re right. I’ve been more honest with you than before — probably because you’ve been so sincere with me. You’ve helped me a lot too.”

Trailing off, Yegyeol smiled softly.

“If you’d like me to call you by your name, then… I will. Un.”

For now, I’ll play along. Keep things calm. Once this mission’s over, I’ll create some distance.

That was the plan. After all, he’d be returning to the Ten Thousand Great Mountains soon.

Even so, he couldn’t quite understand Un’s affection.

He hadn’t saved Namgung Un’s life. They hadn’t known each other long.

Namgung Un, the heir of the great Namgung Clan, could have had anyone — and yet, somehow, he’d chosen him.

Another man, whose temperament was far from pleasant, whose past was suspicious at best, and who had ties to the very Heavenly Demon that the righteous world feared more than natural disasters.

Any typical member of the Namgung Clan would’ve drawn their sword at such a man — not fallen in love with him.

Well… the situation was rather dramatic, Yegyeol thought wryly.

Back when he’d been posing as a merchant, everyone had assumed he couldn’t fight — which, apparently, triggered every martial artist’s protective instincts. And Namgung Un had already harbored a certain fondness for him.

Then Baiyang Zhenren’s “favor” had added to the chaos — a story so skillfully fabricated it bordered on melodrama.

Who knew my old master had a knack for writing tragic plays?

Granted, parts of it were based on real events Haryang had lived through, which only made Yegyeol grimace more.

While Un’s judgment was clouded by those lies, the Heavenly Demon himself had appeared and snatched Yegyeol away right before Un’s eyes.

For a young heir on the rise, such a scene must’ve been utterly shattering.

In the end, it was no wonder his heart had wavered — like someone falling in love on a swaying bridge.

Crash!

Suddenly, a heavy thud reverberated beneath the ship.

“Was that a reef?”

Even as he said it, Yegyeol gathered his strength and peered into the dark waves.

Something — not a fish — was swimming beneath the surface.

Humans.

“That can’t be— ah!”

Namgung Un’s sharp denial was cut off as he drew his sword with a metallic shring.

From the moonlit river, black shadows drenched in water burst upward, landing on the deck.

Un struck swiftly, cutting down the first one before the man’s feet even touched wood.

But that was only the beginning.

Splash! Splash!

More figures shot up from every direction, surrounding them in an instant.

The entire deck seemed to erupt in motion, like waves crashing from all sides.

“Enemies aboard! We’re under attack!”

Un shouted, his voice empowered with inner energy. Almost immediately, a blade flashed toward his throat — the intruders trying to silence him before reinforcements could emerge.

He twisted his body, narrowly evading the strike, and swept the attacker’s leg to the side. Yegyeol slipped free in the same breath, fluid as smoke.

Though their net had been torn and their prey escaped, the black-clad assailants remained composed. While some engaged Un and Yegyeol, one of them ran to the hatch leading below deck and—

Bam!

—bent an iron bar with his bare hands, wedging it into place and twisting the handle shut.

He bent solid iron just to seal it… impressive.

Even if the people below broke through the wooden door, they wouldn’t be able to rush out immediately.

It wasn’t a perfect barricade — it would only buy time — but time was all the attackers needed.

“Hah! Clever as you are, you’re still rats trapped in a jar,” one of them taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.

The deck guards — two of them — stood their ground, but behind the intruders lay only the wide, black mouth of the Yangtze.

The hatch below was sealed. Pinned between the railings and their enemies, the guards’ odds of survival were grim.

Fall into the river, and they’d drown. Stay and fight, and they’d be overwhelmed.

Unless, of course, those “guards” happened to be an S-rank esper and the heir of the Namgung Clan.

The attackers had no idea.

“Enemies! Enemies aboard!” Un shouted again. From below, they heard the muffled thudding of footsteps and movement.

“How admirable,” sneered the leader.

A thud echoed as someone slammed against the blocked hatch — but the bent iron didn’t budge.

“They must’ve been hiding underwater this whole time,” Yegyeol observed quietly, his tone calm but pointed. “That’s a remarkably skilled use of aquatic arts.”

He was speaking loud enough for the attackers to hear.

“Could they be from the Water Bandits?” Un murmured, remembering their current guise as a merchant ship.

“Doesn’t matter!” the leader barked.

“You dare touch goods belonging to the Hyogyeong Trading Company? The Chairman will never forgive you!” Un retorted, drawing his sword.

Until the true identities behind this mission were revealed, they had to maintain their cover.

If the raiders realized they were dealing with a Martial Alliance task force, they might abandon ship and flee — and the real culprit would slip away.

The leader laughed, voice oozing with ridicule.

“Once you’re fish food, there’ll be no one left to report to your precious company.”

Un, fully in character, raised his voice in righteous fury.

“I won’t die easily! If I must fall, I’ll take as many of you with me as I can!”

His natural seriousness made the act surprisingly convincing.

“Oh? That’s troublesome,” the leader mused. “Your friends won’t reach you in time anyway… Let’s send you to the bottom first.”

At his signal, the bandits charged.

Yegyeol, holding back his true power, relied purely on reflex and speed, weaving through the slashing blades.

When he dodged left, two more struck from the right, then three from behind. Un, too, held back his strength — enough that the two of them appeared genuinely cornered.

He’s not exactly a fox, but he’s got the instincts of a bear, Yegyeol thought, noting how Un matched his movements without a word.

“Bandits wearing masks… how strange!” Yegyeol shouted deliberately.

Ordinary river bandits and toll collectors never bothered hiding their faces.

“Why?” sneered the leader. “Would you rather see who kills you, so you can complain to the King of Hell?”

Un’s sleeve tore under a grazing strike, revealing his forearm.

He’s better at acting than I thought, Yegyeol mused, impressed.

“End them,” the leader ordered coldly.

The subordinates lunged — but then, the deck shuddered violently beneath them.

Thud, thud!

As though the ship had struck another reef.

Yegyeol and Un maintained their footing, but the attackers staggered. A few even rolled across the floor.

The one lunging at Yegyeol nearly toppled overboard, barely managing to grab the railing.

“Ugh!”

“What the hell—?”

“I thought we cleared the riverbed already!”

“This wasn’t us!” one of them cried.

Crash!

The deck split open.

Through the shattered planks burst a massive figure — Peng Munhyeong, dressed in training robes, muscles outlined beneath the thin fabric.

He landed lightly, like a descending deity, yet the impact shook the entire ship.

“It’s far too noisy for this hour,” he said, clicking his tongue.

Behind him appeared the rest of the young elites — Hwangbo Yulhui, eyes sharp; Tang Segi, sliding throwing knives between his fingers.

“Who are you?!” the bandit leader cried out, startled.

He had expected the ship’s guards to emerge through the doors — not to have the floor itself smashed open beneath them. Never, in all his raids, had he seen anyone escape a blockade quite like this.

Yegyeol, seizing the moment, smirked and kicked the ass of the black-clad man still clinging to the railing.

“Let me introduce him…” he said, voice dripping with mischief.

“The hero who makes mountains and demons tremble alike — the infamous destroyer of budgets, and also a surprisingly good farmer…”

“Whaaaagh!”

The man’s scream cut through the night as he splashed into the river below.

Yegyeol grinned and finished,

“—The great hero, Gwaiho Peng Munhyeong.”