TSBIRBV Ch 333

Chapter 333. The False Dragon King (3)

“Gwaiho?”

“Why is Gwaiho here?”

Ignoring Yegyeol’s introduction entirely, Peng Munhyeong swung his fist.

The black-clad leader’s head snapped to the side with a loud crack, his body spinning before collapsing to the deck.

It was less a punch and more a thunderous slap.

“You ask why I’m here—after you dared to attack a merchant fleet under the protection of the North Hebei Peng Clan?”

The man’s mask had been knocked loose, his swollen face already bruising purple.

“Utterly ridiculous,” Peng Munhyeong scoffed.

And he wasn’t the only one moving.

The Peng Clan’s enforcers drew their swords in unison, while the young prodigies interspersed among them unleashed a flurry of sharp attacks.

“Ahhh! Spare us!”

The moment their leader fell, the tide turned instantly.

The black-clad raiders were swept away like dirty water beneath a mop.

Some turned in desperation, glaring at Yegyeol and Namgung Un.

“Out of the way!”

They meant to kill the guards and escape back into the river.

Not a chance.

Yegyeol blocked their path.

He grabbed one man’s sword, and cracks spidered across the blade before it snapped clean in half.

“Careful, Young Master—!”

Namgung Un’s eyes widened as he shouted, cutting down an attacker who lunged toward Yegyeol.

Even mid-battle, his gaze never left Yegyeol for long — his body reacting almost by instinct.

“Nice!”

When another raider rushed in with bare fists after losing his weapon, Yegyeol seized his wrist and slammed him into the deck. The wood splintered beneath the impact, the man’s head buried deep in the fractured boards.

Without pausing to confirm the kill, Yegyeol surged forward.

He swept a raider’s ankle out from under him — one who was closing in on Tang Segi, who was flinging throwing knives from a distance — then stomped hard on the man’s chest. The crunch of breaking ribs echoed beneath his boot.

Before the body could slump, Yegyeol launched his fist toward another attacker’s head — the one dueling Hwangbo Yulhui.

The man sensed the blast of wind just in time to dodge — and in that moment, Yulhui’s blade found his heart.

“Much appreciated!”

“You’ve got time to thank me? Impressive multitasking,” Yegyeol teased with a grin.

Yulhui chuckled, flicking the blood from her sword before darting toward the next foe.

Namgung Un fought his way through the ring of enemies, but his gaze kept drifting toward Yegyeol.

Each time Yegyeol moved, faint golden sparks of electricity shimmered in his wake — flashing, fading, flashing again.

It was unlike any martial art Un had ever witnessed.

Weightless — yet carrying a boundless freedom, as if nothing in this world could bind him, stop him, or make him turn back.

Perhaps it isn’t his martial art that’s special, Un thought, but the man himself.

He shook the thought away and moved his hand.

His sword form — the Imperial Blade — unfolded like a garment worn by kings.

Even before his blade touched its mark, the sheer pressure of his intent crushed his opponent’s chest. The man barely had time to gasp before Un’s sword pierced his throat.

Namgung Un exhaled softly, his expression calm.

A sword should be heavy, but the heart should stay light.

It was a lesson every warrior faced on the battlefield:

You must never lose your balance beneath the weight of the lives you take —

But you must never find killing easy, either.

Otherwise, you’re no longer a swordsman… just a butcher.

Un had long used his sense of duty and justice as the scales to keep his blade balanced.

But as his understanding of the martial world deepened, that balance had begun to waver.

Still, he didn’t stop. This, too, was part of tempering his blade.

“Oh…”

Yegyeol, who had been wreaking havoc among the raiders, suddenly turned his head toward the rear of the ship.

He didn’t need to draw upon his power — the vast shadow approaching across the water was impossible to miss.

It was the largest vessel he’d ever seen.

Not as fast as the Dragon King’s famed flagship, perhaps, but far too swift for its size.

“Keh-heh… the main force has arrived.”

The beaten leader on the deck gave a raspy laugh.

With his mask hanging loose, the missing front teeth and the steady drip of nosebleed made him look more pitiful than menacing.

“The Dragon King has come!”

The surviving raiders cried out in joy, voices trembling with awe.

“We’re saved!”

Ridiculous — considering they were the ones who had started this raid in the first place.

Still, given how thoroughly Yegyeol and Peng Munhyeong had destroyed them, one might almost mistake them for victims being rescued.

As the distance closed, iron grappling hooks shot through the air from the great ship — each tipped with three heavy prongs that buried deep into the deck with thunderous thuds.

Then, the ropes tightened.

The entire merchant ship lurched as it was pulled toward the massive vessel.

“At last,” growled Peng Munhyeong, “we’ll see who’s behind this.”

His disheveled half-black, half-white hair and his towering frame made him look every bit the battle-crazed wanderer he was rumored to be.

Even standing on the rocking ship, he remained perfectly balanced — muscles tensing like coiled steel beneath his thin robe.

Tang Segi, pale-faced, rubbed his stomach. Even someone with no seasickness found Peng Munhyeong’s killing aura nauseating.

More raiders descended along the ropes, easily outnumbering the defenders. The advantage the subjugation squad had gained was wiped away in seconds.

Boom!

A final, deafening thud shook the ship as a man landed heavily upon the deck — holding a sword that gleamed silver-white even beneath the dark of night.

“…So you’re the Dragon King?” Peng Munhyeong asked.

The man straightened his back and nodded boldly.

“I am!”

“Hmm. Funny,” Peng said, tilting his head. “I heard the Dragon King only had one arm.”

He wasn’t one to believe every rumor that drifted through the martial world, but traveling as much as he had, he’d heard that tale more than once — of a one-armed tyrant who ruled the Yangtze.

“May I take him on first?” Yegyeol stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of battle.

“Forget it. You’ll get hurt,” Peng said, shaking his head.

“But I think I can handle him without your help,” Yegyeol replied lightly.

“Impudent whelps!”

The so-called Dragon King — or rather, the false one — shouted furiously.

“To speak so arrogantly before the ruler of the Yangtze, even if you are Gwaiho and his sworn brother!”

“My apologies,” Yegyeol said cheerfully, stepping closer.

“I wasn’t planning to keep you waiting this long.”

By the time Peng Munhyeong reached out to stop him, Yegyeol had already slipped beyond his grasp.

Behind him, Yulhui’s anxious voice rang out — “My lord!” — followed by Tang Segi’s muttered “Oh no, oh no…”

“Well,” Yegyeol said breezily, “since it’s already come to this, I’ll ask for permission after I win.”

“Tch.” Peng clicked his tongue.

“I knew my brother was bold, but… fine. If things go south, I’ll step in.”

“How noble,” sneered the false Dragon King. “So much for the great Gwaiho. You’d really interfere in a fair duel? How disgraceful.”

In orthodox martial circles, interrupting a one-on-one battle was a grave offense — a mark of cowardice.

“Please,” Peng scoffed. “I’d rather be called a coward than mourn a dead brother. A man doesn’t come back just because you stroke his corpse and cry.”

The Dragon King frowned deeply at the vulgarity — far from the refinement one expected of a noble-born.

“Please trust your brother a little more,” Yegyeol said brightly, amusement coloring his tone.

Peng only sighed. Had he not sensed the hidden depths of Yegyeol’s strength, he would’ve dragged him back by the collar himself.

The false Dragon King studied him, lips curling.

“Since Gwaiho’s here, I suppose this isn’t just a common merchant ship. You must be one of the famous young elites of the martial world, then.”

“Thunder Dragon,” Yegyeol replied casually, shrugging his shoulders.

“Good,” the man sneered. “Then I’ll kill you first — and when Gwaiho weeps over your corpse, I’ll take his head too!”

He drew his sword, its edge shimmering beneath the moonlight.

He had heard the name “Thunder Dragon” before — the recent victor of the Dragon and Phoenix Assembly — but to him, that meant nothing.

No matter how well these young lions fight among themselves, how could a cub ever defeat a tiger?

He scoffed inwardly. Such a pretty face, too. Maybe I’ll carve a few scars on it before he dies.

“I heard the Dragon King uses a weapon called the Dragon Rope,” Yegyeol remarked, watching the gleaming sword in his hand. “Funny — that looks a lot like a sword.”

The comment was delivered lightly, but Peng Munhyeong could tell it was bait.

The false Dragon King chuckled darkly.

“Hah. Why waste such a weapon on small fry like you?”

“Oh? Then isn’t it strange that the mighty Dragon King himself came out just to deal with small fry?” Yegyeol tilted his head innocently. “Bit of a plot hole, don’t you think?”

A vein throbbed on the man’s forehead.

Yegyeol smirked. Got him.

“Really now,” he said mockingly, “are you sure you’re the real Dragon King?”

“You insolent brat! Let’s see if you can still run your mouth with my sword through your throat!”

With a roar, Chayeop — the false Dragon King — swung his blade.

The air itself split with a chilling whistle, sharp enough to make even the onlookers tense.

If nothing else, his killing intent was genuine.

“Young Master, please stop him!” Tang Segi pleaded, nearly in tears. Yulhui, standing beside him, only nodded gravely.

They had assumed Peng Munhyeong would intervene, but for some reason, the man simply watched with his hands behind his back.

He had said he’d step in before it went too far — but what if Yegyeol was gravely injured before that moment came?

As anxious eyes turned toward Namgung Un, he said quietly — his voice steady, certain.

“That man… is a fake.”