TSBIRBV Ch 334

Chapter 334. The False Dragon King (4)

Namgung Un spoke with certainty.

He was one of only two witnesses here who had ever met the true Dragon King.

I don’t know why Yegyeol hasn’t declared that the Dragon King before us is a fake…

The upright man, too rigid to imagine Yegyeol might simply be doing it for fun, added solemnly,

“The real Dragon King is a one-armed woman.”

Having expected to face the genuine Dragon King, Un relaxed, a faint ease returning to his posture.

Yegyeol looked at him with a strange, almost amused glint in his eyes.

Hmm. At this rate, Brother Peng might actually figure out who Yeonso So really is.

“Now that you mention it,” Peng Munhyeong said, nodding thoughtfully,

“I recall hearing the Young Lord of Namgung was once taken aboard the Dragon King’s ship.”

He clicked his tongue.

“If they were going to put forth a fake, they should’ve at least found a convincing one.”

At those words, the fake Dragon King — Chayeop — snarled.

Yegyeol, for his part, was dumbfounded.

Throughout all the Central Plains, how many one-armed women skilled in martial arts, operating near the Yangtze, could there possibly be?

And yet they couldn’t even connect this to Yeonso So?

Yegyeol muttered absently,

“Should I call that open-mindedness… or blindness born of infatuation?”

“Enough of your nonsense!”

Unwilling to let them speak further about his identity, Chayeop swung his sword toward Yegyeol.

The air shifted in an instant, tension rippling like a drawn bowstring.

Though he seemed caught off guard, Yegyeol smoothly stepped back, avoiding the slash.

But Chayeop was ready for that — his strikes came in relentless succession.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t expect to get found out? Or did you really start believing you’re the real Dragon King now?”

Golden light flickered faintly within Yegyeol’s eyes.

“Silence!” Chayeop roared, teeth bared.

Every time his sword cut through the air, he thought for sure it would pierce flesh — yet each time, his blade met nothing but wind.

He stumbled slightly with the force of his swings, his balance faltering, only to steady himself and charge again, chasing the elusive young man like a fool playing endless hide-and-seek.

His sword halted for but a heartbeat — and then resumed its vicious flurry.

Yegyeol was now backed to the edge of the ship, the black expanse of the Yangtze yawning behind him.

This time for sure!

Determined to at least knock him overboard if he couldn’t cut him down, Chayeop pressed his attack.

But Yegyeol’s body flipped backward in a graceful motion, landing lightly atop the railing as though performing acrobatics rather than fighting for his life. His movement was so fluid, so elegant, it made one forget this was combat at all.

“Already out of breath?” Yegyeol teased, smiling lopsidedly. “You sure you’re all right, Dragon King?”

Chayeop realized, too late, that he was panting heavily.

He looked up — and froze as his gaze met those burning golden eyes.

What in heaven’s name…

They shimmered like the Yangtze at sunset — golden waves rippling across their depths. Beautiful, yes, but with beauty that inspired dread.

Fishermen who lived and died by the river knew better than to reach for false gold glimmering in the water. The sun sets quickly, and night falls deep and fast — the river becomes as bottomless as an abyss.

Those who try to grasp that golden light sink forever, swallowed whole by the current.

Old fishermen who cannot die by age, the river claims instead.

And Yegyeol’s eyes — they carried the same haunting brilliance, the death-bound beauty of the Yangtze itself.

“It seems… that’s all you’ve got,” Yegyeol murmured, almost to himself.

From his fingertips, golden sparks flared to life — radiant flames twisting and coiling like the body of a dragon.

The blinding light flooded the deck, and screams broke out among the black-clad men.

“Aaagh!”

In a night so deep that even the moon seemed faint, that light was searing — burning through vision like lightning at midnight.

“Wh-what is that?!”

Even for energy techniques, such luminosity was rare. And for someone so young — so deceptively young — to wield that level of internal power? It made no sense.

We were only supposed to raid a merchant ship, Chayeop thought in despair.

Then, like a lamp running out of oil, the light around Yegyeol began to dim — faint, flickering, like a firefly’s last glow.

It looked, at a glance, as if his energy had been spent.

But the expression on his face — calm, even playful — said otherwise.

“Wouldn’t want to set the ship on fire,” he said with a grin. “So I’ll stop here, okay?”

His tone was polite, but the lilt at the end of his words was teasing — like a cat toying with its prey.

The false Dragon King tightened his grip on his sword.

That attack was anything but ordinary — yet surely, he thought, he wouldn’t lose to a mere youth.

Maybe he’s just fast, relying on his movement techniques. His inner strength and experience can’t possibly match mine.

Chayeop had reached the level of a peak master at a young age — not a true dragon who had ascended beyond the river, perhaps, but strong enough to earn his place among the elite. That was why he’d been chosen to impersonate the Dragon King in the first place.

And I’ve been blessed by those mighty ones. I stand at the threshold of the Transformation Realm!

There was no way he could lose so miserably to a boy barely known before the Dragon and Phoenix Assembly.

His flashy golden energy’s fading — this is my chance.

He gritted his teeth, readjusting his stance.

Then Yegyeol lunged, kicking off the railing, his movements fierce and overwhelming — a stark contrast to his earlier evasions.

Chayeop blocked the strike with the flat of his sword.

Clang!

The sound rang sharp and crystalline — far too bright for mere metal meeting flesh.

Chayeop exhaled in relief, thinking he had parried it — but then a numbing jolt raced up his arm.

“Khh—! Ugh—!”

Golden electricity coursed from the point of contact, climbing his sword, crackling up the blade like living fire.

His gleaming white sword turned against him — burning, tightening, a conduit for Yegyeol’s energy.

When the weapon finally turned black, charred like firewood, Yegyeol withdrew his hand.

He walked back toward Peng Munhyeong, calm and unhurried.

Behind him came the heavy thud of a body collapsing.

Yegyeol glanced over his shoulder, clicking his tongue.

He must’ve overdone it again.

For that, he had a favorite spell.

In a low voice, he muttered,

“Did I… get him?”

Miraculously, it worked.

The fake Dragon King’s eyes rolled back, his chest heaving as he gasped awake.

Yegyeol quietly curled his hand into a fist.

Works every time.

“Wh… what… how… is this…”

Chayeop stammered incoherently, trembling as though his soul had fled his body.

He crawled backward, hands scraping against the deck — until he bumped into one of his fallen subordinates. The warmth of the corpse beneath his hand jolted him back to his senses.

He couldn’t die here.

“I… will not… fall here!”

With a snarl, he pulled something wrapped in black paper from his robes.

Tearing it open with his teeth, he revealed a crimson pill radiating a baleful glow.

It looked dangerous even at a glance.

“Not going to stop him?” Yegyeol asked, elbowing Peng Munhyeong lightly.

“Let’s see how far he goes,” Peng replied.

In a martial novel, that kind of confidence usually gets you killed, Yegyeol thought, clicking his tongue — but he made no move to interfere.

Peng’s eyes, sharp and calculating, were fixed on the trembling impostor.

He might seem simple, but when it came to battle, his instincts were sharper than a dolphin’s mind.

“When a weak man swallows something like that,” Peng said aloud, “you’ve got to watch what happens.”

Then, through voice transmission, he added to Yegyeol alone,

If a stronger man ever tries it, we’ll need to know whether it’s worth taking a wound to stop him — or a limb.

He had already sensed that this situation had roots deeper than the false Dragon King himself.

Chayeop realized, too, that no one was stopping him — that they were giving him time.

It was humiliating, but survival came first.

He would live now — and repay this humiliation later.

“Blood Soul Pill—grant me power!”

The crimson sphere slid down his throat, and his body jerked backward.

At first, he couldn’t even scream. The agony tore through him silently, as if his heart itself was being crushed from within.

Then the pain turned to heat — power flooding his veins, searing, unstoppable.

The blood he had spilled seemed to surge back into his body, his veins bulging, eyes rolling back, muscles swelling grotesquely.

Just from looking, I can tell the backlash will be brutal, Yegyeol thought.

He probably thought it better than dying — but at this rate, even a clean death would’ve been kinder.

“Hahaha! Hahahahaha!”

Chayeop’s laughter burst forth, booming across the deck like a storm.

The sound alone made weaker cultivators cough blood; Tang Segi staggered, only staying upright because Yulhui caught her by the arm.

When he first stood, his legs trembled. But within moments, he was steady — unnervingly so.

“My harpoon!” he roared.

From the massive ship tethered to them, a single harpoon was launched — its blade longer and more wickedly curved than any ordinary one. Once it struck flesh, it would never let go.

Without even looking, Chayeop snatched it from the air.

The aura around him had changed completely — gone was the pretense of a swordsman. What remained was raw, bestial menace.

His stance, his glare — everything radiated bloodlust.

So he’d been hiding his true martial technique after all, Yegyeol mused, clicking his tongue.

Thus appeared the classic villain — newly “leveled up” by forbidden medicine.