TSBIRBV Ch 346

Chapter 346. The Returning Current (3)

“You’ve found a way into the Geumeo Workshop?”

Peng Munhyeong looked at his sworn brother in astonishment.

During the recent Jiang River subjugation, they had captured the false Dragon King and uncovered the name Geumeo Workshop. But just as the Martial Alliance began preparing for a covert investigation, they received intelligence that Geumeo Workshop was preparing to close its gates.

It was as though a fire had suddenly broken out at their feet.

[Recently, a former disciple of our workshop, expelled for misconduct, became a river bandit and disturbed the order of the Jiang. Geumeo Workshop, feeling deep shame, intends to seal its gates.]

This was the message sent to sects friendly with Geumeo Workshop.

How in the world did they find out so quickly that Chayeop had been captured by the Martial Alliance?

It was highly suspicious. Yet Geumeo Workshop claimed to be victims as well, even going so far as to compensate the bereaved families of those harmed by the false Dragon King.

Of course, Peng Munhyeong had already decided to storm their gates before the seclusion could take effect.

It was only thanks to his younger brother, the current head of the Peng Clan, that the fiery-tempered Fierce Tiger had been stopped.

“Brother, Geumeo Workshop is a respected sect with influence along the Jiang. Attacking them based on one witness—the false Dragon King—would place the Martial Alliance in a difficult position. Besides, our family’s involvement could easily be spun into favoritism by the Five Great Clans. We must tread carefully.”

After that came long-winded talk of political entanglements and power structures, most of which Peng Munhyeong ignored. But he understood the main point well enough—

in short, no.

And now, this younger brother claimed there was a way into Geumeo before the seclusion?

“Yes,” Yegyeol replied calmly. “Do you remember Master Yeon, the River Lord?”

At the mention of that name, Peng Munhyeong’s heart dropped.

“Of course I do.”

The Fierce Tiger nodded gravely.

“Since she knows the flow of the Jiang better than anyone, my brother thought she might also know how to navigate the ways of Geumeo Workshop. He reached out to her—and surprisingly, it turns out her late father once belonged to Geumeo.”

Of course, this wasn’t information Yegyeol had learned directly from Yeon Soso—it had been passed down through Je Haryang.

“Is that so? But how do you plan to enter Geumeo?”

“As it happens, she recently discovered her late father’s will and intends to deliver it to Geumeo personally.”

The timing was so perfect that Peng Munhyeong’s eyes lit up with conviction, not an ounce of doubt.

“My brother… you truly have remarkable resourcefulness.”

He was honestly stunned. The matter that had plagued him for days had resolved itself so neatly it almost felt like divine intervention.

“I simply have connections that ordinary martial artists lack, owing to my time in a merchant guild,” Yegyeol said modestly.

“But still, astonishing. Truly astonishing.”

Peng Munhyeong nodded repeatedly, clearly impressed.

“Yet, even if she’s delivering a will, how could someone not of the family accompany her?”

He had struck instinctively at the most crucial question. Yegyeol regarded him with an odd expression.

Something about this feels… off.

Not unpleasant, but strangely uncanny.

“There are ways,” Yegyeol said evasively. “But first…”

His gaze slid toward Peng Munhyeong’s hair.

“We’ll need to dye that black.”

Not far from Wuhuan, the harbor city of Yichang sat along the banks of the Jiang River.

It was here that Geumeo Workshop’s headquarters resided—right at the heart of the waters they governed.

“It’s been a while,” said Yeon Soso as she greeted them.

“And this,” she added with a graceful smile, “is my husband.”

The smile froze Peng Munhyeong in place. His face turned red enough to burst.

His newly dyed black hair framed a body moving all wrong—his left arm and leg, and then his right, all jerking at once like an unwound automaton that had forgotten how to walk.

Most importantly—he was backing away.

“Goo–good mor–ning, m’lady…”

He didn’t even finish his sentence before sinking crimson-faced into silence.

I knew I shouldn’t have told him last minute… but maybe that was a mistake, Yegyeol thought.

After his brother in the Martial Alliance was informed of their infiltration plan, Peng Munhyeong had dutifully dyed his hair and followed Yegyeol to Yichang—only to learn his undercover role after arrival.

As of today, Peng Munhyeong was playing the part of Yeon Soso’s husband—a wandering swordsman who’d spent his life drifting between Sichuan and Qinghai.

Yegyeol himself would act as his disciple.

In the Central Plains, few bonds ran deeper than that between master and disciple—making the setup natural enough.

Still… I can’t believe I fell for Jinyoung’s trick again.

Yegyeol’s expression darkened as he touched his face.

When he’d checked in the mirror, the supposed “mask of the Black Ghost” had turned out to be the face of some perfectly ordinary young man.

He still remembered the way Je Haryang had calmly handed him the two skin masks, with Jinyoung standing smugly behind him, looking far too pleased with himself.

Yegyeol’s irritation simmered.

He’d wanted to make Jinyoung work overtime alongside Samrang just once—but instead, he’d walked right into his trap.

If Je Haryang hadn’t refused to bring him to the White Lotus Cult, Jinyoung would’ve been on the same leash as their lord.

Just you wait, Wi Jinyoung.

“I trust you won’t embarrass me before my late father’s old acquaintances,” Yeon Soso said mildly, extending a hand.

For a moment, Peng Munhyeong just stared at it in a daze. Then, swallowing hard, he reached out and grasped it—his hand trembling faintly.

“O–of course not.”

Did the tin man just turn into a real person?

Yegyeol was impressed. A few seconds of Yeon Soso’s poise had accomplished what hours of his own persuasion could not.

He was still a bit stiff and awkward, but the change was remarkable—enough to pass as a shy, itinerant warrior.

Which was a blessing in disguise. No one, looking at this bashful man, would ever imagine he was the same Fierce Tiger who once made the martial world tremble.

“As my disciple has likely told you,” Yeon Soso began, “I thought it best to explain in more detail myself.”

“My father,” she said evenly, “was originally a fisherman affiliated with Geumeo Workshop. Though his aptitude wasn’t poor, he began learning martial arts too late to reach mastery.”

As expected of the Dragon King’s father, Yegyeol mused.

“At the time, Geumeo was small in scale, and repeated droughts made life difficult. Eventually, my father defected and joined a water bandit group.”

Even as she revealed what could be considered family disgrace, Yeon Soso’s tone remained calm, unflinching.

It was Peng Munhyeong beside her who grew visibly uneasy.

“In the end, he realized his error,” she continued quietly, “and betrayed the bandits, revealing their hideout to the government troops. But before he could escape, he was caught in the raid and perished with them.”

“Tragic indeed…” Peng Munhyeong murmured, lowering his gaze.

“Fortunately, one of my father’s old friends retrieved his remains, and I was able to hold a proper burial. That friend now serves as Geumeo’s vice leader. When I requested to visit my father’s old sect, he gladly granted permission.”

“If I recall,” Yegyeol interjected, “Geumeo’s vice leader’s name was… Wang Ho, wasn’t it?”

Yeon Soso nodded softly.

“Yes.”

Her eyes fell slightly as she murmured, “He was… a very kind man.”

All the way to Geumeo, the three reviewed their fabricated identities in careful detail.

Some details were kept close to reality: Yeon Soso and Peng Munhyeong met through Yegyeol’s introduction, forming a connection afterward—but instead of meeting aboard a ship, they’d met along a mountain path.

Since Yeon Soso’s true identity as the Dragon King was to be kept hidden, her supposed life had to take place far from the Jiang.

“After her father’s death,” Yegyeol explained, “Lady Yeon couldn’t bear to remain in her hometown. She went west, joined the Qinghai Merchant Guild, and eventually rose to the position of branch master.”

“Sounds convincing,” Peng Munhyeong agreed.

“As for your name, elder brother, let’s keep it simple—call yourself Munhyeong. Too many details, and you’ll forget them anyway.”

It was a lazy alias, but it served its purpose. Peng Munhyeong was merely a witness; the real work would be handled by Yeon Soso and Yegyeol.

“And you?” Peng Munhyeong asked.

“I’m an orphan,” Yegyeol replied. “My name is Yegyeol, following my master’s surname—Mun Yegyeol.”

“Yegyeol… Yegyeol, got it.”

They spent the night in an inn near Geumeo, drilling their roles until dawn.

The next day, they arrived at Geumeo Workshop.

As soon as the gatekeeper heard Yeon Soso’s name and purpose, he rushed off—and moments later, a man came running out barefoot.

“Well, if it isn’t little Soso—grown into a fine young lady!”

The middle-aged man’s eyes glistened with emotion as he embraced her.

This was Wang Ho, the vice leader of Geumeo Workshop.

His hair was flecked with white, but his body was upright and strong—a man entering his twilight years, but still brimming with vitality. His face was so smooth and well-kept it almost gleamed.

“To be welcomed so warmly… it truly feels like coming home,” Yeon Soso said softly, gazing around with nostalgia.

“Your father was once a disciple of Geumeo,” Wang Ho said, smiling. “So this place is your home too.”

Of course, such warmth came with reason.

“…It’s thanks to the funds you sent that Geumeo could recover from hardship,” he said quietly.

Naturally—no vice leader would come running simply for old acquaintance’s sake.

“My father left under unfortunate circumstances,” Yeon Soso replied, shaking her head. “I only wished to repay a fraction of the debt his disgrace left behind.”

Her tone was humble, but Yegyeol knew well that Geumeo was in dire straits.

In trying to protect its reputation, the sect had distributed generous reparations to those harmed by the false Dragon King, Chayeop—nearly to the point of collapse.

Clever, Yegyeol thought.

They could’ve feigned ignorance, claiming the expelled disciple was no longer their responsibility. Instead, they took the initiative to compensate, securing both honor and sympathy.

Rumors of their impending seclusion had spread, but rather than condemnation, it had earned them pity—and even admiration.

[But was it really wise to give them such a large sum? What if they use it for foul deeds?]

Peng Munhyeong’s voice whispered through a transmission technique.

Yegyeol murmured back quietly, lips barely moving.

“Because I have a way to find out exactly where it goes.”