TSBIRBV Ch 87

Chapter 87 The Trading Lord Is on Leave (4)

The glimmer that had always felt distant now lay within arm’s reach.

It was a strange sensation.

Swallowing the ripple that spread through him, Haryang teased his disciple with a voice tinged with laughter.

“Good thing I remembered to say I’d give you a vacation.”

“To be honest, this is my first time going anywhere for fun.”

In the previous life, the first and last long journey had been from Hangzhou to Kunlun. Back then there had been a goal—entering the Kunlun Sect—so it was nothing like a pleasure trip; it was a forced march in every sense.

After reincarnating, there was no time to go anywhere for fun. Yegyeol, unusually gifted since childhood, was quickly rated an S‑class esper, and his parents found him difficult, so there were never any family vacations.

Without a matching guide, it was hard even to go on school retreats or field trips. Whenever Yegyeol showed interest, the homeroom teacher would quietly call him out and plead staff shortages. Within the school might be one thing, but on a trip—insurance issues, various complicated adult matters.

Though his cheeks were rosy like a child’s, a mind near to an adult’s already dwelled within him—but others did not know that. High‑rank underage espers are generally treated like time bombs; all the more so if that esper lacks a guide.

Yegyeol nodded politely. He judged that behaving like a model student would make his parents and those around him less afraid.

And so… shuttling between home and school, he was confined to a hospital; upon release, he lived a monotonous life cycling among home, school, and the Center.

When at last they planned the first family trip, Yegyeol, though he hid it, was rather excited.

But before they had time to truly become a family, he lost his parents.

He did not feel sorrow—only anger.

Even choosing self‑destructive rampage, he struck down the two espers who had ruined the family trip, frying them with lightning; he had not a jot of regret for that.

‘If I had spilled only a little more over and died before meeting senior brother…’

Thinking of it now was chilling.

“Your first time?”

Surprise tinged his senior brother’s voice.

“Yes. When I entered the Kunlun Sect, I did cross the Central Plains from Hangzhou to Cheonghae—but traveling solely for pleasure, this is a first.”

“Come to think of it, your hometown was Hangzhou.”

As if realizing belatedly, Haryang asked.

“Yes.”

Hangzhou was where Yegyeol had lived until entering Kunlun in his previous life; in that sense, it could be called his hometown. But he felt little attachment to it.

“You remembered I’m from Hangzhou?”

That his senior brother remembered the birthplace of a disciple who had once seemed of little account was surprising to Yegyeol. In the post‑purchase index era, Je Haryang had been a chivalrous man ranging the whole Central Plains, as if ten bodies weren’t enough.

Even a considerate man would hardly have the leisure to remember the hometown of a disciple he’d only met a few times—especially when even their master belonged to a different lineage.

‘If you shine this much, it’s not the solar system; it should be the Senior‑Brother‑system.’

Yegyeol quietly indulged in nonsense that no one in the Central Plains would understand.

“Returning to your hometown after so long—stirs the heart, doesn’t it?”

“Mm. I hardly think of it now.”

Whether he was born in Hangzhou or abandoned there—what did it matter?

There was only one good memory of that place.

Meeting Je Haryang.

“What are you doing here, in the rain?”

Unaware his costly silks were soaking through, the noble boy held out a paper umbrella.

Then, that sheltered young master stood before Yegyeol.

‘If I was going to be beaten to death or starve anyway, I did well to grit my teeth and make it to Kunlun.’

Yegyeol praised himself. Thanks to risking his life to cross the Central Plains back then, he could now call Je Haryang “senior brother.” Haryang was kind, but he drew lines with others.

If the walking had blistered his feet and peeled his nails at that young age, but brought him within Haryang’s circle—then, on balance, he’d gotten a bargain.

“You say you don’t remember, yet you’re smiling.”

“It’s because I’m happy to be traveling with senior brother.”

How could he love Hangzhou? He loved senior brother.

Humming, loosely altering the lyrics of a popular song, Yegyeol sprang to his feet.

“Then I’ll go get ready for the trip before it’s too late.”

“Ready? What do you need to pack?”

“Clothes, maybe…?”

“We can buy them there.”

Yegyeol was newly reminded that Haryang’s sense of money was off.

With a man like that, he had handed Cheonghae Trading Company to a disciple he’d met again after twenty years, not even one he’d been close to.

“Still, shouldn’t I bring at least the basics?”

“If the baggage is too heavy, Red Thunder will struggle.”

“Well, even a spirit‑beast has joints to spare.”

Yegyeol’s brows drew together.

Striving not to laugh at his disciple’s grave concern for Red Thunder’s health, Haryang held his composure.

Though similar in appearance to an ordinary horse, Red Thunder was a quasi–spirit‑beast; even the unceasing crossing of the Central Plains would draw only a few drops of crimson sweat. Moreover, with Je Haryang continuously imbuing inner energy to bolster its physique, Red Thunder could carry rocks instead of a feather‑light man like his disciple.

Nor was Yegyeol entirely ignorant of spirit‑beasts. Hadn’t there been a report that the Thousand‑Year Thunder Lizard Net he kept had the power to jab lightning into a bandit stronghold?

Of course, neither the one who reported nor the one who received the report knew that power was actually Yegyeol’s.

But rather than correct his disciple’s innocent misconception, Haryang nodded gravely.

“If the master of Cheonghae is away too long, it’s troublesome. We should minimize Red Thunder’s load and reach Hangzhou quickly.”

“But what about the return trip? If we have more luggage coming back, won’t Red Thunder be burdened?”

Eyes sparkling at a sudden, good idea, Yegyeol asked.

Surely he wouldn’t be told to throw away everything bought in Hangzhou; perhaps this would earn permission to pack a few outfits.

“We can employ a regular convoy bureau to deliver it to Cheonghae.”

Je Haryang always had the answer.

“Ah.”

Calculating the delivery—no, convoy—costs from Hangzhou to Cheonghae, Yegyeol felt faint.

In this age, bandits, pirates, the various predators spread across the Central Plains, and conflicts among martial artists posed hazards; convoy bureaus charged danger premiums.

Naturally, the farther the delivery, the higher the premium.

“Understood. So just bring the body.”

Resolutely nodding, Yegyeol still couldn’t shake the sense that something was off.

‘Why… am I the one worried about senior brother’s overspending?’

Usually, it was the guide who worried about the esper’s overspending.

He recalled a slogan entry that lost unanimously in an esper slogan contest:

“Keep the splurging secret from the guide.”

The entrant was a senior esper who suggested traveling abroad with nothing but a card, no luggage.

Checking into the suite, he told his guide to go shopping—and was caught, and smacked on the back.

He would boast that the spot still hurt on sunny days, earning everyone’s scorn.

“Criticizing overspending comes from love, you know?”

He’d submitted that slogan to flaunt how close he and his guide were.

Espers at the Center, weary of the bragging, trampled him thoroughly; the trampled senior only grew happier.

“Gonna go home and ask my baby to blow on it!”

Clear‑eyed madness. Back then, before guessing his own fate, Yegyeol had thought every esper who met a guide went strange; even the others, who had beaten that senior as if dust would fly on a rainy day, shook their heads and stopped.

Upon hearing the fresh tale, the Director, red‑eyed from three days of overtime, gave the order:

“Stick that bastard on the Turkish delegation.”

Sentenced to a month without seeing his guide, the senior quieted down, and the Center found peace.

But only for a time.

Upon returning from abroad, the senior grabbed everyone he met to declare, “Being apart so long made us even closer!”

Even now, a madman.

‘If I hadn’t met senior brother, I’d never have understood him.’

To think of such a man with even a touch of wistfulness—Yegyeol grimaced. It struck him anew that he’d veered onto the track of unreason.

For an esper, the guide is the logic of the universe. Having met Haryang, Yegyeol could neither return to former ways nor wished to.

“Hangzhou is new to me; I trust you’ll be a great help.”

Fighting not to grin too widely at his senior brother’s trust, Yegyeol said,

“Rely on me.”

But he could not keep from thumping his chest and boasting.

If his senior brother would rely on him alone, how could Yegyeol, with no trick to pull, pretend calm?

He’d received help from Haryang every time; at last this was his chance to shine.

Though it had been twenty years—no, nearly thirty—since he left Hangzhou, Yegyeol could still recall the back alleys.

‘Perhaps because it was knowledge learned for survival.’

The lower depths—where slum interests tangled with those of various factions—were beyond even an emperor’s reach; they would be unchanged still.

Those living within them might have changed, yes.

“By the way, what business takes you to Hangzhou?”

Glancing at his senior brother, Yegyeol asked.

“There’s someone I must meet there.”

A gentle smile rested on Haryang’s face.