Chapter 72
Chapter 72
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: Secret Place, Secret (2)
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“Did you hear?”
“Hear what?”
“There’s... this kinda weird rumor going around.”
“Quit beating around the bush and just tell me. What is it?”
“Word is something big went down at the Hong Sword Clan.”
“Hong Sword Clan? Which one? Wait... that Hong Sword Clan? The one we know?”
“That’s the one.”
“What kind of trouble could hit the Hong Sword Clan?”
“It’s just a rumor, but they say it was attacked by some masters.”
“Masters? Just how strong were they to...”
“You know Jang Museng?”
“The sword clan’s number two, the famous swordsman? The one they say’s stronger than Yi Jongbaek of Sword Corner Pavilion?”
“That’s him. Rumor has it Jang Museng showed up with three masters and took over the Hong Sword Clan.”
“What? What’d you say?”
“And there’s this nasty rumor going around that the clan lord practiced demonic arts.”
“Demonic arts?!”
“I don’t know the details myself. Friend of mine heard it from a worker there. Anyway, they say a masked mystery master took down the clan lord after he turned into a demon.”
“Jeez, what a load of crap. Why’s it gotta be so complicated?”
“So yeah, clan lord picks up demonic arts, goes berserk, somebody shows up and kills him. Then Jang Museng rolls in with his masters and seizes the clan.”
“What about the sons? What happened to them?”
“Hong Myeong got killed by somebody, and Hong In died in a fire or something.”
“Argh, come on! What kinda nonsense is that?”
“That’s why it’s such a weird rumor. I only heard it secondhand, so I can’t say for sure, but where there’s smoke...”
“If it’s true... what the hell? So it’s not the Hong Sword Clan anymore—it’s the Jang Sword Clan now?”
Murong Suhyang’s eyes narrowed as she listened to the tea drinkers’ chatter.
‘The Hong Sword Clan?’
Curiosity tempted her to sidle over and ask, but a sudden thought made her stay put.
‘No. Don’t draw attention.’
Just then, the owner brought her tea leaves.
“Here you go. Six taels total.”
“Thank you.”
“We’re the grateful ones—you always buy so much. Oh, and this.”
The teahouse owner leaned in, out of sight of the customers.
He pulled a palm-sized pouch from his bosom.
“Give this to the young master for me.”
“Huh? What’s this?”
“Found some He Shou Wu picking tea leaves the other day. It’s small, but packed full inside. Asked a pharmacist—supposed to be great for your health.”
“Oh, no need.”
“Please, I’d be embarrassed if you refused. Take it.”
After a few polite refusals, Murong Suhyang accepted the He Shou Wu with an awkward smile.
The owner beamed.
“No pressure at all. Truth be told, if it weren’t for House Murong, we’d still be scraping by. Ever since the Black Tiger Gang vanished, my years of insomnia cleared right up.”
“Ah... right.”
“Heh heh, take care now. Come back soon.”
“Thanks. See you.”
Murong Suhyang walked down the street, clutching the tea bundle and He Shou Wu, her face a mask of complicated thoughts.
‘Technically, it’s thanks to that guy, not House Murong.’
Without her idiot brother, the Black Tiger Gang would still be stinking up the streets.
‘...This feels so burdensome.’
Did every action by a Murong reflect on the whole house?
Murong Suhyang felt the weight of responsibility more acutely than ever. Her brother’s deeds aside, the house had earned people’s goodwill— she couldn’t risk tarnishing it.
Back at the estate, the usual explosive sounds rang out.
Snap!
“Arrrgh!”
“Worm? When’d Jiao Dragon Fighting Form turn into Earth Dragon? Rolled a few times and your legs are already flopping?”
“S-sorry!”
“No focus means power leaks every time. Aren’t you ashamed in front of your squad leader? Can’t you see that old stiff tearing it up with real spirit even at his age?”
“Nngh...”
“Quit groaning before I flick your windpipe.”
“...”
“Focus.”
“Yes, sir!”
The training ground was its usual madhouse today.
The entire Flower Sword Squad balanced on one leg, kicking the other sky-high—most managed a perfect split.
Murong Bi roamed among them, correcting forms, then stepped forward and launched his own leg even higher with startling flexibility.
“You know the next move? Fold slowly, straighten your upper body, then snap the folded leg straight back. Really stretch those hip joints.”
Murong Bi’s demonstration was flawless.
No telling how much he’d split at night, but he was more flexible than anyone in the squad.
And that wasn’t all.
‘There’s power in it.’
Not just flexible—every motion brimmed with packed strength.
No waste. If anything, the chaining moves seemed to condense the power further.
‘Amazing every time I watch.’
The squad had started Jiao Dragon Fighting Form two days ago; she and her sister three days prior.
The moves weren’t that hard. The trick was finely managing the power center’s shift, but repetition made it natural.
But she hadn’t felt that condensed power yet.
‘Damn good conditioning. Could even melt it into bare-hand techniques.’
The name was Jiao Dragon Fighting Form, after all. Seemed supple like gymnastics, but probably designed for unarmed combat.
‘Years of training? But that idiot was stiff as a board too...’
Her brother was full of mysteries.
“Rest.”
“Gah!”
“Ughhh!”
Most of the squad collapsed on the spot.
Jin Gwang and Gwan Hyeon panted upright, and surprisingly, Jonghwan just rubbed his legs without falling.
“Rest doesn’t mean flop down. Loosen your waist and shoulder joints. Squad Leader Jin, handle the rest.”
“Don’t worry.”
“Thanks.”
Murong Bi waved and approached Murong Suhyang.
“You’re back? Wanna train with these stiffs?”
“I train fine on my own.”
“Fair. You’re not stick-figure level.”
He snorted.
“Anyway, what kinda tea leaves? Weird scent.”
Dog nose.
Murong Suhyang handed over the pouch reluctantly.
“Yours.”
“Huh? What’s this? Smells like He Shou Wu...”
“How’d you know? After scarfing down the good stuff.”
“You bought He Shou Wu? With your pocket money?”
Murong Suhyang flushed beet red.
“Pocket money my ass!”
Murong Bi grumbled, turtling his neck.
“Money you get to spend’s pocket money. Why so touchy?”
“Whatever. Teahouse owner gave it for you. Eat it or don’t.”
“For me? Why?”
“Beats me.”
“Weird guy. Hope it’s not too awkward accepting.”
Talk was cheap—he’d already opened the pouch and brushed off the dirt.
“Small but packed. Good for the body.”
His blissful chomping looked like tearing into a chicken leg.
Murong Suhyang stared at the happy idiot, then spoke curtly.
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“You wouldn’t happen to...”
“Happen to what?”
“...”
“What now? I screw up?”
“Forget it.”
She’d meant to ask about the Hong Sword Clan, but better hold off.
Not because she doubted his involvement.
Quite the opposite—this idiot probably had his fingerprints all over it.
‘Tch.’
If true, it was huge trouble.
But the idiot hadn’t brought it up first.
Old days, she’d grab his collar and shake: What crazy shit now? But not anymore.
First thought now: He’s got reasons for holding back.
‘Still, gotta talk to Sis.’
Murong Suhyang whipped around with a swish of robes.
“Going to Sis.”
“Suhyang.”
“Don’t use my name. What?”
“Left foot’s twisted.”
“Huh?”
Murong Bi’s face was dead serious as he crunched raw He Shou Wu. The goofy earnestness was hideous.
Still, worth hearing out.
The idiot got serious for reasons.
“Told you before? Twin Dragon Qi beats Mixed Origin Heart Method for main house’s Two Lightnesses Three Steps.”
“Yeah.”
Two Lightnesses Three Steps: two lightness skills, three footworks. Brother called it the house’s secret lightness scripture.
“Twin Dragon’s nature lets you train dynamically, like you are now. Once it’s natural as breathing, you switch straight to footwork. But with your off-center like that, you’re screwed from the start.”
“...Center?”
“Jiao Dragon’s fault. Better at the third form than fourth?”
Jiao Dragon third form: left foot pivot, spin right body. Fourth was reverse.
“Uh-huh.”
“Left center’s stronger, so you overfocus right?”
“...!”
“Left foot twists inward a hair. Tense the big toe fixes it, but trust Jiao Dragon—walk natural. Balance’ll even out in time.”
His ghostly insight gave her chills.
Twist wasn’t obvious, but one glance and he knew. Terrifying precision.
Murong Suhyang grumbled.
“Pisses me off.”
“Pissed? Train right.”
“Whatever.”
She headed back to the matriarch’s quarters.
Her subtly twisted foot realigned naturally.
Murong Bi grinned and demolished the He Shou Wu.
“Man, good stuff. Been ages since He Shou Wu.”
Chewed tons back in Alliance Leader days. Too busy with war for decoctions—raw chewing became habit.
Swallowing one down with relish, Murong Bi eyed the Flower Sword Squad.
‘Not bad.’
Harsh midway, but they followed better than expected.
‘Late starters gotta build body first. Patience—even if frustrating.’
Start young, no art rejects you.
They were too late. Bones set, couldn’t match kid training.
Fine.
‘They’ll find their fit. Nail one solid.’
One path deep beats dabbling.
Gazing at them, Murong Bi shifted focus.
Far off, Old Man Gwak chatted with the head cook.
Murong Bi’s eyes deepened.
‘Old Man Gwak.’
Past five days, he’d thought much on Gwakno.
And himself.
‘Time to properly pass on main house arts soon. Gotta settle this first.’
Thoughts straight, he walked to Old Man Gwak.
Gwakno spotted him, ended the talk.
“Young master.”
“Old Man Gwak.”
“Afternoon training? Already asked the cook for rice balls and jerky.”
“Rice balls and jerky, huh.”
Murong Bi glanced at the sky.
Sun still high.
“Old Man Gwak, care for a quick drink with me?”