Chapter 160
Chapter 160
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 160
Chapter Title: The Tang Clan Lives Up to Its Name
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The carriage came to a halt with a creak.
The Dark Lord stepped down first, hands clasped behind his back, and I followed like a dutiful attendant.
In that instant, a flicker of surprise crossed the eyes of the Tang Clan warriors watching us.
To be precise, my confinement order had reached the Tang stronghold and been lifted, but to onlookers, the scene painted me perfectly as the Dark Lord's "disciple."
It went without saying that our bald devil of a master, brimming with political savvy, was fully aware of this.
It was all deliberate staging.
A performance to show his lingering interest in the Nine Dragons Branch Family—and by extension, his affection for its heir, Un-hwi, treating him like his own flesh and blood.
"Glad to see you've returned safely, Clan Head."
The Tang clansmen were putting on a display of exactly why the Tang Clan dominated the western regions.
Even long-established Sichuan sects like the Qingcheng or Emei couldn't hold a candle to it.
Yet the man representing them had a frail, almost sickly air about him, as if perpetually unwell.
Young Clan Head Tang Ja-myeong.
Next year, he'd hit fifty—the age of knowing one's destiny. In any other family, he'd have ascended to clan head long ago without question. But thanks to the Dark Lord, the very incarnation of power and ambition, the position was a pipe dream.
Perhaps because of that, Tang Ja-myeong's presence felt faint compared to peers like Tang Ho-san or Tang Sa-uk.
The Dark Lord, clearly displeased with such a son, let a brief shadow of disapproval flash in his eyes.
His demeanor during the greeting was imperious, unlike the warmth he'd shown me or Tang Ye-won before.
"Good. Nothing out of the ordinary while I was away?"
"With you out there upholding justice in the martial world, who would dare scheme against us?"
"That's complacent thinking. Do all beasts wear iron collars? Do dragons lack their vulnerable scales?"
Tang Ja-myeong's bowed shoulders trembled slightly.
"Times like these demand utmost vigilance. As young clan head, you must question every decision a hundred times over."
"My thinking was shortsighted. I'll keep it in mind."
"Having to point out basics to a young clan head... How could I ever entrust the family to you with peace of mind and focus on forging the alliance?"
"......"
The Dark Lord clicked his tongue and brushed coldly past Tang Ja-myeong.
His son's shoulders slumped even heavier.
Pity flickered in the eyes of Tang Sa-uk and the Green Zombie Guards watching him.
This was clearly a recurring ordeal.
*What a tiger father and rabbit son. They say the western Tang Clan exemplifies it, and it seems true.*
*But no matter how disappointing a son, publicly humiliating him before all the retainers like this—*
*Maybe he's not his real son, a bastard? Or an adopted heir from relatives since there was no blood son?*
*No, that's not it. The Tang Clan doesn't automatically pass leadership to direct descendants. Talent matters—even a daughter could become clan head. History has examples.*
*True, the Dark Lord himself came from a branch line.*
*Then why treat his own blood son worse than dirt?*
Tang Ye-won had warned me about the Tang stronghold.
*You'll learn soon enough, but Father and Grandfather don't get along well. More precisely, Father fears Grandfather, who constantly disapproves of his lack of confidence. The clansmen hush up anything about their relationship.*
*Did something happen between them?*
*Not really—Father just never met Grandfather's expectations. You know how sharp his eye is.*
*...Yeah.*
*Grandfather lived fiercely from a young age. He expects the same from his children.*
The sorrow of a son under an overly brilliant father. Crushed by that glory, the child can scarcely breathe.
That described the Dark Lord and Tang Ja-myeong perfectly.
*That's why Grandfather pays more attention to me and my two older brothers than Father.*
By the time the Dark Lord passed Tang Ja-myeong entirely, his stern face melted like spring warmth as he reached the twin youths standing behind.
"My dragon and tiger—it's been months, and your auras shine brighter than ever."
"We are overjoyed to see you returned safely, Grandfather. Congratulations on your victory."
"Forgive us grandchildren for witnessing your prestige only from afar in this distant Tang stronghold."
"Hahaha! What's to forgive? Just seeing you fills me with joy."
Tang Ryong and Tang Ho.
Better known by their nicknames—Poison Heart Divine Dragon and Dark Realm Fierce Tiger—these twins shared identical faces yet exuded utterly opposing impressions.
*Big brother Ryong is so affable. Always smiling, kind even to servants. Trusted by Father, meets Grandfather's expectations. A jack-of-all-trades— the epitome of a reliable heir.*
"Oh, who's this? Little Hwi! You've grown into such a fine young man. Word of your exploits has reached even here. 'Little Life-Reaping Fiend,' they call you? Quite the dashing face you've got. Eh?"
While chatting with the Dark Lord, Tang Ryong approached and clapped my shoulder.
Tang Ye-won had said our ten-year age gap made him more seasoned master than junior, and indeed, he carried the poise of one who'd forged his own path.
As she'd described, Tang Ryong had an upright look, his gentle smile most striking.
Reminiscent of Yi Cheolsan, in a way.
But unlike the instant fondness for Yi Cheolsan, wariness rose first—perhaps because he was a poison arts master?
*Huh?*
*This punk dares half-assed familiarity with the young sect leader on first sight—*
*Idiot, he's on friendly terms with 'Dang Un-hwi'!*
*Oh, right?*
*Sigh, what a dimwit.*
*He seems to have reached no small realm despite appearances. Clearly surpassed his father's level, though.*
*Those gloves block poison qi, it looks like.*
Tang Ryong specialized in poison arts, Tang Ho in hidden weapons—equals in pure skill, by all accounts.
I quickly cupped my fists in greeting, feigning delight.
"Long time no see. I fall short in many ways to meet your standards, brother, but I hope you'll look after me kindly."
"Hahaha! Look after you? If anything, I'll be the one needing help. We're all family, right? Count on me too."
Evidently, this fellow hadn't heard about the broken engagement yet.
I replied with a silent smile, then bowed to Tang Ho.
"Brother Ho, long time. I hope you've been well."
"......"
Tang Ho merely nodded curtly.
Even with the Dark Lord's arrival, he hadn't uttered a word.
Some vow of silence?
*Brother Ho is the total opposite—extremely taciturn. Outsiders think he's mute. Even retainers avoid him. He barely talks, except to Mother. I find him tough too, though we played well as kids.*
"You've worked hard guarding Grandfather all this time, Won-a. Shall we head inside? I've prepared a feast that'll break the tables in your honor, Grandfather."
Tang Ryong waved lightly at Tang Ye-won and stuck close to the Dark Lord.
"Got any liquor?"
"Of course. Brewed four years back with Black River's Five-Grain Nectar."
"Oho! I tried and failed to snag that. Where'd you get it?"
"Heh. Long story—let's chat over drinks."
"Indeed. I'm dying to hear about my grandson's exploits."
Tang Ryong tugged the Dark Lord's arm, leading him into the compound.
To the eye, it was warm grandfather-grandson intimacy without a hint of awkwardness.
But to my twisted gaze, it looked like a warning shot.
*Don't get any ideas about Grandfather's side—that spot's mine.*
Targeted squarely at me and Tang Ye-won, no doubt.
*One thing to watch in the Tang stronghold: big brother Ryong's huge stake in the succession. And he never yields what he claims as his.*
A chuckle escaped me.
*This'll be fun.*
From the Gong Son-beom mess to the Tang clan's cliquishness.
Life here promised no boredom.
* * *
One month since the Dark Lord announced the Gale Wind Corps' formation.
Countless western martial artists had flooded the Tang stronghold.
Those passing the preliminary exam were assigned dorms in the outer compound's north wing.
Around four hundred in number.
No small figure, and more to come.
Even participants from our procession got rooms.
Mine included.
"From the Nine Dragons Branch Family, I take it? Your room's Ox Dorm in Xuanwu Pavilion. Here's the key and token. No reissues for loss—automatic disqualification. Guard them well."
The clerk handed over the key and identity token, briefing me on the rules.
1. Rooms house two per unit; you'll take exams together too.
2. Three rounds total, details revealed day-of.
3. No cap on passers—if all excel, all pass in theory.
4. No liability for keys, tokens, valuables—your responsibility.
*The rules seem bland at first glance, but every clause is viciously cunning.*
*Especially not specifying roommate relations—sowing distrust. Pure Tang Clan scheming.*
*Indeed. With exams cooperative or competitive unknown, your roommate must be both guarded foe and potential ally—*
*Classic Tang: masters of division and human nature tests.*
The specters' verdict was succinct after the rundown.
—The Tang Clan lives up to its name?
My thoughts exactly.
Share a room for days with someone you can't trust as friend or foe? You'd dry up and die.
Many examinees packed odd elixirs or spirit pills—prime theft targets amid the stress.
Even without, no reissue on keys and tokens meant preemptive strikes on strong rivals before exams began.
Sure enough.
*Their glares could spark knife fights any second.*
*Feels more hostile than facing the North Sea Sect?*
I'd been confined with Gong Son-beom, but tensions between prestigious clan scions and small sect disciples had boiled over.
They barely spoke now?
Prestige folk might edge in skill, but small sects outnumbered them, deepening the rift.
Factions had names already.
The former, led by me: Panwol Faction (from "Life-Reaping Fiend").
The latter, with Gong Son-beom: Fox Pack.
Drawn from nicknames... As de facto Panwol head, it looked like kids bickering over who's better—embarrassing as hell.
This faction feud meeting exam rules? Emotional powder keg.
One thing was clear.
The bald devil's scheme, no doubt.
He'd cackle alone while we popped veins and lost hair...!
But the stage was set—Panwol and Fox Pack glared murderously.
"...Tricky."
Yi Cheolsan sidled up with a wry smile, face etched with exhaustion from failed mediations.
"Found your roommate yet, Brother Yi?"
"Nope. You?"
"Same here. Sister and the others too, looks like."
The Iron Palm crew huddled, checking assignments in dismay.
Silver lining: Tang Gyu-jin, who'd seemed prickly post-Gong fight, looked relaxed.
His aura had shifted—some inner breakthrough?
*The Blue Ghost Demon Root has sprouted, it seems.*
*Heavens! Two such geniuses from one sect. Qingcheng's spirit runs deep.*
Qingcheng might lead Sichuan's next gen?
"Roommates could swing the whole exam. Tough call."
"Yeah. Hope it's not some weirdo."
Think about it.
The Dark Lord's cunning tops even Tang intrigue.
Obvious from his nasty pranks.
He paired us himself.
Positive outcome?
Doubt it.
From roommates to exam content, everything here was designed to scrape souls raw.
I parted from Yi Cheolsan and Iron Palm folk—meet tonight for strategy—and headed to my dorm.
The room was surprisingly spacious and clean, un-Tang-like.
Roommate absent; quiet.
I claimed the window bed for quick escapes, unpacked.
Probed surroundings with qi sense.
No sign of roommate—either plotting countermeasures or conferencing allies.
Either way, fortuitous for me.
I set detection arrays around, leaving Angma Divine Flame Cult marks visible only to believers.
For the waiting vampire demon to spot anywhere in the Tang stronghold.