The Scent of Treason (6)
Whoosh!
Was this the entrance to the city?
At the threshold where the Tang family's vast domain began, a subtle yet commanding aura spread outward. It was an overwhelming presence that drew the eyes of everyone—martial artists and common folk alike.
From that very spot, a single man approached.
Swish.
His steady steps released a heavy wave of energy that rose like smoke before settling. He seized the attention of every gaze in sight. His presence was that powerful, his inner energy that profound.
Rustle. Rustle.
His arms swung naturally with each stride. The whisper of his sleeves brushing his waist and the hem of his robe grazing his shins stirred an eerie sense of dread, like a serpent flicking its tongue.
His attire was magnificent. The dark yet resplendent garments—wherever he had obtained them—amplified his aura twofold, threefold, exuding an air of quiet arrogance.
His robes were immaculately arranged. His skin was somewhat pale, his features sharp. Though he carried no weapon, his very existence seemed more dangerous than any divine sword or demonic blade scattered across the world.
Someone swallowed hard.
“C-could it be?”
The man turned his gaze.
“Hic!”
Merely meeting his eyes sent the speaker collapsing to the ground.
The phrase “legs turning to jelly” was usually just a metaphor. Yet the man’s stare carried such lethal force that it rendered the expression literal.
“Indeed.”
The man’s voice was low and rough, matching his imposing presence.
“It has been a long time.”
Though his voice did not carry far, the words that spread outward rivaled the toll of a great bell.
Beneath the fading sun and the beautiful twilight world, the one who brought darkness faster than the night itself had arrived.
“Patriarch Dang?”
“My lord!”
“Heavens! It is the Patriarch!”
People bustling through the streets dropped to their knees one after another.
“Patriarch Dang!”
“We greet the Patriarch!”
Dang Gwan nodded.
It was a remarkable sight.
Dang Gwan was no official receiving a government stipend. Yet every person who saw him bowed as though a high minister—or someone greater—had come.
This was the presence of Dang Gwan, the lord of Sichuan.
Within the Sichuan region, he received reverence akin to an emperor. All feared him, all trusted him, and all acknowledged him as their master.
After gazing at them in silence, Dang Gwan resumed walking.
In his heart, he wished to tell them not to do so. He had never desired such treatment. In fact, whenever he received reports of direct bloodline members acting arrogant, he would order them seized and punished.
But not now.
At least not at this moment. He could not tell them to rise.
Just then, an old man cautiously approached.
“Um…”
“……”
“P-please take this…”
The old man produced something wrapped in bamboo leaves from his robe and held it out.
Dang Gwan’s eyes deepened.
“What is this?”
“It is a new dish from our shop. It may not suit the Patriarch’s palate, but…”
People grow more perceptive with age and experience. The old man saw a gentleness in Dang Gwan’s demeanor that others had not noticed. While everyone else was overwhelmed by his aura, the old man glimpsed something of the man beneath.
Dang Gwan looked at the item wrapped in bamboo leaves.
Steam rose from it. Inside were rice, meat, and various ingredients. The aroma confirmed it.
Though perceptive, that had nothing to do with sincerity. Offering this dish now suggested the old man had long wished to serve him a meal.
Dang Gwan accepted the food.
“I was feeling rather hungry.”
“Ah!”
The old man bowed his head, visibly moved.
“It is an honor.”
Dang Gwan regarded the back of the old man’s head before continuing on.
He had merely accepted the food. The gratitude should have come from him. Yet the one who offered it was overwhelmed with honor, as though he had never expected it to be received.
So this is it.
It was the same feeling he had sensed when visiting the branch family.
From here begins my realization that my rule has been flawed.
Handling family affairs and placing reliable people to stabilize Sichuan was important. But if one claimed to be the ruler of a region, one needed to clearly understand what was happening in these streets, the state of public sentiment, and how the people lived.
That could not be known through reports alone. It required going there oneself to see, hear, and feel.
He had walked barely thirty jang, yet the realization was profound.
Clutching the bamboo-wrapped meal, Dang Gwan crossed the Tang family grounds.
“Huh?!”
“P-Patriarch!”
“We greet the Patriarch!”
Everyone in sight offered him greetings.
Nodding silently as he advanced, Dang Gwan finally spotted a five-story tavern.
Bathed in the crimson glow of sunset, the five-story establishment was the most famous in the area: Noksu Jurui.
Dang Gwan strode toward it without hesitation.
“W-we greet the Patriarch!”
Word had clearly spread. The tavern master waiting on the first floor bowed deeply.
Dang Gwan asked, “Is there space on the top floor?”
“Of course!”
“Prepare a seat for me.”
“Yes!”
Following the tavern master’s guidance, Dang Gwan ascended to the fifth floor. Everyone who saw him along the way set down their cups and chopsticks to greet him.
Once seated, the tavern master asked, “Shall I bring the usual wine?”
“Do so.”
“Yes. The side dishes will be prepared shortly.”
“That will not be necessary.”
Dang Gwan placed the bamboo-wrapped meal on the table.
“This will suffice.”
“Ah, yes!”
The tavern master bowed and hurried away.
Moments later, a woman in silk robes entered with wine and cups.
Dang Gwan raised a hand. “No need to pour. You may leave.”
“Yes, my lord.”
After she departed, Dang Gwan turned his gaze to the window.
The sunset light appeared especially red. The Sichuan sky had been unusually clear lately, but the clouds beyond the sunset suggested tomorrow would bring less sunlight.
He has come.
Dang Gwan looked away from the window and filled his own cup.
As he lifted the filled cup, he suddenly paused.
Above.
From the moment he entered the Tang family grounds, Dang Gwan’s senses had been stretched taut like never before. That razor-sharp awareness detected the presence of someone who had climbed to the roof of Noksu Jurui. The figure’s stealth technique, moving secretly across the rooftop opposite the sunset’s glow, was truly remarkable.
And Dang Gwan knew exactly who it was.
Quite skilled.
It was Eon Ja-bang.
When he first heard the name, Dang Gwan had thought of the Jinju Eon clan. Once a renowned house in Hebei, they had shared the province with the Peng clan. Unlike the Pengs, who wielded massive blades with their innate strength, the Eon clan excelled in body-hardening techniques that turned flesh into steel.
In the end, their obsession with power led them to forbidden arts like corpse manipulation, earning universal condemnation and their eventual downfall—a tragic martial clan.
Useful.
His stealth alone surpassed any Tang warrior. It exceeded even the Green Eye Unit, the Tang family’s intelligence network.
Having broken through the Wall of No-Return to reach perfection, combined with such stealth, made him truly formidable. If he intended to kill, even an elder of a great sect would struggle to survive.
Yet amid his admiration, Dang Gwan felt a pang of melancholy.
A descendant of a fallen house…
Once a legendary fist clan that rivaled the Pengs for dominance in Hebei, their heir now practiced the stealth arts of assassins.
In the harsh jianghu, versatility was an advantage. But for a master of a noble house to resort to stealth techniques himself, rather than commanding those who used them, spoke of the sorrow of losing one’s clan. His skill suggested he had mastered much of the vanished Eon clan’s arts, yet he still hid his existence while serving as Moyong Gun’s subordinate.
They all end up like this.
Dang Gwan emptied his cup.
Spirits of houses rotting in unrecognized glory always reduce their descendants to this.
He set the cup down and produced a small medicine pouch from his robe.
He clenched it tightly.
Pop!
The pouch burst, scattering fine powder in all directions.
That was all. The momentarily heavy air quickly returned to normal.
But Dang Gwan’s true energy was different.
The instant the powder filled the room, his formless qi seized it and spread it throughout Noksu Jurui.
Whoosh!
Flames erupted from his palm, incinerating the burst pouch.
Dang Gwan refilled his cup and drank.
Time passed.
Flash!
His eyes sharpened as he lifted the cup once more.
As expected.
He slowly emptied the cup and glanced outside.
The sunset had already been overtaken by heavy, dark twilight.
His words were correct.
They had come.
The energies were familiar. Over a hundred people approached, and the three leading them radiated sharp, honed auras.
All three had broken through the Wall of No-Return.
Though tense, their refined energies were stable and insidious. They had cultivated poison arts, achieved enlightenment, and formed their own schools.
Dang Gwan’s eyes twitched.
The Council of Elders.
He recalled his conversation with Yeon Hojeong.
“The Tang family is enemy territory. Even if it is familiar ground, you must not enter now. In other words, the current Tang family is hostile even to you, Patriarch.”
“Then what do you suggest? Wait in silence?”
“Yes. Until they come out first.”
“……?!”
“If the Dragon Head Branch Lord’s words are true, the Tang family will enter high alert the moment you appear. Their plans, prepared over days, will collapse, causing great chaos.”
“……”
“If those who come to greet you are from the family, we will assume the Dragon Head Branch Lord lied. But if forces arrive to stop you, we will treat his words as truth and proceed accordingly.”
Yeon Hojeong had been right.
These were elders. With such perfected auras, they were at least within the top five in rank.
So in the end, you tore at the family’s laws out of petty greed.
A faint killing intent rose from Dang Gwan’s body.
His displeasure was plain. It was fortunate his rage had not exploded.
Yet he quickly steadied his heart. Though he wished to leap out the window and grind them all to dust, he could not.
If he had intended to slaughter them all, he would have brought every available force and swept them away. Pride be damned—he would have razed the family entirely and laid new foundations.
That was impossible.
He could not wage war just to catch a few traitors.
Moreover, this was Dang Gwan’s final pride.
Now, in this moment, the short yet painful journey to set everything right had begun.
Soon after.
“Patriarch. People from the family have arrived…”
“Let them in.”
“Yes.”
Creak.
The door opened, and three elders appeared.
Dang Gwan smiled.
Before that smile—which seemed almost bright—the last cry of the sunset light died completely.
“You have come.”