Chapter 16
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Confronting the Venom Dragon Captain
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“Let's go!”
“Yes, Division Leader!”
Urrrr!
The Beggars' Sect's proxy division in Dali erupted into pandemonium.
How could it not?
'What in the world is this catastrophe unfolding in my honey pot!'
Yunnan bordered the Southern Barbarian lands, domain of the Beast Palace—one of the Western Outer Evil Palaces, a fringe power in the murim world.
Thus, it was only natural that the local Beggars' Sect division remained perpetually on edge, vigilant against foreign incursions.
...Or so it should have been.
'Those damn Sichuan Tang Clan bastards—how dare they!'
In truth, even within the Beggars' Sect, only a select few knew that Yunnan was the ultimate honey pot among honey pots.
Unlike Kunming—the current provincial capital, adjacent to Guiyang, Hubei, Chongqing, and Sichuan's capital—
'Why the hell did they crawl all the way down here to stir up shit, you sons of bitches!'
Dali, the ancient capital of the long-defunct Dali Kingdom, offered truly idyllic conditions—peaceful, leisurely duty.
With the Point Cang Sword Sect, one of the Nine Great Sects, standing firm nearby, the division had spent the past several years in near-total idleness.
And now, this absurd fiasco had shattered it all.
To make matters worse...
'Damn it! To think the Division Leader's dignity is being threatened by some third-generation disciple...!'
He'd been utterly toyed with, hair gripped by a mere boy from the Point Cang Sword Sect who hardly seemed like a third-generation disciple.
'This is all because of those wretched Sichuan Tang Clan scum!'
For the Division Leader, whose peaceful routine had been obliterated, directing all his rage toward Sichuan was the most natural progression.
On the other hand...
“That settles things over there.”
Whether incompetent or competent, he'd effortlessly manipulated the ambiguously skilled beggars with his silver tongue—and felt not the slightest stir about it.
“With every beggar in the division mobilized, even if more Tang Clan goons show up, there won't be any real trouble.”
For instance, they couldn't dream of secretly destroying hidden evidence.
It was now abundantly clear they wouldn't even contemplate such nonsense.
'They look hopelessly inept on the surface.'
Any Beggars' Sect division was a beggars' den where weaklings dared not set foot.
Knowing this full well, he harbored no worries.
Unless the entire Venom Dragon Squad had been dispatched—which it hadn't—not a single one of those hundred-odd beggars would fall.
No, it was more accurate to say no one would dare tangle with the Beggars' Sect's ten myriad members across the land.
“Tsk tsk. And yet they were slacking off like that.”
Gwang-il had shared a deep bond in his past life with the Dragon Head Division Leader, the world's greatest king of beggars.
Thus, he prided himself on knowing the Beggars' Sect's inner workings as intimately as he did his own Evil Path Alliance subordinates.
Naturally, a brief conversation had long since revealed the Division Leader's exact position and how thoroughly he'd been loafing.
“No wonder it was the same in my past life.”
Tsk.
Of course, the past life's Division Leader had a different face, but the way things ran in a division was much the same, wasn't it?
For a fleeting moment, he clicked his tongue at the unpleasant memories flooding his mind.
'At any rate, this wraps up cleaning up the Tang Clan rats' lair and handling oversight.'
Having offloaded all the hassle, it was time to consider the next step.
'Until Master returns with the sect elders... roughly how much time left?'
Gauging his remaining leeway, Gwang-il easily recalled what needed finishing before heading back to headquarters.
After all, only one task remained.
'The Yun Merchants.'
Slipping a tighter, more secure leash around the Yun Merchant Leader's neck.
The "negotiations" with the Yun Merchant Leader concluded smoothly and effortlessly.
Gwang-il had scaled the Yun Merchants' walls as before, confronting him with proper orthodox evil path intimidation—plus an irresistible carrot he couldn't refuse.
From the Yun Merchant Leader's perspective, with his weakness already firmly in hand, there was no reason to reject Gwang-il's "generous" offer of that carrot shoved right down his throat.
Thus, one side unilaterally subjugated the other.
“Gwang-il!”
“Master.”
Gwang-il stepped out casually to greet the sect elders rushing over in a hurry.
'Quite the turnout.'
Nearly thirty figures, every one a peak master.
Leading them was Grand Senior Uncle Gwan-ho—an impressive sight.
It was proof that headquarters viewed the situation with utmost gravity.
Especially his master, at the forefront, drenched in sweat, panting heavily...
'Did he sprint here at full speed without a single break?'
At that realm, a mere run wouldn't leave him like this; he must have.
'There was no need to go that far.'
From the perspective of a disciple who had nearly perfected the matter, his master's distressed expression was heartbreaking.
'He was... worried.'
His master, oblivious to the battle-hardened old monster inhabiting this young body.
He must have feared this lucky disciple—who'd merely stumbled upon the sect founder's fateful blessing—might get caught in something dire.
'This guy.'
No need for such worry.
No one in the world could touch Gwang-il.
He itched to rush over and say it right now.
...Hoo.
Of course, some things were best left as mere thoughts.
'Unless I want to be labeled a madman.'
For now, he simply harbored gratitude toward his master, who had dashed about in worry for his disciple.
With such humble sentiments, he quietly tucked away these unfamiliar yet precious feelings.
“Gwang-il.”
“Third-generation disciple Gwang-il greets Elder Gwan-ho.”
In stark contrast to his master's sweat, Elder Gwan-ho approached with a pristine, unblemished demeanor.
Of course, that didn't mean...
'A face that'd terrify me even in dreams.'
...his expression was pleasant.
Grand Senior Uncle's visage was terrifying enough to rank among the worst from both past and present lives.
“Where?”
“Pardon?”
“The Sichuan Tang Clan vermin.”
“Ah!”
His chilling killing intent evoked the Evil Path Alliance itself.
Startled momentarily, Gwang-il hastily bowed and led the way.
“I've subdued and bound the Venom Dragon Captain. Please follow me there.”
“Lead on.”
Kaduduk!
“......”
For a man past seventy to grind out such a visceral sound from his jaws...
His rock-hard teeth conveyed the full depth of his seething rage and fury.
'Not bad.'
Gwang-il had feared nitpicking over his harsh methods.
Those worries proved unfounded; the elder burned solely with enmity toward the Sichuan Tang Clan.
And it wasn't just Grand Senior Uncle Gwan-ho, the group's leader.
The elders behind him, arrayed in orderly ranks, wore equally twisted expressions of wrath.
'Well, yeah.'
Who wouldn't?
These Point Cang disciples brimmed with pride as one of the Nine Great Sects, guardians holding the Beast Palace at bay.
Yet they'd been brutally backstabbed—not by the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace or Guiyang's evil paths, but by their neighboring ally, the Sichuan Tang Clan.
'Right in the heart of our home turf, no less.'
Even Gwang-il himself had been consumed by fury, turning their den upside down.
As fellow Point Cang brethren, their emotions were surely much the same.
Pride in the sect and rage at the invasion were universal among Point Cang disciples.
“Senior Uncle, please calm your excitement. I fear something irreversible might occur.”
Of course, his master—ever the bodhisattva with soothing words—was the exception.
'He'll be the next Sect Leader of Greater Point Cang. Such poise and gentleness are only natural.'
Even Gwang-il, utterly biased toward his master, mistook his calm for unflinching rationality amid the collective fury.
Thus, arriving at an Iron Sword Gang warehouse on the outskirts,
“Come out, you dogshit bastard.”
Gwang-il dragged out the Venom Dragon Captain without hesitation, gripping his hair crudely.
“G-Gwang-il!”
“Let him go.”
“Senior Uncle!”
“Right now, I'm not your senior uncle—I'm an elder of Greater Point Cang.”
“?!”
“As Sect Leader's disciple, you must always mind your words.”
“......My apologies, Elder.”
Unlike Tong-cheon, who stared in shock at his disciple's unprecedented ferocity with concern,
'A boldness and resolve beyond his years as a murim novice!'
Gwan-ho silently flashed approval in his piercing gaze, inwardly pleased and proud.
'Tong-cheon is so purely kind-hearted it worried me for the next generation... Who knew Gwang-il had such decisiveness.'
Of course.
'That's why the sect founder personally bestowed that timeless gift of weapon and martial arts upon him.'
To act so boldly against a seed of the infamously vengeful Sichuan Tang Clan.
'Anyone with enemies in the jianghu should be like that. Indeed! Absolutely.'
Showing mercy to home-invading villains? That was for Shaolin, cushioned by righteous sects on all sides.
Harboring such thoughts, Gwan-ho's fondness for Gwang-il swelled further.
Though contrary to his assumptions...
'That was close.'
...Gwang-il had simply slipped into evil path habits, acting on instinct.
What evil path faction would gently support a wounded, whimpering foe?
Whether by hair or collar, it was unspoken rule south of the Yangtze—common sense.
Decades of that life had etched it deep into Gwang-il's body and soul.
'Gotta be more careful.'
He was no longer the Dark Heaven Emperor, terror of evil paths—but Gwang-il, eldest disciple of prestigious Greater Point Cang.
Reining himself in, he dragged out the Venom Dragon Captain.
Thud!
“Kuhk!”
His recent resolve rang hollow as he roughly released his grip and stepped back slowly.
Now, it was time to hand this insolent Tang scum over to the seasoned murim veterans.
“Venom Dragon Captain. Do you remember this old man?”
“......”
“To meet like this here... How regrettable.”
His eyes blazed as if ready to unleash a Thousand Cuts Ten Thousand Rips, yet Gwan-ho's voice remained his usual gruff monotone.
“You sicced evil paths on Greater Point Cang's front yard in Dali and even dared obstruct our sword sect from acquiring a sword?”
“Wh-what are you...!”
Despite vowing silence, the Venom Dragon Captain's mouth flew open at the shocking revelations.
“Drop the pathetic act. You used those Iron Sword Gang thugs to sabotage our commission for the Narrow Tip Sword, didn't you?”
“Wh-what!”
“That's not all, Elder. The Yun Merchant Leader—one of our lay affiliates—was threatened by these vile Tang minions, causing incalculable damage to Yunnan's merchant trade.”
“?!”
“What!”
Seizing the moment to aid the Yun Merchant Leader, a cold sneer curled Gwang-il's lips.
'You loathsome viper bastards. I'll make sure you never slither out of Sichuan again!'
The Sichuan Tang Clan—fierce enough to disgust even the Dark Heaven Emperor, lord of the Evil Path Alliance.
Gwang-il's eyes gleamed with a predator's icy azure light, having seized this golden chance to lock them away forever.