Chapter 16
Chapter 16
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Ancient Clan Martial Genius
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The Patriarch seated at the head table slowly rose to his feet. The murmurs that had filled the air instantly died away.
"An impressive duel."
His low voice echoed softly across the entire grand training ground.
The Patriarch slowly scanned the assembly. No one dared show any dissatisfaction over Yuk Jin-yang's victory.
"I trust there will be no more idle talk questioning you."
"Thank you."
Yuk Jin-yang cupped his hands and bowed his head.
The Patriarch watched the scene with evident satisfaction before turning his gaze to the side. There sat Yuk Gyun, trembling like an aspen leaf.
"Gyun, what am I to do with you now?"
Yuk Gyun inwardly lamented.
'What disgrace is this, right before the assignment ceremony!'
He would have quietly endured a private reprimand. But here, with so many eyes upon him—most of them guests on the verge of assignment—that stung the deepest.
Assignment wasn't the end. Warriors could always switch factions. How would the Distant River Pavilion look in their eyes, after being scolded by the Patriarch himself?
"Hong-seo needlessly harassed his cousin on mere suspicion, and his father went even further, only to suffer utter humiliation."
"Father, how can you say—!"
On the surface, this incident was the rogue actions of individuals from Flying Stream Pavilion. It must never be revealed that he was behind it. That's how it had to end.
The Patriarch toyed with Yuk Gyun's desperation as he retorted.
"Why? Do you have more to say?"
Yuk Gyun bit his lip. Unpolished excuses floated through his mind. Blaming his subordinates felt risky—what would his father make of that?
From long experience, he knew what it meant when his father demanded someone speak their piece. It meant there was no room left for disappointment. Defying him now would invite severe punishment.
Yuk Gyun held his silence. The Patriarch sneered, as if reading his shallow thoughts.
"Nothing, then."
"...Yes, Patriarch. I take full responsibility."
"Confine yourself to quarters for the time being. Your position as Pavilion Leader is suspended, effective immediately."
Yuk Gyun let out a sigh of relief.
Fortunately, it was far milder than he'd feared. He'd even braced for permanent removal from his post.
This much, he could endure and bide his time.
But his expression hardened at the next words.
"Yet you made a reckless wager with Eon."
Had he overheard their transmission?
'That monstrous old man...!'
Yuk Eon ground his teeth, while the others stared at the Patriarch in confusion.
"Here's how it will be. The Distant River Pavilion will yield twenty men. Ten chosen by Eon, and ten by you."
"That's too much!"
"Too much?"
The Patriarch's eyes flashed. Yuk Gyun sweated profusely but pressed on steadfastly.
"I have only a hundred retainers under me. Losing twenty? I'd be left with eighty—barely enough to maintain our current operations, let alone future missions."
"Why are you worrying about that?"
"Pardon?"
"I said you're relieved as Pavilion Leader. Let your successor fret over operations and missions."
At the cold tone, Yuk Gyun felt his heart drop.
"I could disband the Distant River Pavilion entirely. Divide its men and assets among your brothers. Is that what you want?"
His strength ebbed away at those words. Everything he had came from his father. There was no resisting if it was taken back. Resigned, he replied.
"No."
Tsks of disapproval sounded from behind. Yuk Gyun trembled with humiliation. No doubt from his brothers, hoping he'd defy their father more.
They shared the same blood, yet felt no kinship. They were no better than a pack of jackals. Even now, they eyed his downfall like vultures.
The Patriarch turned back to the assembly.
"Now, proceed with the assignment ceremony as planned."
"How shall we determine the order?"
Yuk Hang, the second son and Vast Sea Hall Leader, asked slyly.
"Same as last year, but place Flying Stream Pavilion ahead of Distant River Pavilion."
It was blatant favoritism against Distant River Pavilion. Everyone thought so.
The Zhejiang Yuk Clan's assignment ceremony worked like this: each faction reviewed the roster and called out names in order. The later your turn, the narrower your choices.
Last year, Distant River Pavilion had been dead last, outdone in performance by Cloud Sea Hall and Vast Sea Hall. With the Patriarch fixing Flying Stream Pavilion ahead, they'd be in the same boat again.
Yuk Gyun waited in resignation. In his dejection, he hadn't even thought to tend to the still-unconscious Dan Ryeong.
Grand Steward Choe Rim couldn't stand it any longer. He pointed at Dan Ryeong and ordered the nearby warriors.
"You two, get him to the physician at once."
"Y-yes, sir!"
The warriors hurried down from the platform, hoisting Dan Ryeong onto a stretcher. His state was pitiful—eyes rolled back, foam dribbling from his mouth.
'Not just prison; one wrong move, and he'll cross the Yellow Springs.'
Yuk Jin-yang thought as much and slipped out of the training ground. His steps led to the stands. Conveniently, the seat beside his father was empty.
As he climbed the stairs, all eyes turned to him. The duel had etched his presence into the Yuk Clan's minds.
"Well done."
Yuk Eon patted his son's shoulder. A proud smile lit his face.
"Impressive. Even I didn't expect such a dominant win."
"Eh, just luck. The opponent was weak."
Yuk Jin-yang brushed it off to hide his embarrassment. Genuine praise wasn't something he heard often.
Unable to shake the awkwardness, he changed the subject.
"So, what bet did you make with Third Uncle?"
"He provoked me with nonsense, so we wagered on the duel. I won, of course."
"What did you stake?"
"Figure Snow Ginseng."
Yuk Jin-yang's eyes widened. Yuk Eon chuckled at his son's reaction.
"Hard to believe, eh?"
"Figure Snow Ginseng? That's a spirit herb even the North Sea can't easily procure."
"Got it as thanks from a companion on an escort mission, back when I'd just been exiled from the clan."
Yuk Eon's face softened with nostalgia as he recalled the old days.
"That was before I was even born, right?"
"Aye. You were still growing in So-so's belly."
"Why keep such a treasure unused all this time...?"
Before he could pry further, Yuk Eon cut him off.
"The ceremony's starting. We'll talk later."
Under the midday sun, servants bustled about.
They cleared debris from the duel platform, replaced torn awnings with new ones. Once cleaned, dozens of warriors lined up in the grand training ground.
At last, the factions began naming their picks.
"Cloud Sea Hall selects Heo Jeong-yu from Shaanxi."
"Vast Sea Hall claims Yong Ga-wi from Sichuan."
Flying Stream Pavilion's turn came. Yuk Jin-yang named the one he'd planned.
"Flying Stream Pavilion selects So Yun-un from Huguang."
The others looked surprised.
"So Yun-un? Never heard of him. Not top-grade, surely. Check the roster—quick!"
"Yes, sir! Ah... He's listed as mid-upper grade."
"What are they playing at?"
Flying Stream Pavilion's choice defied common sense. When opportunity knocked, you grabbed the best.
"So Yun-un. He's got solid skills. I mentioned him before..."
"Oh, right, vaguely. Talent, but too old, yeah?"
"Late starter in martial arts—already in his thirties. Not ideal for us."
"Fair. Warriors like that are a dime a dozen."
Yuk Jin-yang smirked as he overheard. Things were going as intended.
—You're prioritizing mid-upper grades as planned, but is this truly best?
Yuk Eon transmitted skeptically. Everyone nearby was an expert; even whispers could be overheard.
Yuk Jin-yang nodded without hesitation.
—Absolutely.
A few days prior, he'd tipped his father: focus on mid-upper and mid-grades over top-grades.
To avoid bidding wars for elites and secure core talents for Flying Stream Pavilion.
—While others snag three top-graders, we get six mid-uppers.
The gap between top and mid-upper wasn't vast. Their current prowess was comparable.
The difference lay in potential—youth got higher marks. For Flying Stream Pavilion's urgent needs, age didn't matter.
—Plus, top-graders pose problems even after selection.
Zhejiang Yuk Clan warriors could switch freely. Frequent moves raised eyebrows, but once was fine.
Factions knew this.
Post-ceremony, they'd dangle offers to poach talent. Flying Stream Pavilion risked losing top picks anyway.
Better to take the overlooked ones.
—I'm not convinced. Will top-graders really bolt from Flying Stream Pavilion the instant they're assigned?
At his father's naive question, Yuk Jin-yang gave a wry smile.
Exiled or not, Yuk Eon was born a noble son. He couldn't grasp underlings' hearts.
Yuk Jin-yang knew them better than anyone—his past life proved it.
—Yes, they will. Assignment means nothing—no real loyalty. No reason to stay.
—But we offer something they lack: a chance to be founding heroes of Flying Stream Pavilion. Other factions are crowded with big names.
—To hold them, pretty words won't cut it. They want real gains—elixirs, gold, treasures.
He knew from his rock-bottom days.
No profit, no loyalty. And the skilled demanded more.
Selections continued.
Yuk Jin-yang tallied calmly.
'Eight mid-uppers, ten mids. Rest mid-lowers and lowers.'
Adding prior secures and Distant River Pavilion's yield: sixty men. Enough to bear Flying Stream Pavilion's name proudly.