Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: The Sword Dragon Arrives
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The one-eyed thug rubbed at his remaining eye, which had swollen up redder than a ripe tomato. His knees had long since gone numb from kneeling so long.
But he didn't dare stand. He just kept his head bowed.
*What the hell is going on...*
What had really happened?
Groaning in pain, the one-eyed man snuck glances left and right.
His twenty underlings knelt in similar sorry states, eyes darting frantically.
Not a single one looked unscathed.
Their faces were a sight—black-and-blue bruises everywhere.
Some had dislocated shoulders, others were missing teeth and bleeding profusely.
It was obvious they'd been beaten half to death.
They all looked half out of their minds.
They'd thought the scrawny weakling who showed up was an easy mark after a long dry spell. No one expected the Grim Reaper himself.
He didn't look it, but his fists packed a brutal punch.
*Damn it, where the hell did this guy come from...*
Talk about rotten luck.
The one-eyed man ducked his head lower, afraid of drawing more ire and losing his last good eye.
*Whack!*
A sharp crack rang out, followed by the bald guy's scream.
"Kyah!"
The one-eyed man's shoulders trembled as he squinted ahead.
The slack-jawed bald thug had taken a blow to the back of the head from Nangong Hyuk and face-planted into the dirt.
Seeing that swollen nape, the one-eyed man winced as if his own eye hurt.
He made eye contact with the shuddering bald guy on the ground and quickly looked away.
He thanked his stars he wasn't the one on the receiving end of this merciless violence.
The bald thug rubbed his swollen head and scrambled up, offering a bowl.
It brimmed with liquor.
"H-here."
He held it out like a tiger feeding its prey—timidly.
Nangong Hyuk dipped a finger in for a taste and scowled.
"Kid, you don't know the golden ratio?"
The bald thug jolted and prostrated himself.
"H-heeek! S-s-sorry!"
"Speak properly."
The bald thug clutched his dislocated jaw and tried again.
"I-I'm sorry!"
The one-eyed man watched, dumbfounded.
*What's this golden ratio crap?!*
It was the question on everyone's mind.
What the hell was a golden ratio?
What made it worth all this bullshit!
There were many ways to torment someone, but demanding liquor mixed to some mysterious golden ratio without explanation?
Nangong Hyuk twirled his wrist at the wriggling bald thug.
"Brew it again."
"Th-there's n-no liquor."
"What?"
"No liquor left!"
"You telling me Hefei's out of booze, punk?"
"Y-yes, sir."
The bald thug barked it out like a soldier at attention.
Nangong Hyuk clicked his tongue.
"Can't even spot a mark, can't even brew liquor. You'll die screaming one day."
"I'll d-do b-better!"
"Back in the day, I'd have slit your throat before you even drew your sword. No one who pointed a blade at my neck lived to breathe. Right? Nah, you wouldn't know."
Nangong Hyuk grinned.
"Sigh, times have gotten soft. In the old days, I'd have skewered your heads and paraded them around spinning like rotisserie. Lucky you, huh?"
"H-heeek!"
The bald thug freaked out, clutching his neck and flailing.
Nangong Hyuk chuckled and smacked the back of his head good-naturedly.
*Whack!*
"Kyah!"
"Just kidding, punk."
*Crack.*
Nangong Hyuk's grin faded into a frown.
His wrist had popped out again, dangling loosely.
"Damn, out again."
He looked exasperated.
*Crack! Pop!*
He reset not just his wrist but his shoulder too, then swung his arm around.
From a safe distance, the one-eyed man and his crew whispered.
"...Did it just pop out again?"
"Y-yeah."
"Shoulder's spinning this time."
"That guy's strong, no doubt..."
"If we land one solid hit, maybe we could take him?"
"Crack his skull easy... Right, boss?"
The thugs eyed the one-eyed man cautiously.
Their gazes burned with desperate hope.
Unable to ignore it, the one-eyed man flinched.
"...Y-yeah?"
"Right, boss. We all rush him—can't miss. One good hit."
"Yeah."
The one-eyed man nodded like it made sense, then jerked his chin at the burly guy beside him.
"Wang Chun. You first."
"Me? M-me?"
"Can't do it?"
"No, I can, but..."
"You signal, we pile in."
"Oh..."
Wang Chun shot his boss an anxious glance.
He stood awkwardly and took a deep breath.
*Fine, whatever.*
Chance to save face with big bro and impress the crew.
Up close, the brute didn't look that tough.
One solid hit, and his bones would snap like twigs.
They seemed to pop out easy anyway.
Wang Chun steeled himself.
Alley fights were about momentum—seize the initiative and stomp them flat.
"Kyaa! Ptoo! You little shit! You wanna die, huh?!"
*Boom!*
A thunderous crash, and bold Wang Chun vanished from his spot.
The thugs' eyes bulged.
"...Huh?"
"Huh?"
"...W-where'd he go?"
Their confusion turned to horror.
Searching frantically, their eyes locked on the rear wooden fence.
Wang Chun was embedded horizontally in it.
His legs twitched like he'd been speared.
Silence fell.
*Gulp.*
The thugs swallowed hard, exchanged quick glances, and looked away.
Nangong Hyuk swung his leg to pop his joints back in.
"You're up?"
The one-eyed man, half-risen and ready to charge, froze.
He glanced around.
The thugs coughed awkwardly and averted their eyes.
His face twisted, relaxed, twisted again—then he yelled.
"I'll get the liquor! I know a top spot!"
* * *
*Gulp gulp!*
Nangong Hyuk downed the bowl of failed golden ratio brew.
The sharp burn hitting his throat after so long lifted his spirits.
The bald thug clutched his missing jaw.
"Y-young master? C-can I ask something?"
Nangong Hyuk eyed him with half-lidded gaze.
"What?"
The bald thug grinned sheepishly.
"Uh... where're you really from? I know every back alley in Hefei..."
Nangong Hyuk drained his bowl.
"*Gulp!* Nangong Family, duh?"
"..."
"Why?"
The bald thug's eyes rolled.
*For real?*
Not an imposter?
The second young master of Nangong Family—who everyone said was dying tomorrow or the next day—was this badass?
Everyone in Hefei knew the second young master had a fatal illness.
That's why he couldn't believe it.
Murmurs rippled through the thugs.
The bald thug wiped cold sweat from his brow.
Nangong Hyuk looked bored.
"Why?"
"N-no reason."
"What?"
"Nothing!"
The bald thug wailed inwardly.
"Sigh, the guy who went for booze brewing it now? Why's he taking forever?"
"I-I'll go."
"Nah. Sigh, no wonder you just shake down alleys for pocket change."
"Uh..."
Ignoring the bald thug's hurt feelings, Nangong Hyuk swirled the dregs in his bowl with a finger.
He was the picture of a boozer.
His boyish face, not even thirty, looked anything but ordinary.
*Slurp!*
He sucked his finger clean, then tilted the bowl again.
*Gulp gulp!*
As the thugs stared, mesmerized by how much he enjoyed it—
*Gulp gulp!*
*Boom!*
The wall crumbled, and a group poured in.
"Wh-what?!"
"Who?!"
Fearing a rival gang ambush, they jumped up—only for blue-robed swordsmen with blades at their waists to line up behind them.
"N-N-Nangong Family!"
"Ugh!"
"I-it's real?!"
"Gasp!"
The thugs gawked, eyes flicking between the Nangong warriors and Nangong Hyuk.
Nangong Hyuk licked his bowl clean, then glanced at the warriors.
The neatly arrayed swordsmen parted left and right.
*Step step.*
Light footsteps approached.
A man over six feet tall strode forward, elegant and poised.
His long hair flowed like a lion's mane, drawing gasps from all.
He moved like a living sculpture.
A sharp jaw like a blade, high straight nose, thick straight brows, deep eyes, and flawless white skin in perfect harmony.
Soft as a woman's yet strong as a man's—a striking youth.
"Th-the Sword Dragon."
In Hefei—no, the world—only one youth had that aura and look.
Sword Dragon Nangong Yong.
Spotting him, the thugs scattered in panic.
The elusive Sword Dragon, here?!
They had no choice but to believe Nangong Hyuk was the real second young master of Nangong Family.
*But if the brother's like that, why's the little bro such a mess?*
Gawking at Nangong Family's miracle(?), the thugs gulped nervously.
Nangong Yong stopped before Nangong Hyuk.
"Oh, you came?"
He stared silently.
Liquor breath wafting from his mouth, floor in chaos, bloodstains on his hands.
Bloodstains...
*Grab.*
Nangong Yong seized Nangong Hyuk's hand. His pupils dilated.
*Tremble!*
His shoulders shook visibly.
Even Nangong Hyuk felt the vibration.
"Uh, that's not my blood..."
Before he finished, Nangong Yong spun around.
Without a word, he began beating the thugs senseless.
Clueless, they took the pummeling without resistance.
*Boom!*
*Crash!*
"Kwuaaagh!"
"Kyaaaagh!"
"M-mercy, pleaseee!"
"Uwaaak! W-we already got beat—gurgh!"
*Boom boom boom!*
*Splat!*
Nangong Yong ignored their pleas, pounding indiscriminately.
Just kept beating and beating.
Nangong Hyuk eyed the blood on his hand and chuckled dryly.
"It's fine, I said. I roughed 'em up plenty."
*Boom!*
*Boom!*
*Splat!*
"Kwuuaaagh!"
The bald thug soared skyward, then crashed down.
"No, I was showing mercy, but you're massacring them..."
*Boom boom boom!*
*Boom!*
Action leader Wang Chun smashed through the fence and vanished.
Nangong Hyuk watched the carnage, wiped his hands on his clothes, and gazed at distant mountains.
How much time passed?
The relentless booms and screams faded.
*Step step.*
Nangong Yong approached the distracted Nangong Hyuk.
Nangong Hyuk glanced sidelong at the scene.
Not dead, but hellish carnage.
*Damn, kid's ruthless.*
A butcher among the Sword King's heirs.
Nangong Hyuk whistled inwardly.
"Come on."
An unfamiliar baritone pierced his ear.
Low, resonant, commanding.
*...*
Nangong Hyuk blinked and looked around.
No one had spoken?
As he puzzled—
"Follow."
Spotting the source, Nangong Hyuk startled.
*What? He can talk?!*
Holy shit.
The mute Sword Dragon could speak normally!
Nangong Hyuk shot him a crooked look.
Not mute, so why act all brooding?
But beyond Nangong Yong's heavy gaze lay a hellscape.
The mood was off.
*...He's the big bro, figures.*
*Ahem.* Nangong Hyuk trudged after him.
The warriors bound the thugs.
Nangong Hyuk clicked his tongue softly.
*Damn, didn't finish my drink.*
Golden ratio brew and snacks danced in his mind.
Hadn't even loosened his belt yet.
*Smack smack.* He smacked his lips in regret.
*Whew, just wanted a drink, and look at this mess.*
Nangong Yong's aura grew heavier, oppressive.
Even Nangong Hyuk felt irked.
How pissed was he?
Not gonna hit me, right? I'm still a patient.
As Nangong Hyuk thought that, more Nangong warriors rushed from the alley.
"...Now what?"
Nangong Hyuk looked baffled.
A flower palanquin rested on the warriors' shoulders.
Nangong Yong nodded curtly.
"Get in."
"..."
"Now."
"Yeah."
Nangong Hyuk awkwardly climbed aboard as the warriors hoisted him up.
*Fuck, what is this?*
A flower palanquin.
Heaven's fiercest badass in a flower palanquin!
Nangong Hyuk peered out the window slit.
Bruised, limping thugs in ropes were dragged along, surrounded by Nangong warriors.
An eye-catching spectacle.
Onlookers murmured.
"Flower palanquin?"
"With flowers?"
"Who's that young master?"
"Riding a flower palanquin?"
"Hahaha, a man in a flower palanquin."
Look at the thugs, damn it! Why me?
Humiliating. Mortifying.
Nangong Hyuk covered his face, cringing.
*Jostle.*
The palanquin swayed into motion, buzz kicking in late.
His face flushed red.
*Jostle.* "Damn, hitting hard."
Grinning lazily out the window as the booze surged.
"It'll work out somehow. *Jostle.*"