Chapter 22: To Guangdong Province (2)
Chapter 22: To Guangdong Province (2)
Chapter 22: To Guangdong Province (2)
Translation: Godtl
There was quite a distance between Sichuan Province and Guangdong Province.
However, for first-class martial artists, especially those of the Tang Clan—famous for their speed and light-footed movement techniques—it wasn’t something to worry about.
“Even accounting for conserving stamina, we should be able to arrive in seven days and nights…”
“Huh? We’ll be riding horses, Brother. Didn’t Father say it would take about three to four days?”
Tang Sowol tilted her head as she spoke.
Now that I thought about it, she had a point. No matter how fast or enduring a martial artist was, unless one had mastered a special lightness technique or reached a peak level of mastery, they wouldn’t outrun a horse.
Besides, riding a horse was far more convenient than traveling on foot. Still, there was one significant problem.
“I don’t know how to ride a horse.”
“You don’t know how to ride a horse? Why not??”
This time, it was Tang Sowol’s turn to tilt her head in confusion. Her reaction was purely one of disbelief, and I couldn’t help but feel slightly awkward.
Moments later, as if realizing something, she widened her eyes and clapped both hands over her mouth.
“Mmph! Mmmpff!”
“You can just take your hands off and speak.”
“Sorry… I just assumed all martial artists knew at least the basics of horse riding since everyone around me learned it. I thought it was common sense.”
“I figured that might be the case.”
The Tang Clan’s warriors, unlike those from other places, likely had generous support and frequent opportunities to ride horses, which would explain why they learned.
However, most martial artists didn’t bother learning how to ride. If they didn’t have the money to acquire a horse, they had no choice but to travel on foot, and by the time they were strong enough to afford one, they often surpassed a horse in both speed and stamina, making it unnecessary.
I wasn’t much different in my past life.
As I let out a small sigh, Tang Sowol, who seemed lost in thought for a moment, hesitantly spoke.
“Um… Brother?”
“What is it?”
She avoided eye contact, twisting the ends of her hair with her index finger, her feet shuffling awkwardly on the ground—clearly embarrassed about something. After sneaking a glance at me, she continued,
“If you don’t know how to ride a horse… would you like to ride with me?”
“Huh?”
“I’m sure you’d learn quickly, but you can’t expect to master it in just a day, right? I can’t very well leave you behind, so you’ll have to ride behind me.”
“Is that… how it works?”
“That’s how it works.”
Tang Sowol firmly nodded, though she still avoided meeting my gaze. Riding with her for three to four days, pressed closely together... I couldn’t help but feel a slight anticipation rising within me. Unfortunately, that feeling didn’t last long.
Tang Jincheon, having finished giving a short speech and instructing the servants to bring the horses and luggage, suddenly stepped between us.
“You’re not married yet, so what nonsense is this? Young Chen will ride with me.”
“Father?!”
Startled, Tang Sowol practically jumped in place. Despite laughing heartily at her reaction, Tang Jincheon sent me a pointed look. It was clear pressure to quickly nod in agreement.
But I couldn’t back down when there was so much at stake.
“What do you mean, Father-in-law? You are the Patriarch of the mighty Sichuan Tang Clan, respected by the warriors gathered here. There’s no need for you to inconvenience yourself because of me, and frankly, it wouldn’t be right.”
“I told you not to call me that yet.”
“But if I can call Brother Cheong ‘Brother,’ why can’t I call you Father-in-law?”
“The engagement ceremony hasn’t happened yet.”
“But you did say it would happen right after this mission, didn’t you?”
“…Not yet. Come along now. My horse is large and sturdy enough to carry two people with ease.”
Without waiting for my response, Tang Jincheon grabbed me by the back of my collar and started dragging me toward his horse. I tried to resist, but his mastery of the Flowering Stage was no joke, and he countered every attempt with precision.
Tang Sowol, initially dumbfounded by the scene, burst into laughter a beat too late and waved at me.
She could’ve tried to help stop this, but apparently, that wasn’t going to happen.
After being dragged all the way to the front, Tang Jincheon finally let go of me. As I tidied up my disheveled clothes, I muttered in frustration,
“That was a bit much, Father-in-law. I could’ve walked on my own.”
“You’re not my son-in-law yet. Besides, there’s a big difference between ‘could’ve walked on your own’ and ‘would’ve walked willingly,’ isn’t there?”
He had a point, so I had nothing to say in return. Given the choice between riding behind Tang Sowol or Tang Jincheon, it was obvious which one I’d prefer.
As I kept my mouth shut, Tang Jincheon chuckled and patted my shoulder.
“Well, I just wanted to get closer to you, so don’t be too upset.”
“Yes, understood.”
I sighed inwardly as the servants returned, leading the horses.
***
The journey to Guangdong Province was relatively smooth.
With everyone riding swiftly on horseback, wearing matching green uniforms to signify they belonged to the same group, and being at least first-class martial artists, we didn’t encounter any serious problems.
Even the fiercest bandits of the Green Forest, who would normally be foaming at the mouth for prey, chose to let us pass without a second glance.
However, there were a few unexpected disturbances.
No, it wasn’t because someone blocked our path demanding toll fees, or because we got into a quarrel at an inn, or even because we ran into an enemy with a personal grudge.
Instead, it was because of the overly frightened reactions of the villagers we encountered.
As we traveled, stopping at villages once a day to rest or resupply, the closer we got to southern Hunan Province and into Guangdong, the more terrified the locals seemed.
In one particular village, they went as far as hiding behind crude barricades and arming themselves with farming tools in a clumsy attempt at defense.
Though the Black Lotus Sect was based in Zhejiang Province, Guangdong had long been known as a stronghold of unorthodox sects.
They must have mistaken us for unorthodox martial artists who came to rob or extort them.
Though we managed to resolve the misunderstandings with words, some of the members of the Dark Soul Unit seemed visibly shaken—it was likely the first time they had been treated like this.
“Hm.”
“What now?”
By this point, after three days of traveling together, I had grown fairly comfortable around Tang Jincheon. I learned that, unless it concerned something official or related to Tang Sowol, he was rather easygoing.
“Martial arts have a profound effect on a martial artist’s body, right? For example, the warriors of the Peng Clan are known for their large and sturdy builds, which is partially due to their bloodline but also significantly influenced by their martial arts.”
“Why are you suddenly bringing up something so obvious?”
“Well, is it possible that the Tang Clan’s martial arts are the reason why so many of your warriors have such fierce or grim appearances?”
“…What?”
Tang Jincheon turned to look at me, bewildered, but I was being serious.
“At first, I wasn’t sure. You know, because Sowol looks so gentle and cute overall.”
“Hm. My daughter takes after her mother and is quite beautiful. Had nothing gone wrong on this trip, I dare say she would’ve become one of the Five Beauties of the Martial World.”
I had only complimented Tang Sowol’s appearance, but he nodded so vigorously and confidently that it felt a bit over the top. Still, I continued with a helpless laugh.
“Even Brother Cheong has a refined, princely appearance.”
“Of course. He takes after me, after all.”
“...”
For a moment, I was left speechless. Was he serious?
Not to say Tang Jincheon wasn’t handsome—he was, especially by martial artist standards.
Martial artists tend to improve physically as they progress, and by the time they reach the Flowering Stage, it’s rare to see anyone with poor looks.
But Tang Jincheon’s overall presence was… intimidating. There was a distinct air of pressure that came not from his martial prowess but simply from his appearance.
And it wasn’t just him—many of the Tang Clan’s warriors shared a similar look, with expressions that often seemed cold, fierce, or irritable.
This trait was more prominent in the older members, whereas it was less noticeable in the younger ones.
I had suspected it might be a side effect of their martial arts, so I asked, but…
“To give you a straightforward answer, you’re half right and half wrong.”
“…What?”
His reply was rather ambiguous.
“Oh, if it’s something difficult to explain, you don’t have to. I was just asking out of curiosity.”
“That’s not what I meant. It’s true that our martial arts are the cause, but not because of any inherent flaw or side effect in the techniques themselves.”
“???”
Now I was even more confused. Was this some kind of cryptic answer? I’d heard that orthodox sects often used such indirect language, unlike unorthodox martial artists who preferred to speak plainly.
As I pondered the meaning of his words, Tang Jincheon chuckled and gestured with his chin.
“You, do you know what expression you’re making right now?”
“…A blank expression?”
“Technically, it’s a slightly furrowed blank expression. And that, my friend, is exactly the impression you have of Tang Clan warriors.”
“Ah!”
As I reflected on his words, I finally understood.
“Poison arts and hidden weapon techniques require constant vigilance, don’t they?”
“Exactly.”
Tang Jincheon nodded, satisfied. It was simpler than I had thought.
Both poison and hidden weapons were dangerous, not just to enemies but to the user and those around them.
Handling such techniques required extreme caution, and that kind of near-obsessive focus naturally wore on one’s nerves.
Over time, it would manifest in their expressions, causing them to frown, scowl, and react more sensitively to minor things.
Accumulating over the years, it left a permanent mark on their faces, giving them the fierce, grim appearance they were known for.
It wasn’t a flaw or side effect of the martial arts themselves, but simply the result of years of practice and habit.
Just as a farmer’s skin darkens from a lifetime under the sun, or a blacksmith’s arms grow thick from wielding a hammer, it was merely a byproduct of their profession.
So that’s how the stereotype about Tang Clan warriors being more ruthless and sinister than other orthodox martial artists came to be.
“Well, that means Sowol should be fine, right?”
“I can’t say for certain yet, but she should fare better than most.”
Tang Sowol didn’t need to handle poison carefully or calculate her remaining poison levels during a fight. Her innate Poison Spirit Constitution allowed her to naturally control poison like an extension of herself, and her body could even synthesize poison internally.
In my past life, the Tang Sowol I knew always hid the melted half of her face beneath a veil, burdened by the destruction of her clan and filled with grief and venom.
But the current Tang Sowol… While she had been prickly at first, she now seemed more like a loyal puppy, growing more attached as we got closer.
Her core personality hadn’t changed, but her demeanor was so different that I was curious how she would turn out in the future.
If things continued as they were, it seemed unlikely she’d become the same person she was in my previous life. And I wasn’t going to let her go through the same suffering.
While I silently made that resolution, Tang Jincheon spoke in a slightly teasing tone,
“By the way, aren’t you still calling her just ‘Tang Sowol’? Since you’ll soon be officially engaged, how about thinking of a more appropriate title? Like calling her ‘Miss Sowol.’”
“There are many Tang women in the clan, so calling her ‘Miss Tang’ seems a bit too common.”
“Then just attach her name. Sowol won’t mind your informal tone, but since you’ll be attending formal gatherings in the future, it’s better to decide on something beforehand.”
“You’re right. That makes sense, but…”
“But what? Just say what’s on your mind.”
“‘Miss Sowol’… it’s a bit embarrassing, don’t you think?”
Tang Jincheon turned around with an exasperated look as if wondering what kind of man I was, but I couldn’t help it.
It really was too embarrassing for me.