A Master of Genuine Troublemaking
‘Ho… so that young man was the Tang Clan's Third Young Master, the one they called a good-for-nothing?’
‘He's trained himself quite well, hasn't he?’
Won Myeong and Hwaseon Satae realized that the Tang Sanlong they had heard about in rumors and imagined in their minds differed greatly from the real thing, and they watched him with interest.
Everyone had expected the wretched husk of a wastrel, so his surprisingly sound condition left them slightly puzzled—but the most stunned of all was Wi So-gun.
Two years ago, she had broken Sanlong's arm during their sparring match. Could the Sanlong she remembered back then really be the same person standing before her now?
Nearly six cheok tall.
Though his frame was hidden beneath his robes, one could tell at a glance that his body was solid and hard.
He wasn't especially handsome, but anyone looking at him would call him unmistakably masculine—and he gave off less the air of a martial artist than that of a scholar.
"So you are the Tang Clan's Third Young Master."
"I am. Might I ask what brings such distinguished guests of Qingcheng and Emei to the Tang Clan Fortress?"
"That is…"
Just then, a sharp, bristling aura began to be felt in the air around them.
At some point, the Tang Clan's Heavenly Dragon Unit had taken up positions surrounding the Qingcheng and Emei parties.
They knew they wouldn't be welcomed, but they hadn't expected to be guarded against so brazenly.
At the sight, anger flared across Hwaseon Satae's face.
"…What is the meaning of this, you whelp of the Tang Clan?"
A ferocious pressure crashed down over Sanlong. He endured it by circulating the Ten Poisons Divine Art, keeping his exterior as composed as possible as he spoke.
‘Why, that little brat—!’
As Hwaseon Satae pressed her aura down harder, Sanlong's calm face began to visibly distort.
Yet even so, watching him hold his posture unbowed, everyone realized he possessed skill far beyond the ordinary.
"Satae, compose yourself. Your disciples will be injured."
"Hmph!"
"Kgh!"
"Hooah!"
Only when Won Myeong stepped in did Hwaseon Satae withdraw her pressure, and coughs erupted here and there among the onlookers.
True to her fiery temper, her cultivation was nothing to sneeze at either.
Watching her, Sanlong spoke slowly.
"My apologies, but I must ask once more. What brings the honored guests of Qingcheng and Emei to the Tang Clan Fortress without so much as a message, and with such a large retinue besides?"
"You think we came here to attack you?!"
"How much could an ignorant junior like myself possibly comprehend? So consider it a lesson for your junior—would you kindly tell me the reason for your visit?"
"You mean to say I must report to you personally?!"
"Of course there is no such obligation. However, this is the Tang Clan Fortress. It is a somewhat unfamiliar place for the honored elders of Emei and Qingcheng to all gather at once."
"Why, you insolent—!"
Hwaseon Satae tried to seize the initiative in the conversation, but when Sanlong refused to budge an inch, she could only vent her fury.
In the end, Won Myeong of Qingcheng stepped forward.
At this rate, they would be turned away without ever meeting the Tang Clan Head.
"We heard the tale on our way here, Third Young Master. The story of the hero who captured the vicious fiend that unleashed a bloodbath upon Seoksu Village. To meet the Poison Hero, a rare chivalrous soul in these times of the Jianghu—this humble Taoist is truly honored."
"You flatter me. I was simply fortunate. Rather, the honor is mine, to behold Elder Won Myeong, the renowned First Sword of Qingcheng."
"Heheh, don't gild the lily for this old Taoist."
Even as he spoke with a smile, Won Myeong studied Sanlong closely.
‘Fortune alone doesn't explain it.’
Won Myeong realized that Sanlong stood at a level comparable to Cheong Song, the foremost genius of Qingcheng, and completely discarded the disdain he had harbored.
At his advanced age, he was learning yet again that one should never trust rumors entirely.
And in situations like this, the straightforward approach was the answer.
"The reason for our visit concerns the fiend who shed blood in Seoksu Village."
"The fiend, you say?"
"I trust you are aware that this fiend killed our Qingcheng's second disciple."
‘…Damn it.’
Sanlong realized that Qingcheng, at the very least, would not be so easily sent away.
‘Why are they pushing me out there? O-ryong is here, and Sa-ryeong is too.’
With his eldest brother Tang Ilryong and eldest sister Tang I-ryeong both absent from the Tang Clan at present, it was technically correct for Sanlong to take the lead.
‘Qingcheng coming here… this is getting tangled up.’
With the situation already strained enough that seizing the Geumo Merchant Guild's Guild Master wouldn't be enough, Qingcheng had now arrived as well. The discussions over Il Sal's custody—and over the Guild Master suspected of being his backer—promised to drag on quite a while.
‘Damn it all!’
Contrary to the rueful turmoil in his heart, Sanlong's face was full of smiles, and Won Myeong, realizing the young man's cunning was far from ordinary, smiled back in kind.
"I see."
"Which is why we of Qingcheng request an audience with the Tang Clan Head. Would that be agreeable?"
Facing a man making clear that this was no personal favor but the will of Qingcheng entire, Sanlong had no choice but to answer that smile with a smile of his own.
The moment he issued a refusal here, there was no telling how Qingcheng might retaliate later.
He didn't know much else, but he knew this: prick their pride, and this lot turned more terrifying than anyone.
"Hahaha! Of course. Commander, please escort them."
"Understood, Third Young Master. Members of Qingcheng, follow me."
"Until we meet again, Hwaseon Satae."
With Won Myeong's triumphant smile, the Qingcheng Sect's people vanished—and what remained were Emei, the Heavenly Dragon Unit, and Sanlong.
"Why, you insolent—!"
"Yes, Venerable Hwaseon Satae?"
Unable to fathom what Emei's Sect Leader had been thinking in sending Hwaseon Satae, Sanlong could only offer her a smile.
"You dare slight our great Emei Sect?!"
"How could a junior dare such a thing? The Qingcheng Sect had a clear grievance, so I merely escorted them first."
So hurry up and tell me why you're here, you old battle-axe!
No matter how Sanlong wailed inwardly, all Hwaseon Satae produced was more yelling.
‘My ears hurt.’
Just as he began to wonder what Hwasong Satae, Emei's Sect Leader, had been thinking in sending this hopeless old woman, a voice—dignified and soothing to body and mind—reached Sanlong's ears.
"Greetings, Third Young Master. I am Wi So-gun."
At the entrance of Wi So-gun, a woman so beautiful the word nearly invented itself, Sanlong's first thought was one of relief.
At the very least, it meant he might no longer have to keep listening to Hwaseon Satae's ear-shredding bellows.
"Ah, a pleasure to meet you."
"It has been some time. You are entirely different from how you were back then."
"Ah…"
When Wi So-gun acted as though she knew him, Sanlong found himself wondering—had there ever been a time in his life when he'd crossed paths with a beauty like this?
"Have we met before?"
Just then, Tang Chiyeol, who had been quietly standing behind him, spoke up.
"Two years ago. The one who broke your arm."
"My arm?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"Because you were hitting on her."
The memory of all the idiotic things a thoroughly drunk Sanlong had done in front of Wi So-gun, the First Phoenix of Emei, came flooding back with brutal vividness.
Why did the embarrassing chapters of one's past always remain so crisp in memory?
‘Damn it.’
Squeezing his eyes shut was only a moment's reprieve; Sanlong managed his expression as best he could.
"Ah! So that's who you were. I was young and foolish back then, and I committed a great rudeness against Lady Wi. I apologize once more. Might your visit be because of that incident?"
If it really were about that incident, there would have been no reason to let them in at all.
At least Emei, he felt, could be turned away.
"That…"
"Why, you insolent—! So you were that wastrel!"
"Haha…"
"Fourth Sister… please, calm yourself for now."
Sanlong was beginning to get a sense of why Emei's Sect Leader had sent Hwaseon Satae.
‘It's the pressure tactic. Their justification is too thin, so they use Hwaseon Satae to bully their way in.’
Qingcheng had the ironclad justification of a murdered disciple, and so would never have needed to shout you-this, you-that—and Hwaseon Satae would never have been sent at all.
‘She's famous for being impossible to reason with, after all.’
Even among the Tang Clan, Hwaseon Satae's temperament was the stuff of legend.
"It is not because of that incident."
Behind Hwaseon Satae's yelling, Wi So-gun spoke.
"Then why?"
"The fiend who shed blood in Seoksu Village this time toyed with a disciple of our Emei Sect in an attempt to provoke her into a duel. Fortunately no tragedy occurred, but my martial sister was gravely injured."
‘Il Sal, you'd better not count on dying easy.’
Sanlong found himself resolved to inflict an absolutely staggering amount of pain on Il Sal before death finally took him.
‘It really is flimsy, though.’
A flimsy justification. But not to Hwaseon Satae.
"He dared toy with a disciple of the great Emei Sect! I shall take one of his arms at the very least!"
"Hwaseon Satae…"
"If you will not admit us, then I shall not leave this spot—not for days upon days!"
Watching Hwaseon Satae plunk herself down on the roadside, Sanlong was so awed by the diplomatic genius of Hwasong Satae, Emei's Sect Leader, that he nearly broke into applause.
Left to her own devices, the woman would surely sit in that spot for a month straight, raising holy hell about being let in.
It was the kind of stunt elders of other sects would never commit even for the sake of their dignity—but she had more than enough shamelessness to spare.
Wi So-gun too sent Sanlong a look that screamed please, just do something!
Hwaseon Satae herself might not care, but her disciples certainly did, and everyone joined forces to beam distress signals at Sanlong.
‘Khh…’
In the end, Sanlong had no choice but to surrender to the menace before him.
She was no ordinary menace, after all—a menace who was a Transcendent Peak master of the Jianghu. What could a mere First-Rate nobody possibly do against her?
"The sheer righteousness of Venerable Hwaseon Satae—who, out of devotion to her disciple and for the sake of justice, steps forward in person despite being an elder of the Jianghu! This ignorant junior cannot help but be moved to reverence."
"Whoa…"
"Is that really our Third Young Master?"
Watching Sanlong dress up a menace's tantrum as an act of righteousness, the warriors of the Heavenly Dragon Unit couldn't help but marvel.
"Hmph! A wastrel like you still has a decent eye for people, I'll grant! But do you think that makes me forgive what you did to our So-gun?!"
"How could I not understand your heart, Venerable Satae? I shall offer Lady Wi my apologies as many times as it takes, hereafter. Now then—shall we head inside?"
"Hmph! I know the way myself!"
"Naturally. However, should you walk in alone, I fear the chivalrous souls of the Jianghu will curse me for failing to properly honor one who labors day and night for the sake of her disciples."
"Hmph!"
Hwaseon Satae said nothing more and merely shrugged, and Sanlong, wearing a pleasant smile, slowly began to lead the way.
"All things considered, that went well."
Tang Chiyeol tossed a roasted chestnut to Sanlong, who had just returned from escorting Hwaseon Satae all the way to the Clan Head's hall.
Fragrant and sweet—it felt like his sugar reserves were recharging. The only downside was the thirst? Still tasted good, though.
"Why did I have to go out and greet them, anyway? There's the Squad Commander, and the elders too."
"Uninvited or not, they're guests. Guests get escorted by the host's own family—since when does the host's cousin do it?"
It was a fair point.
"Well, it worked out. Even the Clan Head has trouble handling Hwaseon Satae."
What a truly remarkable person, in every possible way.
Still, the resentment wouldn't settle.
"O-ryong was right there! And Sa-ryeong too!"
"Hand Hwaseon Satae to your younger sisters? Even if you two only share half your blood, that's cold."
"Ugh…"
Though if O-ryong or Sa-ryeong had gone, they probably would have floundered and capitulated to Hwaseon Satae in short order.
"I'd rather not have any more of this today."
Dealing with just the one Hwaseon Satae had left him feeling utterly drained.
"Now then, time to go home and get some res—"
"Third Young Master! Third Young Master!"
Just when he'd thought he might finally rest, he spotted someone in the distance—someone who, despite being middle-aged, was hauling around a body more frail than an old man's—running toward him in a heartbreaking scramble. Sanlong knew at once that today's rest was still far away.
"Chief Steward Im, keep that up and you'll drop dead from shortness of breath."
"Hah… hah…"
"Care for a chestnut?"
At Sanlong's words, Tang Chiyeol snorted with laughter.
"That's an original assassination method."
"Hah… hah…"
Chief Steward Im, who had been condemning the villainous act of offering chestnuts to an exhausted runner with his eyes alone, caught his ragged breath and spoke slowly.
"The Clan Head requests that the Third Young Master personally escort the Emei Sect to their lodgings."
"Me? Why?"
Sanlong couldn't understand why Tang Munseong would entrust the Emei party to him.
"Wouldn't Sa-ryeong be better suited for escorting Emei? I'll take the Qingcheng group instead."
"Anticipating that, the Clan Head instructed me to tell you: now is the time to wash away your past misdeeds, clean and clear."
"Just like that?"
"Venerable Hwaseon Satae…"
It seemed Hwaseon Satae, dangling Sanlong's name about, had made her ironclad resolve to stay in this place one way or another powerfully known.
"Khekhek."
Watching Sanlong squeeze his eyes shut in utter despair, Tang Chiyeol let out a soft burst of laughter.
"Fine…"
"Please! This once! For good! Truly!"
"Yes, yes."
At Chief Steward Im's desperate plea, the taste of the chestnut in Sanlong's mouth turned entirely to ash.