The First Phoenix's Request
“Snip… snip… snip!”
Even at Samryong's increasingly furious cries, Aeng-hwa kept adding things to his outfit with a perfectly blank face.
“Tsk… not bad, but not good either.”
She studied him the way one might appraise a piece of artwork, then clicked her tongue and delivered a short, merciless verdict.
“Take it all off.”
“…Then why did you put it on me in the first place?”
“Because you look shabby all over, young master, and you're about to meet the First Phoenix of Emei. I was trying to scrape together some semblance of presentability with accessories.”
“Shabby….”
She wasn't even bothering to hide her true feelings anymore.
“The Fifth Young Master makes even a ragged mat look good on him, though.”
“Agreed.”
That much, Samryong conceded.
“Can I go now?”
Samryong, now dressed in silk embroidered with lavish designs, wanted nothing more than to escape this room—but Aeng-hwa shook her head.
“No. That flashy sort doesn't suit you at all, young master. Understated is what suits you. You've a bit of a scholar's air about you, in spite of your conduct.”
“Then I should've just worn the clothes I picked in the first place!”
“Ugh… that thing?”
Her face plainly asked: do you genuinely think that's acceptable?
“We're out of time, so hurry up and bring it.”
Dressed at last in Aeng-hwa's choice, Samryong looked less like a child of a martial family and more like the son of a house of scholars.
Perhaps because he took after his mother's side rather than his father's, the scholarly garb suited him remarkably well.
“I'm off.”
“Safe travels.”
“Right. Don't clean my room—just pull the weeds on the training field.”
“Ugh… I hate that so much….”
And so, with Aeng-hwa's tender(?) send-off ringing in his ears, Samryong finally managed to leave the house.
“Haaam.”
Mentally drained from dealing with Hwasun Satae, Samryong was yawning so hard his jaw nearly cracked as he walked—
“Ahem! Ahem!”
—when a cough sounded from somewhere nearby.
But Samryong knew exactly who the voice belonged to, and ignored it with practiced ease.
“Ahem! Ahem! Ahem!”
When he kept walking regardless, a girl planted herself in his path, fake-coughing with all her might. It was none other than Tang Saryeong.
Samryong ignored her cleanly a second time.
Repeat this several times over, and her irritation was bound to boil over.
“Ugh, for crying out loud.”
Half-blood or not, with his little sister standing right in front of him, hostility rose instinctively from the soles of his feet.
Yes. This was hostility genetically hardwired into him. That kind of hostility.
“You look like a monkey. What do you want? Why are you skulking around?”
“Wh… monkey?”
“I—I don't have time for your nonsense. Let's do this later, monkey.”
“Eeeek! Why am I a monkey!”
Face flushing as red as a monkey's backside, Tang Saryeong finally lost the battle against his provocation and unleashed the Tang Clan Fist.
Not bad, actually. Everyone in this family's a prodigy except me.
It was a vicious Tang Clan Fist hard to believe came from a sixteen-year-old.
But I can read all of it now.
Her movements were crystal clear to him these days, and Samryong blocked or evaded at his leisure, right where he stood.
The fierce assault of Tang Saryeong, newly initiated into the Ten Poisons Divine Art!
It would have flustered any ordinary opponent, but to Samryong—who had reached the very end of the Ten Poisons Divine Art—it hardly registered as a threat.
The hard-won composure born of brushing against death in one real battle after another, all in such a short span, played its part too.
“Hyah!”
A fist came hurtling in, sharp as a blade!
Samryong spread his palm to bleed off the punch's force, then snapped his fingers rigid like a hawk's talon and snatched her wrist out of the air.
“Keep at it.”
“Kyaaaah!”
Whap!
Her upper body was already pitched forward, so all it took was a light hook of his leg to send her balance crumbling entirely.
“Aaaaagh!”
“Sigh.”
Watching Tang Saryeong roll head over heels across the ground, Samryong shook his head and let out a small sigh.
“I'm off.”
The unintended narrating made Tang Saryeong's face go red enough to burst on the spot.
“Hey! Tang Samryong! Don't you walk away!”
“My ears are bleeding. I wonder who'd ever take her off someone's hands. Good grief! Better treat her future husband well, whoever he is.”
Such was Tang Saryeong, whose talent marked her as the next Hwasun Satae in the making.
“Yaaaargh!”
“Saryeong!”
The instant her shriek tore through the air, a calm but commanding voice cut in, and Samryong knew at once who it belonged to.
“Greetings, Aunt Namgung.”
“Yes, it's been a while.”
Mother of Tang Saryeong and Tang Oryong, and third wife of the current head of the Tang Clan—Namgung So, born of the Namgung Clan of Anhui, once hailed as the Sword of Anhui's peerage.
Her beauty was so striking that one glance told you exactly where Saryeong and Oryong's radiant looks had come from.
Unlike the first wife, Dang Sin-hye of the Tang Clan's branch line, Samryong thought nothing ill of her—she and his own mother had always been on good terms.
That unreadable expression of hers. Still can't get used to it.
Her face was ever an unbroken sheet of ice, but at her daughter's behavior, her brow creased just slightly. So she did allow herself a flicker of emotion when it came to her own child.
“What manner of disgrace is this?”
“Uh… Mother….”
“You are at a delicate age, so I have overlooked your ill manners until now. But this time you have crossed the line.”
Caught between Namgung So's storm of scolding—no gentler than Yu Yanghui's—and everything else, Samryong stood awkwardly in the middle, unable to advance or retreat.
Time to just slip away.
Behold Samryong, deploying the art of the stealthy exit, mastered through years of enduring Yu Yanghui's lectures!
But unlike Yu Yanghui, who had never formally trained in the martial arts, Namgung So had once made her name in Anhui as a superb swordswoman under the epithet Ice Face Sword.
Evading her senses out here in the open street was, for all practical purposes, impossible.
“Where might you be rushing off to in such a hurry?”
Facing that expression cold enough to summon midwinter, Samryong answered with an awkward smile.
“By the Family Head's order, I'm to escort the lady disciples of the Emei Sect. I only seemed to be running late, so I was hurrying—I'd hate for you to misunderstand, Aunt.”
“….”
Namgung So stared at him in silence for a long while.
Facing that blank face without a word of conversation was a harder trial for Samryong than he cared to admit.
“I see. Then take Saryeong along with you.”
“…Pardon?”
Samryong barely swallowed the word why, and Namgung So said flatly:
“See to it.”
And with that she said her piece and vanished. Samryong watched her retreating figure for a moment, then turned to look at Tang Saryeong.
Who was, for some reason, blushing furiously.
“Huh?”
Rewinding her behavior through his head, the puzzle pieces clicked into place.
“Wait. Were you tagging along because you wanted to see Lady Wi?”
“What! No!”
“Am I wrong?”
“That's… th… that is….”
The living training manual who, mere moments ago, had been demonstrating with her whole face exactly what ferocity looked like had, without warning, turned into a shy young girl.
“Ugh….”
Seeing that girlish expression honestly made him want to break out in hives.
Samryong glanced in the direction Namgung So had disappeared and said:
“Skip the commentary and just walk quietly beside me.”
“You're the one who'd better not drag the Tang Clan's name through the mud with your thuggish antics!”
“Haah… just follow me and keep quiet. We really will be late.”
At this rate they genuinely would be, so Samryong quickened his pace with the Thunder-Treading Step.
Tee-hee~ giggle giggle~
A voice brimming with femininity—rare indeed within the Tang Clan—tickled Samryong's ears.
For the people of the Tang Clan, whose eyes carried killing intent three hundred and sixty-five days a year, it was a sight they hardly ever got to see.
“So that's the First Phoenix of Emei!”
“Truly one of the Nine Dragons and Eight Phoenixes! Gorgeous and skilled!”
“Move over! Me too! Let me see too!”
“Guess Emei picks its disciples by face rather than talent… heheh….”
“Ha! That's all just paint! Although… she is pretty….”
The male members of the Tang Youth Training Unit craned their necks for any glimpse of the First Phoenix, while the women—jealous at first—soon conceded to that overwhelming beauty and ended up studying her even more intently than the men.
Watching all of this, Samryong quietly picked up a stone.
“What are you doing?”
“Pest control. You vermin!”
“Ack! Ow!”
“It's the Third Young Master!”
“Run!”
“Ow! My butt!”
“Kyaaah!”
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Under Samryong's merciless stone-throwing, the trainees began scattering one by one.
Having tidied the rabble away with a handful of pebbles, Samryong lightly straightened his clothes and stepped inside.
Some twenty disciples of the Emei Sect stood about in small clusters, chatting among themselves.
With Hwasun Satae currently raising hell in the Family Head's conference hall, it was Wi Sogun, the First Phoenix of Emei, leading the disciples in her stead—and she spotted Samryong first of anyone.
Worthy of her title among the Nine Dragons and Eight Phoenixes, Wi Sogun stood at nineteen with the Peak Realm already within arm's reach.
Her senses were sharper than anyone's.
“Third Young Master.”
“Lady Wi. I'm afraid I'm late.”
“I lost track of the time watching the scenery.”
She spoke as beautifully as she looked.
Ahh! Yes—this is what a true lady is.
Unlike certain people.
“Why? What—!”
Brushing off Tang Saryeong with practiced ease, Samryong spoke up.
“I apologize for any inconvenience my clansmen may have caused. On behalf of the Tang Clan, allow me to offer their apologies in their stead.”
At his words, Wi Sogun lightly swept back a strand of fallen hair.
“Judging by your attire, you must be one of the Tang Youth Training Unit. As I understand it, your unit holds a position much like our third-generation disciples. We're all at that endlessly curious age, aren't we.”
Generous in body and spirit alike, isn't she? To think I'd toy with such a kind soul! The guilt is creeping back.
“You must be weary from such a long journey, so I'll escort you to your quarters right aw—Aagh!”
Just then, a searing pain tore through his side and a cry ripped out of him, drawing every eye in the courtyard.
“You… little… you—!”
“Faster! Faster!”
Under Tang Saryeong's sudden ambush, Samryong rubbed his poor flank with his palm again and again before finally collecting himself.
“This is my younger sister, Tang Saryeong. She has long admired you, Lady Wi, so I brought her along.”
Wi Sogun's face said she already knew her.
“Saryeong of the Tang Clan—I remember your exceptional skill from last year's exchange tournament. I am Wi Sogun.”
“I… I… I'm Tang Saryeong!”
Watching her stumble over her own words, Samryong decided that bringing her along had been worth it after all.
“Lady Wi, on behalf of our Sichuan Sleeping Dragon Association, we would be hon—yah!”
Tang Saryeong had produced a jade tablet from her sleeve and was presenting it to Wi Sogun—and Samryong snatched it away like a hawk.
Nothing if not the arrival of an unpleasant object to shatter the heartwarming mood.
“Where do you get off shoving this thing at her!”
Truly an ominous trinket, isn't it? A knockoff association of imitators playing at being the Nine Dragons and Eight Phoenixes.
The name alone was uncomfortable and distasteful enough that Samryong promptly hurled the jade tablet into the lotus pond.
“Hey!”
“Where do you get off peddling your knockoff association to Lady Wi? Are you insane?”
“Kno… knockoff… association?”
“Hey! You—out!”
Tang Saryeong's face said the words had hit hard.
“A knockoff association?! You! You think words come free?!”
“What's it to you? I'll toss this too, just watch.”
“Why! You—!”
And thus began a thoroughly ordinary squabble between siblings.
“Pfft….”
After watching them for some time, a laugh escaped Wi Sogun's lips.
Realizing what she'd done, her eyes went briefly wide.
“That was not meant as mockery. I was simply… taken by the sight of siblings getting along so well.”
“Getting along…? With all due respect, Lady Wi….”
“You both went too far.”
When Samryong and Saryeong protested in unison, Wi Sogun only offered a faint smile.
Watching the two of them brought her younger siblings back home to mind; she drifted into old memories for a moment before speaking again.
“I'm grateful for Saryeong's kindness, but I already know that my disciple Eo Hwon-ah is taking part in the association. If I attended as well, I would only cast a shadow over the occasion.”
There was no mistaking the polite refusal, yet Tang Saryeong, loath to give up, moved to press the invitation once more—
“If you can't keep quiet, then just leave.”
—but under Samryong's final ultimatum, she had no choice but to concede.
“My apologies. You must be exhausted—I'll show you all to your lodgings at once.”
“Third Young Master really needn't trouble himself with such things….”
“Hahaha! With guests of Hwasun Satae's and the First Phoenix's stature, the fault lies with me for being an inadequate host.”
At his words, Wi Sogun gave a slight nod.
“Then I'm in your care. Everyone, let's move.”
“Yes, First Senior Sister!”
And so, after no small number of twists and turns, Samryong finally managed to escort the Emei disciples to their quarters.
“You've changed so much since two years ago, I nearly failed to recognize you.”
Wi Sogun, famed for her reticence, asked Samryong quite a number of questions.
“I recently suffered a serious head injury, and it made me realize just how pathetic my past conduct was. So I took up the training I had abandoned.”
“I see. And yet I haven't seen anyone of the Tang Clan who trains the body as you do.”
“Building the body is merely my flailing attempt to somehow overcome my inadequate internal energy and Five Senses.”
At that, Wi Sogun replied evenly:
“But isn't it because training the body lets one achieve the greatest efficiency with the least expenditure of force? May I ask how you typically go about it?”
Now I get why she asks about everything.
She was a famously martial arts fanatic.
Come to think of it, it took that kind of obsessive streak to reach the threshold of the Peak Realm before even turning twenty.
“I just trained like an ignorant brute, that's all.”
“And that method of yours….”
Just as her relentless questioning was beginning to wear on him, Samryong reached his destination.
“Ah! Here we are. This is the Lotus Flower Hall, where the lady disciples of Emei will be staying.”
“Wow….”
“Ooooh!”
Gasps of admiration spilled from the Emei disciples one after another.
A pond nearly the size of a lake, and around the buildings, flowers of the season planted in every shade and hue.
It was almost jarring—a space so bright and lovely amid the austere Tang Clan. For guests' quarters, clearly, no expense of care had been spared.
“This building is the sleeping quarters, and that one is the dining hall. Meals will be brought to you by the servants at the proper hours. And this way, please….”
Following Samryong's lead, the group arrived at the martial training field.
“You may train here at your leisure.”
“I see.”
Is the training field really more appealing than the flowers? Well, I suppose I understand the feeling.
Her eyes sparkling as she took in the field, Wi Sogun turned slowly to Samryong.
“Third Young Master.”
“Yes?”
“I request a duel.”
“…Pardon?”
Just like that?!
Samryong stood there, utterly dumbfounded.