The Man with the Pipe
They had formed a wide encirclement with the Geumo Merchant Guild headquarters at its center.
Surveying the tightening net, Samyong shouted.
"Scatter in all directions!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Got it!"
"Young Master Tang! Watch yourself!"
The scouting party dispersed on every side, and Samyong too picked a direction, unleashing his light-foot technique at full power.
Ssshaaaek!
Hidden weapons came flying, ripping through the air.
Samyong swung his long sleeve in a wide arc and deflected their trajectory.
Every last one of them is First-Rate!
The internal energy packed into each projectile was enough to give him a rough measure of their skill.
He might manage one or two of them—but there were clearly dozens at a glance.
Damn it!
Tatadak!
Roof tiles clattered to the ground faster and faster, and with each acceleration the enemy pursuit grew fiercer.
Thwack! Thwack!
Blade energy came hurtling at him from all sides; Samyong slipped inside his sleeve just barely dodging each one.
"Nine Lives Saver!"
Kagagang!
The black-robed figures dodged or blocked his counterattack as if they had expected it.
But Samyong's true aim lay elsewhere.
Tong!
From the poison pellet launcher on his wrist, pellets streaked toward the black-clad men like bolts of lightning.
Pow! Pow!
As the poison scattered in every direction, a green cloud began to billow up thick as fog.
It did him no harm at all, but it was more than enough to make the enemy's movements falter.
There!
The poison pellets had opened a slight gap, and Samyong threw himself boldly toward it.
Ten Poisons Divine Art! Wave!
As his internal energy transformed into venom through the Ten Poisons Divine Art, a wave of toxic qi spread outward in all directions.
"Khek!"
"Khh—ghk!"
"Careful!"
"Bite down on your antidote pills!"
Pow!
The moment he released the poison qi stored in his body, urgent voices burst for the first time from the mouths of the previously silent black-robed men.
Samyong's internal energy was more venomous than any ordinary poison.
Why? Because his internal energy carried the poison qi of the century-old Venomous Blood Serpent.
Can't use that too often, though.
It was nothing more than a raw expulsion of internal energy—poor cost-efficiency, you might say. Still, it had helped him break the encirclement, so it would do.
At this rate—!
Had the others escaped? They were nowhere in sight, already vanished into the distance.
Worry about myself first!
"Hah!"
With a spirited battle cry, a powerful saber came slicing at him from the front.
Samyong drew his iron wire.
Kagang!
Blocking it head-on was too much of a burden, so he deflected it slightly—but the man's attacks flowed onward like water, relentless, biting and clinging.
Classic unorthodox sect saber art.
There were small and mid-sized unorthodox sects in Chengdu, but none of them commanded a fighting force made up entirely of First-Rate masters.
A sect from outside Chengdu, then!
If so, only one place came to mind.
Paedolim!
If it weren't them, no one would contemplate a full frontal clash with the Tang Clan like this.
Damn it!
He had no idea how they had gotten here, but that hardly mattered right now.
Survive first. Worry later.
Having evaded the tenacious saber, Samyong drove his iron wire in, striking precisely at the man's throat.
"Khek!"
Crack!
The man clutched at his neck in agony—and Samyong smashed the iron wire down across his face.
Seeing more black-robed men charging in, he dropped low and swept the iron wire hard into their legs.
"Kraaagh!"
Thrown off balance, they smashed face-first into the tiled roof before tumbling helplessly to the ground.
"Hah! Hah!"
Hurling hidden weapons and concealed blades front and back, he held off the black-robed men swarming in from every side.
Silver Net Thread!
Shwararak!
Samyong's silver thread ran along the rooftops, stealthily aiming for his opponents' ankles.
"Watch out!"
"The ankles!"
"Aaargh!"
Inhale!
Udangtang!
He yanked the thread hard, and one after another, the men whose ankles had been snared went tumbling off the roof.
"Approach carefully!"
"Don't overextend—attack in rotation!"
They never end!
The rolling waves of assault made even a single step forward a struggle, and Samyong's breathing grew heavier.
"Hah… hah…"
Realizing that Samyong would not be easy prey, they began a rotating siege—a wheel battle, where superior numbers traded places in relays against a small elite, grinding them down through sheer attrition.
The black-robed men fought him just long enough to tire him, then fell back as fresh fighters rushed in, over and over.
I feel like cornered game.
With every passing moment the encirclement around him grew more solid.
Was this how it ended? Just as defeat began to cloud Samyong's face, a young man's voice rang out.
"Everyone, hold."
At that clear, melodious voice, the murderous black-robed men drew back slightly and opened a path.
"Hmm."
Through the ranks of black robes came a youth in magnificent silken garments, strikingly handsome, a long pipe held between his lips, walking slowly toward Samyong.
A kid that young, already smoking.
His inner Confucian youth from his past life flickered back for a moment—but then the voice reached his ears, a voice that compelled attention despite itself.
"Are you with the Tang Clan?"
"Can't you see for yourself?"
At Samyong's bristling response, Dan Haseong smiled.
"No need to bare your teeth at me. I only wish to ask a few simple questions."
"You'd best not expect a single answer out of my mouth."
"I know the Tang Clan's stubbornness well. Even so, answering would be better for you—and for your comrades."
At Dan Haseong's gesture, two unconscious Wind Heaven Unit members, beaten to rags, were dragged out bound and laid before Samyong.
"I didn't go out of my way to torture them. They simply resisted so fiercely when we took them—it being Tang Clan blood and all—that we had to use a bit more force than intended. They're not dead, of course."
Tap.
He flicked a finger lightly, and the black-robed men leveled their sabers at the throats of the unconscious captives.
"Though of course, what happens next depends entirely on your answer."
Dan Haseong winked, pulling a mischievous sort of face.
Maybe it was because he was so good-looking—even an expression like that sat well on him.
Damn pretty boys anyway.
Had Samyong pulled that face, he'd have earned a slap before anything else; on Dan Haseong, somehow, it looked right.
Watching him, Samyong spoke.
"You think you can touch the Tang Clan and walk away unscathed?"
"I was wondering when you'd say that. My answer is, of course I can! You must have some inkling of who we are by now?"
Paedolim was a name that, outside Chengdu, meant a fight on sight as far back as anyone could remember.
Once, they had been powerful enough to claim half of Chengdu for themselves.
They were no longer at that height, but they had been recovering their former glory to the point of holding a seat in the Five Star Assembly of the unorthodox alliance.
Damn it all. So it really was Paedolim?
Things had just gotten considerably worse.
Not that he let any of it show, of course.
"Paedolim's Mad Blood Company."
Within Paedolim, only one fighting force wielded those savage sabers—naming them had been no challenge at all.
"Correct. As expected of you. Clap! Clap!"
Dan Haseong gave a light round of applause and continued.
"Now then. Are you ready to answer?"
"…"
"I'll take silence as a yes. I won't ask about things like a map of the Tanggata or your trade routes. I know perfectly well you wouldn't answer anyway."
Dan Haseong drew a long, deep breath on his pipe as he spoke.
"Are you the Poison Hero?"
The question was so unexpected that for a moment Samyong failed to answer at all.
"No."
He collected himself quickly and replied—but there was no way Dan Haseong would miss that brief silence.
"So it's true."
"I said no."
"Yes. The Poison Hero."
Even mimicking Samyong's denial, Dan Haseong wore a smile of absolute certainty.
"You clearly knew. Why bother asking?"
"It was too dark to see properly."
The answer was so shamelessly straightforward that Samyong found himself, for once, speechless.
"I imagine this is all because of the Geumo Guild Master's affair? Shall we have a talk?"
"Why would I?"
"Well… perhaps because I might be able to give you what you want."
In Dan Haseong's hand was a ledger.
Samyong regarded it quietly, then withdrew his iron wire and spoke.
"A talk, then. I can spare the time."
Watching Samyong's attitude pivot in an instant, Dan Haseong nearly laughed aloud.
True to Tang Clan blood—the moment an enemy became useful, he was ready to join hands, no questions asked.
It was precisely this quality that made Paedolim wary of the Tang Clan above all others.
"Then follow me. Knowing I'd be meeting the Poison Hero, I've prepared a fine tea."
Following Dan Haseong's lead, the place Samyong arrived at was the Geumo Merchant Guild itself.
* * *
"Did you kill everyone?"
"Poison Hero, whatever kind of unorthodox sect Paedolim may be, we don't stoop to that. We're no Demonic Cult. We simply evacuated them. Honestly, I expected you to charge straight in."
"And if you had charged in?"
"Well. We might have set a fire or two."
"Didn't think of that one."
"An orthodox sect wouldn't dream of it in the first place."
Dealing with the Tang Clan, there were moments when it was genuinely hard to tell whether these people were orthodox or unorthodox.
No—if anything, at times they felt worse than the unorthodox sects.
The Martial Alliance classified the Tang Clan as orthodox, but even they, in practice, never truly regarded them as such, treating them instead as something caught between righteous and demonic.
Deeds that, from any other orthodox sect, would draw cries of how can an orthodox sect do such a thing! become, when the Tang Clan does them, simply well, they would, wouldn't they.
That was why one's everyday conduct mattered so much.
"This is Mengding tea. Do you know it?"
"My mother drinks it often, so a little. Is Paedolim near Mount Mongjeong?"
"Pushed out to the remotest border of Sichuan, the one consolation is that we can get this fine tea with ease."
"Then why not just stay there? What brings you all the way to this crowded place?"
"Haha."
To Samyong's barbed remark, Dan Haseong answered only with a smile.
Watching him, Samyong slowly savored the tea's fragrance.
"You're not worried I'll suspect it's poisoned?"
"I'm a Tang Clan man."
Having absorbed the poison of the century-old Venomous Blood Serpent and consumed the inner core of the thousand-year earth-ginseng, Samyong was, for all practical purposes, impervious to toxins.
Ordinary poisons had no effect on him, and it was said his immunity exceeded that of even the Tang Clan's own masters.
"Might there not be a poison even the Tang Clan can't neutralize?"
"Then even better. I'd learn a new poison, and build more immunity."
Reminded once more that a Tang Clan man's common sense ran contrary to everyone else's, Dan Haseong savored his own tea as well.
Watching him, Samyong broke the silence first.
"You showed me that ledger, too. What's the real reason you wanted this conversation?"
"Well… there are several reasons, but the most important one is that I was curious about the Poison Hero."
"Me?"
"Yes. Only half a year ago you were famous as a good-for-nothing—then you captured the Ghost Blade Sam Sal and earned the title of Poison Hero. Wouldn't it be strange not to be curious?"
Under Dan Haseong's weighty gaze, Samyong wanted nothing more than to look away—but avoiding it here meant sinking deeper into the man's palm, so he gritted his way past the instinct.
Men, I swear.
Leaving Samyong grumbling inwardly, Dan Haseong exhaled a plume of smoke.
"I do love a story of growth like that. Phoo~"
As the pipe's smoke scattered into the air, it brushed faintly past Samyong's nose.
This… it's a blend of several herbs?
Painkilling compounds, mostly, wasn't it? One thing could be deduced from that alone.
So his body really is failing him.
Through the pipe smoke, Samyong could roughly gauge Dan Haseong's condition.
He certainly looked fine when he spoke, but the pallor of his face was difficult to hide completely, even in the darkness.
"The tea smells good."
Showing none of this, Samyong continued.
"One of your reasons is settled, then. What are the others?"
"The others are for negotiation. I'd love to go over the details at length, but the Tang Clan's elites will be here soon—so allow me to be brief."
"Fine."
The only thing he'd heard from Dan Haseong so far that he actually liked.
"You must give up on capturing the Geumo Guild Master."
"No. We can't let the man who struck the Tang Clan live."
"If you press on, blood will flow. A great deal of it."
"The Tang Clan is always ready to settle a grudge. What's wrong with you people? You're supposed to be unorthodox."
Because they knew the Tang Clan would repay their grudges without fail, its people could fight with more courage than anyone else alive.
"And if, along the way, we can block Paedolim's advance into Chengdu—well, that's a bonus."
At Samyong's words, Dan Haseong spoke calmly, as if he had anticipated at least this much.
"Haha. All fine sentiments—but allow me to share a few things. First, the Geumo Guild Master is no longer here. While Qingcheng, Emei, and the Tang Clan were busy dueling over their pride, Paedolim already smuggled him out of Chengdu. By now, I'd wager he's passing right through Mount Mongjeong—the very place this tea comes from."
Son of a—
Inwardly Samyong was cursing up a storm, outwardly he kept his composure without a ripple.
But the fine tremor in his eyes did not escape Dan Haseong.
He's shaken.
Dan Haseong decided to shake him a little harder.
"And the Geumo Merchant Guild has agreed to side with us from now on. We're to guarantee their safety, as well."
Ever helpful, Dan Haseong even produced the contract itself.
"Even the Tang Clan would have to fight Paedolim head-on to seize the Guild Master. Well… hmm… the Tang Clan could manage it, I suppose—but without Qingcheng's or Emei's aid, a war between two such evenly matched powers would only grind into a stalemate, and…"
Dan Haseong set his teacup down on the table and began slowly pouring the tea.
"And as it drags on, the Tang Clan's influence in Chengdu will naturally dwindle—leaving Paedolim ever more room to advance. And it wouldn't just be us. There's Emei and Qingcheng, of course, plus every mid-sized sect lying in wait, biding their time for a chance! Phew~ So many people coveting this narrow little land, aren't there? Wouldn't you say, Poison Hero?"
Dan Haseong let the small teacup fill to overflowing, tea spilling over its brim in full view.
Watching this, Samyong spoke.
"Skip to the conclusion. So what exactly is it you want?"
"Simply that today—and hereafter—we needn't waste blood over someone like the Geumo Guild Master. We only want to help this wretched, ill-fated guild master of ours."
"'Purely out of the goodness of your heart'… and I'm meant to believe that?"
"You may well not—but there's no time to explain."
Toward the skeptical Samyong, Dan Haseong drew the ledger from inside his robe.
"Let me put it bluntly. The real reason you want the Geumo Guild Master lies elsewhere—doesn't it?"
"What?"
"Within these pages is information the Third Young Master of the Tang Clan, Tang Sanlong, desires."
Dan Haseong tapped the ledger where it lay on the table, once, twice, with his fingertip.
