Chapter 43
Chapter 43
Military Strategist, Lü Chan
The bustling marketplace of Chengdu was alive with energy.
Amidst the clamor of merchants and customers, a young woman hurriedly moved about.
Seol, the maid of the Sichuan Tang Clan, approached the owner of the shop where Seol Yi-rang had last visited.
"Good afternoon, sir!"
"Oh-ho! Seol, is that you?"
"Yes, it's been too long."
The shop owner, who had been sitting in a corner puffing on a pipe, sprang to his feet at the sight of her and greeted her warmly.
Before Seol had entered the Tang household as an orphan, she had worked here as a shop assistant for the longest time.
After chatting for a while, Seol finally brought up her request.
"Ah, right! Sir, about the Sichuan ginger and Sichuan peppercorns that just came in—are they very spicy?"
"Hmm? Are you worried they might be too spicy?"
"Pfft, as if a Sichuan native would worry about that! If anything, I'm afraid they might not be spicy enough."
"Hahaha, our Seol has truly become a Sichuan girl now. Alright, I'll pack you the best ones we got today."
"Oh, really?"
The shop owner chuckled fondly at Seol's sparkling eyes and handed her a generous portion—far more than the usual amount.
Seol accepted it eagerly, bowed in thanks, and was about to leave when she suddenly turned back.
The shop owner tilted his head, wondering if she had forgotten something.
"Ah, right! Actually, these aren't for me—they're for our young master."
"What?! Then put them back!"
"Hehe, goodbye, sir!"
The shop owner watched Seol's retreating figure with an amused smile.
But that smile soon faded, replaced by a look of concern and pity.
'Sigh... At least she's smiling again after that bastard's cruelty. That's something.'
He had heard rumors that she had gone half-mad after losing her arm, but even that didn't seem like enough punishment in his eyes.
'I wish someone would wipe out those Qingcheng bastards—every last one of them.'
It was a small wish, whispered for Seol's peace and happiness.
"Hmm, perfect! With this, I can prepare a proper feast of all the young master's favorite dishes."
Seol looked at the overflowing basket in her hands with deep satisfaction.
As Se-woon's personal maid, she had traveled all the way to Chengdu to gather ingredients for his favorite meals upon his return.
No one had ordered her to do this—it was entirely her own idea.
In fact, she had spent every last coin of her saved wages to buy these ingredients.
'I have to repay him somehow!'
She was genuinely grateful and held deep respect for Se-woon, the man who had saved her life.
He hadn't just stopped at killing I Hoseong.
For her, who had been traumatized, he had gone so far as to personally tend to her wounds and even prepared expensive medicinal soups—handling everything perfectly afterward.
What noble scion would go to such lengths for a mere maid?
If anything, Seol felt guilty that all she could offer in return were such small gestures.
Alright, time to head back.
Just as she struggled to lift the bursting basket onto her back—
"......Excuse me, miss."
"Huh?"
A man's voice suddenly called out from beside her.
Startled, Seol turned to see a man standing there blankly—about her height, with hunched shoulders and a turtle-like neck.
His thick, oversized glasses obscured his eyes entirely, and he carried no visible weapons, making him look more like a scholar than a martial artist.
Her fear eased slightly.
"Y-yes? How can I help you?"
"Ah! Thank you, miss. Could you tell me how to get to the Tang residence from here?"
"......The Tang residence?"
The mention of the Tang Clan made her flinch instinctively.
But the scholar seemed oblivious and continued.
"Yes, yes! The horse merchant who gave me a ride suddenly refused to go any further, saying all sorts of strange things—that the place was cursed, that bad things kept happening there—before dumping me here and riding off!"
His voice dripped with indignation, as if recalling the injustice still angered him.
After a moment's hesitation, Seol wondered if this scholar might be an important guest visiting the Tang Clan and cautiously replied.
"......Then, please follow me. I actually work there as a maid."
"Oh, really? Thank you, miss!"
But...
She wouldn't take long to regret her kindness.
As they climbed the mountain path toward the Tang residence—
"Do you know how tragic the fate of a strategist who serves the wrong lord can be?!"
"I-I'm not sure..."
"In ancient times! When Liu Zhang of Shu listened to Zhang Song's advice and invited Liu Bei into Yi Province, the loyal minister Wang Lei hanged himself from the city gates to plead for his lord to reconsider!"
"......Ah, yes."
"But Liu Zhang refused to listen! He mocked Wang Lei for worrying over nothing. And in the end, Yi Province was stolen—do you know what happened to Wang Lei?"
"......No?"
"Sigh—he died in despair! No matter how talented a man is, serving the wrong lord leads only to tragedy. Isn't that heartbreaking?"
"......Ah, yes, yes."
"And that's not all! Chen Gong also served a doomed lord—"
The scholar was nothing short of a chatterbox.
Seol's ears ached, her head spinning from the endless torrent of words.
His incessant rambling made her suspect he might be a fraud.
'Maybe I should make up an excuse and slip away here...'
"Hm? Seol?"
"—!"
Just then, a familiar voice called out from behind.
"......Young Lady? Young Master?"
Seol turned to see Tang Se-rin and Tang Se-woon staring at her.
But something was off about their appearance.
Covered head to toe in black dust like coal miners, the two carried massive sacks—each easily twice their size.
"Wh-what happened to you two?!"
"......Too much to explain."
Se-rin answered bitterly.
"Anyway, are you on your way back to the estate?"
"Yes!"
"Hmm, but who's this with you?"
"Ah, well..."
Seol hesitated, unsure how to explain.
Just then—
"......Pitch-black pupils, long and high-arching eyebrows."
"......?"
"A clear forehead and a prominent nose. Cheekbones converging toward the nose."
The scholar muttered under his breath, eyes glazed over.
Ignoring everyone's confusion, he continued firmly.
"Forehead and chin also converging toward the nose—destined to command a court of officials..."
His eyes burned with fervor behind his thick glasses.
And then—
"......The face of a hegemon!"
His gaze was fixed squarely on Se-woon.
Silence.
For a moment, the surroundings fell utterly still.
The face of a hegemon.
Even hearing it once, the weight of those words was unmistakable.
"......Why is this fortune-teller traveling with you?"
"I-I'm sorry! He said he was heading to the Tang residence, so..."
"My apologies for the late introduction—!"
The scholar suddenly dropped to one knee in a formal bow.
"This humble one is Lü Chan! By order of the Martial Alliance, I have come to serve as the personal guard of Young Master Tang Se-woon, heir of the Sichuan Tang Clan!"
"—!"
The Martial Alliance!
Everyone was stunned by the unexpected revelation.
Except for one.
'So he's arrived.'
Only Se-woon remained eerily calm, his gaze fixed on Lü Chan.
Clang!
Weapons clashed, sending orange sparks flying through the air.
The Tang Elite Unit, clad in green uniforms, roared as they swung their weapons with all their might.
Inside the Tang Clan's grand training grounds, the elite warriors engaged in relentless combat drills.
Swish!
Clash!
Every member of the unit remained hyper-focused, sparing not a single moment of distraction.
The martial arts of the Sichuan Tang Clan relied heavily on hidden weapons—meaning even the slightest lapse in concentration could lead to severe injury, even during training.
Finally—
The grueling session came to an end, and sweet respite arrived.
As everyone retreated to the shade to cool off—
"Sigh... What's the point of training so hard?"
"Hey, don't start that again."
One of the veteran members sighed deeply, his face etched with frustration and bitterness.
"I mean it. What's the use when our lord doesn't even trust us?"
"......It's disheartening, I'll admit."
"Disheartening? That's an understatement. The young heir outright distrusts us—it's downright humiliating."
Most of the unit nodded in agreement.
"Requesting a guard from the Martial Alliance? What does that say about us?"
"We're all ready to lay down our lives for the Tang Clan..."
"But isn't it because we failed to stop those assassins last time?"
"—!"
Just then, a youthful voice cut through the veterans' conversation.
All eyes turned toward the source.
It was Daewoong (Great Bear), a recent recruit to the unit.
True to his name, his massive frame was packed with rugged muscle, his fierce eyes and tightly pressed lips reminiscent of a mountain bandit.
A senior member scowled and spoke through gritted teeth.
"Listen here, rookie. Know when to keep your mouth shut."
"If what's being said isn't true, why stay silent?"
"......What?"
Silence.
The atmosphere turned icy.
But Daewoong ignored the sharp glares and continued.
"We should blame our own weakness for failing to protect our lord. Whining like this is nothing but the excuse of losers."
"What the—! Losers?"
"You little brat, how were we supposed to stop a Martial Alliance assassin?!"
Daewoong looked at the senior with undisguised disdain and finished coldly.
"And that right there is the mindset of a loser. If you couldn't stop the enemy, shut your mouth and train harder."
"You little—!"
The senior shot to his feet, fists clenched, and stormed toward Daewoong.
Daewoong didn't back down, tightening his own fists in readiness.
Just as a brawl was about to erupt—
"What's all this noise?!"
The roar of Tang Bi, leader of the Tang Elite Unit, thundered across the grounds.
Instantly, everyone froze like statues.
Their eyes turned toward him—
"—!"
And then widened like lanterns in shock.
Thud!
"Loyalty! We greet the young heir!"
Every member dropped to one knee in salute.
Beside Tang Bi stood Se-woon, his expression icy.
How much had he heard?
Cold sweat dripped down their backs as silence stretched.
Then—
"What a disgrace."
Se-woon's single sentence froze the air solid.
The Hegemon of Sichuan had spoken.