Chapter 7
Chapter 7
The Sichuan Tang Clan (2)
"......No, what on earth is going on?"
"That's what I'm saying. The Young Lord returned after cutting off Red Sunset Sword's arm. How can anyone believe that?"
"......But how did the Young Lord defeat a first-rate martial artist?"
"You fools, that's not the issue right now."
"Right, didn't the Martial Alliance Leader say he'd come here once he finished handling the situation there?"
"......The Martial Alliance Leader?"
"Th-this is bad. If he comes after our Sword Emperor......"
The hushed whispers of servants and attendants echoed ominously throughout the estate like a cursed incantation.
Afraid of getting tangled in something unpleasant, they dared not even approach the Young Lord's quarters.
"Hng—! Just a moment!"
Then, a young servant suddenly pushed his way through the crowd.
The servant, Jang Il, steadied his ragged breath before delivering his message toward Se-woon's room.
"Y-Young Lord. The Clan Lord summons you to the Cheonwoo Hall."
After Se-woon's return, the clan's key figures had gathered in the hall for an emergency meeting.
Given the gravity of the situation, they had allowed Se-woon some time to rest—but now, that time was up.
Yet no matter how long Jang Il waited, no response came from within the room.
"......Young Lord?"
Had he fallen asleep in the meantime?
After hesitating for a long while, Jang Il steeled himself and slowly pushed open the door to Se-woon's room.
Under normal circumstances, he would never have dared to do such a thing, but the Clan Lord's order demanded urgency.
Navigating through the labyrinthine chambers, Jang Il finally reached the innermost quarters.
And what greeted his eyes was—
'......!'
Not a sleeping figure, but Se-woon standing perfectly still, his expression eerily serene.
Lost in thought, Se-woon hadn't even noticed Jang Il's presence.
For some reason, the sight of him struck Jang Il with an inexplicable melancholy, rendering him speechless.
The look in Se-woon's eyes was akin to that of a soldier returning from a long and brutal war.
"......Hm?"
Then, Se-woon finally noticed Jang Il.
Startled by the sudden eye contact, Jang Il hurriedly relayed the Clan Lord's message.
"M-my apologies, Young Lord. The Clan Lord has summoned you to the Cheonwoo Hall."
At those words, Se-woon's gaze shifted instantly.
"Right. It's about time they called for me."
His dark, fathomless eyes locked onto Jang Il.
The previous atmosphere vanished without a trace, replaced by an icy, overwhelming presence radiating from Se-woon's entire being.
Jang Il could only stare in bewilderment at his master's sudden transformation.
'......What in the world happened in just half a day?'
Just this morning, Se-woon had been sulking, pouting about not wanting to meet I Hoseong.
The timid, fragile young man who often worried even the servants was nowhere to be seen.
"You're Jang Il, right?"
"Y-yes?"
"Your name."
"Ah! Y-yes! That's correct, Young Lord."
The confusion swirling in Jang Il's mind came to an abrupt halt at Se-woon's question.
For some reason, Se-woon was looking at him with a faint, almost sorrowful smile.
"Good. It's nice to see you again."
"......Huh?"
Jang Il blinked rapidly, utterly lost.
Why was the Young Lord acting like this?
Hadn't he just woken him up this morning?
"I'll go alone. You should rest, Jang Il."
"Huh? N-no, I couldn't possibly leave the Young Lord—"
"It's fine."
Se-woon cut him off as he changed his robes, placing a hand atop the boy's head.
"Don't worry. Nothing will happen."
Jang Il couldn't bring himself to say another word.
The hand ruffling his hair was unexpectedly warm.
Se-woon left Jang Il behind and stepped out alone.
Swish.
The long hem of his emerald-green robe—worn only by the Tang Clan's direct bloodline—fluttered behind him.
To Jang Il's eyes, his master's stride was both resolute and heavy.
In that moment, Jang Il instinctively knew.
A storm was coming to the Tang Clan—and his master would be at its center.
Passing through the outer halls where his quarters were located, Se-woon walked down a long corridor leading to the inner estate.
'Nothing has changed.'
Compared to the rest of the estate, weathered by time, one building stood out—immaculately maintained.
This was the grand meeting hall where all major decisions of the Sichuan Tang Clan were made.
The Cheonwoo Hall.
"How can we possibly—!"
"—stop this disaster from—!"
Beyond the doors, voices clashed as if a bloody battle were raging.
The agitated shouts of those awaiting him spilled out into the corridor.
The guards and servants stationed outside the hall watched Se-woon cautiously.
Seeing their expressions, Se-woon steeled himself.
'This is where it begins.'
From this moment onward, he would reshape everything with his own hands.
Creak—
Se-woon gripped the door handle and swung it open wide.
And the first words that reached his ears were:
"We must send the Young Lord to the Martial Alliance's Enforcement Hall at once!"
A voice demanding his immediate surrender to the Martial Alliance.
Like arrows loosed at an enemy commander on the battlefield—
Every gaze inside the hall instantly locked onto Se-woon.
Disappointment, anger, concern, resentment.
Their eyes brimmed with countless emotions—none of them favorable.
Hush.
A suffocating silence fell, so cold not even a breath could be heard.
A long rectangular table stood in the center, surrounded by the Tang Clan's key figures.
And Se-woon, who had just entered, stood at the center like a criminal awaiting judgment—
Thud.
He suddenly dropped to one knee in a formal bow.
"Young Lord Tang Se-woon, reporting as summoned by the Clan Lord."
"—!!"
Though the oppressive atmosphere should have crushed him, Se-woon showed not a hint of fear.
His dignified, composed demeanor was like a finely honed blade.
The unexpected sight left everyone wide-eyed, as if they'd seen a ghost.
Especially Tang Mu-yeol—the current Clan Lord of the Sichuan Tang Clan, known throughout the martial world as the Hundred Poison Hands—and Se-woon's own father.
A flicker of intrigue passed through his eyes.
"......Rise."
"Yes."
Se-woon stood immediately, as if he had been waiting for the command.
His unflinching gaze met every hostile stare in the room without a trace of remorse.
Some sighed in disbelief, shaking their heads.
Then, in the frozen silence, Se-woon spoke.
"It seems discussions were underway. Please, continue."
Ahem.
"......Since the Young Lord permits it, I shall proceed."
Given the gravity of the situation, no one had dared to speak—until now.
A man with a toad-like face and imposing stature broke the silence.
Se-woon's eyes chilled instantly.
'Poison Toad Tang Ho-yeol.'
He was the chief of Manhaepyoguk, one of the five factions that made up the Sichuan Tang Clan.
At its peak, the Tang Clan had boasted over twenty factions.
But now, only five remained.
The Inner and Outer Halls, handling domestic and external affairs.
The Mancheoldang, where the clan's blacksmiths gathered.
The Medical Hall, overseeing the clan's medical practitioners.
The Hwawoodang, comprising all combat forces.
And Manhaepyoguk, led by Clan Lord Tang Mu-yeol himself.
Having taken control of the clan's finances through various schemes, Manhaepyoguk was now the most influential faction.
Tang Ho-yeol—infamous in the martial world for his ruthless, predatory nature—narrowed his eyes at Se-woon.
"Young Lord, I must be blunt. For the sake of the clan, you must surrender yourself to the Martial Alliance's Enforcement Hall."
He was essentially demanding the clan's heir be handed over to the Alliance.
Surprisingly, Se-woon remained silent, his expression unreadable—
"Chief Ho-yeol! How dare you speak such insolence to the clan's heir!"
"Uncle Ho-yeol! What kind of nonsense—!"
But Tang Jun, the Iron Heart Physician and head of Medical Hall, and Se-woon's elder sister, Poison Phoenix Tang Se-rin, were not so composed.
They lashed out at Tang Ho-yeol, veins bulging in their necks.
Se-rin, in particular, trembled with barely contained fury.
"Chief Ho-yeol! Not a single person taken to the Enforcement Hall has ever returned unharmed—you know this! And you would send our Se-woon there?"
"Exactly! This is absolutely unacceptable!"
As Se-rin and Tang Jun raised their voices, Tang Ho-yeol paused before sighing deeply.
"Sigh, believe me, this pains me as well. As a fellow clansman, how could I ever wish to send our future leader to prison?"
"Then why—!"
"—Because it is the only way for our clan to survive!"
"That makes no sense—!"
"The Martial Alliance Leader's youngest disciple—the Qingcheng Sect's top disciple, I Hoseong—had his arm severed and his dantian shattered! He's now a cripple!"
The entire assembly shuddered as if struck by an earthquake.
The incident they had been desperately avoiding had finally been laid bare.
"If we don't hand over the culprit to the Enforcement Hall, how else can we possibly resolve this?"
"Th-that's—!"
"Elder Son, can you name a single faction in the Martial Alliance that would side with us over Qingcheng?"
"......."
"Or perhaps we have a master in our clan strong enough to stop the Sword Emperor when he comes for us?"
Son Geon, the steward of the Inner and Outer Halls, had no answer.
In truth, everyone present already knew.
No one in the Martial Alliance would lift a finger to help the Tang Clan.
Though Qingcheng was now considered one of the great sects alongside Shaolin, Wudang, and Mount Hua—the Tang Clan had been in relentless decline.
The faces of the clansmen darkened with despair.
Some openly glared at Se-woon with resentment.
"The Young Lord should have considered the consequences before attacking them."
"Chief Ho-yeol!!"
"And if I may ask one more thing—"
Emboldened by the growing support, Tang Ho-yeol ignored Tang Jun's furious outburst and posed his next question.
"Young Lord. Did you use the clan's forbidden artifacts to defeat I Hoseong?"
"Gasp!"
"......!"
It was the question everyone had wanted to ask but hadn't dared.
Because the only way a third-rate martial artist like Se-woon could defeat a first-rate master like I Hoseong was through forbidden means.
The entire room tensed as they awaited Se-woon's answer.
Using forbidden artifacts was a crime punishable by public execution in the martial world.
Under the weight of their stares—
Se-woon finally spoke.
"You're mistaken."
"......?"
His response was baffling.
Tang Ho-yeol's brow furrowed.
"That is not the question you should be asking me."
"What—do you think this is a joke, Young Lord?!"
Tang Ho-yeol roared like a parent scolding a misbehaving child.
Whoosh—
At the same time, a chilling aura erupted from his body.
The killing intent of a peak master was terrifying to behold.
Tang Ho-yeol was one of the clan's strongest fighters.
He had intended to intimidate Se-woon into submission—
But it was Tang Ho-yeol who froze in shock.
'How is he—?!'
Because Se-woon remained utterly unfazed, effortlessly dispersing the oppressive aura.
The clansmen gradually noticed the anomaly as well.
As the atmosphere shifted unpredictably, Tang Ho-yeol faltered—
Then, Clan Lord Tang Mu-yeol and Se-woon's gazes met across the room.
Finally, Tang Mu-yeol spoke.
"Young Lord. Why did you fight I Hoseong?"
At those words, Se-woon's lips curled into a soft, knowing smile as he looked at his father.