Chapter 170
Chapter 170
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 170
Chapter Title: Descendant of the Poison King
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The crowd filling the market street parted to both sides as a cart pulled by an ox appeared.
Yi Hwan's eyes fixed on the corpses piled atop the cart.
There were five bodies in all, every one stripped naked with limbs protruding in tattered disarray.
“Kyaaak!”
“Corpses!”
Clunk! Clunk!
The cart leisurely passed through the center of the market street. From the room next to Yi Hwan's, a window opened as his companions poked their heads out.
“Eh!”
No one could hide their shock at the bizarre and gruesome sight.
At that moment, Pa Pa turned to Yi Hwan and sent a transmission.
[They seem to be Golden Army generals!]
Yi Hwan stared at Pa Pa.
[Swords and helmets hanging from the cart are the ones used by Golden Army generals.]
Sure enough, swords and helmets dangled all over the cart.
In that instant, the image of Yang Chan walking north through the market street flashed in Yi Hwan's mind.
Yi Hwan quickly glanced at the room in the inn across from where Yang Chan had stayed. While people had opened windows in every other room to look down at the market street, that one alone had its window shut.
‘At this point, is it not just strange but outright suspicious?’
Yi Hwan turned his gaze back to the market street. Just then, warriors presumed to be from Zhao Kingdom's Golden Army came running toward the cart.
Their horrified reactions upon checking the corpses on the cart confirmed Pa Pa's words.
Yi Hwan turned to Cheol Mu-ok.
“Go down and check it out.”
“Yes.”
Cheol Mu-ok and Ju Tae stepped outside.
A good while later, they returned with words that pricked Yi Hwan's ears.
“They're the head of the Golden Army's regional command and his subordinate generals. All appear to have been poisoned to death. And there was writing on the corpses saying the Southwest King Jo Yun would soon receive heavenly punishment for his tyrannical brutality.”
As he listened to Cheol Mu-ok, Yi Hwan recalled the series of poisonings that had occurred over the past few days.
‘Is it starting again? And right before the tournament?’
Pa Pa said with a hardened expression.
“One of them is a man named Ban Noe, one of the Southwest King's closest aides. He used to lead the combat units, so the fact he's become head of the regional command suggests all key positions have already been filled with the Southwest King's cronies.”
“Anyone would do the same. Seizing full control is the top priority. But attacking even the Golden Army means a major force is on the move, don't you think?”
“Yes. The stench of alcohol from the bodies suggests they were poisoned during a drinking party at their residence. Given their ranks, no small group could pull that off.”
Yi Hwan had thought Jo Yun was using the recent string of incidents to frame others for rebellion. But this event made him consider the possibility of a real rebel force at work.
It was too extreme for self-staged theater.
Cheol Mu-ok said,
“An incident like this will turn everything upside down. We might not even need to get involved.”
“Exactly. Nothing bigger than rebellion in a kingdom. Why don't we just sit back and watch?”
Ju Tae chimed in.
Yi Hwan nodded silently. Then he turned to Go Mi and said,
“We'll just gather information until it's time to head back.”
“Understood.”
As everyone brightened, only Pa Pa's expression grew heavier. Beneath that heaviness lay regret. She wanted to disrupt Jo Yun directly somehow.
“Everyone else, go rest in your rooms. Pa Pa, you stay.”
“Yes!”
Pa Pa remained while the others returned to their rooms. Yi Hwan stared straight at her.
“You seem dissatisfied with my decision.”
“Honestly, yes. Of course, I hold no grudges against Your Highness. It's just myself I resent for being able to do nothing.”
“The Crown Prince is young. Time is on your side. Do you understand what that means?”
“Powerless waiting is a torment worse than death for both Your Highness and me. I'm fine with it, but how long can Your Highness endure...?”
Yi Hwan uncorked a bottle and poured into a cup.
Glug glug.
“Have a drink.”
“I'm fine.”
“Drink.”
“......Yes.”
Yi Hwan poured her another two cups in succession.
Pa Pa downed them one after another. Yi Hwan stared at her and spoke in a somewhat firm tone.
“My connection to Jo Yun is fated. An irreconcilable enmity, of course. So I'm Jo Yun's enemy, and Jo Yun is your enemy, which means we're in the same boat.”
“......!”
“So wait. Until I make my full move.”
“May I ask what you mean by being fated with the Southwest King?”
“That comes later.”
Yi Hwan drained a cup and stared at Pa Pa.
“I'll say it again: remember that Pa Pa must stay by the Crown Prince's side. If you die, your Crown Prince loses everything.”
Zing.
Pa Pa's eyes trembled at the resonance piercing her chest. Yi Hwan was genuinely concerned for the Crown Prince now. At least, that's what she believed.
“Will Your Highness side with us?”
“As long as your Crown Prince doesn't walk a path I don't want.”
“What path does Your Highness desire?”
“That I can't say yet either. But as we go forward together, you'll realize it's not so different from yours. I promise.”
Tremble...
Pa Pa's eyes shook. The word “together” resonated in her chest. She bowed her head deeply.
“My master is Your Highness, but I will serve Your Highness as a master too. I swear it on my life—believe me, Your Highness.”
Yi Hwan smiled faintly.
“I'll believe you.”
* * *
In the Zhao Kingdom's grand hall.
Jo Yun's face gradually filled with rage as he received the report. By the time it ended, a chill emanated from him.
That chill froze the teacup white before shattering it to pieces.
Crack!
Two matters.
One was the miserable death of his close aide in charge of the Golden Army's regional command. The other was still failing to locate Yi Hwan.
‘Did the Empress really kill him?’
He couldn't help thinking it. Otherwise, his whereabouts wouldn't be this elusive.
Jo Yun leaned back in his chair, calming his gaze. Before, he would have shown anger, but not now.
“The autopsies aren't complete yet, so please wait a bit longer.”
“Is there a chance one of those bodies is the Fourth Imperial Prince?”
“The bodies are so badly damaged that I have nothing definitive to report right now. My apologies.”
“What of the traces of those who attacked the Golden Army regional command?”
“Regrettably, we found no traces at all.”
Twitch.
Jo Yun's eyebrow subtly curved.
The middle-aged man glanced at him briefly before continuing with difficulty.
“There was writing on the corpses, something too insolent to repeat.”
“What?”
“That heavenly punishment will soon descend upon Your Highness...”
A killing glint flashed deep in Jo Yun's eyes before vanishing.
“I staged this to summon the Southwest Army, yet there are real rebels dreaming of treason?”
“Now that it's clear their target is Your Highness, we must view the situation with utmost caution from here on. If they truly are rebels, issue an emergency decree now and restrict the movements of high and low officials. If any have colluded with them, the problem could worsen.”
“The martial arts tournament starts tomorrow. An emergency decree? That wouldn't just lose public favor—it'd douse it in cold water. I won't hear it.”
Jo Yun had never intended to issue an emergency decree in the first place. He merely wanted to intimidate ministers and officials as a pretext to bring in the Southwest Army.
“Have the Southwest Army double- and triple-defend the tournament venue. Especially guard the Yeon and Qin delegates with full force.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Jo Yun sank deeply into his chair, interlocking his fingers. His gaze sank endlessly deep.
“No matter how lax the guard, to be massacred in their own quarters and have their bodies carted off without knowing...”
“That point troubles me too. With permission, I'll go inspect personally.”
“Granted. But first, contain the rumors.”
“Already handled.”
“Go.”
“Yes, Your Highness. I'll be back.”
The middle-aged man left. Jo Yun pondered briefly before abruptly standing and opening the window.
Whoosh.
Facing the incoming wind, he looked toward where the Emperor was.
A budding suspicion.
Its target was the Emperor.
‘Please don't force my hand to stain itself with your blood, brother.’
* * *
Yang Chan's eyes gazed down at the uproarious market street, utterly indifferent.
‘I thought I'd escaped the shackles of that loathsome fate, only to leap into another.’
He had resolved to break free from the harsh fate spanning a hundred years and headed to Yunnan Province, his ancestors' homeland, to bury the sacred relic symbolizing his status as the Descendant of the Poison King and beg forgiveness.
‘I just wanted to forget it all and live ordinarily...’
All he wanted was an ordinary life. But upon returning, the villagers he'd lived with had been driven out, many including children had lost their lives, and their home had been seized by the Southwest King's personal guard.
From then until now, Yang Chan had killed many. It was revenge for the villagers, but also cruel retribution against fate for ruining the ordinary life he'd craved while rejecting destiny.
“Haa...”
Yang Chan looked up at the moonless night sky and let out a deep sigh.
It was then.
“Make way!”
A group in blue robes appeared in the market street.
As they did, the Golden Army controlling the area bowed their heads in unison.
Yang Chan focused on the middle-aged man who appeared with the blue robes, sharpening his hearing to its limit.
The middle-aged man first examined the corpses on the cart. A Golden Army general said,
“Poisoned.”
“Don't interfere.”
“......Yes.”
The general stepped back.
The middle-aged man flipped the eyelids to check the pupils, then meticulously inspected every corner of the bodies before finally lifting his head.
“Take them to headquarters.”
“Yes!”
The Golden Army began pulling the corpse-laden cart north through the market street. As controls lifted, the street bustled with people again.
Yang Chan did not take his eyes off the middle-aged man.
‘Actions of someone who knows poison well.’
The man had checked places no one ignorant of poison would bother with.
Of course, that wouldn't reveal his identity. He was the only one in the world who knew he was the Descendant of the Poison King.
The Descendant of the Poison King never had blood heirs. Succession passed solely through one disciple—a iron rule upheld for two hundred years.
But Yang Chan had not yet taken a disciple. Having resolved to reject fate, there was no reason to.
He wished the harsh fate of two hundred years would end with him.
Yang Chan gazed at the night sky again.
Then he whipped his head around like lightning. His gaze fell on Yi Hwan's room.
Yi Hwan stood at the window. Their eyes met across the void.
‘Who is he?’
A face he'd never seen. Yet strangely, the eyes felt familiar.
Yang Chan quickly searched his memory. But no one came to mind.
And rightly so—Yi Hwan was now without his human skin mask. No matter how sharp Yang Chan's eyes, he couldn't recall Yi Hwan from the fabric shop by gaze alone.
“Something to say to me?”
Yang Chan asked abruptly.
Though spoken softly, it rang clearly in Yi Hwan's ears as if whispered right beside him.