Chapter 335

Like Sichuan Province in the real world, Sichuan in this world boasted a vast territory.

Shanxi, Henan, and Shaanxi. You had to combine all three provinces for their total area to rival Sichuan’s. That was how enormous it was.

The continent really is something.

With land this vast, it wasn’t all that strange for three tigers to coexist in a single province.

The Emei Sect and Qingcheng Sect, both counted among the Nine Sects and One Gang. And…

Finally, the Sichuan Tang Clan. Or the Tang Family.

One of the three tigers crouching in Sichuan, it was also the closest to Chengdu, making it the perfect first destination.

If we can get the cooperation of all three factions and bring the Beggars’ Sect into the picture, things should go much more smoothly.

As I was thinking this, Gung Gibang, who had been following a step behind me, pointed ahead.

“We’re almost there. The Sichuan Tang Clan.”

He was right. A wide basin stretched out before us, with a towering stone wall rising from it.

We were still too far away to judge its exact height, but it looked well over ten meters¹ tall.

“What the hell? Why did they build a fortress?”

“History taught them a lesson.”

“History?”

“They suffered terribly during the Great Faction War. When the Demonic Cult occupied Sichuan, many members of the Tang Family were killed, and even Tang Family Hill, the clan’s main base, was burned to the ground.”

“Their home base got completely wrecked.”

“It wasn’t that one-sided. As they retreated, they released all kinds of deadly poisons, so the Demonic Cult bastards who charged in without knowing what they were walking into died in droves too. Do you know the Sichuan Tang Clan’s motto?”

“Uh… ‘The North Remembers’?”

“……What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know nothing, Gung Snow.”²

Gung Gibang looked at me as though he were staring at a madman before opening his mouth.

“Repay kindness twofold. Repay grudges ten thousandfold.”

“Damn, that’s intense.”

“It was. The demonic, heterodox bastards who sided with the Demonic Cult during the occupation of Sichuan died shitting and pissing through all seven apertures.”³

“Poisoning?”

“Poisoning, assassination, and even sending out pursuit squads to hunt them down independently. They died in all sorts of ways. A few may have survived through sheer luck, but they probably weren’t really living even if they were alive.”

Understandable.

Could that person walking toward me be an assassin sent by the Tang Clan? Had they perhaps poisoned the teacup? Trapped in a prison created by psychological pressure, they would have suffered from nervous exhaustion for the rest of their life.

They probably spent their days trembling in a corner with a sword in one hand and a silver spoon in the other.

“When it comes to poison and hidden weapons, the Sichuan Tang Clan is number one under heaven. No one can match how closed-off and relentless they are. Did you see anyone from the Sichuan Tang Clan at the Star-Array Grand Banquet?”

Thinking back, I couldn’t remember seeing a single one.

Even factions that hadn’t sent their young prodigies to compete in the Star-Array Grand Banquet, such as the Namgung Family, had sent important figures. But I hadn’t heard of anyone coming from the Sichuan Tang Clan.

“I don’t think so.”

“Right? There wasn’t anyone?”

“No. There really wasn’t.”

“That’s the Sichuan Tang Clan.”

They do whatever the fuck they want. No brakes.

I could feel it. The more I listened, the more uneasy I became.

What if they turn us down flat?

I had even brought a letter from the Sword Saint Mae Jonghak to request their cooperation, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something might go wrong.

I was suppressing those thoughts and using my movement technique when Gung Gibang suddenly spoke.

“We should walk from here.”

“Do we really have to?”

“They probably won’t appreciate us approaching at high speed.”

“They might.”

Gung Gibang pointed at a massive boulder a few paces ahead.

Written across it in blood-red letters were the words:

Anyone who approaches without permission will pay a blood debt.

“Let’s walk. I’ve been wanting to walk for a while now.”

“……”

“Hey, sometimes you need to look around at the scenery and gaze up at the sky. That’s what living is all about.”

Gung Gibang, Hyuk Mujin, and I stopped using our movement techniques.

One person did not.

With a fierce gust of wind, a figure shot straight toward the front gate.

Whoooosh!

“Hellooo!”

“Cheongpung, you crazy bastard!”

“I’m Cheongpung!”

Cheongpung hurtled forward, waving energetically, with a boy of similar build riding on his back.

Cheongpung spoke to Mungyeong, who was swaying pitifully in every direction.

“Medical apprentice, say hello!”

“H-Hello!”

Please don’t.

Don’t make him do weird things. And don’t do them just because he tells you to.

I lunged forward to grab Cheongpung by the scruff of his neck, but the Sichuan Tang Clan’s response came faster.

Whoooosh! Boom!

A massive spear as tall as a grown man hurtled down from atop the stone wall. It buried itself directly in front of Cheongpung’s foot, its shaft quivering.

Then, in the next instant—

“Who goes there?”

Clatter-clatter-clatter!

Dozens of crossbows appeared atop the wall along with the shout, which carried powerful internal energy.

Between the countless arrowheads glittering in the sunlight, a middle-aged man with his eyes wide open shouted at us again.

“Outsiders, identify yourselves!”

Cheongpung answered.

“Hello! I’m Cheongpung!”

“I-I am Mungyeong. P-please show mercy and lower your weapons, and I shall repay this grace even if this body dies and dies, then dies a hundred times over, until— Mmph!”

Stop it, you trolls!

I hurriedly clamped my hands over Cheongpung’s and Mungyeong’s mouths, then bowed repeatedly toward the wall.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. The kids don’t know any better. My name is Jin Taekyung of the Jin Family of Taiyuan.”

“Jin Taekyung of the Jin Family of Taiyuan?”

The middle-aged man thought for a moment, then his eyes widened slightly.

“Jin Taekyung, the Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi—the Disciple of Great Hero Jeok Cheongang, the Fire King?”

“Yes. That’s me.”

I jerked my chin toward Gung Gibang, who had arrived a beat later, and continued.

“This is the Oseong-and-Haneum villain—no, the Beggars’ Sect’s Successor Beggar, Gung Gibang.”⁴

“The Disciple of Great Hero Jeok Cheongang and the Beggars’ Sect’s Successor Beggar…”

His tone and expression remained suspicious, but the middle-aged man’s wariness eased considerably.

When he crooked a finger, the crossbows aimed at us lowered toward the ground.

“What brings you to our family?”

“I’d like to meet the Family Head.”

“The Family Head?”

“Yes. It’s important.”

The middle-aged man frowned, apparently displeased with my answer, but this wasn’t something we could announce to the whole neighborhood.

The Sword Saint Mae Jonghak was no fool. There was a reason he had written the letter himself and entrusted us to deliver it in person instead of sending a messenger pigeon.

“The Family Head has many matters to handle right now. Our family is not accepting any outsiders whatsoever. Leave and return another time.”

“You only need to deliver a message.”

“Impossible. The Family Head himself gave me these orders. And if your business were truly that important, you should have contacted us in advance.”

Why is he being so damn firm? I didn’t plan for this.

Gung Gibang seemed to be thinking the same thing. He whispered in a voice as small as an ant.

“Something’s strange. Even for a closed-off place like the Sichuan Tang Clan, this is too much…”

I agreed. Pointing crossbows at us without warning and maintaining this level of vigilance were things one would expect only in wartime.

What a warm welcome.

Still, we had come to ask for their cooperation. I couldn’t simply complain. If we wanted to meet the Family Head, it seemed we would have to show at least half our hand, even if we didn’t reveal everything.

Can’t be helped.

After a brief hesitation, I stared straight at the middle-aged man.

“I brought a letter from Great Hero Mae Jonghak, the Sword Saint.”

“……!”

“Please allow me to meet the Family Head.”

The effect was immediate. The Sword Saint Mae Jonghak was an idol to martial artists and a giant among giants who might become the Alliance Leader of the New Murim Alliance.

He was in a completely different league from greenhorns like us, who had only made names for ourselves within the past year or two.

“……Hmm. Wait here a moment.”

The middle-aged man let out a groan and disappeared from the top of the stone wall. He returned a short while later.

His first words were practically a foregone conclusion.

“The Family Head has granted permission.”

The moment he finished speaking—

Grrrrrrr.

The enormous iron gate slowly opened its jaws with a grinding groan.

Not long after passing through the iron gate, I realized my earlier suspicion had been correct.

Something happened. There’s no doubt about it.

The people who appeared to be members of the Sichuan Tang Clan were proof enough. Their guarded movements, tense eyes, and overall atmosphere said it all.

The sense that something was wrong grew even stronger after we left the Outer Hall and entered the Inner Hall.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Craftsmen hammered away at something without pause. Martial artists dressed in uniforms walked around in pairs, while crates loaded with weapons and hidden weapons were carried from place to place.

At the sight, Gung Gibang and I exchanged Sound Transmission.

— Hey, am I the only one getting a bad feeling?

— I feel it too. It looks like they’re preparing for battle.

— Could they have found some demonic fiend? Maybe one of the men who set fire to the Sichuan Tang Clan during the Great Faction War.

— I don’t know. For now, we should keep our mouths shut and pretend we don’t know anything.

I had already been planning to do that. If they had intended to tell us, they would have done so by now.

The real problem was that only I had heard the Sound Transmission.

“Wow! I’ve never seen anything like this before! Are you preparing for a war or something?”

“……!”

“……!”

For a moment, I thought the world had stopped.

The craftsmen and martial artists around us froze in place and silently stared at us.

Hundreds of gazes pierced my entire body like hidden weapons.

What sin did I commit in my past life to get tangled up with a bastard like Cheongpung?

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Is this the Hyperbolic Time Chamber?⁵

By the time my mouth had dried out like the sand around the Sphinx’s front paws, the middle-aged man guiding us spoke to the others.

“What are you doing? Get back to work.”

Only then did the world begin moving again.

The middle-aged man glanced at the people returning to their tasks, then casually tossed a remark our way.

“You all look tight-lipped. I like that.”

On the surface, it sounded like a compliment.

So why did it sound like a warning to keep our mouths shut if we wanted to live long, healthy lives?

Why else? Because that’s exactly what he meant, damn it.

Maybe it was because of the Tang Clan’s association with poison and hidden weapons.

The middle-aged man and the other members of the Tang Family were clearly a step below me in skill, yet they all gave off an unmistakably dangerous scent.

“Hold your breath. That’s poison mist. It smells awful.”

“……Oh. Yes.”

So that was the dangerous smell?

I glared at the blue-haired bastard, who was still looking around with a bright expression, and continued walking behind the middle-aged man.

After walking for some time, we passed through five gates and finally stopped in front of the sixth.

“You cannot bring weapons into the Family Head’s Hall.”

Following the middle-aged man’s instructions, we handed over all our weapons. Afterward, the martial artists guarding the hall searched us as well.

They’re incredibly strict.

At that moment, one of the guards patting me down in search of hidden weapons suddenly flinched and shouted.

“There’s a hidden weapon here!”

“That’s not a hidden weapon. It’s my thing.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s mine. You know… that.”

“……!”

What kind of humiliation play is this?

I would rather pull out a poisoned hidden weapon than take that out in the Family Head’s Hall. It would be a much easier way to die.

I reluctantly gave him permission to see for himself, and the middle-aged man’s eyes widened.

“You’re quite impressive.”

“……Could you just let me through without saying anything?”

“I understand. But you really are impressive.”

“Oh, please.”

Reading the sincerity in my plea, he was about to order the guards to let us pass when he suddenly frowned.

“I nearly forgot. You there, stay behind.”

Oh, right. He was here.

The “you” the middle-aged man was referring to was Mungyeong.

“I hear you’re a medical apprentice who came to our family to obtain a prescription.”

Having been dragged this far before he even knew what was happening, Mungyeong answered in a trembling voice.

“Y-Yes.”

“Under normal circumstances, it would be out of the question… but you were fortunate enough to fall in with the right group. I’ll assign someone to guide you, so go take care of your business.”

“Th-Thank you.”

Mungyeong bowed deeply before disappearing with one of the martial artists. The middle-aged man took the lead and beckoned to us.

“Let us go inside.”

Twenty steps made of blue stone.

And at the top, a single door.

“Uncle, it’s me.”

An elderly voice answered the middle-aged man.

“Come in.”