Chapter 171

Chapter 171
# Chapter 171
## The Tang Clan’s Test

“Just as I suspected. Am I truly the only one who can consume spirit pills formed from pure, concentrated energy?”

His suspicions had been confirmed, yet the realization left his mind tangled in quiet confusion.

Circulating his qi was the surest way to steady himself in such moments—and he had just taken a spirit pill, making the timing ideal. With that thought, he settled straight onto the ground.

“Huh? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Brother… that was in my mouth.”

“So?”

“It was covered in saliva.”

“I wiped it thoroughly before I ate it.”

This boy… did I spoil him too much in this life? Back in my day—ah, back in my day!

“In my past life, I never came across even a single low-grade spirit herb, the kind others stumbled on every once in a while. It’s a regret that has haunted me.”

Martial artists dedicate their entire being to the martial path. And that path is defined by strength. If cultivating for ten more years was the reward, any martial artist would eat dirt from the roadside without a second thought.

“I’ve taken a few of these now, but a spirit pill from Iron Core is a treasure so rare it would stir the entire world to its core.”

A bit of saliva was nothing. Naturally, he had wiped it clean with his sleeve before putting it in his mouth. And if it meant growing stronger, he could endure far worse.

“I’ll circulate my qi first. All of you, wait for me.”

He had finished a practice session not long before, so doing so again filled him with a faint twinge of guilt. Even so, he closed his eyes and steadied his breath.

“Inhale… exhale…”

This was not his first spirit core, but a spirit pill remained a spirit pill nonetheless. To draw out and absorb every last thread of energy it held, circulating his qi was essential.

Roughly an hour passed. When he had fully absorbed its power, Yang-hui let out a long, slow breath and opened his eyes.

“Gained just under one japja in energy, I’d say.”

He would turn seventeen in two months’ time, yet his inner energy already rivaled that of a man nearly two hundred and fifty years old. In his past life, even in his final days, he had barely possessed this much power. Could this be real?

“Hui, my brother—congratulations! Who would have thought such fortune could truly exist in this world?”

“Watching you, Brother Hui, it truly feels as though heaven itself smiles upon you.”

“Heaven’s favor…”

A faint, bitter smile touched his lips. Not long ago, during their battle against those villains of the black path, he had thought the very same thing—that fortune was shining on him. Adu’s senior brother, Monk Beop-gak, had arrived just when he was needed most, and stroke after stroke of good fortune had followed.

In his past life, he had known nothing but misfortune. In this one, blessings seemed to find him wherever he went. Calling it mere luck felt far too convenient, and he could not shake the doubt.

“Anyway—what happened? It felt like a hard stone when I put it in my mouth.”

“You know I received the legacy of the World’s Greatest as a gift, don’t you?”

They all knew of the extraordinary elixir he had taken then—they were unaware of Iron Core, but the story had been shared with the clan.

“This is much the same kind of spirit pill. I suspect only someone whose energy or very constitution has shifted to match it can even ingest it in the first place.”

It was a vague explanation, yet plausible enough. Chui-dal nodded emphatically.

“So it had such restrictions? Damn… if only I could have eaten it, what a blessing that would have been. What a waste.”

“As if my good fortune would ever be yours.”

“You shoved it straight into my mouth and now you say that?”

Only because he had known for certain Chui-dal could not have absorbed it.

“Regardless—congratulations, Brother Hui. Truly, heaven walks with you.”

“Doesn’t it? ‘Blessed by the heavens’—has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Instead of answering, Yang-hui offered a knowing, subtle smile. It is no blessing from above, Brother Dang. *Arrangement* would be the truer word.

He had been entrusted with Won-u, the Sword Sage Yeo Dong-bin’s beloved spirit beast. And then Won-u had brought him Iron Core—the very legacy of the Sword Sage. This could not possibly be coincidence.

*‘Whatever you desire… seek it.’*

Once more, he recalled the voice that had spoken to him at his return. *Go back, and make your wishes come true.* The Sword Sage may have laid every thread, guiding him here step by step. But whether guess or truth, it mattered little.

“Make my wishes come true…” That was all that counted. And so, he would make the most of this visit to the Tang Clan. Bringing Geom-gak and Dok-eung along already felt like a promising beginning.

“Very well—we have a long journey ahead. Everyone, let us be on our way.”

Geom-gak was not merely a single mountain. It was a sprawling range of peaks, sharp as drawn blades, and crossing it alone took nearly half a month—even for skilled martial artists.

“Finally! Flat ground at last!”

“Two whole weeks of nothing but steep trails! I feel as though insects are crawling beneath my skin!”

“Ugh—an inn! We must find an inn at once! Clean clothes, a hot meal—all of it!”

Only after they had settled into an inn, washed away the dust, and eaten proper, warm food could they finally breathe easy.

“Ah… I feel human again. Crossing Geom-gak is always such a trial.”

“You may say that again. The safer route would have taken far too long.”

Baek Heon-so stretched out, resting his limbs, and asked, “How much farther to the Tang Clan?”

“Do not worry, Brother So. Sichuan is vast, so it will still take some time—but the roads from here will be much smoother.”

“No need to hurry—we can take in the sights along the way.”

“That sounds wonderful!”

This was Baek Heon-so’s first great journey, and he was eager to see everything. Yang-hui had visited most famous places already, and part of him longed to reach the Tang Clan without delay. Yet there was no real rush, as Sister Dang had said—and Chui-dal seemed just as eager to wander.

Truth be told, Yang-hui needed the extra time too.

*Kieee!*

Perched on his shoulder, Won-u had many abilities he still needed to observe and understand. And so, another month slipped by.

“Here we are.”

“Welcome, all of you—to the Tang Clan.”

Carved in bold, powerful script that seemed to writhe like dragons, five characters stood upon a wooden pillar: *Sichuan Tang Clan Grounds*. They had arrived at last.

“Let us go in.”

The Tang Clan differed from other great families in one fundamental way: it was not only a clan, but also known as the Tang School. Where families like the Baek built manors, the greatest martial clans grew entire settlements around them. With their protection, common folk flocked to settle nearby—just as Akgan County had formed around the Baek family estate.

Yet the Tang Clan was different. The elders walking through the streets, the strong men working the fields, even the children playing in the open—all bore the surname Tang. Every soul was kin. A village, a school, and one family: such was the Tang Clan of Sichuan.

“From this point onward, we are on my home ground.”

Beyond the entrance stood a formal plaque: *Grand Sichuan Tang Clan*. The calligraphy was the same, yet the gate itself was unlike any Yang-hui had seen. There were no walls stretching to either side, as if they needed no barrier between their home and the world.

That was when he felt it.

A powerful, fierce aura surged from within, rushing toward them at tremendous speed. Stepping forward were…

“Gun, Yeon—how long it has been.”

“Clan Lord. Tang Gun reporting—mission accomplished.”

“Uncle! I have missed you so!”

Tang Gun delivered his report with proper form; Tang Yeon showed nothing but unbridled joy at seeing family again. Behind them, the Tang Clan Lord, Tang Xing, turned his gaze upon Yang-hui.

“Members of the Baek Clan—you are welcome among us.”

Yang-hui met the elder’s gaze steadily and offered a formal, respectful salute. “Baek Yang-hui, of the Heaven-Covering Baek Clan of Gangseo, greets the Clan Lord.”

—

The Clan Lord’s hall was spacious, decorated throughout in the Tang Clan’s signature deep green.

“I have heard much of you from Gun and Yeon. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“The honor is mine. I have long known of your great reputation, Clan Lord.”

Before the Tang School Exhibition, word had painted the Tang clansmen as cruel and quick to anger. Yet Tang Xing appeared calm, composed, and gentle at first glance—though of course a Clan Lord would carry himself with grace.

Then it began.

A low rumble filled the air, and a terrifying weight pressed down upon the room, making the very air tremble. It emanated from Tang Xing himself. It was common enough for masters to test younger visitors, but never so suddenly.

He glanced toward Tang Gun and Tang Yeon, who had risen to stand behind their uncle. Tang Gun shook his head helplessly; Tang Yeon frowned as if to say, *Here we go again*.

“Baek Yang-hui, Baek Heon-so—they tell me you are both extraordinary talents.”

“Ugh…”

The sound was a strained gasp from Baek Heon-so. Even with his mastery of heroic spirit, bearing the crushing pressure of a supreme expert at the peak of his power was nearly too much. Yang-hui reached out to shield him—then drew back.

*Brother So… use your heroic spirit to hold your ground. Endure it as best you can.*

*I will, Brother.*

Gritting his teeth, Baek Heon-so braced himself and pushed back against the invisible weight. The boy had worked hard—his progress was truly impressive. Even Tang Xing’s eyes held a glint of genuine interest.

It should have been enough… yet it was not.

Slowly, poison began to seep into the oppressive aura. This was the true mark of a Tang Clan Lord. Their arts were built upon poison and hidden weapons—no visible trace, yet the very air grew tainted. It spoke of mastery so complete it had become second nature. Doubtless it would fade with the right antidote, but to poison a guest upon arrival? Perhaps the tales of their cruelty were not unfounded.

“Cough—!”

Unable to sustain his defense, Baek Heon-so broke into a fit of coughing. Yang-hui gave a soft, quiet laugh and swept his sleeve before the younger man’s face. Gentle currents shifted through the hall, drawing every trace of poison toward himself instead.

Tang Xing’s eyes flashed in surprise. The poison intensified, coiling thicker and sharper—yet Yang-hui’s smile never wavered.

“Remarkable.”

Pressure and poison surged together, redoubled in strength—but still he stood firm.

“Thank you for your kind words.”

“Gun and Yeon spoke truly… you are a prodigy without equal.”

As suddenly as it had descended, the weight vanished, and the poison was drawn back into Tang Xing. He had clearly decided that pressing further would cross the bounds of hospitality.

“They say Sichuan cuisine is famous for its fire—and now I see the Tang Clan lives up to that reputation. Quite the spirited welcome.”

It was a gentle rebuke: to test guests so harshly upon their first meeting was ungracious, especially with an alliance between their clans. Tang Xing offered no reply, only studied him with unreadable eyes.

“So be it. Young Master Baek… I have a proposal to lay before you.”

“I am listening.”

“Join our family. Become a son-in-law of the Tang Clan.”

Silence fell over the hall. A marriage proposal—and from the Tang Clan itself—was no small matter, far too weighty to offer on such short acquaintance. Yang-hui paused, considering.

The unprovoked test of strength… then this sudden, unexpected offer. He was beginning to understand the Clan Lord’s game.

“I am flattered, but I must decline, Clan Lord.” Yang-hui met his gaze and spoke plainly, a faint smile touching his lips.