Chapter 88
Chapter 88: Third-rate Martial Family Becomes the Best Under Heaven
The swordsmen of the Namgung noble house stepped back into an expansive ring, carving out a clear clearing for the impending clash.
Stationed right in the middle, Namgung Cheonhu and Tang Gun stood locked in mutual regard.
“Intending to rely on your poisons?”
“……You know just as well as I do that such an attempt would come to nothing.”
“Quite right.”
Catching the quiet words passing between them, Chudal leaned closer and muttered under his breath,
“Boss. Why would poison be completely useless against him?”
“It is straightforward enough.”
The Tang Clan commanded exactly one hundred distinct formulas of poison. It was this precise mastery that had earned them their storied moniker: the Progenitor of a Hundred Poisons.
Yet, despite that terrifying fame, the Nine Sects and the Five Great Houses had long since uncovered the counter-remedies for every single concoction resting in the Tang Clan’s reserves.
It represented the very first leash the Nine Sects and the Five Great Houses had clamped down around the throat of the Tang Clan.
And that was merely the opening restriction.
The tight rein that the Nine Sects and the Five Great Houses maintained over the Tang Clan bordered on sheer cruelty.
“Even granting that those prestigious sects were the ones who laid the foundation for the Tang Clan in the first place, haven’t they gone entirely too far?”
“Too far, you say?”
A dry snicker escaped Yanghwi’s throat.
“What you are seeing is barely the prelude.”
From the depths of his past life, a raw, bitter lament once uttered by Tang Gun surfaced unbidden in Yanghwi’s thoughts.
— Hwi. In the end, our Tang Clan is…… nothing more than an instrument. And how could an instrument ever dare to bite the hand that wields it? How could it possibly……
The true cruelty was only now getting underway.
“Young Lord Tang. I grant you the courtesy of ten full moves.”
“……I shall take you up on that.”
With an airy flourish of his wrist, Namgung Cheonhu angled the tip of his weapon upward in an open challenge.
It was the hallmark iron blade favored by the Namgung noble house, forged noticeably broader and heftier across the spine than standard weaponry.
Gazing across at his opponent, Tang Gun drew in a deliberate breath.
He initiated the circulation of the Three Yang Returning Origin Art, guiding three distinct surges of yang force out from his dantian, directing them through his network of meridians, and cycling them straight back to their origin.
Centering his focus on the blistering warmth that radiated outward through every limb, he tucked his hands into the voluminous sleeves of his Tang Clan robes.
To start things off…… the Soul-Chasing Art.
The specialized arsenal of the Tang Clan was categorized into six distinct forms: needles, sand, spikes, blades, butterflies, and darts.
The methods applied to fire them were separated into two core doctrines depending on the nature and quantity of the weapons involved: the Flower Rain Art and the Soul-Chasing Art.
A singular throwing blade tore free from his cloth sleeve, slicing across the empty space.
A shrill shriek cut through the air!
Ripping across the wind with the ferocity of a loosed arrow, the steel dagger spun violently on its axis, whipping through a sudden, sharp arc before diving straight toward the crown of Namgung Cheonhu’s skull.
A dull clink resonated.
The blade, which had been plummeting with devastating velocity, shed every ounce of its piercing force the moment it crossed into the protective mantle of aura enveloping Namgung Cheonhu.
By the second it actually touched him, the weapon merely bounced harmlessly off the broad steel of his sword, producing nothing more than an impotent ring.
“That marks the first stance, Young Lord Tang.”
Namgung Cheonhu spoke with untroubled ease, as though the result had been ordained from the start.
Tang Gun ground his molars together until the tension snapped audibly within his jaw.
The Three Yang Returning Origin Art traced its lineage back to the Three Powers of Half-Taiji.
It was an internal cultivation method formulated in an earlier era when the Nine Sects pooled their understanding of Daoist principles—a compromised, incomplete discipline that could never genuinely be hailed as a divine art.
“Chudal. The truly merciless part is only just beginning.”
“Boss, how did that flying blade lose every bit of its bite like that?”
“Because a designated countermeasure already exists for the internal energy birthed by the Tang Clan’s Three Yang Returning Origin Art.”
“Then for heaven’s sake, why did they adopt a cultivation technique like that as their clan’s paramount internal art……?”
“Because it was the only art they were ever permitted to have.”
Chudal’s expression remained clouded with pure incomprehension.
“Isn’t the Tang Clan a distinguished clan sitting right on the precipice of stepping into the rank of a noble house? Couldn’t they just go out and secure a different martial art to cultivate……?”
“Your reasoning would make sense. Assuming, of course, they could lay their hands on an art that actually surpasses the Three Yang Returning Origin Art.”
Flawed though it was, the Three Yang Returning Origin Art still occupied the absolute peak among apex-tier cultivation systems.
Even if it barred the practitioner from attaining the transcendent enlightenment belonging to the realms beyond apex, taken on its own merits, it remained a peerless technique counted among the finest across the entire martial sphere.
“Do you imagine supreme divine arts are just scattered about for the taking? Had they been able to secure one, they would have abandoned this path a very long time ago.”
In short, the Nine Sects and the Five Great Houses had purposely bequeathed an art positioned with exquisite spite right at the absolute threshold.
Turning to any lesser alternative would merely leave them weaker than before, forcing the Tang Clan to swallow their indignation and continuously grind through its cultivation.
“Second stance.”
“…….”
Tang Gun’s following assault drew upon the principles of the Flower Rain Art.
Fluttering Butterflies—dozens upon dozens of gossamer-thin darts swarmed outward, fluttering through the air like a cloud of insects.
Yet it was utterly fruitless.
The instant they brushed against the perimeter of energy streaming from Namgung Cheonhu, every flying dart bled away its initial momentum, tumbling through the wind like dead weight.
“That brings us to three stances.”
Tang Gun’s features set into a grim, unyielding mask.
Abandoning his throwing weapons entirely, he brought up his gauntleted hands and curled his fingers into rigid fists.
“Well, well. Falling back on unarmed combat now? Show me what you have.”
The common belief across the realm was that the Tang Clan’s martial repertoire began and ended with venoms and hidden projectiles, yet their bare-handed disciplines were equally formidable in their own right.
The Soul-Stealing Poison Hand—a sinister, unpredictable joint-manipulating art that lived up to its terrifying title—lunged forward, clawing relentlessly across every opening in Namgung Cheonhu’s guard.
“Your foundation is solid. It appears you have spent considerable sweat on this, haven’t you? Hahaha!”
Much to Tang Gun’s bitter frustration, Namgung Cheonhu swayed effortlessly past every incoming strike.
The bedrock of any close-quarters movement rested upon footwork—which was to say, one’s body techniques.
The fundamental movement discipline of the Tang Clan was the Thunder-Chasing Body Technique, a method aimed at cultivating a swiftness capable of outrunning lightning itself.
And the true wellspring of that exact Thunder-Chasing Body Technique was the Twelve Thunder-Lightning Sword Forms preserved by the Namgung noble house.
“Fifth stance. Utterly transparent.”
“Sixth stance. Would it kill you to weave in a few more deceptions?”
“Seventh stance. The true soul of lightning is not merely quickness, yet that truth still eludes you.”
“Eighth stance. Now that blow wasn’t half bad. Nicely done.”
“Ninth stance. Just when do you intend to actually lay a finger on me?”
“Tenth stance. That concludes our exchange.”
Tang Gun ground to an immediate halt.
Looking back at his opponent, Namgung Cheonhu smoothly guided his weapon back into its scabbard.
From the sharp, mocking light flickering in his gaze, it was apparent this had never been an act of sporting grace.
“Permit me to grant you a brief demonstration in return.”
Sensing the impending danger, Tang Gun pushed the Thunder-Chasing Body Technique to its absolute threshold to retreat, but Namgung Cheonhu erased the intervening space in an eye-blink, driving the tip of his sheathed sword straight through the gap.
A light impact landed.
The blunt edge of the scabbard rested squarely against the center of Tang Gun’s chest.
“Young Lord Tang. You have just perished.”
A faint, derisive smile touching his lips, Namgung Cheonhu stepped backward.
“A formal contest…… well. With an imbalance of this degree, it can hardly be labeled anything more than a one-sided instructional session. We would do best to conclude matters here.”
“…….”
“When someone imparts instruction to you, are you not expected to offer proper gratitude?”
A thin trickle of crimson seeped from the seam of Tang Gun’s lips.
He had clamped his jaw shut with such savage force that blood had burst free from his gums.
Watching this take place, Tang Yeon’s eyes flushed an angry, bloodshot crimson, the delicate veins bulging with fury.
“……I am…… grateful for the lesson…… Young Lord…… Namgung…….”
“Think nothing of it. It was an instructive diversion.”
Namgung Cheonhu pivoted on his heel and strode away.
A few paces along, he turned his head back toward the spot where Yanghwi stood watching.
“Now that I think on it, the right to oversee this escort task to its conclusion was contingent upon this very duel. Well now. What should become of that arrangement?”
The slight grin across his mouth curved up even further.
“As it happens, our Namgung house is known for its leniency. Merchant Jin, you have permission to travel alongside these individuals back to the Jin Estate. I will pay you a visit at a future time.”
Without lingering for an answer, Namgung Cheonhu walked away.
That left only Yanghwi’s group standing silent by the edge of the water.
Tang Gun remained frozen in place, his chin bowed toward his chest, while Tang Yeon burned with suffocating indignation, unable to find the composure to even draw near to her sibling.
Such was the harsh truth of the Tang Clan’s present standing.
Namgung Cheonhu…….
Yanghwi silently tracked the retreating figures of the Namgung swordsmen, the look upon his face hardening into frost.
Reaffirming the leash, and ensuring they remained acutely aware of its weight—that was the sole objective Namgung Cheonhu had aimed to secure from this bout.
It must have been an irritating thorn in their side.
The Tang Clan had refused to remain penned within Sichuan; they were actively establishing outposts and reaching outward.
With Jiangxi situated right beneath Anhui, the Namgung noble house viewed the Tang Clan’s maneuvers as an intrusion directly into their personal courtyard.
They almost certainly regarded the Baek house as nothing more than a front orchestrated by the Tang Clan, and had jumped at this chance to put them firmly back in their place.
— Hwi, did you mention your aspiration was to elevate your family to the standing of a noble house?
— I harbor that exact same ambition. I intend to lift our clan…… our Tang Clan…… into the ranks of the noble houses.
— If we are to achieve that, we will have to shatter everything straight down to the bedrock and build anew.
Brother Tang. This life…… will play out entirely differently from the previous one. For our Baek house, and for your Tang Clan alike.
Offering a subtle signal to Chudal and Gu Ak, Yanghwi strode toward the dejected Tang Gun.
Tang Yeon made a silent motion with her hand to wave him back, but he paid it no heed and kept walking.
“Brother Tang.”
Turning his head slightly, Tang Gun forced an empty, self-deprecating smile.
“You witnessed the whole thing. This is the extent of what our Tang Clan amounts to, Little Brother Hwi.”
A heavy thread of despair weighed down his speech.
At this stage of his life, Brother Tang had yet to forge that indomitable steel he had wielded during the previous life.
“Brother Tang. Does any of that matter?”
“…….”
“Allow me to pose a question. What transpired just now—which column does it belong to in your ledger?”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Favors returned twofold. Vengeance visited tenfold.”
A slow grin crept over Yanghwi’s features.
“Which method do you intend to repay them with?”
Tang Gun went still, a blank look washing across his face.
Yanghwi kept going without allowing him a moment to hesitate.
“Are you genuinely going to thank that man for his instruction and treat it as a favor? Of course you won’t. That leaves only one path: settle the debt. On those bastards from the Namgung house.”
Bastards. Tang Gun’s eyes widened upon hearing the raw profanity.
As an heir of the Tang Clan, he had never dared direct such coarse disrespect toward the Nine Sects or the Five Great Houses.
It was an unspoken taboo, yet Yanghwi had shattered that barrier without the slightest hesitation.
“Even if you can stomach swallowing this insult, Brother Tang, I cannot. He heaped humiliation on a man I look up to as a brother. If you decide to sit on your hands and take it, then I will personally see to it that those bastards are dragged through the dirt in your place.”
“Little Brother Hwi…….”
“A leash? Who gave them the right to think they can collar you and the Tang Clan like dogs?”
I will tear that wretched collar off your neck with my own hands.
Bear with it just a little longer, Brother Tang.
— Hwi, I beg you, watch over the main family…… my greatest dream…… please…….
Shoving those lingering memories deep beneath the surface, Yanghwi spoke with absolute conviction.
“So hear me out, Brother Tang. I possess a way to hit those Namgung bastards where it hurts. Are you interested in listening?”
“…….”
It was widely whispered across the realm that the people of the Sichuan Tang Clan were cruel and toxic to the core.
Much of that was idle rumor, yet smoke rarely drifted where there was no spark to ignite it.
When Tang Gun raised his gaze once more, an intense, searing flame flared within his irises.
“Little Brother Hwi. Given that brilliant tactical mind of yours, you must already have a scheme prepared to strike a telling blow, don’t you?”
“Naturally. Who do you take me for?”
Before Tang Gun had the chance to follow up, Yanghwi offered a cocky, toothy grin.
“I am an unrivaled prodigy gifted with martial talent without peer and the scholarly intellect to comprehend a hundred truths from a single word. Place your trust in me.”
Holding that thought, Yanghwi swung around to face the others.
“Merchant Jin. It seems you and I have a matter to settle between us.”
Jin Geumbo, who had been standing uncomfortably on the periphery of the group, jerked in surprise.
“A-A matter to discuss, you say……?”
“Where to begin? Ah, let me put one direct question to you first.”
Yanghwi pinned his gaze right into Jin Geumbo’s eyes.
“Do you require assistance?”
“……Young Hero Baek. Whatever would I suddenly need assistance with……”
“My preferred motto is cutting straight to the chase. Give me an honest answer. Don’t waste your energy probing to see how much I have pieced together. Do you require help?”
“…….”
Jin Geumbo was paralyzed with indecision, torn by internal conflict.
Just how much of this situation has this youth managed to decipher?
All that an onlooker could have gathered from the earlier confrontation was that the Namgung noble house had saddled Jin Geumbo with an assignment, and that he had failed to conclude it.
Yet this young man had stepped forward without hesitation and bluntly offered his aid.
In all honesty, he was desperately in need of help, but……
“Chudal.”
“Right here, Boss.”
“You recall the inquiries I instructed Elder Yeo to pursue prior to our departure, don’t you?”
“Every word of it.”
Yanghwi swung his attention straight back toward Jin Geumbo.
Knowing the merchant was unlikely to yield the truth without pressure, it was time to extract the facts by weaving reality with deduction.
“Among the lineages pushed to the brink of utter slaughter during the Bloodbath of the Sword King’s Tomb decades past, was there not a Jin family listed?”
“There was. The Jin family of Taiyuan.”
Jin Geumbo’s frame shook with a violent tremor, as if struck by a lightning bolt out of nowhere.
Taking in that visceral reaction, Yanghwi drove the final stake into the ground.
“The Sword King’s Tomb. It rests in Gyesu, does it not?”
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