Chapter 143
“Is… is he dead?”
Tang Sowol voiced a rather ominous question, but thankfully, Hwangbo Gwang didn’t suddenly come back to life.
He still lay on the ground, missing both hands and with a shattered energy center.
The only difference now was that his eyes, which had been blood-red with madness, had returned to their original color—though it was clear he wasn’t in his right mind.
When a bit of time passed with nothing happening, Tang Sowol cautiously approached. She inspected the dazed Hwangbo Gwang, who was now simply staring blankly at the sky.
“At the very least, it doesn’t seem to be poison… Brother Cheon, do you have any guesses?”
“No, none. At first, I thought it was the Demonic Cult again, but after fighting him directly, I can say for certain—it’s not a Demonic Explosive Pill.”
There was no demonic energy at all. More importantly, those pills make the energy center and meridians run wild—but they don’t erase reason.
They might dull judgment due to euphoria, but not reduce someone to a beast like this.
Well, once the drug wears off, they do go completely insane, but that’s a separate issue. We were exchanging thoughts beside the collapsed Hwangbo Gwang when, like a leaking gust of wind, a small voice rose up from the ground.
“…Father… why…”
“I’m not your damned grandfather.”
I reflexively responded to the sudden nonsense. But Hwangbo Gwang showed no sign of hearing me—perhaps he wasn’t even talking to me in the first place.
“You said we were family… So why… why did you abandon me…”
“Brother Cheon.”
“Yeah. We’d better find out who this ‘grandfather’ of his is.”
I lightly kicked Hwangbo Gwang’s side and spoke.
“Hwangbo Gwang. Can you hear me?”
“I did everything, didn’t I… You said it was all for the Hwangbo Clan…”
Puok!
“Guhuk!”
I struck a little harder this time. Of course, he was already near death, so I channeled energy to protect his bones and organs—just enough to wake him up.
And it worked. His drifting gaze finally returned to focus.
After spotting Tang Sowol and me, Hwangbo Gwang quietly shut his eyes.
“So that’s how it is…”
“Don’t have your dramatic moment alone. Aren’t you curious why I didn’t just kill you?”
He kept his mouth tightly shut, as if he had nothing to say.
Fair enough. Hwangbo Gwang might be lazy, violent, and now apparently driven mad by whatever that “grandfather” gave him—but he wasn’t a complete idiot.
At least politically, he should be competent enough to fit the image of a prestigious clan.
He had to know why I spared him: because there was still information to be extracted from him, and because I could use that to hold the Hwangbo Clan accountable.
So, he chose to stay quiet. Thinking I wouldn’t kill him until his usefulness ran out.
Or maybe… he was too afraid of something even scarier than me to speak.
“Hwangbo Gwang. I don’t know much about you. Only that you’re a thug who bows to the strong and bullies the weak. That you either lack talent or were too lazy to train properly, and thus failed to reach a level befitting your clan’s name. …And that when a father and daughter came to plead for help, you killed the father and tried to take the daughter.”
At that last part, his eyes twitched ever so slightly.
Of course he was shaken. That incident must’ve been so shameful the clan buried it completely.
Looking directly at the rattled Hwangbo Gwang, I continued in a steady voice.
“I may not know much about you. But I know your type very well. In the unorthodox world, you’re a common archetype. And I bet you think that if you say nothing, you’ll at least survive—even if it means enduring a bit of pain.”
“Well, it won’t even be painful. The Tang Clan has poisons that dull the mind and make people obediently answer whatever they’re asked. Think of it like taking a nap.”
I gave Tang Sowol a look. She nodded and brought her fingertips together before conjuring a gray liquid on her palm.
Just as she was about to let it drop onto Hwangbo Gwang—
“…Heh.”
A small, bitter laugh escaped his lips.
“Do as you please. But don’t you find it strange? Why hasn’t anyone come here yet?”
“…Damn.”
Now that he mentioned it, it was strange.
It was true that I subdued him quickly, but by now someone from afar should’ve arrived after hearing the commotion.
Yet the only ones here were Tang Sowol, me, and a handful of second- or first-rate martial artists.
Despite the incident happening at the main gate, no master-level fighters or sect leaders had shown up. That could only mean something else had happened.
“Ah. A diversion, huh?”
“That’s right. I don’t know how strong that poison is, but if it doesn’t completely reduce me to a fool and just clouds my thoughts, then you’d need a very precise dosage. You could get info out of me, but it would take time.”
“Keep talking. I’m curious how grand this plan must be to use the young lord of a clan as bait.”
“Even without the Sword King, the Namgung Clan is strong. But not invincible. As long as there’s no Flowering Stage master, there are ways to find openings.”
“…Huh?”
Was he being serious?
KWAANG!
A loud explosion rang out in the distance—farther than when Hwangbo Gwang rampaged, but somehow louder.
That meant the impact was even greater.
Hwangbo Gwang grinned and continued.
“If you guarantee my safety, I’ll tell you right now what’s going on over there—and what they’re after—”
“Utter nonsense.”
I raised my sword. His tone had remained composed despite the pain, but now Hwangbo Gwang’s voice quickened.
“W-Wait! If something happens, how will an outsider like you—”
THWACK!
I smacked his head with the flat of my blade.
Finally, he lost consciousness.
Once I confirmed he was out cold, I sheathed my sword. Tang Sowol, tilting her head, asked hesitantly.
“Um… Brother Cheon? Are you sure that was okay?”
“Of course. That bastard’s words were lies from the beginning.”
“What? But… didn’t we really hear that sound just now?”
“The diversion part might be true. But everything after—like giving us information if we kept him alive—that was all nonsense. Hwangbo Gwang probably knows nothing about what’s really going on. He’s just a pawn.”
“A… discarded pawn?”
“Yeah. Even while he was talking, he kept glancing around nervously instead of at me—the one holding the blade. That means he’s more afraid of someone else.”
“That… did seem to be the case.”
“Besides, just now he said the Namgung Clan was vulnerable because they lacked a Flowering Stage martial artist. But there is one here. She had two bowls of rice just this morning.”
“Ah! Sister Hwarin!?”
“Exactly. To stir up trouble using the young lord as bait, in the Namgung Clan no less, is an act so brazen everyone will assume the Hwangbo Clan was behind it. They’ll get scorned, and when the Sword King returns, they’ll suffer his wrath. You think they wouldn’t have checked for a master’s presence first? It’s not like we just arrived today.”
In short—Hwangbo Gwang’s story was riddled with holes.
Most likely, he was just trying to survive or buy time by telling whatever lies came to mind.
“Honestly, his half-crazed muttering earlier about his ‘grandfather’ was more believable. Know anything about the Hwangbo Clan’s previous patriarch?”
“Not in detail, but I’ve heard he died fighting an unorthodox demon.”
“Are you sure? He didn’t fake his death and survive in secret or anything?”
“It’s certain. His death was actually what triggered the decline of the Hwangbo Clan.”
“Decline?”
“Yes. They weren’t quite one of the Five Supreme Clans, but they were prestigious enough to occasionally produce Flowering Stage masters. But at some point, they stopped doing so.”
To prove their strength, the then-clan head—who was at Peak Stage—began hunting down local unorthodox martial artists.
“But before long, he was decapitated by one of them instead.”
“What was meant to show the Hwangbo Clan’s power only hastened their fall.”
“So the martial world publicly confirmed his death?”
“Yes. That’s why it’s unlikely this ‘grandfather’ is just Hwangbo Gwang’s literal grandfather.”
After the death of that former clan head, the Hwangbo Clan shrank rapidly.
They were still a known name, but a shadow of what they once were.
And just because they’re an orthodox clan doesn’t mean they’re full of good people.
They began to be quietly mocked by other clans at their level, and the family culture changed entirely.
“No more talk of justice or advancing the family’s martial arts. Instead, their twisted pride manifested in openly trampling the weak. Naturally, their reputation within the orthodox factions plummeted.”
Still, they’d survived this long by hiding their crimes cleverly.
And though weakened, they still had power.
“But as you said, Brother Cheon… they might be far worse than anyone realized.”
“If we dig deeper, I’d bet they’re among the most vicious even by unorthodox standards.”
“How do you know all this?”
“…Let’s just say I have my reasons.”
I brushed aside her regression-related question and let out a deep sigh.
“Anyway, the main point is this: Hwangbo Gwang is just a disposable pawn. Whoever planned this exposed the Hwangbo Clan’s dirty secrets and knowingly risked turning the Namgung Clan into an enemy. A bold gambit.”
“That does seem to be the case.”
“In that case, what’s the point of keeping Hwangbo Gwang alive? He’ll just be a burden later.”
“…Huh??”
Tang Sowol’s eyes widened. I gently pushed her shoulder—imbuing the motion with significant internal energy.
She flew back smoothly and landed beside a group of Namgung Clan martial artists, confirming her safety.
Only then did I draw my sword.
I’d left my usual black iron sword with the Namgung Clan’s smiths, so I was currently using a decent spare they’d provided.
Still dissatisfied, I tapped the hilt lightly with my finger and muttered.
“Whether or not they expected another Flowering Stage master, it doesn’t change the fact that Hwangbo Gwang needs to be eliminated… Right?”
I pointed my sword at the old man slowly walking through the ruined gate.
“Kehkeh. Young ones these days sure are sharp.”
A twisted smile curled on the old man’s lips.