I Kidnapped the Youngest Daughter of the Sichuan Tang Clan

From the very start, a bunch of things happened, and though I gained two unexpected companions along the way... we were able to depart safely, at least.

We left the noisy Tang Family behind, still reeling from the sudden chaos, and once Chengdu had fully faded from view...

Seorin, who had been falling behind slightly due to her different stride, kept rushing to catch up. Eventually giving up, she drew upon her inner energy and asked me,

“You there. This One still does not understand.”

“Understand what?”

“It makes sense that we’re bringing a gift to celebrate the wedding. But... is it really all right for the gift to be that?”

“Hmm. Under normal circumstances, people would find it distasteful. Some martial artists from venerable orthodox sects might even take offense.”

“Then...”

“But the Black Lotus Sect Master will definitely like it.”

The gift Tang Sowol and I prepared was simple. A toad statue made of gold, lavishly decorated with every sort of gem imaginable. And three pills of the highest-grade Blood Poison Wine Pill, which are relatively easy to acquire within the Tang Family, but insanely expensive and rare outside.

I prepared the golden toad, while Sowol prepared the poison pills.

According to her, they were meant for the Black Lotus Sect Master, Sama Yuryeon, and the child they would eventually have.

In short, my congratulatory gift was an outrageously tacky lump of gold—something that wasn’t even particularly beautiful. A piece so overloaded with expensive materials that its value as a sculpture was probably equal to the value of melting it down and selling the parts.

If the recipient were a merchant, this would be a perfect gift. But for a martial artist, this kind of blatantly calculated gift wouldn’t be received warmly.

Even so, for the Black Lotus Sect Master, it was the most appropriate choice possible.

“The Black Lotus Sect Master, after all, is someone who managed to gather the notoriously unruly unorthodox martial artists and form the Black Lotus Sect, maintaining it ever since. He has the virtues of a ruler.”

“But?”

“But to my eyes, he’s also the most unorthodox of all unorthodox martial artists. He’s a person devoted to his ambition and desire. So, more than heartfelt gifts, he’s the type to prefer gold he can use however he wants.”

“That’s... something you’d expect from some third-rate thug.”

True.

Even among the unorthodox factions, those aiming for the top prefer investments in the future—like rare martial arts, elixirs, or valuable experience—over money they can use right now.

But those who are barely surviving, who need to resolve immediate hunger, hardship, or inferiority complexes—those people are different.

Even if they have a chance at something better later, they’ll always choose immediate benefit. For them, that’s the rational choice.

Well, those aiming for the future are just enduring for the sake of their own ambitions and wealth, so in the end, it’s not all that different.

There’s a reason unorthodox sects are called unorthodox.

Anyway, Seorin knew well what kind of people those martial artists were, which is why it felt odd to her that someone like the Black Lotus Sect Master would be enticed by mere gold...

“Think about it, Senior Seorin. The Black Lotus Sect Master is the leader of the Black Lotus Sect. And that sect includes not just formal unorthodox sects, but even lone wanderers—loosely, but united nonetheless.”

“That much I know, even if it’s a sudden reminder.”

“A thousand gold coins given to a penniless swordsman and a thousand given to the Sect Master of the Black Lotus Sect have completely different value.”

The reason the Black Lotus Sect has managed to survive this long is thanks to the model set by a previously successful organization—in simple terms, the Murim Alliance.

The Black Lotus Sect took the structure of the Murim Alliance and modified it to suit the nature of the unorthodox world.

That’s why the Black Lotus Sect has its own version of the Dragon and Phoenix Meeting—a tournament called Black Heaven Tournament, held for younger generation martial artists. They may not have secret manuals, but there’s a library with a variety of martial arts compiled. They stock mid- and low-tier elixirs, which are distributed as rewards to those who accomplish deeds.

I know this because I’ve worked within the Black Lotus Sect myself.

The Sect Master can, of course, obtain decent martial arts and elixirs anytime he wants—but running the Black Lotus Sect requires constantly distributing these things to its members.

Unlike the Murim Alliance, where people sometimes act out of righteousness or favor, in the Black Lotus Sect, everything must be accounted for.

Because they’re united by profit, not principle, they must be continually provided with rewards.

So in exchange for his great power and authority, the Sect Master must constantly promise money and privileges to those below him.

He’s not exactly desperate for cash—but just one golden toad statue could allow him to give an otherwise unreasonable order to a subordinate sect.

To her, the golden toad isn’t some insult implying she’s a greedy thug—it’s a card she can play, a tool that shows we understand her situation and are giving her something useful.

“Of course, the fact that he just genuinely likes shiny things is another big reason.”

“...Eh?”

Startled, Seorin tilted her head, her red eyes wide like a rabbit’s. Her cheeks puffed out—she must’ve been chewing something again.

Recently, even Tang Jincheon had begun calling her a headache, but that just made her cuter in my eyes.

How could someone like her be around the same age as my father-in-law? It made me reflect deeply on the connection between mind and body, and I found myself chuckling.

“In the end, he’s an unorthodox martial artist. He lives for blowing money, flexing power, and reveling in debauchery. Maybe not now, since he’s married, but still.”

Even though the Black Lotus Sect Master was among the younger Flowering Stage experts, he still wasn’t young.

Getting married now only underscored that point.

“He’s gone through rejuvenation, and his body remains young. So in a way, it’s only natural.”

“Do you really believe that...?”

Seorin’s expression brightened. She took a step closer, and I reflexively stepped back—but she ignored that and leaned in.

I could see the top of her head, white strands of hair scattered across her crown. Flustered, I stuttered,

“W-what are you referring to?”

“I’m talking about how if your body is young, then you live younger, too!”

I didn’t know why my opinion mattered so much to her, but...

“Personally, I don’t really care.”

“You don’t?”

“Yes. I think most people, regardless of age or realm, live without truly acting their age.”

“Ah…”

As if wounded in her heart, Seorin clutched at her chest. Of course, there wasn’t much to grab, so she just placed a hand over it. Out of respect for her pride, I didn’t say it aloud.

“Just to clarify, I wasn’t referring to you, Seorin sunbae. I just think that this idea of ‘acting your age’ is a kind of illusion.”

“Illusion, you say?”

Through her drooping bangs, she peeked up at me with expectant eyes.

I nodded and continued.

“It’s not much. Just something I started thinking at some point—that the mind doesn’t really mature past a certain point.”

Even without experiencing rejuvenation, people carry a younger version of themselves inside. They just become better at hiding it with age.

Reaching the Flowering Stage forces you to confront your true self. Seorin must’ve faced the same. I, on top of that, have even experienced regression.

That’s why I can say this with confidence: most people simply pretend to be their age. And if there’s someone with whom they don’t need to hide it...

Then that must be a successful life.

Seorin nodded after listening to me.

“Hmm. That’s a valid point. Truly, your words ring true. When I reached the Flowering Stage, I was faced with my own weakness. Having someone to share and embrace that truth with... yes, that is indeed a blessing.”

“Exactly. I don’t know what you’re struggling with, but don’t worry too much. Just live honestly, however you’re comfortable.”

“Yes, I’ll remember that. I knew you had gone through many reflections to reach your current level, but... at times, you still surprise me. You never experienced a disconnect between your own time and the world’s time like I have, yet you’ve organized your thoughts so well. How?”

If I hadn’t gone through regression, I probably wouldn’t have thought much about any of this either. Time flows too naturally—it rarely draws attention.

Unable to explain regression, I just stared silently at Seorin. Eventually, her expression cracked.

“D-don’t tell me... you came to this conclusion because of me... because you were pondering my age…?!”

Her expression blended relief, shock, and slight hurt—an amusing mix, honestly.

I was tempted to nod and watch her fluster, but if I did that, she really would sulk.

And while cheering up a sulking Seorin isn’t hard, it takes forever and is a huge hassle. So I redirected the attention.

“It’s not what you think. Look over there.”

“Hm?”

Following my gaze, Seorin turned her head.

There, the two from the Namgung Clan were bickering again.

“I object, Clan Head! After sparring with you, won’t Brother Cheon be too tired to show his full strength with me?”

“Don’t worry, son. He only needs to show half his ability to spar with someone at your level.”

“If he doesn’t need to go all out against me, then it won’t matter if he spars with you later.”

“You brat! Do you hate yielding to your father that much?”

“Can’t you yield to your son just this once? You’re acting like I asked you to hand over the Clan Head position.”

“If I give you the Clan Head seat, will you yield?”

“No. Please enjoy long life and hold on to that troublesome… I mean, honorable position forever.”

“Tsk. Ungrateful child.”

They were seriously arguing over who got to spar first. Petty as hell.

Namgung Jong may be older than Tang Sowol, but he’s still in the younger generation. So whatever.

But Namgung Dowi was a clan head, a Flowering Stage master, the Sword King, and the father of Namgung Jong.

I didn’t expect him to throw dignity out the window just to fight over sparring order. With his own son, no less.

Seorin glanced at the two sword lunatics, then gave me a look that said, “Well, I guess you’re not the worst.”

“Indeed. It seems you were right. ‘Acting your age’ truly is an illusion.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

Somehow managing to clear Seorin’s doubts, I finally saw that a decision had been made.

Namgung Jong approached with a gloomy face, while Namgung Dowi was all smiles.

“Young Blood Flame Sword Demon. Shall we have today’s spar now?”

“The way you said that... it’s like you’re already planning tomorrow and the day after, too. Well, a promise is a promise. But… here?”

If we walked a bit further, we’d reach the next village. In other words, right now, we were in the middle of nowhere.

I looked at him in disbelief, but Namgung Dowi nodded seriously.

“If we’re going to spar properly, the open area at an inn would be far too small.”

“Didn’t think of that. Fine, let’s take a quick break and do it here.”

Almost like we’d rehearsed it, he and I turned off the road in sync.

Watching our backs, Seorin narrowed her eyes.

“At this point, it wouldn’t be strange to say you’re distant relatives. Sword Dragon...is there any chance a branch of the Namgung Clan migrated to Zhejiang Province?”

That’s just unfair.

I’m not that bad, am I?