Chapter 223

After some deliberation over how we should address each other, we compromised on Senior Jegal and Junior Tang.

Jegal Cheon shattered the preconceptions I had about people from the Jegal Clan.

Unlike the other Jegals I had seen, who tended to look slender and scholarly, he had a solid build. His personality was refreshingly straightforward as well, and he did not fuss over minor points of etiquette.

Maybe that was why he got along so well with Beopgong.

“Hahaha! Junior Tang, you’re quite an entertaining person.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Senior...”

I had no idea what exactly he found so entertaining.

Unlike Beopgong, he did not openly make fun of me, but every now and then he would slip into the conversation just to tease me.

The atmosphere was bringing back old memories, so I had to make an effort to think about something else.

Maybe the change in my expression showed, because Beopgong smoothly changed the subject.

“Kid. Have you seen Jinseong yet? He’s been here with Wudang’s third-generation disciples for the past few days.”

“Not yet. I came straight here to register as soon as I arrived in Wuhan.”

“He’s been hanging around near the lodgings assigned to the Tang Clan. Looks like he’s waiting for you, so go see him later. Ah, you don’t have a Martial Alliance access pass anymore, do you? Want me to come with you?”

At Beopgong’s words, Jegal Cheon’s eyes lit up with interest.

“The Sword Dragon? What’s his relationship with Junior Tang?”

“Ah, youth.”

“Oh? Is that so? Then can I look forward to a spar between a young man and woman in the bloom of youth?”

“What did you just say? Monk, now that I think about it, maybe your talent lies more in literature than martial arts. Stop spreading ridiculous rumors. Daoist Jinseong is—”

I broke off when my eyes met those of a Jegal Clan martial artist running toward us with an expression that looked one step away from tears.

The look on his face was grave enough that I fell silent. Jegal Cheon noticed something was wrong as well and turned.

The martial artist bowed to him and whispered,

“Young Clan Head, we have a serious problem.”

“Why? What happened?”

“The youngest young master lost his formal invitation.”

“...What?”

A crack appeared in Jegal Cheon’s relaxed smile.

*****

Whack! Wham!

The sound of an iron fan slicing through the air mingled with impacts like bursting drums, echoing in every direction.

“Hahaha! Little brother, your eldest brother must already be going deaf. A drinking bet? What exactly did you wager in a drinking bet? Hahahaha!”

“Eldest Brother, I was wrong—agh! Aaaagh!”

Jegal Cheon’s beating was executed with such flawless precision that I almost wanted to applaud.

Wow. He can beat someone that hard without drawing a single drop of blood. He’d probably make a good physician.

Beopgong, who was watching the impressive feat made possible by an exact understanding of human anatomy, sided with Jegal Cheon with a sour expression.

“That Gyu bastard needs more of it. Anyone with a functioning brain wouldn’t wager his sect’s formal invitation on a drinking bet.”

He was right. It was certainly something worth getting beaten over.

Losing a single invitation meant that one martial artist who had traveled all the way here for the tournament would no longer be able to compete.

The problem was that Jegal Cheon had decided to conduct his family discipline directly in front of the martial tournament registration desk.

I looked around and sighed heavily.

I did not particularly care that Jegal Cheon’s handiwork was drawing the attention of passersby.

The problem was that even the Martial Alliance officials handling registration had craned their necks to watch, so the line had stopped moving entirely.

At this rate, I was going to be stuck standing here until sunset. I jabbed Beopgong in the side with a finger.

“Isn’t this attracting too much of a crowd? I doubt this is doing the Jegal Clan’s reputation any favors.”

“That’s because this isn’t the first time he’s caused trouble. They need to humiliate him properly before he does something even worse.”

“I don’t care about that. They’re holding up my registration. Go take that man somewhere else.”

“Yeah. I understood you. I just can’t be bothered.”

This damned fake monk. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t called the Jegal Young Clan Head over in the first place.

When my expression twisted, Beopgong snickered and spouted nonsense.

“I’m only doing all this so you won’t get bored.”

“How touching. Since you care so much about me, maybe I should pick out a nice poison to improve the health of your scalp.”

“...Hey. Hold on. I’ll stop him.”

When I pulled several little bottles from my sleeve, Beopgong immediately backed down. Smacking his lips, he turned toward Jegal Cheon.

“Agh! Eldest Brother...! Eldest Brother, I was wrong...!”

“Haha. You’ve made the Jegal name into a joke. How am I supposed to face the rest of the family now, little brother?”

“I’ll get it back. I’ll get it back somehow...!”

“How?”

“Even if I have to use force...!”

“You lost it in a wager, so now you intend to behave like someone from the unorthodox factions? Little brother. Is that what the Jegal Clan is? Is that what your eldest brother taught you?”

Beopgong flinched as the beating grew even louder and gave me an awkward smile.

“...Kid. His eyes have gone completely mad. Give him half an hour and he’ll settle down. Why don’t we just wait?”

“...”

“Hey, hey. Come on, kid. Let’s give him another fifteen minutes.”

Beopgong lowered his voice. His face looked genuinely troubled now.

I was just about to pout and say something when I heard a familiar name.

“So who took the invitation?”

“Yang Gyojin of Yang Manor! I said it was Yang Gyojin!”

...Who?

“Gyu. Didn’t I tell you that if you tried to lie your way out of trouble again, I’d cut out your tongue?”

“It’s true! Why would I lie to you, Eldest Brother?”

“I heard that Yang Gyojin, the Golden Dragon Merchant Guild’s son-in-law, died long ago. I even heard there was a funeral. So explain to me how you met him wandering around Wuhan. Did you make a bet with a ghost?”

She should be perfectly alive. More importantly, Yang Gyojin is nearby too? Is she entering the tournament?

Under Jegal Cheon’s furious interrogation, his youngest brother hurriedly began making excuses.

“She said herself that she was from Yang Manor. She was with Sima Hoseon. Sima Hoseon—that bastard started mocking me, so...!”

Beopgong clicked his tongue as though everything suddenly made sense.

“So he got into an argument with that Sima brat and caused trouble. Tsk, tsk. You great-clan idiots...”

Apparently, the Jegal and Sima families did not get along particularly well.

Jegal Cheon also seemed to calm down somewhat at that explanation. The grip on his iron fan loosened.

“Gyu. Whether that person is an impostor or a ghost is irrelevant. What matters is whether you can recover the invitation.”

“Yes, Eldest Brother.”

“Can you recover it?”

“W-Well...”

When Jegal Gyu failed to answer, killing intent entered Jegal Cheon’s eyes.

The spectators, sensing the shift in atmosphere, began edging backward.

Even the registration official watching nearby started bouncing his leg nervously, unsure what to do.

A disturbance had broken out directly in front of the Martial Alliance, so technically he should intervene. Unfortunately, he clearly lacked the courage to actually do it.

I quietly tugged on his sleeve.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes, Miss?”

“If I clear those people out of here, could you register me first?”

“Really?”

“Yes. Hurry. Please.”

He looked between me and the Jegal Clan members with obvious doubt before hastily bringing over the necessary paperwork.

Considering I had spent more than four hours standing in line, the speed with which everything was suddenly processed felt almost absurd.

I accepted my registration token, slipped it into my sleeve, and quietly called out,

“Senior Jegal.”

At my voice, Jegal Cheon looked over, visibly struggling to suppress his anger.

I met his gaze and spoke calmly.

“If it really is Yang Gyojin, I think I know her. Why don’t I come along and we can talk to her together?”

“...Now that is the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

Relief and delight filled Jegal Cheon’s voice as he smiled.

******

Maybe it was because he now had Jegal Cheon and a whole group of clansmen backing him up.

Jegal Gyu walked toward the inn where Yang Gyojin and Sima Hoseon were staying with an impressive swagger.

“Hey. Why am I coming along?”

“You’re the reason I got dragged into this in the first place. Take responsibility until the end.”

“Good grief. At this rate, if I introduce you to someone twice, you’ll have me recovering their house deed next.”

Beopgong grumbled and walked well behind the Jegal group, apparently unwilling to look like one of them.

I slowed down and fell into step beside him.

Yang Gyojin might be a little dim, but she was not impossible to reason with. If Jegal Cheon could not negotiate with her, I planned to step in then.

When we finally entered the inn, Jegal Gyu pointed toward a table where Yang Gyojin was drinking with another man.

“Eldest Brother. That’s the swordsman.”

“She came back again. Didn’t I beat her enough?”

Yang Gyojin set down her cup and muttered the words in a deliberately audible, indifferent tone.

Jegal Cheon pretended not to hear and approached politely.

“Are you Yang Gyojin of Yang Manor?”

“That’s right.”

“I heard the Golden Dragon Merchant Guild’s son-in-law died. Was that information wrong?”

Yang Gyojin answered without the slightest hesitation.

“Yeah. He died.”

“Then who are you?”

“He was my twin.”

“You have the same name.”

“Different characters.”

At least put some effort into your excuse.

Jegal Cheon looked thoroughly confused, but rather than press the issue, he changed the subject.

“I am this boy’s eldest brother. I heard our youngest behaved discourteously toward you. Allow me to apologize on his behalf.”

“Sure.”

“However, without that invitation, one of the young martial artists from our clan will be unable to enter the tournament. Could you show us mercy just this once?”

“No. I won it in a bet. What I do with it is my business.”

“Whatever you ask for, I’ll prepare it. If you want money, I’ll give you money. If you want a sword, then a sword...”

“I have plenty of money. And my sword is already good enough.”

Yang Gyojin waved a hand, looking completely uninterested.

That isn’t your money. It’s Jang Miryeo’s.

Despite the flat rejection, Jegal Cheon remained composed and proposed dozens of alternatives.

Yang Gyojin did not budge.

Finally unable to watch any longer, I poked my head through the crowd.

“Hey, Yang Gyojin. Do you really need that thing? Can’t you just take something reasonable in exchange and give it back?”

“Oh! It’s Sohae!”

The moment she saw me, Yang Gyojin sprang to her feet and rushed over, trying to wrap me in a hug.

My body reacted before I could think.

I slammed her into the floor and pressed a throwing knife to her throat.

Every eye in the room turned toward me at once.

I swallowed and slowly met Jegal Cheon’s gaze.

His pupils were shaking wildly.

...Ah.

This wasn’t what I meant to do.