The next morning.

Tang Sowol, standing a little distance away, gazed at the ten or so martial artists gathered in the outer courtyard. With a hand placed over her chest, she let out a long sigh.

“Haah…”

Her chest rose and fell conspicuously, the ample curves barely hidden even by the loose, signature martial robes of the Tang Clan.

As I awkwardly averted my eyes and fiddled idly with the sword at my waist, Tang Sowol, her face slightly stiff, broke the silence and asked,

“Are you not nervous, Brother*? You have such a composed expression.”

“What’s there to be nervous about? I’m not someone delicate enough to be unsettled by something that isn’t even dangerous.”

“Yes, yes. Unlike you, Brother, I am delicate and find this situation a bit nerve-wracking. So, would you kindly help calm me down?”

As she spoke, she stretched out the hand she had previously placed on her chest.

I remained silent, merely staring at her outstretched hand, until Tang Sowol began pouting, her lips jutting out as she sniffed in dissatisfaction.

“Really now. Shouldn’t you at least hold my hand and say something reassuring, like, ‘It’ll be fine,’ or ‘This time won’t be like the last’? Isn’t that the proper thing to do?”

“Hmm.”

I pressed her protruding lips with my index finger, pushing them back in, and then chuckled.

“There’s no need to calm down. Even if we’re out to settle a grudge, in the end, we’re still going to kill people.”

“Well… that’s true, I suppose…”

“Don’t let yourself become desensitized to killing. The moment you become indifferent to life and death is when your blade grows dull. And Murim isn’t a kind place for those who wield dull blades.”

Tang Sowol stared blankly at me for a moment before falling into deep thought, her expression growing serious.

Before long, she raised her head, her face now relaxed.

“I didn’t expect that when I asked you to calm me down, you’d instead tell me to stay tense. I’m not sure I entirely understand what you mean.”

“Hmm.”

“But, I do understand that you said it out of concern for me.”

Tang Sowol gently clasped my index finger in her palm. Tilting her head playfully, she added in a teasing tone,

“By the way, you do know that I don’t use a sword, right?”

“It was a metaphor. I was speaking figuratively.”

When I chuckled incredulously, Tang Sowol mirrored my smile and nodded.

“I was only joking. Anyway, thanks to you, I feel a little more at ease now.”

“Then that’s good.”

Though I responded curtly on purpose, Tang Sowol merely patted my shoulder a couple of times, unfazed.

“Alright! I won’t overthink things too much and will focus only on what needs to be done right now. For example… not falling behind the members of the Dark Soul Unit.”

“By the way, now that we’re on the subject, what’s the skill level of the Dark Soul Unit? Surely, those gathered here aren’t the average standard?”

The ten or so martial artists standing in perfect formation without anyone supervising them gave off a disciplined air. Though I couldn’t gauge their exact strength without fighting them, the aura they emitted suggested that each of them had reached the level of a seasoned first-class martial artist.

First-class mastery might not seem like much, as it’s something anyone can achieve with enough effort, given sufficient time. But that doesn’t mean it’s weak. It’s simply the realistic limit for most ordinary martial artists.

The majority of martial artists end their lives somewhere between third-class and second-class levels. A few rise to first-class status, setting up small dojos or living as local warlords in remote villages.

The leader of the Red Sand Gang, for instance, was a first-class martial artist, while most of his subordinates were second-class at best.

Though first-class martial artists might seem unimpressive compared to those who have reached the peak or mastered the lethal power of sword qi, they are still masters in their own right.

Yet here I stood, witnessing a scene where such first-class martial artists were gathered as mere foot soldiers.

Even knowing that the Tang Clan is part of the prestigious Five Great Clans, it was still a surprising sight.

In my past life, such disciplined forces could only be seen in alliances formed to resist the Black Lotus Sect or the Demonic Cult.

The unorthodox sects tended to adopt a ‘survival of the fittest’ approach, which made it difficult for them to build large-scale forces. Even if they succeeded, the moment they showed any weakness, the surrounding forces would tear them apart.

Hearing my question, Tang Sowol blinked a few times before responding.

“Now that I think about it, I haven’t explained it to you yet. The Tang Clan has several armed units, but the two most prominent are the Blood Venom Unit (독혈대) and the Dark Soul Unit (암혼대).”

“I’ve heard those names mentioned in passing.”

“Besides those two, there are groups responsible for guarding the clan’s estate, managing the clan’s businesses, or handling miscellaneous tasks while focusing on their training.”

“So the Blood Venom Unit and the Dark Soul Unit are the clan’s main armed forces that can be immediately deployed in emergencies.”

“That’s right. While both units learn various martial arts of the Tang Clan, those with a talent for poison arts join the Blood Venom Unit, while those skilled in hidden weapons join the Dark Soul Unit.”

“I see. So this time, only members of the Dark Soul Unit were gathered.”

Tang Jincheon, known by the moniker ‘Poison King,’ was a master of poison arts, and Tang Sowol was born with the innate constitution of a poison spirit.

With poison being their specialty, they likely chose to bring those more proficient in hidden weapons for this mission.

“Since these are our primary armed forces, they receive ample support. The pay is generous, they’re taught advanced martial arts suited to their style, and they’re regularly supplied with lower-grade elixirs.”

“That’s a level of treatment that’s hard to find elsewhere.”

While I nodded in silent admiration, a familiar voice called out from behind.

“If you’re that curious, why not try rolling with the Dark Soul Unit yourself?”

Tang Jincheon approached with a hearty laugh, continuing,

“Since you’re now part of the Tang Clan, shouldn’t you learn some of the clan’s martial arts?”

“While I’m always open to learning new martial arts, I’m not particularly interested in serving in the Dark Soul Unit.”

“Why not? Don’t tell me it’s due to some misplaced humility about lacking ability.”

“On the contrary. I’m worried that my exceptional skills would create unnecessary friction between me and the unit.”

If a new recruit, introduced as Tang Sowol’s fiancé, were to suddenly outshine everyone in the unit, it would inevitably make things awkward when issuing commands.

“While I acknowledge your talent, arrogance isn’t a virtue, young man.”

“I’ll take this opportunity to show you that it’s not arrogance but confidence.”

“Hah! Very well, then. I won’t expect much, but I’ll watch with interest.”

Tang Jincheon shrugged, seemingly attributing my words to youthful bravado. The two men flanking him exchanged glances and smirked.

One of them was Tang Yujin, whom I had briefly seen at the dinner table yesterday. As for the other, he was a stranger to me.

The unfamiliar man was nearing old age, with half of his hair grayed and deep wrinkles on his forehead, yet his eyes gleamed sharply.

The aura he emitted was formidable, comparable to my peak in my previous life, meaning he was at least a master at the peak level.

In a respectful tone, he introduced himself,

“Pardon my rudeness. You must be the esteemed fiancé of Miss Sowol, whose fame precedes her. My name is Tang Cheolyeong, commander of the Dark Soul Unit.”

“So you’re the Dark Soul Commander. Miss Sowol has spoken of you often.”

“She didn’t seem very knowledgeable about the Dark Soul Unit, though.”

“That’s true. However, she did mention that during the time she couldn’t practice poison arts, she learned hidden weapon techniques from the most skilled practitioner in the Tang Clan.”

“Haha! Did she now? I feel both honored and a little embarrassed, hearing that in front of the Patriarch. By the way, Miss Sowol has often praised your swordsmanship as well.”

“…Ah.”

I turned to look at Tang Sowol, who immediately avoided my gaze. It seemed she wasn’t lying.

“I would have preferred to hear such praise directly.”

“Well, I didn’t want to feed your smugness, so I chose not to.”

“Fair enough. But since we’re already here, how about offering me some more compliments? I’ll graciously accept them all.”

Tang Sowol responded by clamping her mouth shut, though the tips of her ears turned red, betraying her embarrassment.

Watching her with a complicated expression, Tang Jincheon patted his daughter’s shoulder and said,

“We’ll be departing soon. Come along.”

With that, Tang Jincheon took a step forward, and the members of the Dark Soul Unit, standing in neat formation, parted to either side to make way.

Tang Jincheon began walking, followed closely by Tang Yujin and the Dark Soul Commander. A little farther behind, Tang Sowol and I followed.

When we reached the front of the formation, Tang Jincheon turned back, surveying the gathered members of the Dark Soul Unit with sharp eyes.

His gaze carried a weight far different from his earlier one—less the intensity of a Flowering Stage master and more the oppressive presence of a leader standing above others.

Without raising his voice, Tang Jincheon infused his words with a touch of internal energy so they reached everyone clearly.

“You’ve all heard by now. Sowol, a daughter of the Tang Clan, was targeted by some unheard-of thugs.”

No one responded. However, a few members’ auras became noticeably sharper, and some cast fleeting glances toward Tang Sowol.

Standing tall, Tang Sowol met their gazes without flinching.

“Fortunately, those thugs paid the price at the hands of Young Brother here.”

Now, all attention shifted toward me. Amidst the heightened tension, their eyes held gratitude and admiration.

It was a look I had grown somewhat accustomed to during my time in the Tang Clan, though I still wasn’t entirely comfortable with it.

It was… a bit overwhelming.

As I idly ran my hand over the hilt of my sword, Tang Sowol quietly placed her palm over the back of my hand.

“Are you nervous?”

“Not at all.”

“But you look nervous to me, so I’ll generously hold your hand. Like this.”

Echoing my earlier words in a playful manner, Tang Sowol smiled and added one more line.

“This is the correct answer.”

Understanding her meaning, I let out a small chuckle.

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep