Chapter 71. Rumor

“That’s strange…”

Haerak tilted his head as he entered the quiet Platinum Pavilion.

“Is this what it feels like to be back home?”

Haerak gave a short laugh, finding it absurd that he felt such a sense of peace. The Deputy Hall Lord asked with a displeased look.

“Have you been drinking? What part of this place resembles the Great Desert?”

“Exactly, the Great Desert never felt like this.”

The Deputy Hall Lord furrowed his brows deeply and shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have told you where the passage was. Had I known you’d use it to wander freely like this, I would have killed all the kids who found it.”

“Tsk, unbelievers are the saddest lot. The faithful try to kill for fun, and the unbelievers try to kill just to shut mouths.”

“…What are you talking about?”

As the Deputy Hall Lord gave him a look as if asking whether he was really drunk, Haerak suddenly extended his hand.

The Deputy Hall Lord, who had grown tired of seeing the bizarre behavior of the Main Blood Hall Lord, rarely got surprised. But this time, even he had to take a step back.

“What in the… Whose arm is this?”

“The Red Blood Hall Lord came to Guangdong.”

The explanation startled the Deputy Hall Lord even more, making him jump back.

“What? This is the Red Blood Hall Lord’s arm?”

“Why are you making such a fuss? By now, he’s probably recovered and busy playing with his new arm.”

“No…”

The Deputy Hall Lord muttered in confusion.

“It’s not that. Isn’t he the Red Blood Hall Lord! But didn’t the Hall Lord not train that hard? When did you grow so strong?”

“How should I know? Go ask the old geezer or something.”

When the Deputy Hall Lord didn’t respond quickly, Haerak threw the arm at him. The Deputy Hall Lord caught it on instinct.

“The one who did it would know. How would I, the one who got attacked, know anything?”

Haerak said it casually and stepped into the room.

“Store it well. It’ll come in handy later.”

“Yes.”

The Deputy Hall Lord shook off his unease and decided to take care of his duties first. He didn’t know the details, but judging by the fact that someone who hated carrying things had brought it himself, it must be an important arm(?).

He stared at Haerak’s back, clad in a blue robe. Blood had pooled near his feet.

Watching that silently, the Deputy Hall Lord finally spoke.

“Shall I prepare your bath water?”

“Sounds good.”

“Shall I skip heating it and bring it quickly?”

“Even better.”

Using Fiery Yang Art to heat bathwater might sound insane, but his superior was just that kind of person.

Seeing Haerak agree so easily, the Deputy Hall Lord let out a breath of relief and turned away.

It seemed he still had some internal energy left.

‘…Doesn’t look like he’s in a dangerous state.’

Not long after the Deputy Hall Lord left, a tub filled with bathwater was brought into Haerak’s room.

A pitch-black room without a single light. The moonlit black water looked cold, but Haerak stepped in without hesitation.

No sooner had his massive body sunk in than steam began to rise from the tub.

The bruises engraved on his bare body gradually faded in the warm water.

He leaned completely against the tub and wiped the water from his face with one hand. That’s when he noticed the wound on his fingertip.

He had thought it was the Red Blood Hall Lord’s blood, but it seemed it was a cut from the man’s fingernail.

Haerak looked over the wound from different angles.

“…Even I take this long to recover.”

A woman raised in the orthodox sect wouldn’t have learned Blood Art like the Red Blood Hall Lord. So, how had she attained such resilience?

Haerak’s eyes moved slowly.

The Blood Demon had hidden the creation of the passage from him.

Why try to connect the Great Desert and the North Sea of all places?

The Great Desert and the North Sea were where unbelievers were most concentrated. Until becoming the Main Blood Hall Lord and moving to the Blood Sect’s stronghold, he, too had lived in the Great Desert.

If Blood Demon had wanted to aid that sorcerer Namgung bastard, telling him would’ve been far more efficient. Yet that senile old geezer had kept it secret.

If Blood Demon’s calculations hadn’t been wrong, Haerak wouldn’t have found out a thing.

‘But now I know.’

Haerak suddenly thought.

How many parts of Blood Demon’s plan were still unknown to him?

The wound left on his long fingers burned its image into his mind.

He thought of the woman who had wounded him and stolen the Poison gu.

“This is strange too, now that I think about it…”

When the divine artifact was shattered, the scent of the Blood Demon’s blood must have filled the air—so why hadn’t they come out?

Haerak rubbed his chest and tilted his head.

‘…Has the Blood Demon’s strength weakened?’

He recalled the sensation when So-hwa had bled.

It was clearly different from the feeling when the Blood Demon’s Gu poison gripped his heart.

Staring silently at his wound with sunken eyes, Haerak finished his bath.

Sitting on the window ledge, he lifted the snow brazier and glanced at the wound salve container beside him.

He muttered bitterly.

“That bastard must have gone to Sichuan too.”

Haerak opened the box. The scentless salve, like its master, glistened under the moonlight. He applied the clear medicine to the wound that still glowed faintly with blood.

***

Bright sunlight streamed into the herb storeroom.

The Divine Physician smiled as he organized the medicinal ingredients.

“Yes, of course. I was planning to stop by the main hall to see the Namgung Clan Head anyway.”

“Thank you.”

“But why are you concerned about that young man?”

At the Divine Physician’s words, So-hwa, who had been helping him organize the herbs, lifted her head.

The Divine Physician’s face was full of amusement.

“Even an old man tucked away in the back room has ears to hear with.”

“What kind of rumor did you hear to make such a joke?”

“It’s nothing serious. I just overheard that the Clan Head ordered the White Tiger Unit to keep an eye on a young man named Namgung Hyun, and that he would punish them if they didn’t find out why he visited the study.”

“…I didn’t know the White Tiger Unit had such loose lips.”

The Divine Physician smiled.

“It wasn’t the White Tiger Unit who said it. I heard it myself—he gave the order while I was checking his pulse.”

So-hwa furrowed her brow.

“Is Father unwell?”

“I believe he’s under a great deal of stress over this upcoming Alliance of Noble Clans. He said he had a headache, so I visited him, but there was nothing wrong with his body.”

With that, the Divine Physician closed the box of sorted herbs.

“The Tang Clan Head is fine. It’s the Namgung Clan Head that worries me. I think I should visit him sometime today. Something about this just doesn’t sit right.”

Though the Divine Physician didn’t elaborate further—perhaps reluctant to speak too freely about symptoms—his face had darkened.

So-hwa didn’t ask more and quietly continued helping him sort the herbs.

The Divine Physician, being someone who couldn’t say no to a request, was always busy. Judging from how many people came running just to see him, his schedule was clearly packed.

After finishing up, So-hwa wiped her hands with a clean cloth and bowed to the Divine Physician.

“I’ll be going now.”

“Off to the study again today?”

“No. Father forbade me from entering it, so I’m thinking of going to the lakeside.”

“Right. He barred access to all the secret chambers in the outer courtyard. I suppose you’ve nowhere else to go.”

“…You heard that too?”

The Divine Physician nodded with a smile.

Though embarrassed by her father’s interference, So-hwa left the Medical Hall pretending nothing was wrong.

The Divine Physician watched the blush on So-hwa’s ear with a warm gaze.

***

“Ah, I want to go hang out by the lake too.”

Peng Iran, the Young Lord of the Peng Clan, gazed at the lakeside with a gloomy look. At her side, Zhuge Ji-hwi laughed as they walked together.

“Stop sulking in front of me. If you’re like this, how do you think I feel?”

At the Five Noble Clans gathering, the position of the Young Lords was awkward. They couldn’t join the seats of the clan heads and elders, nor could they mingle freely with the retainers gathered for entertainment.

They were too young to take part in the adults’ conversations, but too high-ranking to casually join the retainers. Or rather, it wasn’t about pride—if they made a mistake there, the consequences would be serious. Unless one was a reckless troublemaker like Hwang Bo Rim, it wasn’t a place they could easily go.

Letting out a sigh, Peng Iran looked toward the retainers by the lake.

“Ha, I bet they’re having fun again today.”

“They’ll probably have even more fun today.”

“Oh? Did you hear something?”

Peng Iran perked up her ears, but Zhuge Ji-hwi responded with a cryptic smile and avoided answering.

Since the first day, there hadn’t been another formal gathering of retainers.

So everyone entertained themselves as they pleased.

Some immersed themselves in training at the martial grounds, some went into the streets of Sichuan to shop for various goods. But most gathered at the lake—boating, mingling with members of other clans.

With Sichuan’s spicy food, fragrant wine, and fine tea, and so many young martial artists full of energy gathered together, there was sure to be excitement.

Peng Iran sighed and murmured,

“Ah, maybe I should just quit being a Young Lord…”

And to top it off, this year, the Tang Clan Head and Namgung Clan Head had brought hidden direct descendants. Rumor had it that the two even met in secret, so that gossip was surely spreading around the lakeside.

With a deep interest in others’ business, Peng Iran gazed longingly toward the lake.

It was a deep hunger, like a cat staring at a fish hanging from the ceiling.

Tap, tap.

Noticing that look, Zhuge Ji-hwi gently patted her shoulder.

“I understand your frustration—but could it be worse than mine? After finally becoming this year’s Young Lord for the first time in years, I’m missing all the fun.”

This year’s Young Lord.

A term used mockingly by children of other clans when speaking of the Zhuge Clan’s strange tradition.

The Zhuge Clan Head chose whichever son he pleased to be the Young Lord each year. Zhuge Chun-hwi, Zhuge Ji-hwi, Zhuge In-hwi—the Chun-Ji-In brothers took turns in and out of the role based on their father’s whims. Yet the sons themselves seemed unbothered by it.

Usually, Chun-hwi and In-hwi alternated the position, so the second son, Ji-hwi, rarely had the “honor” of being the Young Lord.

“Oh… I said something inconsiderate.”

He was finally chosen to attend as the Young Lord after a long time, and of course, something interesting happened right then. How disappointed must Ji-hwi be?

Realizing this, Peng Iran quickly composed herself and brushed aside her discontent. But something Ji-hwi had said lingered in his mind.

“…But why did you say today will be even more fun? Did you actually hear something?”

Zhuge Ji-hwi shrugged.

“Just a hunch?”

“What the—why are you suddenly acting like In-hwi? Are you seeing things that weren’t there before, too?”

“It’s not that I’m seeing unseen things, but…”

Zhuge Ji-hwi lifted his head and looked up at the sky.

The afternoon was wrapped in wisps of clouds that looked like scattered white petals drifting over the Tang Clan estate.

Perhaps because of the pleasant weather, the chirping of birds spread like a melody, continuous and serene.

Zhuge Ji-hwi tilted his lips in a subtle smile and said,

“Suddenly, things I couldn’t hear before… I hear them now.”

“…What are you even talking about? Did that fellow Hwang Bo Rim get you drunk or something?”

“Calling him ‘that fellow’? You shouldn’t speak that way about another clan’s Young Lord. He’s even older than you.”

“You say worse things to Hwang Bo Rim yourself.”

“That’s because I’m his elder. I’ve lived over ten more years than you bratty kids.”

“Wow, hearing you take pride in your age—yep, you’re definitely old now.”

“You young ones wouldn’t understand. You’ll get it when you’re my age.”

“I won’t.”

“You will—whether you want to or not.”

“Ugh, don’t jinx me.”

Bickering playfully, the two strolled through the garden.

Then, a familiar figure caught their eyes.

Zhuge Ji-hwi called out warmly to him.

“Hak-ah!”

Tang Hak, standing at the entrance of the bridge, turned his head sharply. But his expression was icy.

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