KYDS 19

As the sun set and darkness settled, the Tang family estate looked far more bustling than it had during the daytime. The atmosphere carried a strange, restless tension.

“Is something going on?”

“I’m not sure. We were going to have dinner with Father and Oppa anyway, so I’ll ask then.”

“Hmm.”

Nodding, we passed through the outer courtyard and entered the inner quarters—right at that moment, I locked eyes with Tang Cheon.

“…Do it that way. Since the Master of the House is coming along anyway, pack plenty of hidden weapons rather than poison, hmm?”

Tang Cheon was giving stern instructions with a serious expression to martial artists who looked twice his age. When he spotted us, his face lit up with a welcoming warmth.

“Sowol-ah! My little sister!”

Temporarily pausing his instructions to the attentive guards, Tang Cheon walked over briskly, spreading his arms wide.

“Be glad! We’ve found out who was behind the bastards who dared to target Sowol’s life!”

“Ah. So that’s why…”

Tang Sowol nodded as if understanding. But I, on the other hand, froze in sheer bewilderment.

Understandably so, because according to what Tang Sowol had told me before the regression, there had been no mastermind behind the ambush.

Even back then, the Poison King Tang Jintian had personally stepped forward to declare vengeance, but it had ultimately fizzled out after dealing with just a few minor accomplices.

And yet, they had found the mastermind? Things were starting to unfold differently from what I knew.

Even so, there was no way the Tang family would falsely accuse an innocent party, which meant things were turning out differently at a point I hadn’t anticipated…

“Ah.”

I see.

Before the regression, it was widely known that Tang Sowol had returned on the verge of death. Word had also spread extensively that her face had been severely disfigured in the process.

On the other hand, this time, while it had caused a huge commotion inside the Tang family due to lost contact, to the outside world it probably just looked like she went on a routine martial arts journey and returned a little early.

Even those with slightly more detailed information probably only figured that she had found a man, prompting the Poison King to bring them both back personally.

The ones who knew the actual truth were likely just the Tang family and the Beggars’ Sect, whose help the Tang family had requested.

In other words, the mastermind had been caught with their tail between their legs before they even realized how the incident had actually concluded.

Before the regression, news of Tang Sowol’s plight had spread far and wide, giving them ample time to slip away and hide.

Of course, it might not be that. Brainwork wasn’t my specialty anyway. But if Tang Cheon’s words were true—if there truly was a mastermind plotting against Tang Sowol’s life—

I needed to see with my own two eyes exactly what kind of bastards they were.

“Don’t worry too much. They’re bastards who touched the direct bloodline of the Tang family. Since Father has decided to move personally, not a single one of them will survive.”

Though Tang Cheon said it with a smiling face, his voice was razor-sharp and laced with frost. There was no place quite as obsessed with grudges and debts as the Tang family.

Nodding inwardly, I asked,

“Hyungnim. Can you tell me just what kind of bastards they are?”

“Hmm? Little Brother is one of the victims too, so there’s no reason you shouldn’t know.”

Tang Cheon nodded. Perhaps remembering that I had helped Tang Sowol, his tone was a notch softer than usual.

“I’ll hear the details from Father at dinnertime, but to give you the conclusion first… it’s the Demonic Cult.”

“…Pardon?”

“Those crazy bastards, obsessed with vengeance and picking fights everywhere, even crept back into the Central Plains and schemed to target our Sowol.”

“… “

My mind went blank for a fraction of a second.

It wasn’t surprising that the Demonic Cult was looked down upon during this era. After all, the cult had originated from powerless commoners who harbored deep-seated vengeance after being trampled back and forth by martial artists.

Their numbers couldn’t be large, and their martial might amounted to little more than a single orthodox sect—who would ever view them as a threat?

Things would have stayed that way indefinitely, if not for an unparagoned genius named the Heavenly Demon who thoroughly overhauled all the Demonic Cult’s martial arts and handed blades to those vengeful ghosts.

And yet, for the Demonic Cult to pop up here of all places.

I didn’t know why the Demonic Cult had targeted Tang Sowol. But the face of the Heavenly Demon I had seen at the very end—looking far too youthful for his martial prowess, making it certain he had undergone Banrohwandong (rejuvenation)—if he had already ascended to the position of Cult Leader, his goal could only be one.

Preparations for the invasion of the Central Plains.

The moment that thought struck me, strength automatically clenched into my jaw.

Grind.

If melting half of Tang Sowol’s face, taking her life, and even stripping away the tiny slice of happiness she had barely managed to grasp at the end of her bitter life were all the work of the Demonic Cult…

What was received must be returned.

With effort, I suppressed the killing intent that kept trying to leak out and opened my mouth.

“Hyungnim. That sword you promised to make for me earlier—when will it be finished?”

“Oh, ahem! As it happens, I heard the news that it was finished while you two were out on your excursion, so if you go now, you can pick it up.”

“Thank you. I’ll make good use of it.”

Giving a brief nod, I turned to Tang Sowol.

“Since he says that, I’ll stop by the forge for a moment. I’ll come find you at your room in time for dinner.”

“Pardon? Ah, yes. Please do…”

Leaving a dazed and nodding Tang Sowol behind, I headed toward the forge I had toured previously.

Deep inside the inner quarters of the Tang family, hidden away in the most secluded corner, stood a spacious building paired with a waterwheel even larger than itself.

The faint, soothing sound of river water—diverted and channeled all the way into the Tang family estate solely to drive the bellows—gently tickled my ears.

To an outsider, it would have seemed like a mad, extravagant construction project, but from the Tang family’s perspective, this was the absolute best way.

People often called the Tang family the ancestors of poisons and hidden weapons.

While it wasn’t true that every single poison art and hidden weapon technique originated from the Tang family, it was a fact that they had refined and developed them to such a degree that they exerted a massive, widespread influence.

Thus, these two could be seen as the dual pillars supporting the Sichuan Tang family… but there was one major problem with this.

Poisons and hidden weapons ultimately shined through their unexpectedness.

Having a solid foundation mattered for all martial arts, of course. After all, the evolution of martial arts occurred through the constant repetition of counter-techniques, and counters to those counters.

However, the Tang family’s poison arts and hidden weapon techniques were excessively vulnerable to being countered. By the very nature of things, they had to be.

If an opponent knew what poison was being used, they could simply prepare an antidote in advance; if they knew what hidden weapon was being thrown and how, simply being cautious made countering it vastly easier.

That was why the Tang family obsessed over secrecy.

While truly precious poisons or medicinal herbs were sometimes purchased from the outside, the vast majority were produced and blended in-house at the Hall of Ten Thousand Poisons. This was to make it as difficult as possible for outsiders to deduce their formulas.

Diverting a river into the family estate to drive waterwheels and operate the bellows was precisely for this reason.

Building a forge along a riverbank like ordinary blacksmiths risked leaking information about their hidden weapons, yet operating bellows without waterwheels would leave the furnace fires unstable.

Someone had thought of it then: since the estate was huge anyway, why not just dig a channel so a river ran through one corner?

Excavating a waterway large enough to drive waterwheels must have been a colossal engineering feat, but the Tang family’s financial muscle made it possible.

…Or so Tang Sowol had proudly told me last time.

Though there was a completely different part that I had been impressed by.

Normally, technology develops through exchange. Even martial arts had distinct traditions like sparring excursions.

And yet, astonishingly, the Tang family maintained their secrecy while accumulating peerless, incomparable techniques.

Would you believe it if you heard that even Salgok, an assassination collective whose roots were so old they were untraceable, had to yield a step to the Tang family when it came to both poisons and hidden weapon techniques?

Among them, hidden weapons often derived their lethality directly from their sheer intricacy, independent of the user’s mastery of martial arts.

For instance, the Chuhon Pijeop (Soul-Chasing Flying Butterflies)—which I had never seen in person, but which supposedly fluttered like butterflies, traced unpredictable trajectories, and even sprayed poison.

The Eunhyeongsa (Invisible Threads)—steel wires drawn so thin they were practically invisible to the naked eye.

And explosive hidden weapon contraptions that unleashed barrage attacks without any noticeable preparatory motion… like the Mokyeon Chimtong (Ink-Smoke Needle Barrel).

Tang Sowol had mentioned before the regression that her heavy reliance on poison arts wasn’t merely because she possessed the Poison Spirit Constitution and a genius talent for it, but also because after the destruction of the Tang family, it had become nearly impossible to replicate their secret hidden weapon designs.

Arriving in front of the forge with high expectations, scorching heat rushed out through the wide-open doors.

A sudden, breath-stealing sensation accompanied by the clatter of metal ringing out from everywhere.

A lump of iron, just pulled from the furnace and glowing red-hot, was hammered by a heavy mallet, shedding sparks like tears. A short distance away, elderly smiths could be seen moving completed, roughly shaped hidden weapons deeper inside.

They were probably finishing them off somewhere in the inner recesses.

Thanks to the tour Tang Sowol had given me, I had no problem entering this far, but areas where complex hidden weapons were finalized and precious ones stored were restricted exclusively to the direct bloodline of the Tang family.

I approached a youthful apprentice who was busy scurrying around doing odd jobs.

“Got a moment?”

“Ah, yup! U-Um, who might you be…”

The kid started to answer briskly before trailing off, looking cautiously at me. We looked to be around the same age, and since I was wearing green court silks meant for going out, he must have been flustered.

“I dropped by because I was told the sword the Vice-Master prepared for me is finished.”

“Ah! You’re the person who saved the Young Mistress! Please wait just a moment! I’ll go tell my master!”

Nodding vigorously, the apprentice scurried off somewhere. He stopped in front of a heavily built middle-aged man, waving his arms frantically and babbling away.

Due to the distance and the incessant ringing of hammers, I couldn’t hear what he was saying… but he was probably giving a rough summary of my story.

The middle-aged man, who had initially been waving off the apprentice’s words with familiar indifference, suddenly stiffened and turned his head to look in my direction.

Then, setting down the hammer he was holding, he disappeared for a moment and returned carrying an unfamiliar sword.

Since I hadn’t seen the blade yet, I couldn’t be certain, but just looking at the hilt and scabbard suggested it was a remarkably fine weapon.

The smith, looking down at me with deep-set eyes right up close, spoke.

“Your killing intent is thick.”

“Did it show that much?”

“When a person exudes an aura resembling a sword, experienced warriors usually say their killing intent is dense.”

“I was suppressing it as best as I could, so I’m a bit surprised.”

“My entire life has been spent hammering bladed metal. Even if it’s not pointed at me, I can recognize a sword when it’s neither sheathed nor hidden behind a back.”

Saying that, the smith handed the sword over to me.

“It’s a sword forged from Baekryeon Jeonggang (refined hundred-times-forged steel). Care to draw it once?”

“Let’s do that.”

I drew the handed sword, focusing my senses on the feeling at my fingertips.

A hilt that was comfortable to grip and hard to slip from the hand; a scabbard that yielded the sword without resistance. The silver-shining blade reflected my face, and its sharply honed edge was deeply satisfying.

It wasn’t made of some miraculous material; it was simply a sword crafted by repeatedly hammering high-quality iron.

Precisely because of that, the smith’s craftsmanship shone through directly. This smith was undoubtedly an exceptional artisan.

If the materials had been just a tiny bit better, it would have easily earned renown as a famous sword.

“A fine sword. I’d heard the Tang family had many skilled smiths, but I didn’t expect a sword of this caliber to come out in such a short time.”

“It’s not as if Tang family martial artists never use swords, after all. I’m glad to see it pleases you.”

The smith offered a faint smile. He asked with an indifferent tone,

“And what will you cut down first with this sword?”

“An enemy. The insolent bastards who dared to harm my betrothed.”

“Indeed. For the very first thing to cut down…”

Nodding, he twisted one corner of his mouth upward.

“There could hardly be a more fitting choice.”

I couldn’t agree more.