Chapter 347 : Please Tell Me Your Story

Translator: FenrirTL

Editor/Quality Checker: Saphartlantis

Murim Term Consultant: Kopke

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Chapter 347: Please Tell Me Your Story

"Are you just going to leave those two alone?"

Il-rang asked on their way back to the main division of the Unorthodox Alliance. Bih Sa-in had sent Geom Mugeuk to escort Pyo Gigwang and issued no further orders.

"The Young Cult Leader will handle it."

It was no indifference—it came from trust. The belief that if Geom Mugeuk couldn’t uncover the truth, then no one could.

Il-rang, who had quietly watched until now, finally spoke what he had been holding back.

"I understand that the Young Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult is an exceptional figure, but even so, don’t place too much trust in him. No matter what he says or does, in the end, he’s still a demon."

Il-rang harbored a deep-rooted distrust toward demons. Moreover, the relationship between Bih Sa-in and Geom Mugeuk was far from normal. 1

"I will."

Bih Sa-in accepted his concern without resistance, understanding exactly what Il-rang was worried about. A long-held prejudice wouldn’t change in an instant anyway.

"Il-rang."

"Yes, Young Leader."

"What’s the most memorable moment in your life as a martial artist?"

Caught off guard by the sudden question, Il-rang looked flustered.

"I don’t think I’ve ever thought about that before."

"Try thinking about it now."

Il-rang sank into thought for a moment. As he traced back through the current of time, a droplet sprang forth and glistened in the sunlight—that one moment stood out.

"I think it was when I first became one of the Thirteen Wolves."

He remembered just how happy he had been then. A lot had happened since. He had achieved great merits, earned a lot of money. But none of those moments had brought him as much joy as that one.

"I started as the youngest of the Thirteen Wolves, and now I’ve become the First Wolf."

"How long has it been since you became one of the Thirteen Wolves?"

"It’s been twenty-nine years."

"Then we’ll have to hold a celebration for your thirtieth anniversary next year."

Il-rang’s face flushed slightly.

"But why did you ask that?"

"Because I feel like right now is that time for me. If I look back after thirty years, I think this will be the most memorable moment in my life."

The present—riding a carriage across the Central Plains with the Young Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult and the future successor of the orthodox sect. This very moment, uncovering conspiracies with the former. Would there ever be another time as thrilling, as stirring, as this?

"Still, don’t worry too much. I was never the type to trust someone wholeheartedly or get completely swept away from the start."

Il-rang had reached an age where he knew that people’s hearts didn’t always follow their intentions.

But he didn’t say that. Because he believed the damage caused by not having a moment where one felt they were shining brightly might be just as serious as anything that could result from trusting the Young Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult. 2

With a glow brighter than ever, Bih Sa-in strode forward with confidence.

"Let’s go. We still have much to do."

*         *         *

Pyo Gigwang glanced sideways at the young man following behind him.

When their eyes met, the young man gave a soft smile. Of course, it was Geom Mugeuk.

‘Poor guy, he doesn’t even realize what kind of fate he’s in’. 3

His young, handsome face felt far too precious to be lost to death.

"What’s your name?"

"Geom Yeon. The ‘yeon’ as in smoke. Because once a meeting ends, I’ll disappear like smoke—so I’m Geom Yeon." 4

From the way he explained something that wasn’t asked, Pyo Gigwang could tell what kind of person the young man was.

‘Naive’.

Was it because he had nearly died by an assassin’s hand? Today, the words about vanishing like smoke struck Pyo Gigwang unusually deep.

"Do you know why you’ve been assigned to protect me?"

"I have a general idea."

"That assassin from earlier might come back to kill me. Aren’t you afraid?"

As if confident in his own skills, Geom Mugeuk lightly tapped his sword.

It was a blade tightly wrapped in blood-soaked bandages. Of course, since Pyo Gigwang didn’t know what kind of sword it was or what the bandages were, he simply took it as immature overconfidence.

"How long has it been since you started serving the Young Leader?"

"It’s been a few days."

It wasn’t a lie. That was how long he had been wearing the uniform of the Thirteen Wolves.

Pyo Gigwang frowned.

‘I had intended to die with dignity, alone… but now I’m going to die with a greenhorn stuck to me like a barnacle.’

Pyo Gigwang’s house was on the outskirts, not far from the main division. Behind the house was a mountain, and a stream flowed nearby.

Though located in a scenic area, the house itself gave off no warmth. There was barely any food, and even the bedding looked like it hadn’t been washed in who knows how long—and was clearly for summer use. One could tell what kind of life he had led.

"It’s just a place I drop by to sleep from time to time, so there’s nothing here."

He lay down on the bed.

"You don’t need to guard me."

Pyo Gigwang was certain this young man couldn’t protect him. The assassin had eluded even multiple martial artists who had chased him earlier.

‘If the Young Leader was truly concerned for me, he would’ve left more martial artists behind.’

He must have realized the assassin’s skill was extraordinary during their clash. Likely figured even if he left many subordinates behind, they’d all die—so he left only this young one.

Thinking that way, Pyo Gigwang began to feel as sorry for the young man as he did for himself, who was soon to die.

"Get some rest."

With that short farewell, Geom Yeon stepped outside.

Pyo Gigwang tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep.

Earlier, he’d been too preoccupied to feel it, but now a flood of emotions surged through him. Even though he thought he was prepared for death, truly sensing it approach so closely made fear rise up in his heart.

—We need you for the Alliance.

The expression on his face when he entrusted him with the mission came to mind.

At first, he had refused.

—I’m already too far gone. Please find someone else.

—That’s exactly why I chose you. No one will ever notice this operation.

Honestly, back then he had been offended. The fact that he’d only been chosen because he was broken. But in the end, he accepted. He had claimed it was out of loyalty—but in truth, it was for himself. He wanted to prove something to those who had looked down on him. That he was doing something far more valuable than they ever would. He couldn’t speak about it, since it was a secret mission, but in his heart, he wanted to shout.

‘Look down on me all you want! I’m doing something a hundred times more important than you!’

Maybe that person had already predicted these very feelings of his.

After that, he lived as instructed, with all his might.

But now that the secret had been exposed, they were trying to kill him—just like that.

If that person had come in person and said, “I’m sorry. There’s no other way”, before killing him, he wouldn’t have felt so bitter.

He would have smiled and gladly accepted death. But to simply send an assassin without giving him even a chance to say a word? It wasn’t the act of being killed that enraged him—it was being treated so insignificantly in the process.

‘It wasn’t for you. It was for the Alliance. Out of loyalty.’

In the end, he was so resentful that he had to comfort himself with such thoughts.

*         *         *

Pyo Gigwang dreamt of being chased by assassins.

In the dream, he was neither composed nor brave. He ran through mountains to survive, dug into the ground to hide, and even buried himself in reeking filth.

Then he awoke at dawn.

At some point, someone had draped a thick cotton blanket over him. It must have been the young man guarding him.

Pyo Gigwang rose from bed and walked to the window.

Geom Yeon stood alone in the yard, gazing up at the night sky. Seeing him keep watch without even sleeping, Pyo Gigwang felt a pang of guilt.

Sensing his presence, Geom Yeon turned toward him.

"You’re awake?"

"Aren’t you cold?"

"I’m fine."

He said he was fine, but the early morning winter wind was bitterly cold.

"What were you thinking about?"

"About people."

"Who?"

"People who might think of me at least once."

From someone who would faint from shock if they knew, to someone probably enjoying their one vacation in a lifetime at this very moment.

Pyo Gigwang leaned against the window and asked,

"What about your family?"

"My father and older brother."

"Your mother?"

"She passed away when I was very young."

"Your father must’ve had a hard time raising you two. How is he now? Is he happy you joined the Unorthodox Alliance?"

If he heard that I had left home without warnings and joined the Unorthodox Alliance, he’d be wearing that signature sneer of his, no doubt.

"He won’t be happy about it."

"Why?"

"He hates the Unorthodox Alliance."

Since Pyo Gigwang felt the same, he gave a faint smile. His parents had been very displeased about him joining the Unorthodox Alliance. They had earnestly wanted him to join the Martial Alliance instead. They just didn’t know how rotten their son truly was.

"The dawn wind’s cold. Come inside. If you can protect me from out there, you can do it just as well in here. Come in."

Unable to refuse, Geom Mugeuk stepped inside.

"I’ll warm up for just a bit and head back out."

"Nothing warms you up like this."

He brought out some liquor. There was no food in the house, but there was alcohol.

"Do you like to drink?"

"I do."

He could have said something like he doesn’t drink while on duty—but maybe that’s just how young martial artists are these days. It was easy to sense that he was someone honest about his feelings.

Pyo Gigwang poured Geom Yeon a drink and filled his own glass as well.

He might die before the morning sun rose. At any moment, a hidden weapon could come flying through the window, and it wouldn’t be strange at all. If not today, then tomorrow—or within a few days, he’d be dead. And at this rate, he’d die alongside this young man.

Pyo Gigwang emptied his glass first, and Geom Yeon followed, draining his as well.

"I hate to nag, so I wasn’t going to say anything, but—you shouldn’t just drink anything someone hands you. What if it had poison in it?"

"I’ll be more careful from now on."

It felt nice to hear him agree so readily. That natural reaction was something he had missed. In the past ten years, no one had treated him properly. Of course, he had brought that upon himself in the first place.

"After I was injured, everything changed. My life, everyone around me, all of it. The ones who didn’t even dare meet my gaze before started glaring at me. Trash, all of them."

"Not all of them were trash. It’s just that the trash covered your eyes and nose, and you couldn’t see what you needed to see." 5

Pyo Gigwang looked at Geom Yeon as if to say, What do you even know?

"I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn. It’s just that I tend to remember the people who insulted and cursed at me more than the ones who praised me."

Pyo Gigwang couldn’t completely deny those words. There had definitely been people who genuinely cared for him back then. But while he was busy resenting and hating the ones who looked down on him, they had all disappeared.

"Tell me honestly. What did the Young Leader order you to do? He told you to get a name out of me, didn’t he?"

"Yes."

Geom Mugeuk answered plainly. Pyo Gigwang had expected him to lie and deny it—so the answer was unexpected. This young man kept veering outside his expectations.

"You’ll never get it from me. So give it up."

"It must be out of loyalty to the Alliance that you’re keeping this secret. It’s the same for me. We each show our loyalty in our own way."

The word ‘loyalty’ felt strangely unfamiliar today. Likely because of the thought that kept surfacing.

‘You and I—we’ve both been discarded.’

It felt as if people had thrown them away, and only loyalty remained, lingering like a ghost. Pyo Gigwang emptied his glass again, as if to make a snack out of that ghost.

"If I were you, I would’ve run away."

Pyo Gigwang had wanted to die alone. He wanted to step onto the ferry to the afterlife quietly and by himself. He didn’t want to say sorry to the young man who had boarded that boat ahead of him.

"I would’ve found some excuse and fled."

Then Geom Yeon suddenly asked him,

"I heard you were once the leader of the Black Dragon Division."

"I was."

"What were you like back then?"

"What do you mean, what was I like?"

"I heard the Black Dragon Division once clashed with the Martial Alliance at the Vast Wild Plains, despite being outnumbered, and achieved a major victory."

"How do you know about that?"

"Isn’t it a well-known story?"

Pyo Gigwang’s eyes trembled slightly.

"Yes, I was there. I was just a rookie, about your age."

"I’m curious. About that battle."

Earlier at the banquet, the very tale he’d been boasting about had been the battle at the Vast Wild Plains. And it was over that same story he’d been humiliated by a former subordinate.

Now, with this young man asking about that very moment with sparkling eyes—it left him with a very strange feeling.

"You’ve never fought in a real battle, so you wouldn’t know, but when you actually face an enemy, your heart pounds like it’s about to burst."

"Were you afraid that day too?"

"I was. If it hadn’t been for my comrades and seniors, I might’ve turned and run. Especially that day… the Martial Alliance bastards swarmed in from the far end of the plain like a colony of ants…."

He began to recount the battle from that day. Even as he spoke, he couldn’t stop thinking about the subordinate who had cornered him at the banquet earlier. Was this kid in front of him secretly bored too? Was he thinking, Another boastful old man, yapping away?

But it was just needless worry. Geom Yeon listened to his story better than anyone. He didn’t just hear it—he paid attention, asked questions, and nodded along at the right times.

Listening to this dramatized tale of heroism, Geom Mugeuk could tell—this moment had been the most radiant and unforgettable of his life.

The long story came to an end. From beginning to end, Geom Yeon had been there with him in that battle.

"Thank you. For listening."

"No, I’m the one who should thank you for telling me. You were incredible."

At that moment, Pyo Gigwang felt something indescribable well up inside him.

It was a story he had told countless times since he was injured and stepped down as division leader. But never once had it stirred emotions like this.

And then he realized—no one had ever listened to his story this seriously, this eagerly. Everyone else had always been bored, merely enduring it out of politeness.

And today, he understood that what he had longed for, all this time, was to see someone truly listen to his story with sincerity.

Because ever since he was injured, that had been all he could do. 6

*         *         *

When Pyo Gigwang opened his eyes, he was still lying on the bed.

‘When did I fall asleep?’

Seeing that he was once again covered with a blanket, it seemed that the greenhorn outside had looked after him.

Sunlight was shining brightly through the window. So he’d survived the night.

He got up from the bed and looked out the window. Geom Yeon was standing in the yard. He must have been there all night.

"Aren’t you hungry?"

"I am."

At that honest answer, Pyo Gigwang stepped outside, his face still groggy.

"Let’s get something to eat."

The two of them left the house and began walking toward the marketplace.

Pyo Gigwang suddenly spoke.

"We’re like fish caught in a net. We don’t know when the fisherman will haul us up. You should get out while you still can. There’s still time for you." 7

That net wouldn’t be just any net. Unless you compared it to the Demonic Strategist's Celestial Silk Snare laid out in triple layers, nothing else would do.

"You know, don’t you? That if I want to ask the fisherman not to haul up the net… I need to know their name."

Pyo Gigwang silently shook his head.

As if he had expected that, Geom Yeon showed no sign of disappointment. Instead, he said with a bright face,

"Then please tell me another story. I want to hear more of your stories, senior." 8

1 : I mean, considering how the demons were barely a few years ago, he’s not wrong. And having such deep trust develop so fast is deeply concerning too, at least from his viewpoint.

2 : See, that’s why I like Il-rang. It’s not just the loyalty of his job, he cares about Bih Sa-in like a relative, though I have no doubts he wouldn't dare to define their relationship as such.

3 : The irony is beautiful XDXDXD

4 : Hehehe, been a while since we heard that alias ^^

5 : A bad encounter or self worth issues tainting your worldview is a common mistake.

6 : And the masterminds preyed on your loneliness, just like So Baekta.

7 : He seems to be a good person, if misguided. Villains don’t worry about others' lives like that.

8 : Whale dance strategy, phase 1 ^^