Chapter 28
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“Well, he has slender eyes, a slim body, and a face a bit like a scholar… No, what am I saying?”
Realizing it was too late to take back her disrespectful words, Maeran placed a hand on her forehead and sighed deeply.
“Anyway, that’s… what he looks like. According to the maids who work in the Clan Lord’s Hall, he’s a man of so few words that it’s impossible to know what he likes or what he’s thinking.”
“I see.”
Hong-seol replied, her voice downcast.
There was no way someone like her, with an unclear background and wearing stolen clothes, could easily win the Clan Lord’s favor.
That was why she had wanted to gather even a little information beforehand.
A man of few words. No one knows his inner thoughts.
The information from Maeran only made Hong-seol feel more discouraged.
“Oh, there is one peculiar thing. I don’t know anything about Martial Arts, of course, but I heard that the current Clan Lord has the lowest level of martial attainment among all the Clan Lords in history.”
“Huh?”
Hong-seol’s ears perked up.
“What was it again? They said he’s only at the first-rate realm. Of course, to people like us, that’s still incredibly impressive. But for someone like that to become the Clan Lord of the Namgung Clan is apparently a first in the family’s history.”
“Really?”
Even to the young Hong-seol, that sounded strange.
In a Martial Family, martial prowess was the single standard by which everything was judged.
From time immemorial, the Clan Lord of the Namgung Clan was expected to be a master of profound Martial Arts.
Wasn’t that true of Grandfather Namgung Ho?
On the outside, he was a good-natured, chuckling old man, but in reality, he was a master of the Transformation Realm, having reached a depth that the young Hong-seol couldn’t even begin to fathom.
But the current Clan Lord was merely at the first-rate realm?
Counting on her short fingers, Hong-seol reviewed the levels of martial attainment she had heard about from Namgung Uigyeol and tilted her head.
Maeran lowered her voice and whispered.
“Actually, that’s why the Clan Lord’s younger brother—the Grand Patriarch’s second son, Lord Namgung Yeol—flew into a rage and left to establish his own branch family. In terms of Martial Arts, Lord Namgung Yeol was far superior to the current Clan Lord.”
“Are you talking about the man who visited today?”
“Yes, that’s him.”
Maeran shrugged and continued.
“Well, for someone who left in a rage to start his own branch, he didn’t go very far. He settled in Soho, just south of Hefei. So he often visits the main house with his family.”
“Family?”
“Yes. He has a son named Namgung Do with his wife, Lady Paeng. He probably came with them this time… I hear Lord Namgung Yeol boasts endlessly about his son’s outstanding achievements in Martial Arts.”
“I see.”
Hong-seol had no room to be concerned about the young lord of a branch family. She had far more important things to worry about right now.
‘How can I avoid getting on the Clan Lord’s bad side?’
As she stood with her lips pressed firmly together, lost in thought, she unfortunately already sensed the presence of a guard outside.
“Um, Miss Hong-seol, the Clan Lord has requested your presence in the reception room.”
The inevitable had come.
She stood up with a sense of grim determination, but her nervous legs trembled uncontrollably.
“H-hey, Maeran. I have a favor to ask.”
Hong-seol tugged at the hem of Maeran’s clothes.
As Maeran leaned down, Hong-seol stood on her tiptoes and whispered in her ear.
Whisper, whisper.
After hearing Hong-seol’s request, Maeran asked back in surprise.
“What? Are you really going to do that?”
With a pale face, Hong-seol nodded.
---
Three men sat facing each other in the spacious tea room of Changcheon Pavilion.
One was the Grand Patriarch, Namgung Ho.
Another was a man with a smooth chin like a boy’s, whose half-closed, slender eyes exuded a captivating air.
His straight, high-bridged nose was refreshing, and the corners of his mouth, which hinted at a smile, had a way of making women’s hearts flutter.
His overall appearance was more that of a scholar who sits at a desk writing than a martial artist.
“Father.”
The Clan Lord of the Namgung Clan, Namgung On.
He had just returned from crushing a band of river pirates on the Yangtze River.
Well, the practical work had been done by the Namgung Clan’s strike force, the North Heaven Unit; he had only given the orders.
“Yes, you’ve worked hard. Did you wrap things up well?”
“Yes. We burned their stronghold and beheaded every last pirate.”
The overflowing of river pirates in various parts of the Yangtze was nothing new.
However, until now, the pirates had shown some discretion.
Even as they stopped all other ships to collect tolls, they had always let ships flying the Namgung flag pass.
They feared the military might of the Namgung Clan.
But starting a few months ago, attacks on ships flying the Namgung flag had become frequent.
No, a rumor even circulated that they were specifically targeting only the Namgung flag.
At first, they sent lower-ranked warriors to handle the situation, but the enemy’s momentum was unusual.
The disorganized rabble of pirates moved with perfect discipline and strategy.
Furthermore, according to the Beggars' Sect, the martial world’s source of information, there was intelligence that at least one or two peak masters were mixed in with the pirates.
That was why the Clan Lord, Namgung On, had gone himself.
“Peak masters suddenly appearing among the weak pirates of Biro Fortress? There must be someone backing them. Was it the work of those bastards from the Myo Clan?”
“It is not certain.”
“Why couldn’t you uncover who was behind it?!”
“They all had poison capsules in their mouths. Before we could do anything, they all just collapsed and died.”
“Ahem!”
Suddenly, an impertinent voice cut in.
“You should have called for me, Brother! I wouldn’t have even given them time to bite down on a poison capsule before smashing those pirates’ jaws. Hahaha!”
The one who interrupted and laughed boisterously was Namgung Yeol.
He was Namgung Ho’s second son and Namgung On’s only younger brother.
At his loud laughter, Namgung On’s expression hardened.
His brother, who coveted the position of Clan Lord, was undoubtedly blaming him indirectly for his weak martial prowess.
“If I had been at the main house, a ship bearing the Namgung flag would never have suffered such humiliation.”
Moreover, he was subtly shifting the blame for the pirate trouble onto the Clan Lord.
Namgung On’s hand unknowingly clenched the hilt of the sword at his waist.
Seeing this, Namgung Yeol spoke with a sneer.
“Even if not now, you will have your chance soon enough.”
He was referring to the friendly duel held between the brothers every year.
Three years ago, after the bloody incident, Namgung On had refused all duel requests from outsiders.
He had lost his mother to an assassin, and his eldest son had been poisoned. No one could fault him for it.
Except for his younger brother, Namgung Yeol.
“I wish to receive a lesson from you, Brother. Are we not family, sharing the same pain?”
He was telling him not to hide and to face the duel with dignity.
Namgung On had no choice but to accept his brother’s request, and for two consecutive years, the fraternal duel was held.
And Namgung On had not won a single time.
That was why Namgung Yeol was so triumphant.
“Or, we could settle it right here. I’ll win anyway.”
“Enough!”
At Namgung Ho’s angry voice, Namgung Yeol clamped his mouth shut.
“Yeol, you may leave.”
Namgung Yeol bowed his head and, as he stepped out the door, left one last remark.
“I will see you at the duel in a week, Brother.”
After he disappeared, Namgung Ho spoke in a low voice.
“Your brother is still so immature. Pay him no mind.”
“…”
After a long silence, Namgung On, his face stiff, changed the subject.
“While I was away, I found traces of someone entering my chambers.”
He wasn’t complaining about a maid entering to clean. Resentment colored Namgung On’s eyes.
“The chest where I kept my child’s silk clothes was empty.”
Those clothes were surely being worn by the child named Hong-seol whom his father had brought.
Those silk clothes had been made in advance when his wife, Bing Yuhwa, was pregnant with their fourth child.
A precious daughter, conceived after having three sons.
The midwives had said that, based on the conception dream and the shape of her belly, it was sure to be a daughter.
Excited by their words, Namgung On had clothes and shoes made for the child up to the age of ten and gifted them to his wife.
Others said it was excessive, but to his ears, having waited so long for a daughter, nothing registered.
Then one day.
The child departed as suddenly as she had arrived.
There was not even enough time to grieve properly. For she was not the only one who had departed that day.
His mother, killed by the assassin’s hand; his fainted wife; his eldest son, Baek, struck by poison.
Too many unbearable things had happened at once, and mourning for the child in the womb, whose face he had never seen, had to be pushed aside.
The sorrow of losing the child washed over him long after the bloody incident had passed.
Every moment felt empty, as if a hole had been punched through his chest.
And in that empty space, only the new silk clothes, made in advance, remained.
The clothes of a child he couldn't even name, whom he can only call “my child.”
Suppressing a surge of emotion, Namgung On asked.
“Father, did you perhaps give those clothes to the child named Hong-seol?”
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