Camellia 80

This was Seolyeong’s thought.

Since he was a blood fiend, as long as his neck wasn’t severed by a spiritual stone blade, he wouldn’t die no matter how torn his body became. So the plan was simple: remove the Murong clan head from the duel, then stall for time and find a way to end the situation himself.

Tang Yujae tilted his head slightly, displeased by Seolyeong’s calm face. A bride who offered himself up for the righteous sects looked like nothing but a fool in Yujae’s eyes.

“Yeoso.”

Breaking his silence, Tang Yujae called Nabisalsoo’s name with authority. His voice, infused with energy, echoed across the platform, shaking the ground. Seolyeong, kneeling with both legs folded under him, lost his balance as the floor rumbled beneath him.

Yeoso, with a pipa strapped to his back, leapt from the stands.

“Ten thousand years! Glory for ten thousand years! Yeoso humbly greets our lord who has transcended the heavens!”

He knelt at a distance from Seolyeong, repeating the chant with perfectly measured breath. The pipa responded to Cheonsin’s power and began to play its own tune.

The fierce melody filled the arena.

“I heard your sword contains a piece of spiritual stone, Yeoso. Is that true?”

Seolyeong suddenly raised his head at the shocking question. Yeoso placed a hand on the hilt at his waist and answered.

“It’s a pitiful blade, unfit to slice through even grass, but… it does have a shard of spiritual stone fused to the tip, my lord.”

Yeoso primarily used a pipa and an axe, but he carried a longsword passed down by his late mother, once a loyal retainer of the old sect. Most likely, it had been prepared just in case, she was tasked with watching the blood fiends, after all.

“Lend me that sword.”

As he spoke, Cheonsin raised an arm clad in wide sleeves. With a sweep of heogong seobmul, the sword slid from its sheath and flew into his hand.

“All for the glory of our sect leader!”

Yeoso bowed so deeply that his forehead struck the stone floor with a thunk, then returned to his place.

Tang Yujae leisurely stroked the blade’s surface and stared at Seolyeong, as if asking if he still intended to go through with it.

‘…Spiritual stone? That sword has spiritual stone?’

Seolyeong briefly considered just letting the clan head fight after all, but then he remembered, if the man died, both Murong Wi and Seolhyeon would suffer. A clan head’s death would mean a new clan head. If Wi took the position, Seolhyeon would be dragged down with him.

Seolyeong looked up at the floating the Murong clan head, his eyes filled with complicated emotions.

If he could transmit his thoughts, he would’ve said “When you return to Yonyeong, please be good to Seolhyeon. I hope you don’t waste the life I’ve saved for you.”

He pressed down firmly on the still-shaking ground and stood. With precise movement, he formed a proper martial salute.

Then, he simply raised his eyes and stared up at his husband. Tang Yujae grew more and more irritable. His bride really intended to risk his life in a duel.

Cheonsin, still stroking the blade, suddenly looked around and asked,

“Hear me, Cheonma Singyo Sect! Who among you will take this blade and face the Gyo-mo in combat?”

At the word Gyo-mo, Yang Seogyeong, seated near the Eight Pavilion Lord, turned visibly pale.

Though they shared no blood, Seogyeong had served as Cheonsin’s representative and adopted son. He immediately understood: Cheonsin was protecting the bride.

No sane member would dare challenge the “Gyo-mo.” Had the title been something like Murong’s young master or that arrogant righteous brat, they would’ve jumped in eagerly. But now that their god had formally declared Seolyeong the Gyo-mo, no one would raise a blade against him.

Challenging the Gyo-mo would not be disloyalty to Seolyeong, it would be disloyalty to the cult leader himself.

And so, Yang Seogyeong found himself overcome with a violent urge to attack the mad bride.

His clenched fists trembled, the thick muscles along his jaw twitching under tightly clenched teeth. It was now painfully clear that Cheonsin not only cared for the bride but wanted to secure his position in the sect as well.

He felt a bitter sense of defeat.

Some righteous nobody who’d only just arrived at Yeonhu had stolen their lord’s heart. What kind of flirtatious face must he have shown to pull that off?

At that moment, a thunderous voice silenced the arena.

“Peng Rang of the Peng Clan formally requests a duel with the Cheonma Divine Sect’s Gyo-mo! I wish to learn from you!”

At the sudden challenge, Hanhoe delegation leader Bing Biyu looked visibly troubled. A powerful transmission struck Peng Rang’s ears, and red blood trickled from them.

Still, she stood tall.

From the moment she left the Ice Palace, Peng Rang had lived with a single desire in her heart, to meet Cheonsin again and etch herself into his memory. The strongest, most magnificent, most mysterious being under the heavens.

She had originally planned to ask for formal admission into the sect based on her martial achievements in the North Sea. But when she met him at the banquet, he seemed so cold, so distant, she changed her plan. “Fine. If that’s how it is, I’ll make him remember me like this. I refuse to be just another forgettable face.”

Bing Biyu bombarded her with sharp transmissions.

“Are you mad, Peng Rang? This is the domain of Sahyeol Amje, the Sipman Daesan. I allowed you to join the envoy out of affection, and this is how you repay me?”

Freezing cold energy, unique to the Ice Palace, spread and wrapped around Peng Rang’s limbs. It pulled her down, as though the ground itself were trying to swallow her.

Peng Seonyu quietly grasped the sheath of her sword, ready to sever Rang’s meridians if necessary. A warrior who couldn’t control her emotions didn’t deserve a healthy body, even if she was family.

But Cheonsin spoke first.

“I grant permission.”

With a casual flick, he tossed Yeoso’s sword.

Crack!A deafening blast rang out as the blade embedded itself in the stone floor. Smoke billowed around it, and violent energy surged from the weapon.

Now that the sect leader had permitted the duel, neither Bing Biyu nor Peng Seonyu could stop her.

The moment the pressure lifted, Peng Rang darted onto the stage and stomped down hard. She strode forward, grabbed the embedded sword, and inspected its condition.

‘Sister… I thought we were friends?’

Seolyeong could hardly believe it. They’d gotten close at the banquet, even shared a few relationship talks, he hadn’t expected someone from the righteous sects to challenge him here. It was beyond imagining.

“Gyo-mo!”

A shout snapped him out of it.

A playful-looking man tossed him a longsword.

“I’ve bet on your victory, Gyo-mo! Don’t bring shame to our sect!”

Geukmunggak Lord Sa Yeoho.

With a wide grin, he was the only pavilion lord openly supporting Seolyeong. Quick-witted, Yeoho had decided to align himself with the beautiful bride. After all, it seemed their lord wished to become a loving husband. And where heaven’s favor turned, its power would surely follow. He’d get to pick up plenty of scraps.

Seolyeong caught Yeoho’s sword, but flinched as Sahyeol Amje’s voice echoed directly into his mind.

“That Peng girl is a headache for both the Hanhoe delegation leader and me. If she loses to you, she’ll stop making reckless decisions in the name of love. Just relax. I’ll move the Qi and swing the sword for you.”

So that was it. He wanted to use Seolyeong to get rid of an old flame.

Twin flames flared up in Seolyeong’s gleaming red eyes. He adjusted his grip on the sword and glared at the sect leader.

“…I don’t want to steal a clean match from a challenger with cheap tricks like that. We’ve come this far, so let’s fight properly, warrior to warrior.”

His tone was dry, aloof.

Tang Yujae’s sharp senses caught every note of the refusal. With his danjeon shattered, how long did he really think he could last swinging a sword?

Yujae gave him a warning.

“Peng Rang is hot-headed and lacks judgment. She might actually sever your neck with that sword.”

Seolyeong let out a short scoff.

“Wasn’t this blade a gift from you, my husband? You handed it over knowing well it might separate my head from my body.”

And with that, he walked toward Peng Rang.

“Do you think defying your husband will make you win?”

Hmph. Seolyeong didn’t care what Sahyeol Amje muttered anymore. He wasn’t here for some twisted mix of poison and medicine. And it was far too late for that bastard to pretend to be concerned.