The Reformed Genius of the Sichuan Tang Clan - Chapter 26

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 26
“How is it? Your Internal Energy seems to have built up quite a bit, hasn’t it?”
“Yes… it really does seem that way.”
Dang Youxuan laughed brightly and clapped Seon Woo-yoon on the back repeatedly.
Meanwhile, Seon Woo-yoon breathed heavily as if drained of all strength.
To look at them, you’d have trouble telling who had actually built up their Internal Energy.
‘Usually when you build up Internal Energy, shouldn’t you feel refreshed!?’
Refreshed, he was.
But doing that same thing five times in a row had felt like death.
And on top of that, because Dang Youxuan insisted he learn the Fire Technique and had him memorize every word of the Martial Arts Manual as if pounding it into his skull, his head felt like it might split open.
‘Does he think everyone in the world can memorize something after seeing it once like he can?’
But the real problem was something else entirely.
From the Energy Circulation and Breathing, waste had been expelled from Seon Woo-yoon’s body, and a foul stench had arisen from him.
Anyone living in Jungwon would know instantly what had happened to him.
If he returned to Gwawol Tower in this state, he’d be tortured relentlessly and die without managing to confess anything.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing… I was just wondering how we’re supposed to go back like this.”
“Ah, don’t worry. There’s always a way.”
Dang Youxuan held up an Alcohol Bottle and shook it.
“You’re not afraid of water or anything, are you?”
“No, that’s nothing to worry about.”
“Then we’ll say we got into a quarrel and both got heated. Understood?”
“Yes, I understand.”
Seon Woo-yoon closed his eyes and bowed his head.
Dang Youxuan tilted the Alcohol Bottle and poured its contents over him.
Splash!
The strong liquor washed away the foul smell in an instant.
“Well, now you look like a proper drunk.”
“After all, it’s the drunkards who usually start the fights.”
Dang Youxuan hurled his Alcohol Bottle hard against the stone wall.
Crash!
Seon Woo-yoon responded in kind, throwing his own Alcohol Bottle ahead of him.
Crash!
As the sharp sound rang out twice, they heard Jeom So-i’s footsteps rushing closer to investigate.
Dang Youxuan waited for them to draw near, then bellowed loudly.
“How dare you slander my ancestors!?”
“…!”
Startled by the sudden escalation, Seon Woo-yoon floundered in alarm but quickly caught on to the act.
“Ancestors? Don’t speak of ancestors! You’re the fool for revering a man whose name is all that remains!”
“Yes! Let’s settle this properly today!”
As Dang Youxuan stamped his feet and raised his voice, Jeom So-i burst through the door.
“Oh dear, guests! Please, let’s move this to another place! I have just the spot for this kind of conversation!”
“That’s right. Today I’ll teach you some respect!”
“Who should be teaching whom? I’ll show you the bitter truth instead of letting you dwell in past glory!”
“Come now, settle down! This way, please!”
Jeom So-i ushered them toward the Underground Chamber.
The ceiling was high, and walls of iron surrounded them on all sides, with torches hung here and there to pierce the darkness.
‘Perfect place to kill someone without anyone knowing.’
Being underground meant no sound would escape, and with iron walls, there was no risk of collapse.
Pole Weapons of various types were arranged along one side, leaving no excuse to withdraw.
“I’ll step back now, so please finish your conversation and knock on the door twice when you’re done.”
“Very well.”
Creak…
The thick iron door closed, and Dang Youxuan turned around.
The moment Jeom So-i disappeared, Seon Woo-yoon dropped the act, his eyes widening as he asked.
“Wait—what kind of inn has a place like this?”
“How else would you keep the business running? You have to prepare a separate space for this sort of thing.”
‘What do you mean “have to”? That’s only natural to you.’
He’d never even heard of an inn that prepared a dedicated space for Life-Death Duels.
But quick-witted as he was, Seon Woo-yoon refrained from voicing this and instead gave a thumbs up.
“The Unyong Trading Company is certainly different, isn’t it?”
“Ha. We just do what everyone else does.”
So this underground space was created to quietly dispose of the sort of people who need killing—the kind every organization accumulates.
A chill ran down his spine unbidden.
Dang Youxuan answered matter-of-factly and spread his Energy Circulation and Breathing to contain the sound within the chamber.
“Do you have a favorite?”
When Dang Youxuan nodded, Seon Woo-yoon surveyed the Pole Weapons arranged along one wall.
Most were swords, spears, and clubs—nothing particularly suited to someone trained in Fist Technique.
Seon Woo-yoon raised his fist.
“I’m most comfortable with this.”
“Then use it.”
Dang Youxuan answered calmly and drew a sword.
“Wait! Senior, I use my fists.”
“You already know everything anyway—why still use that form of address?”
“Youxuan. I use my fists.”
“And?”
“If you move like that—whoosh—I’m dead. Arms gone, legs gone, nothing left of me.”
Seon Woo-yoon made a slashing motion across his throat with one hand.
Dang Youxuan looked at the sword in his grip, then smiled faintly.
“I’ll control myself well.”
“Youxuan. I don’t dream of a long life, but I don’t want to die young either.”
“When you fight Wol-ran Yo-hui, will you ask me to put my sword away too?”
Seon Woo-yoon started to speak, then flinched.
“That one relies more on Fist Technique than swordplay….”
“And the others? The ones who helped while you were beaten to death, while Wol-ran Yo-hui held your sister as a hostage? The ones who stood by and did nothing? Will you ask me to sheathe my blade before you face them too?”
Silence.
“Will they politely lay down their weapons for you? Or will they see your hesitation and come at you even harder, knowing your weakness?”
Seon Woo-yoon had no answer.
Dang Youxuan did not comfort him with pretty words.
The world was not kind.
In a world where you might catch a blade in the back the moment you turn around, kindness was mercy—and mercy was a luxury.
And luxuries were granted to very few.
A world where you’re robbed blind the moment you blink?
No. Reality is a world where swords come first and questions come later.
Do you know the hell of never being able to close your eyes, of always keeping your nerves sharp as broken glass?
Do you know the sick, prickling unease of peace, like a thorn stabbing through flesh?
Do you know the life of having nowhere to escape, of choosing wakefulness over rest, movement over stillness?
Unfortunately, Dang Youxuan knew it all—felt it bone-deep.
So he did not indulge in whimpering.
Seon Woo-yoon seemed to understand his meaning and bowed his head.
“You’re right. They won’t spare me for being young or seeming weak.”
But his eyes did not dim.
“So I’ll work hard not to shame the face of the one teaching me Fire Technique.”
“No. Don’t do it for me—do it for yourself.”
Dang Youxuan cut through the words cleanly.
To others, he should never become the reason for their growth.
Your reason for living must be yourself alone.
That universal principle had to apply to Seon Woo-yoon as well.
“You have to become strong.”
Dang Youxuan’s voice was soft.
Understanding what lay beneath those few words, Seon Woo-yoon broke into a bright smile.
“Yes!”
At the eager response, Dang Youxuan chuckled and threw the scabbard far away.
“Isn’t the Dang Clan renowned as masters of Fire Blade Technique? Why did you choose a sword?”
“Fire looks beautiful burning on a blade.”
“And Fire Blade Technique?”
“That’s beautiful too. But today I wanted to see rough flame instead of elaborate fire.”
It would serve you better as well.
Dang Youxuan swallowed the rest of the sentence.
“Well. Since it’s just us, we’ll skip the formalities.”
Dang Youxuan twisted his wrist, spinning the blade in a smooth arc, and smiled as though he’d drawn it himself.
“Come at me however you like.”
Seon Woo-yoon chuckled softly and summoned flames just as he’d seen depicted in the Martial Arts Manual.
Soon a small fire bloomed from his fingertips and spread across his whole hand, though it gave off no heat.
“You don’t need to hold back for me, do you?”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Whoosh!
Seon Woo-yoon leaped forward in a single bound, closing the distance between them.
His small frame lent him speed that surpassed most others.
Crackle and roar!
Fire flared from his right side.
Clang!
His driving fist met the flat of the blade.
Whether Dang Youxuan’s promise not to injure him was genuine or not, he held the sword at an angle, careful not to let the edge touch Seon Woo-yoon’s hand even by accident.
“Not like that. Use your full strength.”
You learned it just now, didn’t you?
Dang Youxuan mouthed the words silently, adding the thought without speaking it aloud.
Wheeeee-zing!
As Dang Youxuan swung his blade, Seon Woo-yoon immediately retreated backward.
Scattered sparks still clung to the sword’s edge, not yet extinguished.
The crackling flames that faded like stars scattered across the dim night sky seemed to stitch patterns into the darkness.
For a moment, Seon Woo-yoon thought it beautiful.
“You were right about that.”
Seon Woo-yoon charged forward again with blinding speed.
Dang Youxuan, sword repositioned, calmly observed his opponent’s movements.
His body leaned forward as though about to sprint, but his front foot bore the weight—the stance of one preparing to leap.
‘He’s going to jump.’
Whoosh!
Just as Dang Youxuan had anticipated, Seon Woo-yoon launched himself into the air.
Dang Youxuan timed his horizontal cut to the moment his opponent left the ground.
Freedom of movement in midair comes at a cost—absolute vulnerability.
With no foothold, no armor, no shelter, one is cast defenseless into peril, naked and alone.
Seon Woo-yoon knew this as well.
In midair, one cannot move freely.
He would be struck—there was no way around it.
Since Dang Youxuan had not sharpened the blade’s edge, his body wouldn’t split in two, but a grave wound would be unavoidable.
Yet Seon Woo-yoon did not hesitate. He bared his teeth and laughed.
“With fire riding the blade, it’s even more beautiful. Truly.”
He twisted his body and landed atop the sword.
Using the blade as a conduit, flames erupted and ran along the steel.
‘When did he think of that?’
‘Giving it to him was the right call after all.’
Anything not discovered through his own awakening would be hollow.
Even if he had found a master who’d spent decades perfecting Fist Technique, it would only have trapped Seon Woo-yoon in another person’s mold.
What he needed was a collaborator, not a master.
‘Not just his looks—this aspect too.’
From the moment Dang Youxuan first saw Seon Woo-yoon, he had recalled an old comrade.
Seon Woo-muk of Hao Gate.
He too had become the Top Master of his Heterodox School through his fire-wreathed Fist Technique.
‘It was said that a single gesture of his hand stole countless lives—so he was called the Taam Soul Hand.
Though Righteousness and Tyranny were in a relationship of Non-Fusion, the goal of striking down the Demon united them quite well.
Yet he died that bitter winter, buried beneath the snow.
‘Enough. What use is there in dwelling on one already gone?’
Seon Woo-muk had nothing to do with this. What Seon Woo-yoon accomplished now was possible only because he is who he is.
Others would waste years boxed within the frameworks Dang Youxuan set, doing nothing but reading Martial Arts Manuals.
That was precisely why Seon Woo-yoon’s genius burned so bright.
‘Now I understand why Wol-ran Yo-hui wouldn’t let him go.’
With a prodigy like this within one’s reach, anyone would want to put him to use.
Dang Youxuan’s lips curved upward as he poured strength into his arms.
He intended to send Seon Woo-yoon flying and put distance between them.
Seon Woo-yoon seized the recoil instead, spinning like an acrobat mid-air.
The flame never broke its thread.
Wherever Seon Woo-yoon moved, the fire traced his path.
Crack! Crack-crack! Crack!
Dang Youxuan parried each blow with ease.
For all the irregular feints in the attack, there lingered a hesitation—a timidity underneath.
‘He won’t die from this.’
Still, it pleased him that the boy didn’t waver.
What had begun as a spark now filled the vast chamber, a torrent of flame sweeping through the dark.
‘Time to end it.’
Dang Youxuan caught the inferno bearing down from all sides on his blade’s flat and twisted it aside in one fluid motion.
He could not master the Fire Technique.
It was not a matter of capability or incapability—it was aptitude.
But to manipulate flame itself was well within his power.
“Watch closely. This is the opponent you’ll face.”
Dang Youxuan swung the fire-laden blade in a broad arc.
Whoosh!
The movement had gaps, was clumsy even, but Seon Woo-yoon dared not rush through that wall of flame.
“Will you surrender so easily?”
“Surrender? Never!”
Seon Woo-yoon wreathed his fist in a larger flame and charged forward.
Boom!
A small fist forced its way through the gap.
Dang Youxuan arched his back urgently.
The heat grazed the point of his chin.
From the boy’s hand stretched a long line of fire, like silk held by a dancer.
‘Worth teaching him, after all.’
In that fraction of a moment, he saw it clearly.
What came at him was not a fist—it was an open palm strike.
Seon Woo-yoon had spread his fingers wide, moving the strike like drawing a blade through cloth.
It was no longer an attack—it was something beyond that.
Wrapped in the mask of falsehood and the cloth of passion,
the Dance of Flames.
Dang Youxuan smiled quietly to himself.
‘A dancer and a musician are meant to walk together, they say. But I can never be the musician.’
All I can do is light the stage so he shines.
Dang Youxuan knocked the strikes aside and wielded his blade like a brush, painting through the air.
Fire was the ink; the sword was the brush.
Strokes drawn in every direction left trails of flame that would not fade, embroidered across the void.
They spiraled around him like a dragon rising, protective and sweeping, then shot skyward in a column of fire.
A whirlwind of flame burst like fireworks against the ceiling, and debris rained down.
“Ah.”
An gasp escaped—from whom, neither could say.
Dang Youxuan closed the distance gradually, then in a single breath drove the blade forward.
Whoosh!
The fire rushed forward with the wind, bearing down on Seon Woo-yoon’s face.
But only there.
It stopped at a distance that would not harm him.
Patter. Patter.
Embers scattered across his cheek.
The swaying flame withdrew, and Dang Youxuan emerged from within it.
His blade stood straight and true, aimed at the boy’s heart.
Seon Woo-yoon looked up at him, warmth lingering on his cheeks from the embers.
“Do you understand?”
His eyes curved upward, bright with tears.
He understood now: defeat and profound joy wear the same face.
Seon Woo-yoon dared to think it.
The Dang Clan’s Prodigal—Reformed Through Adversity
Author
Yi Il-young
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Samyang C&C Co., Ltd.
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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