The Reformed Genius of the Sichuan Tang Clan - Chapter 50

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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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Episode 50
‘I’m sorry. I really can’t hold back.’
Dang Youxuan regarded the Shaolin monk before him with a crooked expression, the thought running through his mind.
The Shaolin monk Miao Jiao turned the Soul-Splitting Hidden Blade over in his hands, meticulously checking whether poison had been applied.
‘Logically speaking, who would bring poison to a tournament where it’s forbidden?’
While others gave cursory inspections, the examination proved uniquely thorough only when it came to the Dang Clan.
‘Fine. I suppose there’s no harm in being thorough.’
But the problem didn’t end there.
Beneath the ornate eaves lay fifteen golden chairs.
Dang Gangheon’s seat was positioned near the foot of the row.
‘The closer to the central abbot, the more honorable the position.’
He’d expected as much, but all Five Great Families were seated further away than the Nine Schools and One Faction.
What puzzled him was that even Huashan and Wudang, who held their own within the Nine Schools and One Faction, found themselves farther back than anticipated.
‘Petty bastards.’
Dang Youxuan was certain that this arrangement was revenge from the Orthodox Factions conference.
They’d divided rank and sown discord at what was meant to be a gathering of harmony, and the resentment burned.
‘Did your ancestors teach you this?’
Dang Youxuan’s brow furrowed in displeasure.
‘Would it kill you all to swallow your greed and live? Was the teaching to avoid the Three Poisons just so much hot air?’
Shaolin seemed to be rotting far more than he’d given it credit for.
“Is there anything else you need to examine?”
At Miao Jiao’s question, Dang Youxuan extended his hand with an amiable smile.
Thunk.
Something far too long and heavy for a Hidden Blade lay upon the table.
“A sword?”
Miao Jiao blinked rapidly, as if he’d glimpsed a ghost.
Though it was rare for the Dang Clan to actually use one, everyone knew they wielded any weapon their hands grasped with equal skill—he’d assumed an iron chain or staff.
But what lay before him was a sword.
An ordinary one, of the kind commonly seen in other schools.
“Why a sword…?”
“My hand is accustomed to it.”
Dang Youxuan answered with bland disinterest, the expression of a man who’d heard every foolish question under the sun.
‘Never seen a poison expert who uses a sword before?’
Miao Jiao belatedly recognized his own discourtesy and cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Ahem. I apologize for my rudeness.”
Whether out of embarrassment or a belief that it was unnecessary, his inspection proved far briefer than it had been for the Hidden Blade.
“I hope you achieve a favorable result.”
“I’m grateful for the encouragement.”
It was a way of declining the apology.
Dang Youxuan bowed slightly to the clasped-hands gesture of Miao Jiao, then stepped out of the tent and examined the tournament bracket.
“Youxuan.”
Dang Shan waved from a spot apart from the crowd gathered around the bracket.
As Dang Youxuan approached, Dang Eunho and Dang Young gave his arms playful taps from either side.
“We’re very much looking forward to your first match, elder brother.”
“Don’t bother.”
“You should show us how you’ve changed as the Hidden Blade Wolf.”
“Don’t call me by that alias.”
“Why not? What’s wrong with the Hidden Blade Wolf? Is it the ‘hidden blade’ that’s the problem, or the ‘wolf’?”
‘Both.’
Dang Youxuan waved his hand dismissively, pushing them away.
“So who’s my opponent?”
“You’re facing Peng Jingmin of the Hebei Peng Clan.”
At Dang Shan’s words, the murmuring from the crowd around the bracket grew louder.
“Peng Jingmin? You mean that Peng Jingmin with the Jade Lightning Blade?”
“Ah well. They said all the Dang Clan’s finest were competing, so I was looking forward to it. This will be over quick.”
“Come now. This is the Dang Clan we’re talking about. Do you really think poison experts will make it past the first round, let alone to the finals?”
“Is poison the issue? There’s already a difference in weight class—what kind of match will it be?”
Everyone expected Dang Youxuan’s defeat, lamenting that his first match would end in early elimination.
He couldn’t fault their reasoning.
Peng Jingmin was renowned for his sturdy frame and the tremendous force he wielded his blade with.
By sheer weight class, Dang Youxuan held his own well enough, but against an opponent nearly twice his size, it would be difficult to bring his full strength to bear—or so the calculation went.
Worse, Dang Youxuan’s primary weapon, his Poison Mastery, was forbidden in this competition.
He was absolutely at a disadvantage.
‘But that’s precisely what assumptions are made to be overturned.’
His brothers understood this well enough, so they offered no particular reaction to the speculation.
There was no point in it.
“Don’t let it weigh on you too much.”
“I’m not concerned.”
“Right! You’ll just beat him and that’s that!”
“That’s what I intend to do.”
“Brother, don’t worry. Size alone doesn’t decide anything, does it? Someone as crudely built as that lump of stone won’t stand a chance against you.”
“True enough. Thank you for that. ……But couldn’t you have said it a touch more quietly?”
Dang Youxuan chuckled softly and ruffled the hair of Dang Eunho and Dang Young.
Unlike other clans, the sight of brothers at ease with one another drew the gaze of those nearby.
Though some of those eyes held only calculation.
‘Ah, that unpleasant glint. It feels like I’ve finally arrived in the Jianghu I’m familiar with.’
The Yongfeng Conference, bleeding with tension both visible and hidden, was only beginning.
* * *
“I express my gratitude to all of you for taking time from your schedules to attend. I am Yuan Zhao, entrusted with overseeing this Yongfeng Conference. Before we proceed, I wish to inform you that the pairings were drawn in the presence of representatives from each school, ensuring complete impartiality.”
As Yuan Zhao delivered his opening remarks, Dang Youxuan followed a Shaolin monk’s guidance toward the Martial Arena.
While spectator seats were open to all without discrimination, the divisions between sect, clan, and commoner were unmistakable, making it easy to locate his brothers.
‘Seeing familiar faces does lighten the spirit, I must admit.’
This is why familiarity can be so dangerous.
“First match: Dang Youxuan of the Sichuan Dang Clan against Peng Jingmin of the Hebei Peng Clan!”
The moment Dang Youxuan stepped onto the Martial Arena, voices erupted from all sides.
Cheers or acclaim were, predictably, nowhere to be found.
Curiosity about the unfamiliar name buzzed through pockets of the crowd.
“Is that really the notorious Dang Youxuan?”
“They say he’s made quite a name for himself in the Dalzhou region lately.”
“He looks just like his brother. Wonder if his skills measure up.”
“How could someone who’s been in seclusion for years hope to match the Jade Lightning Blade?”
Despite the blunt assessments, Dang Youxuan’s expression remained unmoved and composed.
‘This is almost charming.’
Then Peng Jingmin emerged, and cheers erupted across the arena.
Savoring the roar of the crowd, Peng Jingmin mounted the platform with confidence radiating from his every step.
‘He’s underestimating me.’
Dang Youxuan studied Peng Jingmin carefully as he waved to the spectators.
By muscle and height alone, Peng Jingmin appeared nearly twice Dang Youxuan’s size.
Yet something struck him as odd—his left arm moved less freely than his right.
Most would never notice the difference.
‘His left arm troubles him, perhaps. Or maybe his left hand struggles with the blade.’
Dang Youxuan slipped his hands into his sleeves as he considered his approach.
Seeing this, Peng Jingmin ceased his waving and adjusted his grip on his blade.
“Let us begin the match!”
“I shall learn from you.”
“Then let us proceed.”
“Proceed?”
The corner of Dang Youxuan’s mouth twisted upward.
A quiet breath escaped between his lips.
With this body entering a duel for the first time, he intended to end it cleanly—but the Soul-Splitting Hidden Blade slipped from his hand with a sharp metallic clink and fell away.
Dang Youxuan did not stop there; he cast away every hidden blade he carried.
The faint smile vanished from his face as he spoke coldly.
“Who are you to test me?”
Peng Jingmin’s eyes widened in shock.
‘Is he in his right mind? Throwing away his blades?’
It was an act beyond his comprehension.
The Dang Clan as Peng Jingmin knew it was merely unremarkable, relying on little but poison and hidden blades.
For such a clan to make any significant showing at the Yongfeng Conference seemed nearly impossible.
‘The Hidden Blade Technique is said to excel in real combat, is it not?’
But at the Yongfeng Conference, neither killing techniques nor poison use were permitted.
In other words, Dang Youxuan had effectively been stripped of every weapon he could muster.
‘The Sichuan Dang Clan never taught proper swordplay anyway.’
No matter how desperately one flailed, the odds of defeating someone who had honed the Blade Technique since childhood were infinitesimal.
Yet Dang Youxuan, as if mocking such reasoning, dropped every Hidden Blade in his possession to the ground.
Even knowing the blades would be dulled,
he released them one by one, unhurried, into the empty air.
The charged silence that had filled the arena vanished in an instant, lingering only in the eyes of those watching.
Every gaze, thick with shock and horror, converged upon Dang Youxuan.
Clang!
As the final Hidden Blade fell to the floor of the Martial Arena, the twisted smile faded, and a low voice slipped out.
“There’s no sport in this.”
Emotionless, as if merely confirming a plain fact—utterly cold.
Realizing Dang Youxuan was looking down on him, Peng Jingmin’s grip tightened.
“You, who aren’t even accustomed to this sort of fight, dare to—”
“Fond of what you’re used to, are you?”
Dang Youxuan cut short each word, pronouncing them as if pressing them down one by one.
This sort of fight—was he accustomed to it?
It was an absurd question, almost laughable in its tedium.
How many times had he engaged in ‘this sort of fight’ over a lifetime—formal duels where one taught and learned simultaneously? Countless.
Beyond counting.
And the ‘fights’ where one could not survive until tomorrow without drawing blood—those scarcely needed mention.
He could easily unleash what burned his eyes and numbed his senses on such displays of ignorance and innocence, but he had no desire to exhaust himself on this one.
A hothouse flower would never grasp what lay beyond the garden wall—that much was certain.
In the suffocating silence, Dang Youxuan let a quiet mockery slip—for Peng Jingmin’s ears alone.
“Not even worth toying with.”
Sichuan Dang Clan—The Gifted One Who Mended His Ways and Turned Over a New Leaf
Author |
Lee Il-young
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Samyang C&C Co., Ltd.
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Editorial Department
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Without written permission from Samyang C&C Co., Ltd. – Dream Books, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means.

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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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