The Red Dragon Martial Emperor - Chapter 43

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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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The Crimson Dragon Emperor — Episode 43

Chapter 43 — The Wanderer

The Imperial Palace.
Crown Prince Yi Tae-ji straightened in his seat as Chaek Sa delivered his report.
“What did you just say?”
“Mo Jae-hwang of the Jinyi Guard fell to Zhao’s Assassination Art, and Yeon Ho-chung’s plot to undermine the Left General was exposed. He lost his life on the spot, Your Highness.”
A deep crease formed between Yi Tae-ji’s brows.
Chaek Sa continued.
“We’ll need to investigate the full chain of events, but the situation does seem comprehensible enough.”
“Mo Jae-hwang, I can understand — but Yeon Ho-chung troubles me. Why on earth would he have plotted against the Left General?”
“The Yeongho Clan and the Haebok Peng Clan are both renowned in the Martial World, and they have long competed with one another. It seems likely that the Left General’s ascent to Supreme Commander displeased them greatly.”
“Such foolishness…”
Yi Tae-ji leaned back in his chair, tilting his head. Then he fixed his gaze on Chaek Sa again. “You say the Left General took the man’s head himself?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“I’d thought him nothing but a plodding ox, yet it seems ambition stirs within him too. Or perhaps he simply chose to eliminate the threat rather than show mercy.”
“In any case, with the Left General now Supreme Commander, we’ve lightened our burden considerably.”
“Do we need to send more allies to strengthen his position?”
“We lack the resources for it. For now, all our strength must go toward containing the Crown Prince’s Palace.”
“Still hasn’t set foot outside the palace, I hear?”
“No. But the royal physician no longer visits the Crown Prince’s Palace, which suggests his real move draws near. We should gather as many available hands as we can, quickly and quietly.”
“Spare no expense on funds — gather as many as you’re able. But do it in absolute secrecy. He must never suspect.”
“Understood, Your Highness.”
“You’re dismissed. I’m weary and need rest.”
Once Chaek Sa had withdrawn, Yi Tae-ji walked to the window and opened it.
Unlike the banners that fluttered in the sky, this place lay sealed behind the palace’s nested walls — not a whisper of wind could reach it.
“This place is suffocating, truly.”
His gaze drifted toward the largest and most splendid structure in the distance.
A thin smile played across his lips.
“The day I walk into that place draws near. Hehehehe.”

Throughout Jang Su’s report, he sat in silence, staring into his teacup.
“That concludes the message Go Mi’s faction sent us.”
When Jang Su finished, Yi So finally spoke.
“Elevating Peng Wu-wei to Supreme Commander to shield himself from the Crown Prince’s attention? I’m not certain this is the right move.”
“The deed is done, and the General himself is confident. Let us observe what unfolds.”
A faint smile crossed Yi So’s face.
“So at last you’re beginning to trust that child.”
“I trust only Your Highness’s judgment in recognizing his merit.”
“Handing over the Appointment Certificate he’d been holding — that’s a show of confidence that Peng Wu-wei is thoroughly under his thumb, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes. That’s my assessment as well. Though perhaps…”
Jang Su’s words trailed off.
Yi So prompted him with a look.
“The Official Letter says Mo Jae-hwang fell to Zhao’s Assassination Art, but I have a strong feeling that’s not the truth.”
Yi So laughed softly.
“Why do you laugh?”
“I was thinking the very same thing. On a single day, Mo Jae-hwang loses his life to an enemy’s Assassination Art, and Yeon Ho-chung — Peng Wu-wei’s greatest source of strength — has his head cut off when his plot to overthrow Peng Wu-wei is exposed? That strains credibility, doesn’t it?”
“It does. But I worry that the Crown Prince may harbor the same suspicion and send more agents to investigate.”
“That’s not a concern.”
“Why not?”
Yi So spoke with a smile.
“From the moment Hwang Ho fell, my younger brother must have believed he’d brought the Southern Army Corps under his heel. So rather than suspicion, he’s likely celebrating Peng Wu-wei’s ascension to Supreme Commander. Men like Mo Jae-hwang and Yeon Ho-chung are expendable to him — present or absent makes no difference. Still, caution costs nothing. We should ensure he remains too distracted with the Southern Army Corps to look elsewhere.”

Clink.
“Needle them a bit. Just don’t overdo it.”
“Understood.”
“And let it slip that I’ll be making my real move soon.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Jang Su withdrew. Yi So sank deeper into his chair, his gaze growing distant.
‘If you have confidence in this, then I will trust you. Please—don’t disappoint your brother.’

* * *

Roar!
The recent rains had turned the waterfall into a savage torrent.
Yi Huan drew his blade before it.
Whistle!
The sword parted the cascade, and for a breath the world seemed to still before the water crashed back into itself.
Roar!
‘That’s good progress.’
Sheathed.
Yi Huan turned with quiet satisfaction.
At the cliff’s edge, gazing down at the encampment below, he watched the military camp glow like an enormous flower blooming in the darkness.
‘The Southern Army Corps is as good as mine. After this, I need only read the Crown Prince’s next move carefully—there’s nothing to worry about.’
For Yi Huan, it felt as though a tedious war had finally ended.
Whistle.
He abandoned himself to the wind for a moment, then made his way toward the camp. The mountain shrouded in darkness always held something sacred. Yi Huan savored it as he walked neither fast nor slow, making for the command tent.
As he drew near the encampment, Go Mi caught his eye—she stood alone outside the tent.
Yi Huan paused and regarded her.
‘Sending her here was a masterstroke.’
Go Mi’s intelligence network was nothing short of remarkable. Not only the sheer volume of information, but the speed at which she grasped things before others—it was unmatched.
A faint smile.
Yi Huan remembered Go Mi’s icy coldness toward him over a single careless remark—how offended she had been—and let a quiet laugh escape him.
At that moment, as she turned her gaze toward him, their eyes met.
Go Mi bowed to Yi Huan. But the moment she lifted her head again, he was already gone, slipping into the tent.

* * *

Go Mi’s eyes grew heavy as she stared toward Yi Huan’s tent.
‘He hasn’t merely hidden his true strength. In a single gambit using Peng Wu-wei, he seized control of the entire Southern Army Corps.’
The deaths of Mo Jae-hwang and Yeon Ho-chung returned to her mind—and with them, a hollow feeling.
Mo Jae-hwang, whom she had longed to kill yet never managed to, had surrendered his life without mounting any real resistance to Yi Huan’s scheme.
Even accounting for the Jinyi Guard’s backing, the fact that Mo Jae-hwang himself had been formidable made the revelation stagger her—beyond mere disappointment into something close to dread.
‘Does His Highness know all of this? Is that why he trusts the Great General?’
Go Mi recalled the words she had found written in the Crown Prince’s letter before coming here.

Help your brother, even if it costs you your life.

A bitter laugh.
Go Mi’s mouth twisted into something cold and mirthless.
‘I’m not helping the Great General at all—I’m being used. Like a blade held in his hand. Perhaps soon everyone in the Southern Army Corps will share my fate.’
Then a sound came from behind. A female soldier approached.
“I’ve heated the water.”
“Thank you.”
Go Mi cast aside her thoughts and made her way to the back of the tent. In a space ringed by trees sat a large wooden tub, wisps of white steam rising from it in lazy clouds.
Go Mi undressed.
Then a map of scars was revealed across her body—deep ones that made you wonder how she had survived at all.
“Shall I bring wine?”
“Please.”
Moments later the female soldier returned, carrying a bottle.
Pour.
The soldier filled a cup and offered it. Go Mi drained it in one long pull.
“Has any dispatch come from the Imperial Palace?”
“Yes. It seems the Crown Prince’s side hasn’t made any unusual moves. If they’d suspected something and sent more people, or shown any suspicious behavior, we would’ve heard about it by now.”
‘Has the General’s operation succeeded as planned?’
If the Crown Prince’s faction had harbored suspicion, enough time had passed for them to show it. Yet Go Mi couldn’t bring herself to relax.
“Just in case, tell them to keep watching carefully until I give the word.”
“Understood.”
Go Mi finished another cup of wine and let her body sink beneath the water.
Splash!

* * *

Market Street in a city two days’ journey from the Imperial Capital.
A vagrant swordsman pushed open the door of a shabby inn and stepped inside. His hair hung loose and tangled, and the rusty Iron Sword at his side—common enough in any market district—marked him as a typical wanderer, worn and unremarkable.
The innkeeper’s expression soured.
But after glancing at the Iron Sword, he forced a smile.
“Welcome, sir.”
“A boiled chicken and a bottle of wine, if you please.”
“Of course. Please wait just a moment.”
The wanderer took a corner seat and closed his eyes, arms crossed, waiting for the food and drink to arrive.
There were those watching him intently.
Men in black robes with sharp, cutting expressions. They’d been observing him since the moment he’d stepped through the inn door.
Their eyes met in silent agreement, and they rose from their seats. Half their meal still lay uneaten on their tables, but they paid the innkeeper and slipped out into the street.
The innkeeper brought the wine first.
“Your wine, sir.”
The wanderer uncrossed his arms and opened his eyes, lifting and draining his cup in steady, measured rhythm, only to refill and drink again.
How long had he been doing this?
Creak!
The door swung open and the black-robed men who’d just left came back in. Three more of their kind stood behind them. They didn’t enter the inn proper—instead, they blocked the exit entirely.
Flap!
A Wanted Poster fluttered down onto the wanderer’s table.
The wanderer froze mid-sip, his cup at his lips, and stared down at the poster.
One of the black-robed men stepped forward, his voice cold and flat.
“You’re coming with us.”
The wanderer looked up, eyes fixed on the man.
“Who are you?”
The man answered without words, rolling back his sleeve to reveal a Silver Bracelet. It was a symbol of an organization whose authority knew no bounds.
“Why does Dong Chang want to take me?”
“You’re coming. Get on your feet.”
“Fine, but let me finish this first.”
The wanderer drained the bottle in a single gulp, then stood.
Thunk!
“You can pay for the wine.”
“Stop talking and get moving.”
The wanderer walked outside without resistance. The waiting men in black closed ranks around him.
“Follow along now.”
They led him northward through Market Street. He followed in silence, until they reached a quiet place away from prying eyes.
In a flash, the wanderer seized one of their swords and struck down those behind him.
Crack!
Smack!
“Ugh!”
Three men in black cried out and collapsed.
Shink!
Two more drew their blades in alarm. But one man realized his sword was already in the wanderer’s grip, and shock flooded his face.
“Damn—”
Thud!
“Gah!”
The back of his neck took the impact and he fell. The last remaining man stumbled backward in horror.
The wanderer aimed the sheathed sword at him like a lance.
“Draw that blade and you die. So tell me—who sent you, and why are they looking for me?”
“His Highness the Crown Prince is looking for you!”
“The Crown Prince? Why would he be searching for me?”
“How insolent!”
“You want to keep being insolent? Your head might roll clean off. Now answer my questions properly.”
“…….”
The Wanderer pushed his blade forward slightly.
Click.
“Do you want to die?”
The black-robed man’s lips trembled open.
“The Fourth Prince is looking for you. We heard he left that Wanted Poster behind. We don’t know why. It’s the truth!”
“Where is the Fourth Prince now?”
“At the Southern Army Corps!”
“You’re certain?”
“I swear it!”
Whoosh.
The Wanderer hurled his sword away. The black-robed man caught it reflexively.
Clang.
“Hand over whatever money you have.”
Moments later, the Wanderer gathered the purse and vanished into the darkness. The black-robed man, who had held out to the very end, collapsed where he sat.
‘Damn it. We were facing a master of that caliber—we didn’t stand a chance.’
The black-robed man, who had brushed against the gates of hell and barely returned, remained slumped there, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

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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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