TSBIRBV chapter 5

Je Haryang’s shocking statement left Yegyeol dumbfounded.

“A merchant…?’”

It was even more surprising than the fall of Kunlun.

He had never imagined Je Haryang as anything other than a martial artist and a disciple of Kunlun. It was easier to imagine the destruction of the Kunlun sect.

Though children do not always grow as their parents wish, this was different.

Kunlun would never have let go of a prodigy like the senior brother so easily. After the sect had been shaken by the demonic cult’s invasion, they would have needed someone as talented as him to rebuild it.

“Was your dantian destroyed in the incident? Or did you suffer some permanent injury-‘”

Yegyeol quickly sat up and reached out, feeling Je Haryang’s body. For someone who had been deemed beyond medical help, his movements were surprisingly quick.

Caught off guard by Yegyeol’s intense reaction, Haryang didn’t resist.

As Yegyeol tried to get closer on his knees, he lost his balance, teetering at the edge of the bed. Even an Esper wasn’t used to being blind, leaving him helpless.

Feeling himself wobble, Yegyeol flailed.

“…Yegyeol!’”

His face buried itself in Je Haryang’s chest. He felt something like fabric caught under his fingertips and realized he had torn the senior brother’s clothes while struggling not to slip.

Because now, he could see.

“Ah…’”

In the commotion, the bandage covering his eyes had slipped slightly. Though his vision was still a bit blurry, it was enough to recognize Je Haryang’s bare skin.

“It’s pale.’”

The disciples of Kunlun generally had darker skin, owing to the perpetual snow that blanketed the mountain peaks.

The perpetual snow reflected the harsh sunlight, so those who trained there were more sunburned than even farmers who worked in the fields all day.

The senior brother in his past life had relatively fair skin, but nothing like this.

“Is it true… that the senior brother is no longer part of the Kunlun sect?’”

Realizing that there wasn’t a single scar on that pale skin made it hit home. No real martial artist could have such a clean body.

A strange sense of loss gripped Yegyeol.

“Can you see? Even if it’s a little blurry?’”

Haryang asked urgently. Maybe it was because his face was so close, but the outlines that had been hazy when they first reunited had become much clearer.

A cold and handsome face, like jade sculpted from ice. After being separated for so long, Yegyeol could only barely recall that face in his dreams.

The senior brother in his memory was a bit more youthful, while the Je Haryang now was more mature, having likely experienced many hardships, yet showing no sign of it.

“I can see. It’s a little blurry, but I can see.’”

“This must be some sort of miracle… Every physician I brought said you’d never see again.”

Je Haryang’s face was an open book, displaying anxiety, joy, confusion, disbelief, and hope.

Yegyeol scrutinized his senior brother greedily.

Despite becoming a merchant, it seemed he hadn’t neglected his training—his chest was firm.

The fact that he caught Yegyeol before he collapsed, unable to support himself, showed that his reflexes were still sharp.

“Did he become a merchant because he lost his internal power?”

Without a dantian, Yegyeol found it difficult to gauge Je Haryang’s level.

Even in his previous life, when Yegyeol had mastered martial arts, he couldn’t fathom the accomplishments his senior brother had achieved.

“I’ll fetch a doctor right away. But first, let’s redo the bandages. No, actually, let’s start by closing your eyes.”

Yegyeol obediently closed his eyes. He could feel Haryang carefully readjusting the disheveled bandages.

Despite the urgency, his senior brother’s hands trembled slightly, likely due to his caution.

‘I’ll wait to ask why he left Kunlun Sect.’

No matter how much he thought about it, recovering his body took priority. If he didn’t, his guide, who seemed to have a softer resolve than his memories suggested, might faint from worry.

One of the basic etiquettes for espers when dealing with their guides is to appear as harmless as possible.

Those who selfishly prioritized their own desires often met similar fates—abandoned.

If the tears and regrets of those espers were collected, one could build a skyscraper with them.

Yegyeol had no intention of ending up like those fools.

“Oh dear… I feel like I’m dying.”

“Check his pulse.”

Je Haryang returned with a woman whose voice lacked any tension.

When Yegyeol flinched at the approaching presence, Haryang reassured him.

“This is Samrang. She won’t do anything to harm you.”

“Hello. I’m Samrang, serving the leader of this caravan.”

The appearance of an unfamiliar woman made Yegyeol acutely aware that this place was not the Kunlun Sect.

Among the Nine Great Sects, Shaolin, Wudang, and Kunlun did not accept female disciples.

“I don’t mind if you check my pulse, but…”

Yegyeol trailed off.

“Could you hold my hand while she does it?”

His request was a mix of sincerity and self-interest.

Feeling it was justified as a patient, he turned toward where Je Haryang stood.

Though his eyes were covered, Yegyeol’s esper senses could precisely detect where his guide was, like a bird knowing the direction of the wind.

“Is that too much to ask?”

“No, not at all.”

With those words, Je Haryang approached and took Yegyeol’s hand.

Whether it was to check his pulse or simply to help him sit up, Yegyeol welcomed the support.

As he leaned back slightly, Je Haryang’s solid chest provided him with stability.

“Hmm, I’ll check your pulse now, so try not to be startled.”

Samrang, as she introduced herself, took his wrist. Her hand was so cold it sent a shiver down his spine.

Though Yegyeol allowed her to check his pulse, he would have instinctively brushed her off if his senior brother hadn’t been there.

“…Oh. Am I really this great of a physician?”

Her comment was unusual for someone examining a patient.

“Your energy channels were completely twisted, but after a few days of rest, they’ve healed? It seems even your bones are all set. This is strange…”

“Does that mean he’s fully recovered?”

Haryang asked anxiously.

“He’s still a bit weak, but at this point, he’s like someone recovering from a mild illness. Leader, just a bit of light exercise and a good night’s sleep will have him fully recovered.”

Yegyeol began to doubt whether Samrang was truly a physician, given her crude prescription.

It was unlikely that his kind senior brother would bring a fake physician, but the thought crossed his mind that she might be a con artist.

“We still need to check his eyes. Is there a physician nearby?”

“The nearest one is three days’ travel away in Hongye.”

Yegyeol didn’t recognize the name but listened closely.

“Isn’t there one closer?”

“One moved to Sichuan after a recent raid by bandits. The world has become quite unpredictable.”

Samrang shook her head in dismay.

“Then send word to Hongye to bring the physician here. Tell them it’s fine to use my name; they’ll understand.”

“Understood.”

Samrang stood up. Hearing the door open and close, Yegyeol confirmed that she had left and asked Haryang.

“Is Samrang not a physician?”

“Not exactly, but she’s very skilled. She helps with caravan matters.”

“Have you known her long?”

Haryang’s hand, which had been supporting Yegyeol’s shoulder, paused for a moment before laying him back down.

“You’re quite curious.”

It wasn’t a rebuke, but rather a musing to himself, as if surprised by Yegyeol’s inquisitiveness.

The nervousness that had gripped Yegyeol moments earlier eased as Haryang gently stroked his head.

“Several years.”

Several years. It was vague, not as if he was hiding anything, but more like he hadn’t bothered to keep track of when he first met Samrang.

Yegyeol suddenly grew curious.

‘Does my senior brother remember how much time has passed since I died?’

He hoped the physician would arrive soon.

If Haryang told him it was okay to remove the bandages, he could see his senior brother’s face and ask him all the questions he had.

Swallowing the rising impatience, Yegyeol tightly grasped Haryang’s hand, which was still comforting him.

“Stay by my side until I fall asleep.”

Sleep was creeping back in.

Before losing consciousness, Yegyeol caught a faint nod from his senior brother’s silhouette through the bandages.

A soft smile barely lifted the corners of Yegyeol’s mouth as he slept.

Je Haryang, who had been gazing at him for a while, finally turned his head to the lengthening shadows.

Through the window, he could see the twilight slowly descending.

Haryang picked up a candle that a servant had brought and placed it near Yegyeol’s bed.

As he went to light it, he couldn’t find a match and clicked his tongue in frustration.

Going to get matches would mean leaving Yegyeol alone, something that weighed on his mind due to the promise he had made.

‘I promised not to leave him alone.’

After ensuring the bandages were properly secured, Haryang ignited a flame in his empty hand.

It was the Samadhi True Flame.

Using the Samadhi True Flame, a skill only accessible to those who had reached a certain level of mastery, just to light a candle seemed absurd.

His accomplishments were hard to believe for someone who had been expelled from Kunlun and had become a merchant.

Haryang carefully lit the candle so as not to wake Yegyeol, and once there was enough light to fend off the darkness, he extinguished the Samadhi True Flame.

He then sat on a chair beside the bed, watching the candlelight flicker over Yegyeol’s cheek.

It was an unusually peaceful moment, as if all the hardships Haryang had endured had dissolved into nothingness.

He found himself daydreaming about what Yegyeol might look like if he naturally grew older.

It was a habit, born of the fact that he couldn’t imagine his own future, so he passed the time imagining the futures of others that would never come.

Perhaps it was because of this habit that Haryang immediately noticed that Yegyeol had matured since he last saw him.

What had his junior gone through all these years?

Je Haryang couldn’t accept Yegyeol’s death and never considered searching for his body.

No, by the time Haryang had regained control of his own life, it was already too late to dig up the past.

So he buried that tragic day and the young boy in his heart.

Never imagining they would meet again like this.

A body marked with clear signs of violence, energy channels that had twisted and healed without a trace of damage, limbs that had grown weak and frail from lack of training, a face that remained young despite the years, and eyes that knew nothing of the events that had transpired since the massacre at Kunlun, haunted only by nightmares that clung to the darkness.

And this abnormal healing ability.

“Sleep well.”

With cold eyes, the man gently caressed the soft cheek and whispered.

“Don’t suffer anymore, and don’t be tormented by nightmares…”

He couldn’t recall even a single lullaby to sing.

But he believed he could tear apart any anguish lurking in the shadows, ready to engulf his junior.

For Je Haryang, that was enough.