Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang

• Flap, flap.

The owl, which had been sent to the Blood Cult’s branch, returned at sunset, landing by the window. Tied to its leg was a small piece of paper containing a single message:

"The operation failed. Be cautious not to expose yourself."

Blood Rose, a skilled assassin of the Blood Cult, took the paper, crumpled it, and shoved it into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed, erasing any evidence.

She mentally reviewed her actions to ensure there had been no suspicious slip-ups. The woman whose identity she had stolen had been dissolved with Bone-Melting Powder. The woman’s parents had been subdued with Soul-Seizing Arts, making them believe the imposter was truly their daughter. There should be no reason for anyone to suspect her.

The sensitive information she had overheard was already common knowledge within the Murim Alliance, so it shouldn’t raise any red flags.

Satisfied, she decided to retire for the night. She began untying the knot of her outer robe but stopped when she heard the faint chime of a bell.

• Ding.

The sound came from the room connected to the Alliance Leader’s chambers.

It was rare for the old man to request anything, let alone at this hour. Blood Rose quickly retied her robe and hurried to his room.

“Alliance Leader, what is it you need?” she called out respectfully from the doorway.@@novelbin@@

The old man’s voice came from inside, calm yet deliberate. “Would you bring me a cup of West Mountain Dew tea?”

“Of course, Alliance Leader.”

Hearing his request for tea brought a subtle smile to Blood Rose’s face.

Her mission within the Murim Alliance was clear: turn the Alliance Leader into a puppet under the control of the Blood Cult.

Since the Blood Cult’s bloody conflict with the martial world decades ago, the cult had fled to the Dai Yue Kingdom, rebuilding its strength by preying on small villages near the border.

Now, after thirty years, the cult had grown strong once more. The dominant opinion among its members was that it was time to return to the Central Plains. However, doing so required neutralizing the Murim Alliance—the greatest threat to their resurgence.

Her role was critical: infiltrate the Alliance Leader’s household as a servant and use Soul-Seizing Arts to bend him to their will. Controlling the leader of the martial world would allow the Blood Cult to operate undetected.

However, subduing a grandmaster like the Alliance Leader was no simple task. To weaken his defenses, she had disguised herself using Reverse Mimicry Techniques to resemble his late wife. Furthermore, she had been secretly lacing his favorite West Mountain Dew tea with Dreaming Soul Powder, a drug that subtly eroded his mental clarity over time.

The process was slow, as the Alliance Leader rarely summoned her for tea. Yet tonight, as he requested it privately, she couldn’t help but grin.

‘Perfect. I can give him a stronger dose tonight.’

Hurrying to a nearby room, she lit the brazier and boiled water. She steeped the tea with an extra helping of Dreaming Soul Powder before carefully carrying the tray into the Alliance Leader’s chambers.

• Clink.

“I’ve brought your tea, Alliance Leader.”

She placed the steaming cup of tea before him, the soft vapor curling upward. As she set it down and prepared to leave, the old man’s voice stopped her.

“You… resemble her.”

“Pardon?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“Come closer,” he said, his voice low.

Blood Rose felt a thrill of excitement. She hesitated for effect, then stepped closer with a bashful expression, as if unsure of his intentions.

“Wh-what is it?” she stammered, her tone filled with feigned shyness.

“Stay still,” he said, standing from his seat. He reached out, one hand grasping her wrist while the other moved toward the back of her head.

His face slowly drew closer to hers.

‘Old or not, a man is still a man,’ she thought, suppressing a smug smile. This would accelerate her mission considerably.

The success of Soul-Seizing Arts depended on the target’s weakened mental state and emotional vulnerability. If the Alliance Leader had reached this point, bending him to her will would be much easier.

But something was wrong.

His lips didn’t meet hers. She had waited long enough that they should have touched, but instead, a chilling whisper reached her ear.

“I can smell the foul stench of the Blood Cult on you.”

“What?!”

Her eyes snapped open in shock, only to be met with searing heat at the back of her head.

Her vision blurred, and everything went white as she collapsed. The last thing she heard was the sound of the Alliance Leader summoning his guards.

“The strategist promised something interesting. Gag her so she can’t kill herself and throw her in the dungeon.”

“Yes, Alliance Leader!”

The guards stormed in, grabbing the unconscious Blood Rose by her hair. They dragged her limp body out of the room and down to the Murim Alliance’s dungeons.

***

“I am Tang Hwa-eun of the Sichuan Tang Clan. Greetings to the Patriarch of the Hebei Peng Clan.”

“I greet the Patriarch of the Hebei Peng Clan,” I echoed after her.

Standing before us at the Nine-Tiered Gates were the members of the Peng Clan, who looked more like a gang of enforcers coming to collect a debt. Among them, a man who could only be described as the boss of bandits stepped forward, laughing heartily.

“Haha! Look who it is—the young lady Hwa-eun!”

“It’s been a long time,” Hwa-eun replied politely.

“Indeed, it has been ages. I last saw you when you were just this tall. And who’s this standing beside you?”

Curiosity about my identity was evident as he glanced at me. Not wanting to appear rude, I stepped forward and cupped my hands in a formal gesture.

“It’s been five years since we last met. I am—”

“Pleased to meet you, Patriarch of the Hebei Peng Clan. I am Wei So-ryong, Hwa-eun’s fiancé.”

“Fiancé?”

The Peng Patriarch’s booming voice silenced the air. He stepped closer and began examining me with a critical eye, circling like a predator sizing up its prey. Then, to my shock, he gave me a light but firm slap on a very private area and nodded approvingly.

“Ha! I wasn’t sure at first, but this confirms it—you're a proper man down there. Give it a few more years, and you’ll be worth watching! Haha!”

Suddenly, Hwa-eun’s earlier warning about ignoring etiquette and formalities made sense. The Peng Patriarch was... a character. His bluntness and lack of decorum were as startling as they were disarming.

While it was mildly embarrassing, his words carried a peculiar form of praise, and I managed to respond graciously. After all, a compliment was still a compliment.

“Thank you for your kind words, Patriarch of the Peng Clan.”

At this, his eyes widened in pleasant surprise, and he slapped my shoulder with a laugh. “Haha! You’re not like the usual delicate sons of other noble clans. You know how to accept a compliment properly. I’m Peng Mu-hwan, Patriarch of the Peng Clan.”

As he roared with laughter, Hwa-eun, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, changed the subject.

“So, did you come all the way from Hebei to assist with the troubles our clan faced? And how did you arrive so quickly?”

Hebei, being on the far northeastern edge of the martial world, was an enormous distance from Sichuan. Her question was reasonable. However, the Peng Patriarch tilted his head, looking genuinely confused.

“Troubles? What troubles? What happened to the Tang Clan?”

His expression made it clear he had no idea what she was referring to. Hwa-eun hesitated before responding.

“The Blood Cult Elder’s attack—didn’t you come because of that?”

“Blood Cult?” His face darkened immediately, his sleeves rolling up instinctively. Without another word, he turned to his warriors.

“Where are those damned Blood Cult bastards? If they’ve shown their faces again, it’s time to knock their teeth out! Let’s move, boys!”

“Yes, Patriarch!”

The Peng Clan warriors, visibly excited, spat into their hands and prepared to charge. Their sudden eagerness left Hwa-eun flustered as she stammered.

“T-the Blood Cult Elder has already been dealt with. He’s been eliminated, Patriarch.”

Peng Mu-hwan’s excitement deflated in an instant. He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Tch. Looks like we were too late. Should’ve left earlier.”

One of his warriors muttered under his breath, “Patriarch, you’re the one who told us to take our time…”

“Did I?” Peng Mu-hwan scratched his head, seemingly unbothered by the truth. “Anyway, if you’ve already handled the Blood Cult, then why did we come?”

Hwa-eun’s expression tightened with exasperation. “If it wasn’t about the Blood Cult, then why are you here?”

Realization dawned on Peng Mu-hwan, and he smacked his forehead with his palm. “Ah, I almost forgot! We actually came to ask for help.”

“Help?”

Before he could elaborate, my father-in-law and Zhuge Hu appeared at the gates, both surprised by the unexpected visitors.

“Patriarch Peng? What brings you here?”

“Surely you didn’t travel all this way because of the Blood Cult?” Zhuge Hu asked.

Peng Mu-hwan cupped his hands in greeting. “I am Peng Mu-hwan, Patriarch of the Peng Clan. It’s been a while, Strategist. No, I didn’t come because of the Blood Cult.”

“Then how did you get here so quickly from Hebei? It’s hardly a short journey,” my father-in-law pressed.

Peng Mu-hwan gestured toward his men, issuing a command. “Bring her here. She should greet the elders properly.”

One of his warriors stepped forward, crouched down, and spoke to someone on his back. “Miss, we’ve arrived. The Patriarch says you can get down now.”

“Miss?”

All of us—Hwa-eun, my father-in-law, Zhuge Hu, and myself—blinked in confusion. A faint patting sound came from the warrior’s back, followed by a high-pitched voice.

“My legs hurt…”

Peeking over his shoulder were two small, bun-like shapes. Moments later, a little girl no older than six or seven emerged, holding a candy stick in one hand. Her shiny black hair, round eyes, and adorable face made her look like a doll. She licked the candy once, then quickly hid it in her sleeve upon noticing everyone staring at her. Bowing politely, she introduced herself.

“Hello. I’m Peng Yeong-yeong from the Peng Clan.”

The Peng Patriarch then announced proudly, “She’s my daughter.”

“What?!” we all exclaimed in unison.

The adorable child standing before us was entirely out of place next to her rugged, bandit-like father. It was like seeing an orc claim a fairy as his offspring.

Peng Mu-hwan scratched his head awkwardly and laughed. “People always say we look so alike, don’t they? Haha!”

I glanced at Hwa-eun, who looked at me as if begging for validation of her disbelief.

‘I completely understand, Sister.’

If I could send a mental message, I would’ve reassured her on the spot.

Lifting his daughter onto his shoulder, Peng Mu-hwan turned to my father-in-law with a request. “My daughter’s not feeling well. I’ve come hoping you could take a look at her.”

“She’s unwell?” my father-in-law asked, eyeing the child skeptically. She seemed perfectly healthy, save for the candy she’d just retrieved from her sleeve and continued to lick.

Her actions sparked a sudden realization. ‘Could it be… childhood diabetes?’