Tanghulu wasn’t the only one.
Among the many trivial wishes her master had left behind, tanghulu was actually one of the more reasonable ones despite being located all the way out in Tianzhushan, Anhui.
Looking back on the full list, that request was almost… easy.
She suspected her late master had used those final wishes as an excuse to nudge her into wandering the martial world. In the end, it worked like a charm.
Just then, the carriage that had been rolling along smoothly came to an abrupt stop.
“Ah… what should we do, noona? It looks like the carriage won’t be able to pass through up ahead.”
Trouble. And not long after, a loud shout erupted in the near distance.
“An assassin! We’re under attack! Stay calm and protect the carriage!”
Escort guards, perhaps?
To be attacked by assassins, not even bandits, on a remote mountain path like this, they must’ve been transporting something highly dangerous.
Seated inside the carriage, Yeo Il quietly rolled up her scroll and spoke.
“Seol Yeong. The road’s blocked, isn’t it?”
A bewildered voice answered from the driver’s seat outside.
“Huh? How did you know? A tree fell across the path. It’s too big for a few men to move, by the looks of it.”
“You must not have noticed the carriage that passed us earlier turning around. I could hear the merchant grumbling from here. That should’ve been your cue to turn back.”
“If you saw that, you could’ve given me a heads-up! We’ve just wasted time doubling back—”
Seol Yeong’s grumbling was cut short by a sharp tension outside.
“Damn it, don’t scatter! Protect Lady Namgung Soyou!”
Namgung.
That name was very familiar.
So they weren’t porters—they were escorts.
Yeo Il’s carriage began to move again, but in the opposite direction.
“We’ll be two hours later than planned, but if we don’t stop again, we should still make it down the mountain before sunset. Of course, if you’d warned me earlier, we could’ve saved a whole hour…”
At that moment, a cry rose right in front of the carriage.
“P-please help!”
The wheels that’s just starting to turn, ground to a halt again.
Thump. Thump.
Someone began pounding on the carriage wall in desperation.
“Please, great warrior! I beg you! The young lady—she’s the one and only daughter of the Namgung Clan! If you save her, the clan head will surely reward you generously! Please lend us your aid!”
Quite a grand appeal to be making to a coachman. Seol Yeong sighed deeply and called into the carriage.
“What should we do, noona?”
Yeo Il didn’t respond right away. Instead, she unfurled the scroll once again.
There were forty final requests in total. Over the past six months wandering the martial world, she had somehow managed to fulfill about half.
The remaining twenty were a strange mix of doable and ridiculous. She skimmed through the list, looking for anything that might remotely apply to a “Namgung Soyou.”
Let’s see…
- If you meet a woman over seven cheok tall, listen to her troubles and help her resolve them.
“Is Namgung Soyou over seven cheok tall?”
A flustered voice answered from outside—probably a maid.
“W-what? No, not at all…”
Next.
- If you encounter someone with an incurable illness, grant them one request.
“Then, is Namgung Soyou terminally ill?”
“I… I wouldn’t say that…”
Next.
- If someone appears with golden eyes…
“Does she have golden eyes?”
“……”
- Or perhaps… a foreigner?
“Is she a foreigner, then?”
Unable to hold back, the maid blurted out with a voice tinged with frustration.
“Why are you asking all these ridiculous questions?! This is an emergency, how can you waste time like this?!”
“So she doesn’t match any of them.”
Which meant, regrettably, there was no reason to help her.
Yeo Il had only two reasons for returning to the martial world: To return the jade ring to its rightful place,and to fulfill her master’s final wishes.
Namgung Soyou wasn’t over seven cheok, didn’t have a terminal illness, didn’t have golden eyes, and wasn’t a foreigner.
Which meant— she was simply destined to die here.
Fate was always cruel. And in the martial world, one could only submit to it.
Yeo Il closed the scroll and said coldly.
“Let’s turn back, Seol Yeong. If we dawdle like this, we won’t make it before sundown.”
“N-no! Please!”
“Understood. Though, noona…”
“What is it?”
“While we were chatting, it seems the other path got blocked too.”
Yeo Il slowly raised her head and stared at the carriage wall in front of her.
At some point, everything had gone quiet. The clash of weapons had stopped, replaced by an eerie stillness. From beyond the wall, she could feel a sharp, skin-prickling bloodlust locked onto the carriage.
“That’s them! They’re the ones attacking Lady Namgung’s carriage!”
Seol Yeong’s breath had gone tight with tension.
For warriors of a noble house to be overwhelmed this easily… Either the assassins weren’t ordinary, or there had been betrayal from within.
Then a cold voice rang out with an offer.
“Hand over the girl, and we’ll let the rest of you go.”
A reasonable proposal, as far as bandits went.
“Noona…”
At Seol Yeong’s quiet call, Yeo Il smiled.
“Let her go.”
“P-please, don’t! I’ll do anything—please spare me! I beg of you, great warrior!”
“Sorry. But my lady’s command takes priority.”
There was the sound of Seol Yeong climbing down and pushing the maid forward.
Her wailing pleas grew fainter as she was forced away from the carriage.
“You can’t! Please don’t! Spare me—please!”
By that point, Yeo Il had set the scroll aside and picked up something else inside the carriage. Even as she rose and stepped out, none of the assassins outside sensed her presence.
To the side of the carriage, Seol Yeong stood facing a man in black robes. The maid was sobbing beside him.
The man sneered.
“You actually believed me when I said I’d let you go. Naive fool.”
A flash of silver flickered from his sleeve.
“Die regretting your foolish trust in a martial artist!”
But the assassin’s clever blade never reached Seol Yeong.
“Guh!”
Instead, a terrible scream rang out beneath the clear sky. Blood sprayed. One of the assassins behind the man shouted in alarm.
“Sword energy!”
A white flash had severed the attacker’s hand.
Every eye turned in one direction— Straight at Yeo Il.
Those who saw her face hesitated, disbelief flickering across their expressions. Yeo Il met the gaze of the man in black, who now clutched his wrist in pain. And she said,
“I don’t care what happens to Namgung Soyou.”
“……”
“But pointing a blade at the coachman who was supposed to take me to Tianzhushan for tanghulu… That, I can’t let it slide.”
