The World's Greatest is Dead

Poison Dragon Tang Cheonil.

Twenty-three.

A genius said to have been dropped onto the Central Plains by heaven. One of the Seven.

Skilled in hidden weapons and poison arts, with fine control to match.

Like the Sword Saint, a hero of the War of Righteous and Demonic who stood out from childhood.

A youth called the Poison Sovereign’s second coming.

Given time, he will surely become a master on the Poison Sovereign’s level.

People said that when they saw the Poison Dragon.

It meant his talent was that outstanding.

‘Mm.’

I studied his face and frowned.

‘He really was born looking vicious.’

I’d memorized the description of his features.

I’d heard he looked pretty vicious; seeing him in person, I understood.

‘Those eyes...’

Can a person’s eyes be that sharp?

Cheon Eujin is known for looking cold, but this is on a different axis.

They look sharp, literally.

Like he could kill a man with his gaze.

[Look at that brat.]

Yoo Cheongil, who was seeing Tang Cheonil with me, spoke as if fascinated.

[He looks exactly like that Poison Sovereign bastard in his youth.]

That face?

I couldn’t help being a little surprised at Yoo Cheongil’s words.

[Down to the last detail.]

He sounded genuinely intrigued.

Is he that similar?

I looked at Tang Cheonil’s face and recalled the ghost presumed to be the Poison Sovereign.

‘...It’s true.’

He does look alike.

If Tang Cheonil ages as-is, he’ll become that foul-tempered ghost to a tee.

‘So alike it’s startling.’

Is that why they call him the Poison Sovereign’s second coming? If so, it tracks.

Of course—

‘Even if that weren’t the case—’

Being counted among the Seven already means he has more than enough talent.

But.

‘...Why would someone like that come for me?’

What reason would Tang Cheonil have to seek me out?

Also—

“I said move.”

“...Give me the reason first.”

What is that situation where Tang Yeran is blocking Tang Cheonil?

I couldn’t make sense of it.

“Reason?”

Tang Cheonil’s expression creased at Tang Yeran’s words. Wow—narrowing his eyes makes him look even more menacing.

“Do I need to spell that out for you one by one?”

“Young master Bang is a guest of the Tang Clan—of Father. You can’t just barge in like this.”

“Ha.”

Tang Cheonil laughed. Tang Yeran flinched at that.

“Of all people, you opening your mouth about the Tang Clan—how quaint.”

“...”

“You toss aside the main path to wallow in trifles, and you dare prattle to me of the Tang Clan?”

“That’s...!”

“Get lost.”

Tang Cheonil seized Tang Yeran’s shoulder and shoved her aside.

She yielded to his strength.

And then I came into Tang Cheonil’s line of sight.

Our eyes met.

“Hm?”

A furrow formed between his brows when he confirmed me.

His gaze swept me, head to toe, in a single flick.

Something faint moved across his expression.

A brief silence slid past, and then he spoke.

“...You are the Sword Saint’s heir?”

His voice was full of disbelief. As in, this can’t be right.

So I gave him the answer he wanted.

“No.”

“...”

After I obliged him, his face screwed up even more.

This bastard, huh?

I let out a breathless scoff and said:

“If you’re not going to believe it even if I say no, why ask?”

“...Are you saying you are Bang Sungyeon?”

“Would you believe it if I said no?”

“...”

“See? You already settled on your answer.”

Tsk. I clicked my tongue and shrugged.

“I’m Bang Sungyeon.”

“You?”

As he spoke, that same look skimmed over me again.

No—“same” is a little off.

There was a slight hint of condescension in it.

[Hah. That bastard?]

Apparently I wasn’t the only one who felt it; Yoo Cheongil laughed and cursed.

[So it’s not just the face—he’s got those dog eyes too. Makes you want to rip them out.]

‘...’

The rough tone carried a sharp emotion.

[He used to look at people like that. I turned both his eyes blue for him. I miss it.]

At his claim that he’d beaten the Poison Sovereign in the past, I nearly coughed.

I barely held it back when Tang Cheonil looked at me and spoke.

“I heard you beat the Little Azure Sword...”

“Ah. Yeah. Something like that.”

I gave it a loose confirmation and Tang Cheonil narrowed his eyes.

“How did you do it? It doesn’t seem possible.”

“Heh-heh-heh?”

I burst out laughing on the spot.

It was a blatant slight.

As in, there’s no way the likes of you beat the Little Azure Sword. That feeling was thick.

“Brother—! What are you even...!”

Tang Yeran tried to stop him in alarm, but Tang Cheonil continued unbothered.

“I came with expectations because you were called the Sword Saint’s heir. In that case, there’s no need to see more.”

He spat the words and whipped his head aside.

“Grandfather needn’t spare him a thought.”

With that, he walked off without a shred of reluctance.

Several others followed him out.

In the sudden quiet, I scratched my cheek.

It felt like a gust had blown through.

“Mm.”

What was that.

While I kept scratching my cheek in embarrassment—

“...I’m sorry...”

Tang Yeran, who hadn’t left, came up to me and bowed her head.

“I’ll apologize on behalf of my family for the discourtesy you were shown...”

She bowed again and again as she apologized, and I gave a sheepish smile.

“It’s fine... It doesn’t matter much.”

It was funny how he picked a fight on his own and left, but it wasn’t exactly wrong, so it was fine.

Yeah.

I was fine.

The problem was—

[Hahahahaha. Look at that damned brat. Hahahahahahaha.]

—Yoo Cheongil behind me did not look fine.

[...You said that dolt was the Poison Sovereign’s grandson? How dare he...]

Grrr.

Was that the sound of a dog growling somewhere, or was I imagining it.

[He’s dead.]

I shook my head at Yoo Cheongil’s reaction.

I had a bad feeling.

A very big one.

****

We left the quarters and headed for where Tang Gyeongak was.

Same buildings and corridors as last time. But there was no floral fragrance.

Which meant the incense last time had been intentional.

Wasn’t it that mixing it with poison arts caused paralysis? Either way, this is a scary house.

‘...Thanks to that, I won’t be relaxing.’

It put me even more on edge in case something popped.

Honestly, if it were just that kind of thing, it would be fine.

‘...But thanks to Lady Pi, I’m walking on eggshells.’

Because of Pi Yeonjin and my damn father, I was about to die of dread at the thought of seeing the Poison King.

‘It’d be strange if he looked on me kindly.’

It’s plain the relationships here are warped to hell.

In this situation, does the Poison King know about what happened between Pi Yeonjin and my father?

‘...Seeing as Tang Yeran knows, odds are high the Poison King knows too.’

I hoped not, if possi—

“You’re Bang Cheonho’s son?”

—ble, but damn it.

The moment I entered the room, the Poison King said it, and my face went sour.

“...Yes, sir.”

“I see.”

Tang Gyeongak spoke while studying my face.

It was a different gaze than his son Tang Cheonil’s earlier.

After a brief inspection, Tang Gyeongak spoke as if convinced.

“You resemble him.”

I didn’t need to ask whom.

“Do you know my father...?”

“I do.”

I swallowed dryly at the Poison King’s words.

Why?

I held back the question that leapt to the tip of my tongue.

‘...My father and the Poison King know each other?’

How is that possible?

What happened with Pi Yeonjin is absurd enough; now he even knows her husband, the Poison King?

‘He really did make the rounds everywhere.’

They used to say he seduced women all across the Central Plains in his youth; I guess that wasn’t a lie.

If only it had been bluster.

“Ho—how...?”

“Do you want to hear it?”

“No. Not particularly...”

I declined at once.

Nothing good would come of hearing it.

Then—

“Don’t worry.”

“Sir?”

The Poison King said something out of the blue.

“Who your father is won’t make me bring personal feelings into this matter.”

‘Oh...’

Music to my ears.

Is that the mindset you get at the level of a Clan Head of the Five Great Clans?

I was just starting to feel a touch of relief when—

“The one I want to kill isn’t you, at least.”

“...”

The relief shattered instantly.

Then who do you want to kill? I wanted to ask, but could not.

I could feel that only harm would come from hearing it.

‘What did he even do?’

Just what did my father pull in the past.

Given that he’s still alive, maybe he slipped it somehow—or maybe he’s just lucky.

Whatever it is, it’s definitely no help to my life.

“...Thank you.”

So this was all I could say now.

At my words, the Poison King dipped his chin slightly, then shifted the conversation.

“I hear you had a clash with my second this morning.”

“Ah.”

He must mean the business with the Poison Dragon.

“Yes. Not really a clash—we exchanged a greeting. He just didn’t like me much.”

“Is that so?”

I kept it plain and honest.

The Poison King’s response was likewise flat.

Which was unexpected.

‘What reaction is this?’

We came to commission the Tang Clan, but in the end we’re guests.

And the Poison King seems to need the existence of Full Moon and the Sword Saint’s heir.

In that situation, to let what happened between his son and me slide like that—

‘Why?’

It didn’t match what I expected.

I was staring at him, puzzled, when—

“First, if that business ruffled your temper, I’ll apologize as Clan Head of the Tang Clan.”

“No, that’s not... to that extent...”

“And.”

The Poison King’s eyes locked on me with a brief weight.

“Should things deepen and something happen between my second and you, I’m telling you in advance: so long as you don’t take his life, I won’t blame you.”

“...”

I kept my mouth shut and frowned.

That wording was peculiar.

“That sounds rather dangerous.”

Even if something happens, he won’t fault me.

So long as I don’t kill his son, he’ll let anything I do slide.

On the surface, it’s like saying, if you’re angry, beat him as much as you like.

But in other words—

‘He’s handed me the pretext to let the two of us settle it ourselves.’

—that’s the more accurate read.

‘Ha.’

By this point I was starting to grasp what kind of man he was.

‘A blade-straight man.’

Sharp, as he looked.

‘With a little heat under it.’

There’s a flash of fire in there.

An unusual sort of person.

Which doesn’t mean—

‘I’ve got him pegged completely.’

I know the Tang Clan too well to take anything to heart too quickly.

‘Does he think I can beat his son?’

Considering how puzzled he was yesterday at me being the Sword Saint’s heir, probably not simply that.

Then what?

This is not like Namgung’s Little Azure Sword.

The Seven are a gathering of the most gifted among the current late-stage prodigies of the Central Plains.

As Yoo Cheongil called Moon Dancer a marvel—

The Poison Dragon is one of the Seven, like Moon Dancer.

Just then, the Poison King rose.

“Time has passed. How about we move for the remainder of the talk.”

“Move?”

Where are we going?

I looked at him in puzzlement, and the Poison King said:

“I’ll take you to Iron River, where Full Moon will be repaired.”

“...!”

Interest kindled in my eyes.