The Eldest Daughter of the Sichuan Tang Clan Protects Her Family

Chapter 8: Yeon-a

 
The girl’s body leaped into the air, her weight driving the sword down towards Tang Min’s throwing knife.
“Scrawny, but surprisingly strong.”

Frustrated by his unwavering stance, the girl sprang back, landing lightly on her feet. She looked to be around fifteen, clad in worn, patched clothing, wielding a sword too large for her small frame. The sword, nearly reaching her chest when held upright, seemed to belong to someone else. Or perhaps it was simply a discarded weapon.
The sword itself looked crude and neglected, its edge nicked in several places, the hilt rusted a dark crimson, as if stained with dried blood. Despite her shabby appearance and the battered sword, the girl’s eyes shone with an intensity that rivaled the most brilliant jewels.
She lowered the sword, repositioning herself, ready to attack again.

Tang Min clicked his tongue. “Strong, but ill-mannered. Is this how you greet your guests?”
“Those who bring weapons of harm are not guests.”
“Oh? You can even distinguish the scent of poison?” Tang Min’s eyes gleamed. “You are definitely one of the Divine Physician’s disciples.” This last remark was directed at Sohwa, confirming that he recognized the girl as one of the troupe. It was a declaration of his intent to test her skills, regardless of Sohwa’s objections. Having spent decades in the martial world, Tang Min possessed a keen eye for talent. He was clearly intrigued by the girl’s potential, recognizing the qualities of a future Heavenly Ten Swords.

Sohwa’s head throbbed, and she bit her lip in frustration. ‘I need to gain Yeon-a’s favor…’ She was worried that Tang Min's actions would turn Yeon-a against them. As she pondered how to stop the fight, the two martial artists clashed again, their weapons flashing like lightning.
Kang! Kaang! Kang! Kwaang!
“Come on, show me what you’ve got!”

“Euh!”
One was driven by frustration, the other by amusement.
Tang Hak tugged nervously at Sohwa’s sleeve. “N-Noona, shouldn’t we stop them? What if Elder Tang Min hurts her…?”

Sohwa’s gaze shifted to her brother. “…Do you want to try stopping them?”
Tang Hak’s lips tightened. Tang Min was powerful and unpredictable. Though his support was essential for their mission, he had a significant flaw: Once he started a fight, no one could stop him.
He toyed with Yeon-a, dodging her attacks with ease. “Ehei, not that way, child.”

Yeon-a lunged at him again and again, but her swordsmanship was constantly disrupted by his small throwing knives. The impact of each parry sent tremors through her arms, preventing her from wielding the heavy sword effectively.
“Euk!”
With a frustrated cry, Yeon-a raised her sword high, as if preparing for a powerful downward strike. But just as Tang Min raised his throwing knife to meet her attack, she abruptly changed her trajectory, aiming for his side.
“Oh?” Tang Min, slightly impressed, moved aside, allowing her to complete the maneuver.

Yeon-a, seizing the opportunity, unleashed a flurry of attacks, her sword tracing precise patterns in the air. She didn't realize that this was exactly what he wanted.
In a blink of an eye, Tang Min vanished.
“Eut!”

He reappeared behind her, muttering as if to himself, “But… that technique looks familiar.”
Yeon-a whirled around, bringing her sword down, but Tang Min was already gone. She frowned, searching for him, her eyes darting around.
He reappeared in front of her.

“You! Coward!”
“Hmm? That’s the first time I’ve heard someone call movement techniques cowardly. Haven't you learned any movement skills yet?”
Yeon-a lunged again, but Tang Min casually flicked a throwing knife, intercepting her attack.

Kwaang!
The knife struck the flat of her blade with a deafening roar, the force of the impact reverberating through the air. Tang Hak winced, clutching his shoulders.
“Ow. That really hurts. The impact is incredible. It feels like your wrist is shattering and your insides are exploding. But she’s holding up well. She’s so small and slender.”

Sohwa didn't see it that way. Yeon-a was clearly struggling to withstand the force of the blows.
Yeon-a stumbled back, lowering her stance and holding her sword defensively in front of her chest. Even standing seemed to require immense effort, her arms trembling visibly.
Tang Min waited patiently for her to recover. But as Yeon-a straightened, attempting to regain her footing, he launched another flurry of throwing knives. Startled, she deflected them all, her sword moving with lightning speed.

Kang! Kaang! Kang! Her swift, precise movements intercepted each of Tang Min's projectiles. His face hardened.
The throwing knives, which had been dancing around Yeon-a playfully, suddenly converged on her. Just as they were about to pierce her skin, they stopped, hovering in mid-air, a cage of sharp metal imprisoning her, preventing any further movement.
A heavy silence descended, broken only by the soft thud of Tang Min’s approaching footsteps.

Thud.
He stopped a step away from Yeon-a and asked, his voice cold, “Did you learn that from Kunlun?”

* * *
 
The word “Kunlun” sent a chill down Sohwa's spine.

Kunlun, a Taoist sect located in Qinghai Province, bordering Sichuan to the northwest, was renowned for its unique sword techniques. But what struck Sohwa was something else entirely. In her previous life, Kunlun had been the first sect to be annihilated by the Demonic Cult. Though their sacrifice had significantly weakened the Cult, they had been completely eradicated.
How did Yeon-a know anything about Kunlun?
As she pondered this, a flash of movement caught her eye.

Kwaang!
Yeon-a clutched her wrist, her sword flying through the air, landing far behind her.
Tang Min’s voice, now devoid of amusement, was sharp and cold. “You shouldn’t flaunt stolen techniques. Not unless you want to see the one who taught you them dead.”

Yeon-a replied, her voice equally cold, “No one taught me that technique.”
“Then?”
She frowned, looking at him as if he were an idiot. Finally, she asked, “…Isn't that something anyone can do?” Her tone was deeply skeptical.

A heavy silence fell upon the group. Everyone who couldn't "do that" wisely chose to remain silent.
Yeon-a stared at Tang Min, genuine confusion etched on her face. He met her gaze, then tilted his head slightly. “…You learned it on your own?”
“I’ve seen others use it, but no one taught me directly. I’m not lying.”

“Hahaha.” Tang Min suddenly burst into laughter.
Tang Hak nudged Sohwa, his voice trembling with fear. “Noona, I-I think Elder Tang Min is enjoying this.”
Sohwa pressed her fingers against her forehead, exasperated. This wasn’t good. Tang Min’s interest was different this time. He recognized Yeon-a’s potential, and that was dangerous.

Tang Min had a habit of summoning promising martial artists to the training grounds and attacking them without warning, under the guise of offering guidance. There was a reason the Tang Clan warriors avoided him. While most martial artists would consider training under a master of his caliber a great honor, the Tang Clan members knew better. Sparring with Tang Min meant spending at least ten days recovering in the medical pavilion.
Tap.
His laughter subsiding, Tang Min walked towards a nearby tree and casually kicked Yeon-a's discarded sword towards her.

“Pick it up.”
The moment she grasped her sword, Yeon-a charged at him again.
Kwaang! Bang!

The sounds of sword clashing against throwing knife echoed through the air. They exchanged a dozen blows in rapid succession. Yeon-a's face contorted in pain as she struggled to deflect his attacks. Tang Min was no longer holding back. His throwing knives, infused with his internal energy, glowed with a faint purple light.
“Keuk.”
Yeon-a coughed up blood.

Tang Hak gasped, taking a step forward. “H-Heavens! He’s using his full strength against such a small, frail girl!”
Tang Min never held back, regardless of his opponent. He might have believed he was going easy, but those on the receiving end never felt that way. And it was clear now. One of the world’s strongest martial artists had just made a fifteen-year-old girl cough up blood. How could this be considered "going easy"?
Perhaps it was fortunate that this happened within the vicinity of the Divine Physician's troupe. They could heal her quickly… ‘Wait, why am I even concerned about this?’ Sohwa suppressed the rising irritation in her chest.

Oblivious to her concern, Tang Min continued to taunt Yeon-a. “So, where did you meet this Kunlun Taoist? Did he come looking for the Divine Physician's troupe, or was it an attack?”
“I don’t remember. I don’t even know if he was from Kunlun.”
Tang Min frowned. “…Child, you’re rather disrespectful. Did your parents, or whoever raised you, teach you to speak like that?”

“There’s no need for courtesy towards those who bring harm.”
“Oh, really? Is that what you were taught? Ah, right, you said no one taught you.” Tang Min chuckled and stepped back, then, surprisingly, lowered his hands. “Well, whether you honed your skills on your own or you're trying to protect your master, I’m impressed. In my infinite generosity, I’ll let this slide. Now, lead the way. I want to meet this Divine Physician, or your guardian, immediately.”
Yeon-a responded to his cheerful declaration with a scoff. “Generosity? Don’t make me laugh.”

She tightened her grip on her sword, but this time, she didn’t charge recklessly. She had gauged his strength and knew better than to attack head-on.
“You are not welcome here.”
Tang Min grinned, tilting his head playfully. “Oh? And how do you plan to stop me?”

Yeon-a glared at him, her eyes dark and unyielding.
“No, seriously, I’m genuinely curious. How do you intend to stop me?”
“Given enough time… I can.”

Tang Min’s eyes widened, and he scratched his cheek. “Well, I may look like a tender, youthful lad, but I'm an old man with decades of experience and a sturdy constitution. A prolonged fight would only end with you as paste.”
Yeon-a’s expression remained unchanged, as if she already knew he was an elder who had achieved a youthful appearance through internal energy cultivation. She had only frowned slightly when he referred to himself as a “tender, youthful lad.”
As if deeming his words unworthy of a response, she lunged at him again, her movements swift and decisive. Tang Min, with a casual flick of his wrist, launched a throwing knife.

His face suddenly contorted in surprise.
Yeon-a, who had been charging towards him, her sword aimed at his chest, abruptly dropped her sword, letting it clatter to the ground.
Tang Min desperately tried to recall the knife.

But it was too late. The knife had already reached her chest.
Tak.
Yeon-a reached out and caught the knife in her bare hand. Blood welled up from the wound in her palm, but she didn't flinch. She tightened her grip, twisting the knife in her hand, then flung it back at him.

Directly at Tang Min.
He didn't move, but the casual expression on his face was gone.
Thwack.

The knife embedded itself in a tree behind him. All sound ceased. Only the rustling of leaves and the gentle whisper of the wind filled the sudden silence.
Swoosh.
The leaves of the tree swayed gently, casting flickering shadows across Tang Min’s face.

Everyone stared at the scene, speechless, unable to comprehend what they had just witnessed.
…Tang Min’s sleeve was torn.