The Eldest Daughter of the Sichuan Tang Clan Protects Her Family

Chapter 3: The Strongest of the Tang Clan

 
Jolted from her thoughts by the unexpected remark, Sohwa looked up.
“Even if Namgung Jin were to cling to my robes and beg to be accepted as a son-in-law, I wouldn’t give you to him.”

“…Why not?” she asked lightly. Tang Jiha’s face crumpled as if the world had just ended.
“Y-you… you, Sohwa, don’t tell me you have feelings for Namgung Jin?”
“No. I’ve never even seen his face.”

“Then why would you say such a thing?”
“No particular reason. I was just curious.” Tang Sohwa wondered if there was some conflict she was unaware of and focused intently on her father’s response.
However, instead of answering seriously, Tang Jiha scoffed and shook his head.

“Of course not. How dare anyone covet the Tang Clan’s Jewel? Not even Namgung Jin. No, not even the Crown Prince himself…”
“Father!” Sohwa quickly interrupted him. No matter how secluded the Tang Clan was, word could still travel. Mentioning the Imperial Family was dangerous. It was best to avoid any association with them, to erase them from her mind entirely.
Tang Jiha cleared his throat. “Figuratively speaking, of course.”

Tang Sohwa sighed softly. She knew he meant it.
Though Tang Jiha was known for his ruthlessness in the outside world, his family always came first. It was hard to believe, but in his younger days, he was said to have been even gentler than Tang Hak. Though he now deliberately treated Tang Hak harshly, pushing him to grow stronger, he loved his son deeply.
When Tang Hak disappeared in the Yangtze River, Tang Jiha had spent a year searching for him, personally sailing up and down the river, refusing to give up hope. It was a well-known story.

And he felt the same about her.
While she was confined to her cold, isolated quarters in the Namgung estate, falsely accused and neglected, he had sent her a birthday gift: a deep emerald green robe. Green, the color of the Tang Clan. A silent message: Don’t forget you are a Tang. The robe was embroidered with a crimson decoration, a symbol only the Clan Head could wear. A crimson Black Tortoise, a promise that he would bear the responsibility for her actions, no matter what.
After that, venomous insects, bred in the Tang Clan’s secluded gardens, began appearing in her courtyard. Poisonous flowers, their origins unknown, bloomed in her garden. Even though Namgung Hyeon was no longer a disregarded bastard but the Patriarch of the Namgung Clan, her father had unhesitatingly placed the Tang Clan’s weapons at her disposal. A silent permission: If you wish, you may end his life.

A bitter smile touched Sohwa’s lips. She noticed the wrinkles etched around her father’s eyes. Yes, the Tang Clan had many enemies. It would be strange if they didn’t. They were people who, if pricked by a thorn, would not hesitate to plunge a dagger into another's heart. Amidst countless enemies, her father had protected his family, and the clan members, in turn, had laid down their lives to defend their home.
Therefore, even if the Tang Clan had incurred someone’s wrath, the reason didn't matter. If someone dared to raise a blade against them, they simply had to ensure that they never dared to draw it.
Tang Jiha, sensing something in his daughter’s expression, frowned deeply. “…Don't tell me you also took an interest in Namgung Jin at last year’s Clan Alliance meeting? Surely not?”
Tang Sohwa masked her thoughts with a harmless smile. “No. I didn't even attend the banquet.”

“But Yehwa didn't go either, and yet she knows his face. Perhaps you peeked over the wall?”
“Oh, that’s because Yehwa was in Sichuan town and…” Lost in thought, Sohwa inadvertently revealed her sister’s transgression, then quickly clamped her mouth shut. It was too late. Her father’s face had darkened considerably.
“…Yehwa went to Sichuan town?”

“How could Yehwa possibly leave without your permission, Father? She heard about it from a maid who happened to see Namgung Jin in Sichuan town.”
The twins, Yuhwa and Yehwa, sneaking out to meet the Namgung heir during the festival was a secret shared only between the three mischievous siblings and herself. Tang Hak, dragged along as an unwilling chaperone, had ended up in a brawl with a martial artist from another region. And it was Namgung Jin who had intervened and helped them. Only Tang Sohwa and the twins knew this.
Despite their brother’s injury, the twins had been completely smitten with Namgung Jin, chattering incessantly about him.

Namgung Jin, despite being a late-stage disciple, had already earned the impressive title of “Heavenly Bow Sword.” It was said that sunlight refracted through his sword energy, creating a rainbow of seven colors. She wouldn't know. She had never seen it. Or him, for that matter.
Charming, refined, elegant. She had heard countless rumors about him, yet knew nothing concrete. Namgung Hyeon was handsome, as was Namgung An, the Patriarch. It was safe to assume that Namgung Jin, sharing their bloodline, was also attractive.
Sohwa took a sip of tea, avoiding her father’s gaze. The sweet floral fragrance filled her mouth, calming her nerves.

Three years from now, Namgung Jin would die while on a mission for the Martial Alliance, ambushed by unknown assailants. Such an attack on a martial artist of his caliber was rare, leading to whispers of betrayal, but no clear suspect ever emerged.
Though it had been a significant event in the martial world, it hadn't held much interest for Sohwa, hence her limited knowledge. It was simply the tragic tale of a brilliant young martial artist, barely past twenty, meeting an untimely end.
A strange smile played on Sohwa’s lips as she set down her cup. ‘Namgung Jin. Fortune favors you in this life.’ He would survive. He would become the Patriarch and overshadow Namgung Hyeon, preventing him from ever gaining power. She would make sure of it.

To begin, she needed to secure Namgung Hyeon's greatest weapon, the one he had not yet acquired – the Heavenly Ten Swords.
“Father, have you ever heard of the Divine Physician’s troupe?”

* * *
 
“Noona, Noona, where are you?”

Tang Hak, whispering softly as he peeked through the window frame, flinched. A thin thread, almost invisible, stretched across the opening. He cautiously retreated, pulling his head back.
‘…A trap?’ Why would she set a trap in her own room? A remnant of her violent tendencies, perhaps? Having been subjected to countless “pranks,” Tang Hak found it difficult to interpret his sister’s actions positively. He scanned the room warily, his eyes narrowed, then flicked a small dart from his sleeve, severing the thread.
Thud.

Nothing happened. A small note drifted down from the ceiling.
Tang Hak reached out and picked it up. It was clearly a message from his sister. He was the only one insane enough to visit her quarters at this hour.
His father, having recognized Maehwa as a spiritual creature, had declared his intention to confiscate her. Desperate, Tang Hak had rushed to his sister, hoping she would intervene. Their father was strangely susceptible to her pleas.

Tang Hak unfolded the note and frowned. It was indeed from his sister.
[I have gone to see Elder Tang Min. If you have something to say, come there.]
He quickly folded the note.

“Heoheo, Elder Tang Min, you say?”
Elder Tang Min, known by the imposing title “Black Heaven Dark Ghost,” was a formidable martial artist. However, those in the martial world rarely used his official title, preferring a more… colloquial nickname.
“Mad Dog.”

In a world filled with madmen, earning the moniker “Mad Dog” was a remarkable feat. It implied a level of madness that surpassed all others.
In Tang Hak's memory, Tang Min was a lunatic who once, in response to a disrespectful comment, had plucked out the previous Patriarch's beard and then, to prevent his escape, meticulously pinned his clothes to the wall with throwing knives.
Despite such an outrageous act against the Clan Head, he had emerged unscathed. The reason was simple: no one in the clan could restrain him. After that incident, the only noticeable change was the previous Patriarch’s temporary lack of facial hair.

Perhaps madmen recognized each other, but Tang Sohwa, who had consumed poison like candy since childhood, and Tang Min had a surprisingly good relationship. They looked similar in age now, almost like a pair of amicable siblings.
Tang Hak recalled a conversation between them from about four years ago.
- The concoction itself is not difficult. With the ingredients you’ve gathered, I believe I can create a poison far more potent than what you requested.

- Kya, as expected of Sohwa. Very well, then begin immediately.
Just as Tang Min turned to leave, Sohwa had spoken softly.
- There’s just one problem.

- Huh! What problem? Tang Min, startled, frowned. Her response had been unforgettable.
- It’s bothersome.
- What?

- I’m not your personal servant, nor am I a child just learning to walk. His thirteen-year-old sister had placed her small fists on her hips and stated her objections clearly.
- Spending three days kneading dough is a waste of my time. A defiant refusal from a thirteen-year-old, unwilling to waste her time on such trivial tasks.
He could confidently assert that Tang Sohwa was the only person in the Tang Clan bold enough to address Tang Min with such impudence. At that time, she had been puffed up with pride at being admitted to the Poison Pavilion.

Even the eldest elders and the Grand Patriarch, residing in the picturesque Jiuzhaigou Valley, would unquestioningly comply with Tang Min’s requests. Yet, thirteen-year-old Tang Sohwa had dared to defy him. The strongest martial artist in the Tang Clan.
It was an act of utter disrespect, yet, perhaps because of his own eccentric nature, Tang Min had not only understood but even seemed to appreciate her defiance. The precious ingredients he had painstakingly gathered remained unused, stored away in his secret vault to this day.
“Haha.” Tang Hak looked up at the bright full moon, his eyes filled with mock tears. ‘I’m sorry, Maehwa. Your older brother has failed you.’ His noble, spiritual hawk would now be reduced to a mere messenger bird, squeezed between tiny carrier pigeons, undergoing rigorous training.

No matter how gentle Tang Hak was, Tang Min was terrifying.
He quickly fled his sister’s quarters.

* * *
 
A soft, intoxicating aroma of alcohol permeated the brightly lit pavilion. Sohwa, however, took a sip of the tea placed beside the wine cup.

“Tsk. You don't appreciate the value of what’s before you.” Tang Min clicked his tongue and took a sip of the peach-blossom wine.
“Keuh.” Judging by the way he savored each sip, it must have been incredibly rare and expensive. Under normal circumstances, she might have been touched by his generosity, but Tang Sohwa realized with a pang of sadness how few visitors he received. Countless people, both main and branch family members, lived within the Tang Clan estate, yet he remained isolated.
In her youth, she had assumed he enjoyed the distance people kept from him. But as she grew older, she realized that was only partly true. Even those who enjoyed solitude didn’t necessarily dislike companionship. She had come to miss him when he wasn’t around. She found herself acting on his behalf, anticipating his needs without him having to ask. Tang Min was probably the same. Within the Tang Clan, she was the only one who visited him freely. Perhaps that was why he had shown her such kindness, much like her own affection for Tang Hak.

Lost in thought, Sohwa reached for the wine cup. She wrinkled her nose at the pungent aroma of the potent liquor. Tang Min burst into laughter.
“Haha, how is it? The scent alone is different, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It smells lovely.” ‘Lovely,’ she thought. It must be expensive. The sweet fragrance of peaches and the clean scent of distilled spirits filled her senses, leaving a warm afterglow. A relaxed smile spread across her lips. Seeing Tang Min’s cheerful demeanor filled the tattered remnants of her heart with a sense of peace. She took a deep breath of the clear night air and spoke.

“Elder Tang Min.”
She paused, meeting his gaze, then continued, “Have you ever heard of a troupe of musicians… called the Divine Physician’s troupe?”
Tang Min rolled his eyes, searching his memory. His dark pupils darted around like stars in the night sky, then suddenly focused on Sohwa.

“Are you referring to the Divine Physician’s troupe that disappeared fifty years ago?”
The troupe was a group of healers led by a legendary physician known only as "Divine Physician." They were renowned not only for their unparalleled healing abilities but also for their mastery of alchemy, their ability to create miraculous elixirs. Countless martial artists owed their rise to prominence to the pills crafted by the Divine Physician.
Could she possibly be referring to them?

Sensing the mixture of skepticism and hope in Tang Min’s eyes, Sohwa calmly nodded.
“Yes. That’s the one.”