The Outcast Writer of a Martial Arts Visual Novel-Chapter 141: Daseogak in Crisis - 1

A secret tale of the Tang Clan?

I don’t get it. At all. A secret tale implies an untold or deliberately buried story—something no one was supposed to know.

And yet here I am, being grabbed by the neck by a middle-aged man and shaken like one of those inflatable tube dancers outside a grand opening. That must mean the story written in Storm of the Tang Clan reminded him of something they wanted to keep hidden.

But is Storm of the Tang Clan really a story they’d want to hide? Tang Jeong is a righteous warrior. Chasing the Lecher isn’t something you get blamed for—it’s the kind of thing that earns you praise.

Sure, there are some love scenes. But come on, is that really a reason to wring my neck like he’s squeezing a blob of jelly? Heroes making love to beautiful women is practically tradition in these stories.

And I was careful—since I was writing about the Sichuan Tang Clan, I paid extra attention to the protagonist’s actions. Nothing about his behavior could be called problematic. If it’s not the protagonist... then maybe...

“Watch out!”

Out of nowhere, a throwing knife flew straight at the hand gripping my neck. The middle-aged man quickly let go and twisted his body to dodge it.

“Who’s there?!”

The middle-aged man and the other martial artists who had barged into the bookstore looked toward the direction the knife had come from.

“Who do you think? I’m the owner of this place, and I’m here to clean up the mess caused by trash like you making a scene in someone else’s store. Who the hell are you?”

Hwa-rin strode in confidently.

“Purple hair?”

It seemed the people from the Sichuan Tang Clan hadn’t expected her appearance. They just stared in shock as she walked straight up to me.

“Yun-ho. Are you okay?”

“Cough! Uh, yeah. I’m okay.”

I nodded while sitting on the floor, sucking in as much oxygen as I could. Hwa-rin gave me a worried look, then swept her gaze across the martial artists with an expression full of fury.

“I don’t know what kind of insane stunt you’re pulling, but do people from prestigious orthodox sects now go around threatening commoners without a second thought?”

Seems like Hwa-rin had also figured out where they were from. She moved one arm behind her back and signaled me to get up. The middle-aged man looked at her and spoke.

“Purple hair. Are you a child of the Tang Clan?”

“Do I look like someone else's kid? Yun-ho. Back against the wall.”

Hwa-rin replied sharply, then pushed me toward the wall and stood in front of me. The martial artists inside the bookstore instinctively began to encircle us.

“Well, this is convenient. We came here looking for the author of Storm of the Tang Clan, and lo and behold, a kid who bears the Tang bloodline and uses Tang martial arts shows up. Are you the author of Storm of the Tang Clan?”

The middle-aged man looked Hwa-rin up and down, as if everything had just clicked into place in his mind.

“Hwa-rin.”

I grabbed her shoulder in a panic. When she turned to look at me, her face already held ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ a resolute expression.

No. Hwa-rin. Don’t.

Just like she’d said before, her eyes told me she was ready to take all the blame herself.

Hwa-rin, don’t start like this. We don’t even know what they want yet. We haven’t figured out what cards we’re holding. Don’t say anything.

Don’t do it. I’ll take the fall. In that fleeting moment, our eyes wrestled in silent tug-of-war.

“The situation is as clear as fire in the dark. If you insist on confessing only after blood has been shed, I won’t stop you.”

“...I wrote it. I’m the one you’re looking for. I’m Ho-pil.”

Just one small threat was enough to snap the tension and destroy our fragile balance.

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The middle-aged man introduced himself as the Head of the Medical Pavilion in the Sichuan Tang Clan. Since, as he put it, “the Pavilion Head has many ears,” he brought only a few trusted martial artists upstairs with us.

“What is your name?”

So the interrogation starts with basic identification, huh?

The Pavilion Head sat in a chair and asked the question to Hwa-rin, who was sitting across from him, wearing a bored expression.

“Tang Hwa-rin.”

“Haven’t seen you before. You’re practicing Tang martial arts—are you a child of the outer branch?”

The Tang Clan’s direct bloodline resides in the Inner Fortress, while branch families live in the Outer Fortress.

And because the Tang Clan rules over Sichuan like warlords, the size of their residence isn’t just a manor—it’s a small city. So what he really meant was, “Are you from one of the branch families?”

“Never even been to Sichuan.”

“That can’t be. A girl who’s never set foot in the Outer Fortress shouldn’t be able to learn Tang martial arts.”

“What, you think I’d lie about something like that?”

“You little brat—!”

One of the martial artists standing watch grimaced at Hwa-rin’s rude attitude.

“Leave her be. If you’ve never lived in the Outer Fortress, then you weren’t even acknowledged as family—a bastard child. Did you learn martial arts from your father, then?”

“I dunno. Never even seen his face.”

At the mention of her father, Hwa-rin averted her gaze, clearly displeased.

Of course, I know—canonically—who her father is. But there was no need to bring that up here.

“You don’t know? Then who taught you martial arts?”

“......”

Hwa-rin fell silent, her eyes flicking anxiously toward me.

I get it. She’s worried these people might be connected to the Poisoned Ones experiments. But it’s fine. According to the setting, there were very few involved in those experiments.

And they clearly didn’t come here for that. Plus, they didn’t even react when they heard your name.

Now that I’ve already revealed I’m Ho-pil, there’s no need to raise more suspicion. I nodded at her, signaling it was okay to speak.

“...Tang Geo-ho. My mentor.”

“Geo-ho? That bastard? Are you saying that bastard Tang Geo-ho is your father?”

The Pavilion Head’s face twisted with hostility the moment he heard the name Tang Geo-ho. Good. So they’re not related to the Poisoned Ones after all. If he’s showing this level of hostility, it means their relationship is definitely bad.

“He’s my master. Not my father.”

Hwa-rin answered with certainty, her voice unwavering.

“So, you’re not a branch member. Your father is unknown. And yet you received Tang martial arts instruction... from that Tang Geo-ho bastard? Why? Wait... Storm of the Tang Clan, a bastard child, Tang Geo-ho, over twenty years ago... and we’re in Yichang... Could your mother have been the daughter of the Baek Family?”

The Pavilion Head mumbled with suspicion, then stared intently at Hwa-rin as if something had clicked in his mind.

“Yeah.”

“I see. So that’s what happened.”

The Pavilion Head nodded with an expression of enlightenment, like all the pieces had finally fallen into place.

Except the conclusion he reached was completely off from what I knew.

“You. You’re the daughter of the Lecher from over twenty years ago.”

...What the hell is this guy talking about now?

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

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Tang Hwa-rin’s father... is the Lecher? That’s not the setting I know.

Tang Hwa-rin. Her father is also a Poisoned One.

That was all the character sheet had ever said about her father—but I remembered clearly. There was a reason Hwa-rin had become a Poisoned One, even if imperfectly. It wasn’t something I could ever tell her, but her bloodline definitely played a role.

Hwa-rin’s father wasn’t the Lecher. He was a Poisoned One.

And this Medical Pavilion Head had grabbed the entirely wrong end of the stick.

“So, were you trying to avenge the death of your father, killed by the Clan Head twenty years ago? By doing this?”

The middle-aged Pavilion Head pointed at Hwa-rin like some seasoned detective who had just solved a murder mystery.

You’ve got it completely wrong, man.

I kept my mouth shut. If I spoke, I’d just have to explain how I knew any of this, which would only raise more questions.

“I said I don’t even know who my father is.”

“There’s no way you don’t. Didn’t Volume 2 of Storm of the Tang Clan suggest that the aphrodisiac originated from the Sichuan Tang Clan?”

“So what?”

“You’re pretending not to know? Or do you really not know? Twenty years ago, some trash from the Tang Clan used forbidden experiments to turn a bastard child from a branch family into a Poisoned One. Fools. They thought success in the Poisoned One experiment meant they deserved recognition. They didn’t realize that even if the body was intact, the mind wouldn’t be.”

“Wait. A Poisoned One twenty years ago?”

Hold up...

That does match the setting.

The Pavilion Head glanced briefly at me as I muttered in surprise, then continued.

“The bastard-born Poisoned One had uncontrollable lust. And unfortunately, his body carried a Tang Clan poison that inflamed women’s sexual desires. One day, he slipped past surveillance and escaped. Then he started assaulting women. We had to form a pursuit squad immediately to deal with the Poison and the Poisoned One our own clan had created.”

Now that he was convinced Hwa-rin was the Lecher’s daughter, he even gave a detailed backstory about her father.

That sounds... way too similar to the plot of Storm of the Tang Clan.

I get it now.

That incident twenty years ago must’ve been the Tang Clan’s equivalent of a nuclear meltdown—an unthinkable disaster they desperately wanted to bury.

A Poisoned One, something taboo in the martial world, had been created by their own hand. That much they probably managed to cover up.

But when he escaped and started attacking women, while carrying an aphrodisiac they themselves had developed, it became a full-blown catastrophe.

Given the Tang Clan’s reputation for poison and throwing weapons, it was already questionable whether they were truly “righteous.” If this had come out, it would’ve destroyed them.

A secret from twenty years ago.

A Poisoned One turned Lecher.

An aphrodisiac crafted by the Tang Clan.

So these guys didn’t barge into Daseogak because of Tang Jeong.

It was because of the Lecher.

“I heard the Baek Family’s daughter bore the Lecher’s child. It must’ve been Tang Geo-ho who cleaned up the mess and secretly taught you martial arts.”

“...What?”

Hwa-rin’s face froze in shock at this bombshell about her father.

“Why did you do it? I don’t know the full details, but I heard that when your mother came forward with proof, she was given ample compensation. Was it not enough? Is that why you’re doing this?”

“I told you—I didn’t know! It was just a coincidence!”

Hwa-rin screamed in frustration.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s just a novel! Triple Poison, Poisoned Killing Zone—none of that’s real Tang Clan martial arts! It’s fiction!”

Exactly. A Lecher using aphrodisiacs is a cliché in the martial smut genre. You’ve gotta look deeper at the setting!

“Yes. Most Beautiful Woman in Sichuan, Poisoned Killing Zone, Triple Poison—clearly fictional. But the core of the story is based on reality, is it not?”

“What are you saying?”

“A Lecher born of the Tang Clan. An aphrodisiac created by the Tang Clan. The young Clan Head leading the pursuit all the way to Hubei. Even the part where he falls in love with a Joseon courtesan named Du Eung-hyang. All of it is in your novel.”

The Pavilion Head threw Volume 2 down in front of Hwa-rin.

Are you serious right now?

The guy Tang Jeong was based on... was the Tang Clan Head?

“Falling for a courtesan is hardly a rare plot point in martial fiction.”

“Don’t deny it. Your father’s forced experimentation. His madness. The Clan Head killing your father. The darkest secret of the Tang Clan. Wasn’t your true goal to expose all of that with this book?!”

Today’s martial arts riddle:

What’s the probability that the Lecher’s daughter unknowingly wrote a novel about the Lecher?

My head was pounding.

I almost died because So-hee accidentally used her mother’s real name—and now Hwa-rin’s going through the same hell because she doesn’t know who her father is.

Whoever’s writing these character sheets really needs to get their act together.

Next time I meet a heroine I don’t fully recognize, I’m doing a full background check on her parents first.

This plotline’s a tangled disaster.

“We’re taking both of you back to the main stronghold and locking you in the dungeon. Punishment will come later. Vice Pavilion Head!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Don’t come any closer!”

As the martial artists moved in, Hwa-rin leapt up and drew her throwing knives.

I stayed seated, watching her and the others.

They’ve completely misunderstood. But there’s no way to clear it up.

Honestly, it’s so ridiculous it almost makes me laugh.

I want to scream, You’ve got it all wrong!, but everything around us is screaming the opposite.

Think. If they drag you off, you’ll die. You’ll rot in some dungeon. Or worse—end up a test subject.

It’s a complete, tangled mess.

But if I can’t untangle it... then what?

That’s when an idea struck me.

“The reason we did all this—even risking our lives—wasn’t revenge for Hwa-rin’s father. It was for something else entirely.”

I activated the Soyoon Mental Resonance Technique, lowering my voice to cool the heated air.

“You think you can lie your way out of this now?”

The Pavilion Head glared at me. He was right—I was trying to lie. But also... not really.

“When I decided to publish Storm of the Tang Clan, I knew someone from the Sichuan Tang Clan would come after reading it. Someone who’d recognize the real events behind the fiction.”

“You’re saying you knew and still published it?”

“Yes. I believed that someone from the Tang Clan would appear—not some low-ranked guard, but someone in a real position of power. Someone the Clan Head trusted completely.”

“What are you saying? Are you implying I was the one you wanted to come?”

I looked him directly in the eyes.

A person the Tang Clan Head trusts enough to send for medical treatment.

Someone who doesn’t know Hwa-rin’s identity or trust Tang Geo-ho.

Someone highly skilled in medicine.

He was the perfect target for what I was about to try.

“Hwa-rin. Show him your veil.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.”

Hwa-rin removed her veil, which looked even darker than usual today.

“Those marks on your jaw... poison-induced? No... wait—”

The Pavilion Head leaned forward, inspecting the stains.

I had to make it convincing.

“Hwa-rin, sorry, but show him your arms and stomach too.”

“Got it.”

Maybe she understood what I was aiming for.

She lifted her top, revealing the stains that covered both arms and her lower abdomen.

“Those marks... all across her upper body? Wait. This condition is...”

A symptom familiar to anyone who knew both Hwa-rin and her father.

A knot of misunderstanding too twisted to untie. So I’d use my own sword to cut through it.

“Sichuan Tang Clan. Did you know that Tang Geo-ho and his group have resumed the Poisoned One experiments that were abandoned twenty years ago?”

If I couldn’t fix the misunderstanding...

Then I’d replace it with a new one.