Chapter 3

With one strike that crushed the masu's head, Turan approached Keorn while holding the sling.

In fact, deciding to help this knight was quite a risk for Turan.

If Keorn returned to his house and reported that there was a useful young slave here, he would have to flee immediately.

Yet he stepped forward because protecting a guest was his duty as lord of the Hisaril hills, and because the old knight had shown respect and courtesy as a guest.

"Are you alright?"

But for some reason, Keorn was watching the fallen leopard masu with its shattered head rather than Turan.

"Be careful!"

There was no need to ask what he meant.

Because the leopard masu suddenly raised its headless body and lunged at Turan.

A flickering pale green light rose up to replace the head that had originally had a hole and was now completely crushed.

Fortunately, thanks to the warning, Turan was able to create distance by kicking away the masu's lunging body.

The strongly kicked masu rolled several dozen meters, but didn't seem to take much damage.

"You can't kill a revenant with physical attacks!"

"Then how do we kill it?"

"With fire or lightning!"

Hearing the advice, Turan immediately tried to set fire to the masu's body, but like before, sparks flew and the flames that were about to rise flickered out helplessly.

Seeing this, Keorn could finally confirm that Turan was the one who had killed the masu.

It was basic knowledge for magicians that directly applying magical power to other magical creatures required proper causality, yet the young shepherd before him showed no sign of knowing such principles.

Naturally, he wouldn't have known about the principle of needing to disperse a dead masu's magic power either.

"Don't light the fire, create and shoot it!"

Even as he advised this, Keorn thought Turan would find it difficult.

While lighting flames was something even young magicians could do instinctively, directly controlling them was a skill that required separate training.

Just as he worried, flames rose above Turan's hand, spun around it, and shot toward the masu as if imbued with centrifugal force.

He had simply applied the principle of his most familiar attack method – stone throwing.

[■□■□■□■–]

As the flying flames caught on its spirit body, the masu screamed and rolled on the ground.

It seemed to be trying to extinguish the flames by rubbing against the ground, but the magical fire burned endlessly, consuming its master's magic power.

Contrary to how Keorn's attacks had no effect, this meant Turan's magic power was clearly superior to the opponent's.

Turan maintained intense concentration while continuously feeding power to keep the flames burning on the masu's body.

After about thirty seconds, the spirit body enveloping the masu screamed and its body instantly burned away.

Turan and Keorn both sighed in relief.

"Is it really over now?"

"Yes… first absorb the magic power. Unless you want to meet another revenant."

The method of absorbing magic power wasn't very difficult.

Just extend your hand over the corpse and imagine drawing in something invisible.

That alone caused an aura of the same color as the spirit body from earlier to flow out and seep into his body.

Turan shuddered at this sensation he'd never felt before.

The feeling of something steadily accumulating inside his body, transforming him into a stronger and more alien being than before.

The eerie pleasure made his whole body break out in goosebumps.

"Is this really your first time absorbing magic power?"

"Yes."

"Hard to believe…"

Originally, magic power slowly grows with age after first awakening, but unless you kill and absorb other masu or magicians, that growth isn't very high.

Then doesn't this mean his current ability was purely from innate power?

Considering that the limit of growth through magic absorption is proportional to innate magic power, his potential was clearly extraordinary.

Newly realizing this fact, Keorn lightly cleared his throat before asking politely.

"I've been quite rude, young master. May I ask which house you belong to?"

Turan felt uncomfortable with Keorn's respectful attitude.

Though he couldn't explain exactly why… he didn't want to see this old knight lower himself like this.

"Let's tend to your wounds first before talking."

Keorn was still bleeding from above his eyebrow where the claws had scratched him.

* * *

"Ugh…"

After applying herb juice with hemostatic effects to his head and wrapping it with bandages – actually closer to well-washed cloth strips – Keorn groaned softly.

Since Turan's house had herbs and bandages prepared for injuries, he was able to provide decent first aid.

It would have been nice to instantly heal it with magic, but from past experience trying to heal his mother's bruises, healing others' wounds consumed an excessive amount of magic power.

Probably even if Turan used all his magic power, he could barely heal about half of the torn scalp.

"I apologize greatly, young master. To make someone of your status do such things."

"As I've said many times, I'm not someone of status. Just a shepherd who doesn't even know who his father is."

Pressing his meaning firmly into his gaze – to stop treating him that way – Turan glared at the old knight.

After a brief staring contest, Keorn shook his head as if unable to bear it.

"Alright, alright… stop looking at me like that."

Turan also smiled slightly at this response.

"But why is a powerful magician like you working as a shepherd in a place like this? I don't mean to disparage shepherding, but it doesn't seem to suit you."

A question that seemed like the reverse of when he had asked yesterday why someone like you was hunting masu in a place like this.

Turan couldn't answer like Keorn had, saying he took pride in shepherding.

"It's a bit of a long story."

Turan calmly shared his childhood experiences.

About discovering magic, about the frightening nobles his mother told him about…

After hearing it all, Keorn nodded.

"She was wise."

"You think so?"

Finding this somewhat unexpected, Turan raised his eyebrows slightly.

He had thought Keorn, who took pride in his status, would say Turan's mother was too fearful and that the world below wasn't quite such a hell.

"Twenty some years ago, the Arabion house I served fought a war with the great house of Jahar. At that time, over 900 of Arabion's 3,000 knights died."

"Almost a third died."

"The truly unlucky thing was that everyone I knew was included in that third. My two best friends, my wife, my son all died. Only I survived."

Keorn's face held an emotion difficult to describe as he said this.

Turan couldn't dare measure his sorrow.

He could only guess it was as painful as, or perhaps even more than, when he lost his mother.

After a long silence, Keorn brightened his expression and changed the subject.

"As your mother said, a knight's life sometimes disappears more easily and meaninglessly than commoners'. But if there's one thing she was wrong about, it's that your talent isn't merely at a knight's level."

"Is that so?"

"It's embarrassing to say in this state, but I'm quite a capable knight. Yet you easily defeated a masu that even I had trouble facing. And that's without properly absorbing magic power."

Taking a breath while drinking sheep's milk, Keorn declared.

"That level of ability would make you at least a high-ranking noble."

This didn't feel quite real to Turan.

Perhaps because he had lived so long being judged as having knight-level talent by his mother.

He even thought maybe Keorn was overestimating him too much.

"Mother said my father was a knight – was that a lie?"

"Just as tall people don't always have tall children, there are always exceptions. Rarely, nobles might have children weaker than knights, or knights might have children with noble-level magic ability."

Turan thought of the villagers, particularly the carpenter's family.

The first son of the short carpenter couple was short like his parents, but the second was quite tall.

Of course, that second son's face did look remarkably similar to one of the villagers, a large woodcutter…

"In that sense, I think it would be better for you to go down below the hills."

"Why?"

"Because we humans need more nobles and knights. Humans aren't yet complete masters of the world. Not only masu, but various other races that were driven away by the gods long ago are watching for chances to rise again. Meanwhile, nobles just wage war against each other. We desperately need even one more noble who is strong and good like you."

Other races…

Beings that appeared only a few times in old stories his mother told, seeming as fantastical to Turan as gods or demons.

Though he wasn't sure, they seemed to be considered real threats in the world below.

"Besides, it's sad to see a talented young person wasting their life here. You're not satisfied living as a shepherd, are you?"

Perhaps remembering how Turan hadn't properly answered earlier when asked why he worked as a shepherd.

After a moment of silence, Turan nodded in agreement.

"What your mother worried about isn't a big concern. While ordinary knights might be different, even great houses show at least minimal respect to fellow nobles. Especially for a powerful noble like you."

"So I don't need to worry about being forcibly taken by some house."

"While nothing in the world is certain…"

Various thoughts crossed Turan's mind.

The desire to believe what Keorn said, and the fear of nobles that hadn't disappeared despite being nurtured lifelong.

The two emotions were in stark opposition.

While he was deep in thought, Keorn sat on the bed wrapped in bandages, patiently waiting.

After several dozen minutes, Turan quietly asked.

"What could I gain down there?"

Reading the will to venture into the world contained in those words, Keorn smiled and answered.

"It depends on what you want. Wealth, fame, power, or perhaps family and friendship… any of those would be hard to obtain here."

Keorn suggested various things Turan could do in the world below.

Wandering the world defeating threatening masu like himself, becoming an explorer of unknown lands humanity hadn't yet pioneered, or being adopted by a house and walking the path of power…

One thing was certain – any of those seemed more interesting than herding sheep on the Hisaril hills.

"Come to think of it, I forgot to ask earlier – do you have any bloodline abilities? I should have asked this first."

"Bloodline abilities?"

When Turan asked about this unfamiliar term, Keorn clicked his tongue in realization.

He still wasn't used to the fact that this young shepherd was ignorant about the magical world.

"Do you know that our magical power originates from our ancestors, the Prea divine race?"

"I heard about it from mother."

"Nobles, being closer to the Prea divine race, inherit some characteristics of their divine ancestors. The presence or absence of these bloodline abilities is also what distinguishes nobles from knights. Houses tend to gather those with the same bloodline abilities."

"How can you tell if you have bloodline abilities?"

"Have you ever felt that certain magic is particularly easy and simple to use, or conversely, found certain magic difficult? Or perhaps you naturally have abilities superior to others even without using magic?"

"It's not just being stronger than others?"

"Magicians become physically stronger just from having magic power. The desire to become faster, stronger, and tougher is a natural instinct all animals have. While great strength is also a bloodline ability, I don't think your strength is at that level."

At Keorn's words, Turan fell into thought.

Among his abilities, what stood out particularly…

"I have a good nose. My eyes and ears are better than others too, but that seems to stand out most."

He was especially adept at smelling blood, to the point where he could roughly identify what creature was bleeding just from the smell.

Hearing this, Keorn nodded.

"Exceptional sense of smell… if it's that precise, it's sufficient to be considered a bloodline ability. And?"

"I'm good at throwing stones. Though that's because mother taught me since I was young."

Turan had learned stone throwing from his mother since he was five years old.

It was the most effective way for an ordinary shepherd to deal with their most dangerous enemies – wolves and leopards.

Plus, as he had felt recently, he noticed that using magic power to throw stones consumed particularly little energy.

"Proficiency with projectile weapons. That's one of the characteristics of our Arabion house. Though I'm not sure if it's at bloodline ability level."

"Is that so?"

"Actually, this is quite a common trait. Being skilled with projectiles, skilled in close combat, or moderately good at both. It broadly falls into these three categories."

Afterward, Turan and Keorn continued their question and answer session, classifying what he was particularly good at and what he wasn't.

But for some reason, Keorn's face grew darker as their conversation continued.

This expression became increasingly pronounced, until after their final exchange he wore an almost lamenting expression.

"I think I understand."

"What is it?"

For some reason, Keorn didn't immediately answer Turan's question.

After hesitating several times, he reluctantly opened his mouth.

"There are several possibilities… but the characteristics of the Jahar bloodline are most prominent. Also called the Pursuers, or Hunters."

Jahar – as Turan rolled that name in his mouth, he thought it felt strangely familiar.

Why would it, when he had never heard stories about magician houses from his mother?

Looking at Keorn's gloomy face, he could understand why.

Jahar was the name of the house that had warred with Keorn's House Arabion and massacred all his friends and family.

Chapter 3: Spring Comes to Mount Hua (Part 3)

Dam Ho emerged from Spirit Treasure Palace well after nightfall. Darkness had descended, and lanterns had been hung throughout Mount Hua.

The plum blossoms illuminated by the lanterns glittered like snowflakes. Dam Ho stood rooted to the spot, gazing at the scene for a long while.

A wind blew, scattering plum petals through the air. For some reason, the image was seared deeply into his mind.

Nightfall did not mean the Mount Hua Sect's duties were concluded. The Taoist halls scattered across the mountain blazed with light, and the Taoists within remained busy.

Then a group approached Dam Ho.

They were Taoists wearing Daoist robes. From their bodies emanated an extraordinary aura.

Dam Ho bowed his head to them.

These were the First Generation Disciples of the Mount Hua Sect. At their head walked a Taoist in his mid-thirties—Mu-gyeong, disciple of Sage Hyeon-cheon, Grandmaster of the Mount Hua Sect.

Mu-gyeong had been gifted in martial arts since childhood, and was a prodigy upon whom the expectations of the entire Mount Hua Sect rested.

His martial achievement was so remarkable that rumors circulated he had already entered the Supreme Clarity Heart Method—a technique that only Elders and above were permitted to learn.

His character was as admirable as his martial skill. Among the disciples of the Mount Hua Sect, there was none who did not respect him.

At Mu-gyeong's side were Un-gyeong and Han So-yu, his closest companions.

Un-gyeong was Mu-gyeong's Junior Brother and the leader of the Plum Blossom Thirty-Six Sword Unit, one of the Mount Hua Sect's elite groups. His cold, detached gaze spoke volumes about his temperament.

Han So-yu was a female disciple—a rarity in the Mount Hua Sect. She too was a member of the Plum Blossom Thirty-Six Sword Unit, boasting exceptional skill.

Mu-gyeong smiled.

"So it is Cheong-gyeong."

"Senior Brother."

"Are you returning to your quarters?"

"Yes."

"Is Martial Uncle Hyeon-so well?"

"He is in good health."

"That is a relief. I keep meaning to visit, but there is always so much work that I can never find the time."

"Master will understand."

At Dam Ho's reply, Mu-gyeong's smile deepened. But Un-gyeong, who stood beside him, regarded Dam Ho with cold eyes—something clearly displeasing him.

His eyes, cold as a serpent's and devoid of emotion, swept over Dam Ho from head to toe.

"How is your leg?"

"The same."

"And still you persist in pursuing martial arts? When the limit is so clear? Would it not be better to follow Martial Uncle Hyeon-so's example and devote yourself to the study of Taoism instead?"

"Junior Brother!"

At Un-gyeong's cutting remark, Mu-gyeong cried out in alarm. But Un-gyeong's expression did not change by so much as a fraction.

"There is no greater fool than to waste time on futile endeavors. Remember my words."

"I am grateful for Senior Brother's counsel. I shall engrave it upon my bones."

Dam Ho bowed deeply.

Un-gyeong regarded him with those icy eyes. At Un-gyeong's attitude, Mu-gyeong raised his shoulders in a helpless gesture and looked toward Han So-yu.

Han So-yu approached Dam Ho with light, graceful steps. A faint, pleasant fragrance stimulated his senses.

Dam Ho raised his head and looked at her. Han So-yu's delicate features, reminiscent of Mount Hua's plum blossoms, came into view.

"Do not take Senior Brother Un-gyeong's words to heart, Junior Brother. He means no ill will."

"I understand."

"If you ever hit a wall with your martial arts, come to me. I will help however I can."

"Thank you."

"I believe in you, Junior Brother."

Han So-yu offered him a bright, refreshing smile. It was the kind of smile that could shake the hearts of countless men.

"Then I shall take my leave."

Dam Ho clasped his fists and departed.

The three watched his retreating figure—the slight limp in his gait—and said nothing. On Mu-gyeong's face, a look of sympathy surfaced.

Mu-gyeong turned sharply toward Un-gyeong.

"Do you realize that sometimes your words make my affection for you vanish entirely? How could you say such things right in front of the person himself?"

"It is all for Cheong-gyeong's sake."

"What do you mean, for his sake? The boy already limps—do you know how deeply that wounds him?"

"What Cheong-gyeong needs is not empty comfort and encouragement, but honest counsel."

"You—"

"Let us be frank. What are the chances that Cheong-gyeong will ever properly master Mount Hua's martial arts? A martial artist who cannot learn footwork is only half a warrior. And the Mount Hua Sect has no need for half warriors."

"My word! You truly are cold."

"I cannot help it. Remaining clear-headed and making rational judgments in any situation is my role."

"You really are…"

Mu-gyeong shook his head slowly. But his expression was not one of displeasure.

If Mu-gyeong was the symbolic pillar of the Mount Hua Sect's martial might as its chief disciple, then Un-gyeong occupied the position of the cold, rational advisor who offered ceaseless counsel.

He had been raised that way from the beginning, and it was considered the best path for the Mount Hua Sect.

Han So-yu laughed and interjected into their conversation.

"Come, come! Let us speak no more of Cheong-gyeong. There are far more important matters at hand."

"That is true…"

Mu-gyeong nodded.

The Mount Hua Sect stood at a critical juncture.

They needed to select capable outer disciples and admit them as Main Mountain Disciples. But admitting Main Mountain Disciples was not the end—they had to be forged into proper martial artists.

The Mount Hua Sect of today was desperately in need of new strength. To that end, First Generation Disciples like Mu-gyeong and Un-gyeong had to work tirelessly.

"Come, let us go."

Mu-gyeong led the way forward. In his mind, Dam Ho's figure had already faded.

***

Dam Ho walked by moonlight. He headed toward a small valley beneath Cloud Peak.

At the base of the valley lay a modest pond. The path to it was not easy to find, so even the Taoists of the Mount Hua rarely visited. Whenever his chest felt tight, this was where Dam Ho sought refuge.

Dam Ho stripped off his clothes and waded into the water.

Though it was spring, the valley water still held the bite of winter. The icy chill jolted his mind to sharp awareness.

'Fine. This much is nothing…'

Dam Ho clenched his teeth.

The extreme cold seeped not only into his skin but into his very bones. Yet Dam Ho did not leave the water—instead, he submerged his head entirely.

He settled into a cross-legged position beneath the surface.

Countless thoughts swept through his mind.

Peaceful days—shattered in an instant by a bandit raid. An unexpected rescue. Life on Mount Hua.

For the first several months after his limbs had been shattered, he had been unable to move under his own power. The one who had nursed and healed him through that time was his Master, Sage Hyeon-so.

Without Sage Hyeon-so's devoted care, Dam Ho would not be able to walk at all now. Though he limped on one leg, he was alive.

To Dam Ho, the fact of being alive was everything. As long as he drew breath, he could look to the future.

'Father, Mother, Ga-ryeong.'

Their images rose vividly in his mind.

Dam Ho had failed to protect them.

At the age of twelve, having no strength was nothing but an excuse. They were already gone from this world, and he remained.

Because he was alive, there were things he had to do. And for that, he needed strength.

Splash!

Dam Ho stood, sending water cascading in all directions.

"Hah! Hah!"

He gasped for breath, chest heaving.

His gaze fell to his left leg. Compared to his healthy, sturdy right leg, it was wretchedly thin. Despite all the countless climbs up and down the mountain, the muscle simply would not develop properly.

With such a leg, he could never properly execute the dazzling footwork of the Mount Hua Sect.

"Mount Hua's footwork does not suit me. I need something else."

Over the past five years, Dam Ho had come to realize this truth with agonizing clarity.

The problem was that he did not know how to solve it.

If only he had a good teacher to guide him in times like these. But unfortunately, the only one by his side was Sage Hyeon-so.

In the end, he would have to find his own way.

"For now, I will do what I can."

Dam Ho moved his left foot back and forth through the water. Perhaps because he was submerged, he felt a considerable resistance.

His leg was normal above the knee. The problem was the knee itself.

The cartilage and muscle had been crushed, leaving the joint without free movement. No medicinal elixir could heal such a wound. The only possibility was the legendary transformation of bone and marrow—but that was the stuff of dreams and impossible fantasies.

"I will strengthen and train the muscles of my left leg further. The rest, I will consider afterward."

Dam Ho climbed out of the water.

He roughly dried himself and dressed.

Though he still felt the chill, his mind had cleared. The memory of being mocked by his fellow disciples no longer lingered.

From the next day forward, a sandbag was strapped to Dam Ho's left ankle as he climbed the mountain.

"Hah! Hah!"

Ragged breaths escaped through his lips. The added weight was slight, but the burden he felt was beyond imagining—as though he had strapped iron weights to his ankles.

Dam Ho gritted his teeth and walked on. Sweat streamed ceaselessly down his spine.

"Hah!"

Watching Dam Ho from afar, a man he could not see let out a quiet sigh. It was Sage Hyeon-so, Dam Ho's master.

"That child's obsession with martial arts knows no bounds. What am I to do about him?"

Sage Hyeon-so's sigh scattered on the wind.

It was a day when he missed his own long-departed master, the Heaven Vault Master.

Mang-ryo was both shocked and angered, so he directed a palm strike at Jin Ja-gang’s head. Mang-ryo was wearing deerskin gloves with spikes embedded in the palms.

A Poison Palm. When infused with internal energy, poison would flow from it.

Son Wi-hak, alarmed, held Jin Ja-gang and rolled away.

Mang-ryo’s palm struck the ground. While they had managed to dodge once, there was no escape from the next attack.

Thud!

Mang-ryo’s second Poison Palm hit Son Wi-hak’s back. Son Wi-hak’s body trembled from the shock of the palm force penetrating his body. The tightly packed needles struck his shoulder blade, and the poison penetrated with a tingling sensation.

This technique first caused internal damage with palm force, then inflicted additional harm with the poison infused in the Poison Palm.

If Mang-ryo had continued his attack, Son Wi-hak would have died instantly.

However, Mang-ryo himself was not in a position to continue. Although he was a member of a Poison Sect, he wasn’t immune to all poisons. Especially not when the poison of the five-colored centipede, considered the most venomous of all, had penetrated his body.

Instead of continuing his attack, Mang-ryo removed his silk shoe. His foot had already turned bluish up to the ankle, with fluid oozing from the top of his foot.

Hurriedly, Mang-ryo pressed the acupoint at his knee to stop the poison from spreading and took out an antidote, hastily stuffing it into his mouth. The five-colored centipede’s poison was too potent and had spread so quickly that he had no time to expel it with his internal energy.

During this pause, Son Wi-hak struggled to his feet while holding Jin Ja-gang.

Then, with all his strength, he delivered a powerful kick to Mang-ryo’s chest. Distracted by the poison, Mang-ryo was defenseless and flew through the air from the impact.

“Argh!”

“Elder!”

The disciples of the Extreme Poison Sect, bewildered by the unexpected turn of events, rushed to catch Mang-ryo, creating a gap in their encirclement. Son Wi-hak ran in the opposite direction without looking back.

“Gahh!”

Mang-ryo writhed on the ground in agony as the pain spread from his foot. The disciples of the Extreme Poison Sect sprinkled white powder with detoxifying properties on Mang-ryo’s foot, but it had no effect.

When they tore his pants, they saw that the poison had already risen to his knee.

With bloodshot eyes, Mang-ryo screamed:

“Knife! KNIFE!”

One of the disciples of the Extreme Poison Sect stepped forward holding a large cleaver. He hesitated momentarily.

“You fool! Hurry up!”

Finally, the disciple gripped the cleaver with both hands and swung it down with force. Lacking sufficient martial prowess, the knife didn’t cut through the leg cleanly but got stuck.

Mang-ryo’s eyes bulged as if they would pop out.

Still, it was better than dying.

Mang-ryo gritted his teeth and endured.

The disciple brought the cleaver down several more times until he finally severed Mang-ryo’s leg just above the knee.

“Gaahh!”

Mang-ryo’s eyes were bloodshot, with burst capillaries, from enduring the excruciating pain.

He glared at the disciple who had cut off his leg.

Then, he snatched the knife from the disciple and sliced off one of his wrists.

“You couldn’t even do this properly!”

“AAAAHH!”

The disciple, whose hand had been severed in an instant, clutched his severed wrist and rolled on the ground.

Mang-ryo screamed at the other disciples in a tearing voice:

“What are you standing around for? Catch them! Kill them!”

But by the time the disciples finally moved, Son Wi-hak had already disappeared into the blooming flowers of Hundred Flower Valley, leaving no trace.

* * *

Read only at nineheavens.org

Translated by Nine Heavens!

https://discord.gg/XC9DTsTQ9Z

* * *

Son Wi-hak, who knew the geography of Hundred Flower Valley well, hid in various places to evade the pursuit of the Extreme Poison Sect.

The treacherous valley was filled with all kinds of vegetation, creating numerous hiding places known only to the people of Hundred Flower Valley.

Son Wi-hak settled in one of these spots.

Jin Ja-gang’s condition was very poor. The five-colored centipede’s poison was extremely potent, and without proper treatment, Jin Ja-gang’s energy meridians throughout his body were gradually hardening.

The energy meridians were the channels through which vital energy flowed, and as they hardened and became blocked, the energy could no longer circulate properly.

Now Jin Ja-gang was struggling to breathe and was in a critical condition.

Unable to watch Jin Ja-gang die, Son Wi-hak gathered medicinal herbs, chewed them to feed to Jin Ja-gang, applied them to his body, and periodically used his internal energy to stimulate acupuncture points.

During this time, Jin Ja-gang suddenly coughed up hard fragments.

These fragments, about one and a half finger segments in size, were part of the five-colored centipede’s head shell, which still contained a lustrous glow.

Only then did Son Wi-hak realize that Jin Ja-gang had chewed and eaten the five-colored centipede’s head.

‘They say that if one eats the poison sac or essence core of a venomous creature, one can overcome that creature’s poison…’

Remarkably, after this, Jin Ja-gang’s condition stopped deteriorating.

Although the already hardened meridians did not recover, Son Wi-hak decided not to be greedy. It was already a blessing from heaven that Jin Ja-gang had survived.

However, the real problem was Son Wi-hak himself.

While caring for Jin Ja-gang, he had neglected his own wounds. The injury on his back continued to worsen, his breathing became difficult, and he occasionally felt dizzy.

Son Wi-hak barely managed to regain his senses, gathered red cabbage leaves from outside, crushed them, placed them on torn cloth, and tied it up.

He applied this to his back where he had been hit by the Poison Palm. The burning sensation on his back subsided slightly.

When he removed the cloth a moment later, there was pus and blood, but the purple color of the red cabbage had not changed.

Red cabbage leaves have the property of turning red when they neutralize acid. The fact that the color hadn’t changed meant that the wound wasn’t caused by acid.

‘I thought it was acid causing the flesh to fester after being hit by the Poison Palm, but it’s snake venom!’

By the time Son Wi-hak realized something was wrong, the poison had already spread throughout his body.

‘What a vicious man.’

Son Wi-hak gritted his teeth and crushed together five-leaved mugwort, a handful of reddish thistle, and a handful of yellow clay, then applied it to his back.

“Urgh.”

The symptoms eased temporarily, but it was only temporary.

The snake venom had already seeped into his heart, making it virtually impossible to reverse the condition.

He was barely holding on with his meager internal energy, but even that wasn’t enough.

The poison Mang-ryo had used was a deadly toxin intended for killing from the start, and Son Wi-hak’s internal energy was barely at the second-rate level. Without proper treatment, it was impossible to overcome it with internal energy alone.

To begin with, the martial arts of Hundred Flower Valley were far inferior compared to other martial sects.

As a result, while Jin Ja-gang gradually improved, Son Wi-hak grew more emaciated day by day.

‘I worry about what will happen after I die.’

Son Wi-hak stroked the sleeping Jin Ja-gang’s head with a warm hand.

He instinctively sensed that he didn’t have much time left.

What would happen to Jin Ja-gang after he died?

But surprisingly, he thought that Jin Ja-gang might do better than he expected.

After all, he was a child who had survived a life-and-death struggle with a five-colored centipede.

* * *

One day, when Jin Ja-gang woke up, the cave was very quiet.

Jin Ja-gang’s skin was still covered in black patches, and fluid oozed from his lips. But he had passed the critical stage and was no longer in immediate danger.

He got up with difficulty, moving his stiff limbs. The cold cave felt even colder.

Jin Ja-gang looked around for Son Wi-hak.

Unlike usual, when he would always massage Jin Ja-gang’s stiff limbs upon waking, Son Wi-hak was sitting in meditation in a corner of the cave with his head drooping.

Realizing that he could only hear his own breathing and not Son Wi-hak’s, Jin Ja-gang understood that his grandfather had passed away.

Tears flowed from his swollen eyes.

Jin Ja-gang crawled to Son Wi-hak. The usually warm grandfather was cold and stiff.

“G-Grandfather.”

Jin Ja-gang lay on Son Wi-hak’s lap and cried loudly.

“Waaah! Waaah, Grandfather—!”

He had suspected it.

For several days, Son Wi-hak had already been emanating the scent of death.

The fact that he had been talking to Jin Ja-gang all day without rest was evidence of this.

Tales about medicine, about herbs, about Hundred Flower Valley…

Son Wi-hak had been trying to tell Jin Ja-gang as much as possible while he was still alive.

Jin Ja-gang recalled the stories Son Wi-hak had told him and wept endlessly.

After crying for a while, his senses gradually returned.

Jin Ja-gang was now an orphan.

His father had died when Jin Ja-gang was young, and now his mother and maternal grandfather had also died. Most of the people of Hundred Flower Valley, who were all the connections Jin Ja-gang knew, were also dead.

From now on, he would have to fend for himself.

Son Wi-hak had told Jin Ja-gang to hide and live in the deep mountains. Revenge should be taken when one has the power, so he should bide his time.

But Jin Ja-gang knew that with his body, that time might never come.

He also clearly remembered what Son Wi-hak had said to Mang-ryo:

“If life is just about eating and surviving, how is that different from the life of a beast?”

That one sentence from Son Wi-hak had been deeply etched in Jin Ja-gang’s mind, even through his pain-induced haze.

Despite his physical condition, it wouldn’t be too difficult for Jin Ja-gang to take care of himself alone. Surely in this vast martial world, there would be at least one place to hide.

However, he couldn’t simply overlook the atrocities of the Extreme Poison Sect.

For the sake of the unjustly killed members of Hundred Flower Valley.

For his mother and grandfather.

Jin Ja-gang clenched his swollen fist tightly.

‘I can’t forgive them. I won’t forgive them!’

Jin Ja-gang decided to place his hope in the Martial Arts Alliance.

According to Son Wi-hak, the Martial Arts Alliance was an organization of righteous martial artists who fairly mediated the rights and wrongs of the martial world.

‘I must tell the Martial Arts Alliance about the injustice suffered by our Hundred Flower Valley.’

That was the only option available to Jin Ja-gang now.

* * *

Jin Ja-gang continued to stay in the cave for a while longer, eating the raw meat of a deer that Son Wi-hak had caught earlier and fruit that had been gathered beforehand. Luckily, he had a small knife to cut open the deer’s belly and eat its blood and organs to survive.

Son Wi-hak’s body had begun to decompose, emitting a terrible smell.

Jin Ja-gang endured that too. He could only cover it with leaves, unable to give it a proper burial.

He had to hold on until he could walk.

After a week, when he could finally walk, albeit with a limp, Jin Ja-gang began preparations to leave in earnest.

His destination was the Martial Arts Alliance branch in the provincial capital of Yunnan.

It would be unreasonable for a ten-year-old child with an injured body to travel all the way to the main headquarters of the Martial Arts Alliance in Jiangxi Province.

From Hundred Flower Valley to the provincial capital of Yunnan would take at most a month, which is why he chose that destination.

Jin Ja-gang gathered the few remaining fruits and made a promise to Son Wi-hak’s body.

“Grandfather, I will definitely seek revenge.”

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t afraid, but his desire for vengeance was stronger.

Jin Ja-gang bowed to Son Wi-hak’s body.

Then he left the cave.

As he pushed aside the branches and grass covering the cave entrance, moonlight poured down.

Jin Ja-gang waited for the moon to be covered by clouds, then carefully descended the valley under the cover of darkness.

He thought there would be no one guarding after nearly two weeks in hiding, but he was wrong.

Disciples of the Extreme Poison Sect were still guarding various points along the path.

It seemed impossible to break through their encirclement with his injured body.

Jin Ja-gang moved to find another potential hiding place nearby.

It was a small cave hidden by large rocks and thorny bushes, a place where Jin Ja-gang had often played as a child.

But to his surprise, the thorny bushes that had concealed the cave were all cut down, and there were signs that someone had thoroughly searched the cave!

Judging by the sap on the cut surfaces of the bushes, it hadn’t been even a day.

It seemed they weren’t just guarding the paths but were actively searching as well.

Growing anxious, Jin Ja-gang headed to another potential hiding spot—a pit concealed by tall reeds near a stream.

But that place was in the same condition.

The reeds were all broken or cut, and the pit had been dug up.

Jin Ja-gang realized he was in a more dangerous situation than he had thought.

Someone knew every nook and cranny of Hundred Flower Valley’s terrain.

‘What should I do?’

Jin Ja-gang was confused. No one had taught him what to do in such a situation.

Eventually, after much internal conflict, he returned to his original hiding place, the cave. The search hadn’t reached there yet.

However, the smell of the decomposing body was overwhelmingly strong. Even though he had roughly blocked the entrance with branches and grass, the smell still permeated the air.

If the searchers passed nearby, they would immediately detect it because of the smell.

Jin Ja-gang thought for a long time. Then, biting his lips firmly, he crawled back into the cave.