Chapter 4

Sometimes in life, we encounter awkward situations where it's hard to know what to say.

That's exactly how Turan felt now.

Should he apologize for being born with the same bloodline as their enemies?

Even though it was done by relatives he had never seen in his life?

Yet simply saying he knew nothing about it felt too shameless.

After all, his innate powerful magical ability itself originated from that bloodline.

Wouldn't it be like insisting on inheriting only the good parts of ancestral legacy while denying responsibility for the bad…

How long did this terribly long silence continue?

Keorn patted Turan's shoulder with a thump.

"Don't look so mortified! It's not like you participated in that war, right?"

Turan wanted to say that Keorn was the one making a mortified expression, but finding it difficult to voice this, he just silently nodded.

"It's meaningless for young people like you to get caught up in adults' circumstances. If we keep trying to wash blood with blood, the fighting will never end. And it's ordinary people who suffer."

Even as he said this, the bitter look on Keorn's face hadn't completely faded.

Turan quietly asked him.

"Do you regret it?"

"What?"

"Telling me to go down below the hills."

If Turan pursued power, he would inevitably join House Jahar.

After all, he had said that only those with the same bloodline abilities could become core members of noble houses.

This could potentially be a fatal blow to House Arabion that Keorn had served.

Naturally, since a powerful magician would suddenly join their hostile faction that they had even gone to war with.

To Turan's observation, Keorn shook his head.

"I believe in your character. Your goodness in properly hosting an unknown guest and trying to help me even to the point of revealing your hidden identity. Rather, if someone like you joins House Jahar, and rises to a position to lead the house, perhaps you could prevent such terrible wars from happening again…"

Turan thought Keorn was viewing him as too good a person.

He had treated Keorn well because his mother had taught him to do so, and because he was hungry for conversation with someone who wasn't hostile.

He helped Keorn in crisis simply because he didn't want someone he had pleasant conversations with to die.

If Keorn had treated Turan curtly, he wouldn't have cared whether he lived or died.

As Turan silently stared at the floor lost in thought, Keorn shook his head and said.

"Well, no need to think so seriously about it. You haven't decided to join House Jahar anyway."

"That's true."

Actually, wandering around hunting masu like Keorn was doing seemed more appealing right now.

Being bound somewhere didn't appeal much, and this way he could see more of the world.

Plus, after hearing the story, he had developed a vague antipathy toward House Jahar.

"Anyway, I plan to stay here until your wounds heal. I'll think about it slowly."

"Calling it wounds makes it sound too grand. It's just a few scratches!"

Keorn laughed heartily.

* * *

While Keorn recovered from his injuries, Turan decided to properly learn magical knowledge from him.

Having only wielded his power recklessly without any training, there was much he needed to learn.

"Magic power, mana, is commonly called the key to omnipotence."

"The key to omnipotence…"

"But it's not truly omnipotent as the name suggests. More precisely, it requires appropriate mana as payment to cause such events. You must have experienced this."

"What are the standards for appropriate mana?"

This was something he had always wondered about while using magic.

At Turan's question, Keorn lightly cleared his throat and held up three fingers.

"The difficulty of magic is determined by three main factors. First is bloodline, second is personality, and third is causality."

Bloodline, personality, causality.

Turan sat quietly, engraving these three words in his mind.

"First, bloodline simply means being affected by innate bloodline abilities. Therefore, it doesn't apply to knights. For example… isn't it difficult for you to heal my wounds?"

"Yes."

"The Lavitas bloodline in the southwest continent, also called the Healer bloodline, can naturally use healing magic without special training. Those born with strong power can even reattach severed limbs and cure all kinds of diseases. In contrast, other bloodlines find it nearly impossible to gain such abilities no matter how hard they try. That's such a case."

The moment he heard this, Turan thought of his mother.

If he had been born with that bloodline's power, she wouldn't have died from illness…

But knowing such thoughts were meaningless now, Turan lightly bit his lip and let go of his lingering attachment.

"Then what does the second factor, personality, mean?"

"Also called proficiency, it's the concept that magicians can more easily perform tasks they prefer or are familiar with. A magician who often swings a sword finds it easier to create invisible swords or enhance existing ones, while one who enjoys playing in water finds it easier to move in water using magic."

"Does how I threw the fireball like throwing stones count as that?"

"Clever. That's correct. If you had shot the fireball normally, it probably wouldn't have had that speed and power."

Having experienced it once already, Turan could easily understand his words.

Smiling contentedly as if looking at a wise student, Keorn suddenly frowned.

"The third factor, causality, is most important, but it's quite complex. Actually, even I don't fully understand it. It's the concept that 'natural' events occur more easily…"

As if wondering how to explain, Keorn stroked his chin for a while before beginning his explanation.

"What would happen if you tried to kill me using mana?"

"Probably light would flash from my head and that would be it?"

Turan recalled what had happened recently when trying to use magic on the masu.

"Right. That's exactly what happens due to lack of causality. When there's no appropriate cause for the desired effect, and when what needs to be accomplished is too difficult. It applies to both cases."

"I think I understand something about cause."

"Can you explain?"

"Yes. For example, if I wanted to kill you, rather than just vaguely consuming mana to wish for death, I should create a cause of death like making and shooting a fireball? It's considered more 'natural' to create and shoot fire than to directly ignite it?"

This was something he had guessed from his experience fighting the dead masu – the revenant – earlier.

At Turan's words, Keorn clapped with an impressed expression.

"Exactly! You could have been a scholar rather than a magician. Your understanding is very quick. As you said, forming proper causality can dramatically reduce mana consumption."

"But why can I freely kill and control ordinary wolves and sheep, while only masu specifically need this?"

Since using magic on other animals wasn't usually difficult, Turan would simply cast magic when dealing with dangerous animals.

He had first experienced this magic resistance phenomenon when facing the masu.

"Creatures with mana gain resistance to magic proportional to their mana amount. However, when moving and making contact with already completed magic, that resistance can be significantly offset. Of course, if the gap is too large, magic might still not work even then."

He said this was also the principle behind why Keorn's magic barely affected it while Turan's flames immediately burned the revenant.

Meaning it would be nearly impossible to directly cast magic on magicians too.

After listening to explanations for quite a while, Turan started feeling a headache and firmly massaged his temples with his thumb.

"Magic really isn't easy."

"A great magician isn't made by strong mana alone. Understanding magical principles and knowing what you can do is important, as well as knowing how to use surrounding circumstances."

Turan closed his eyes and reviewed what he had just learned from Keorn several times.

Doing so, he realized there was something he hadn't heard.

"Come to think of it, does the Jahar bloodline have special magic too?"

The innate characteristics of Jahar that Keorn had pointed out were just an extremely keen sense of smell and night vision, and talent for easily hitting targets with projectiles – none of these were related to magical abilities.

At Turan's question, Keorn nodded.

"Yes. Jahar magicians excel at concealment and tracking. Have you ever used such magic?"

"I've tried tracking a few times. Never concealment."

He had used magic to find things a few times to check if his mother was safe, or to find and kill wolves prowling around the hills.

Even discovering and saving Keorn in crisis just now was with the help of that magic.

In contrast, he had never tried magic to hide himself, naturally because there had never been any need for Turan to hide from anyone on these hills.

"Try it. While quite a few magicians can use invisibility magic depending on their aptitude, the highest level of concealment that completely escapes detection is an ability allowed only to the Jahar bloodline."

Turan immediately concentrated and thought.

I don't want to be seen by others, I don't want to be heard or smelled…

The moment he thought this, his internal mana immediately began rapidly depleting.

Looking down at his hands and body, nothing had changed.

"Did it work?"

Instead of answering Turan's question, Keorn looked in his direction with slightly unfocused eyes and said.

"You succeeded. I can't see you. Are you still there?"

Turan stood up from his chair and slowly walked around the room, but Keorn continued staring blankly at where Turan had originally been sitting.

He seemed unable to hear anything even when Turan stomped on the floor or lightly snapped his fingers.

After confirming this, when he cut off the depleting mana, Keorn's eyes widened as he stared at Turan.

A moment later, he exhaled deeply as if tension had been released.

"It's been a while since I've seen it, but it's still a frightening ability… During the war, Arabion's knights hoped night wouldn't come. Because after one night passed, those sleeping in the barracks would often all be found with their throats cut."

"This… seems like too unfair an ability."

It was a terrifying magic incomparable to the healing ability he had wanted earlier.

How could you fight an opponent you couldn't even detect?

At Turan's words, Keorn shook his head in denial.

"It's not quite an invincible ability. There are a few top-tier magical artifacts that can detect even Jahar's concealment ability, and methods like brightly illuminating the surroundings to increase mana consumption or indiscriminately bombing the area. Of course, even considering that, it's such a powerful ability that Jahar became a great house."

The only real drawback was high mana consumption, but this could be solved by hunting enough masu to increase mana capacity.

Plus, mana consumption would decrease as one became more familiar with concealment.

"Anyway, that's enough theory. Now I'll teach you a few simple training methods…"

* * *

During the three days it took for Keorn's wounds to heal, Turan learned many things besides magic.

These included the general shape of the world – though not very accurate since there was much Keorn didn't know – the names and locations of powerful magical houses, and basic knowledge needed for traveling.

And finally, on the morning they decided to leave.

Turan packed some preserved food, a few changes of clothes, simple cooking utensils, and his mother's keepsakes in a leather backpack and left the house.

Keorn, who had come out earlier to bask in the sunlight, said to him.

"You look quite troubled."

"Well, I am leaving the place I've lived all my life."

"Don't think too heavily about it. If you really don't like wandering, you can always come back."

At Keorn's words, Turan smiled bitterly and shook his head.

No matter how much he disliked the world below, he wouldn't return to this wearisome place.

Perhaps he might find another place of seclusion instead.

After descending the hills together, Turan first went to the village chief to say he would sell all the sheep remaining in the hillside barn.

Hearing this, the chief exclaimed in surprise.

"Sell the sheep and leave? Then who will do the shepherding from now on?"

"That's for you to figure out. Anyway, I'd like a reasonable price. If not, I'll just go back, release them all, and leave. You're free to catch them again, but it'll probably be quite troublesome."

Very fortunately, instead of getting into a power struggle with Turan, the chief offered a fairly decent price.

Probably thanks to the consistency Turan had shown to the villagers over time.

He was someone who would really break an arm if he said he would break it, and really crack a head if he said he would crack it.

While leaving the village, jingling the purse of silver coins a few times, Turan said to Keorn.

"Meanwhile, those village bastards cheated you out of your reward. Should I go get it?"

"I wasn't planning to collect it anyway. The masu became a revenant so there's no evidence to bring back. Besides, you're the one who actually caught it."

Keorn just laughed even though the chief had withheld the promised reward.

Well, he probably wasn't short on money with his retirement payment from his house still plentiful in his possession.

He had come to hunt masu as a kind of volunteer work in the first place.

As they chatted and left the village, going down and further down, they came to a fork in the road.

Turan said in a somewhat subdued voice.

"We part ways here then."

"That's right. Since you're heading south, take the right path."

Turan wanted to travel with Keorn, but Keorn had refused to travel together.

Saying it was more convenient to travel alone.

Though Turan felt disappointed inside, he didn't express it.

"Well then, take care, Turan. I hope we can meet again with smiling faces."

"Thank you, sir. I learned a lot."

After exchanging farewells, Keorn set off down the left path without looking back once.

Watching this quietly, Turan finally realized why he hadn't wanted to receive formal speech from that old knight.

Though he had never lacked affection from his mother, Turan had internally yearned for a father figure.

Someone gentle and warm who could be an example of what kind of man he should grow up to be…

After watching the north until Keorn's figure disappeared from view, Turan slowly turned his steps southward.

An unknown world was waiting for him.

Chapter 4: Where There Is Change, There Is That Which Does Not Change (Part 1)

Dam Ho rose before dawn, and the first thing he did was prepare Sage Hyeon-so's meal. He washed the rice and dressed a few wild vegetables with practiced hands.

He had been doing this for so long that his movements were exceedingly熟练.

Sage Hyeon-so ate little and was not particular about flavors. He adhered strictly to the Taoist discipline, refusing food with strong scents or anything contrary to his teachings. This meant Dam Ho did not need to prepare much.

Dam Ho set the meal before Sage Hyeon-so in short order. Sage Hyeon-so was already awake, reading a Taoist scripture.

"Master, please eat."

"Has it already come to that hour?"

Sage Hyeon-so smiled as he closed his scripture.

Dam Ho placed the tray before him—plain rice with a few simple vegetable dishes. It could not have been more modest.

"This looks delicious. You went to a great deal of trouble this morning."

"No, Master. It is what a disciple ought to do. Without you, I would not exist."

Five years ago, had Sage Hyeon-so not saved him, Dam Ho could not be here today. Moreover, when many in the Mount Hua Sect had rejected or quietly mocked him, only Sage Hyeon-so had treated him with genuine sincerity.

To Dam Ho, Sage Hyeon-so was more than a master—he was like a parent. And so his attitude toward Sage Hyeon-so could not help but be one of utmost devotion.

"Ho-ya."

"Yes?"

"Do you truly wish to learn martial arts that badly?"

"Yes!"

Dam Ho answered without a heartbeat's hesitation. Looking at him, Sage Hyeon-so let out a soft sigh.

"It is because this master is useless that you suffer."

"No, Master."

"I am sorry."

"Master, please do not say such things."

"You know that I am a Scholar Taoist, do you not?"

"Yes!"

"Then do you know what a Scholar Taoist does?"

"He studies the scriptures of the Tao…"

"That is what everyone believes."

"Is that not the case?"

"Do you know who my master was?"

"Was it not the Heaven Vault Master?"

"That is correct. The Heaven Vault Master, called the greatest martial artist Mount Hua ever produced, was my master."

The Heaven Vault Master—a legendary figure among the previous generation of Mount Hua's masters. It was because of him that Mount Hua had enjoyed its greatest golden age.

He had been such a madman for martial arts that he had passed the position of Grandmaster to his junior brother, the One Vault Master, in order to devote himself entirely to cultivation.

"When I first became my master's disciple, everyone had great expectations. They all believed I was some extraordinary genius. Naturally—would it make sense for the disciple of the famous Heaven Vault Master to be anything less? But that is precisely what happened."

A complicated smile surfaced on Sage Hyeon-so's face. It seemed bitter, yet also serene—resigned.

"Unlike my master, who was called a genius, I had no great talent for martial arts. My mind could understand to a degree, but my body simply would not follow. Receiving my master's martial arts was impossible from the very start."

Dam Ho held his breath.

In all their five years together, this was the first time he had heard this story.

"My master was like the sun in the sky, while I was a disciple of pathetic talent. Naturally, there was much talk within the Mount Hua Sect about it. I too wondered why my master had chosen me. So I asked him—why did you take me as your disciple? And do you know what he said?"

"…?"

"'What the Mount Hua Sect needs now is not a man of great martial skill, but a man of great heart. One who will preserve the spirit of Mount Hua and carry its banner to future generations. Hyeon-so, you must fill that role.' He spoke those words and led me toward the path of a Scholar Taoist. Can you understand his meaning?"

Dam Ho shook his head.

The Mount Hua Sect followed the path of the Tao, but it was undeniably a martial sect. It had been one of the Nine Great Sects, and it was still working to reclaim its former glory.

If the Mount Hua Sect were merely a simple Taoist order, how could it have been counted among the Nine Great Sects? In such a sect, how could the Heaven Vault Master—the greatest martial artist of Mount Hua—have led his own disciple toward the path of a Scholar Taoist?

A Scholar Taoist was, in name, one who walked the path of the Tao through scripture. One who sought truth. But in the Mount Hua Sect, which had long since established itself as a martial sect rather than a mere Taoist order, such a role was ill-suited.

Even in the past, the position of Scholar Taoist in the Mount Hua Sect was considered virtually useless. The only reason Sage Hyeon-so received any respect at all was because he was the Heaven Vault Master's disciple. Without that, he would not have been granted even proper quarters.

"At first, I resented him deeply. The disciple of the Heaven Vault Master, the greatest of Mount Hua, reduced to a Scholar Taoist."

When expectations were great, so too was disappointment.

The martial artists of the Mount Hua Sect had been disappointed by the Heaven Vault Master's decision, and they had directed looks of pity toward Sage Hyeon-so. And so Sage Hyeon-so had walked the path of a Scholar Taoist, arriving where he was today.

"Through countless sleepless nights, I burned with anger. Even as I read the scriptures, I could not quell my fury. But then—after some time had passed—the flame of anger in my heart began to subside. And I realized: one need not wield a sword to reach the Dao. There are many paths to enlightenment beyond the blade. Only then did I begin to understand, however dimly, why my master had led me toward the path of a Scholar Taoist."

Dam Ho gazed at Sage Hyeon-so in silence. He had not known until today that his revered master carried such a hidden history.

"Most people believe that a Scholar Taoist merely studies scriptures, but that is wrong. The Scholar Taoist of Mount Hua bears the responsibility of passing the sect's martial arts to future generations in their entirety."

"What do you mean?"

A puzzled look crossed Dam Ho's face. He had never heard such a thing before.

"A Scholar Taoist not only studies scriptures but also bears the duty of fully recording and systematically classifying the Mount Hua Sect's martial arts for transmission to future generations. In the worst case—should Spirit Treasure Palace burn, or a rare supreme art be lost—the Scholar Taoist must have memorized every technique. That is the Scholar Taoist's true obligation."

Dam Ho's eyes changed.

He had not known until today that the position of Scholar Taoist carried such a duty.

"I did not know that was the Scholar Taoist's true calling."

"Not even the current Grandmaster knows this. The previous Grandmaster passed away before he could convey it."

"Why did you not tell the Grandmaster? If he had known, you would have received far better treatment."

"What need was there to speak of it? I need only find a worthy successor and pass on my knowledge. Knowledge is best transmitted quietly."

"Master."

Sage Hyeon-so smiled gently.

"More importantly, Ho-ya."

"Yes?"

"There is no need to fixate on a single path. Being a Scholar Taoist is not such a bad choice."

At Sage Hyeon-so's words, Dam Ho clenched his lips. Instinctively, he rejected the path of a Scholar Taoist. But Sage Hyeon-so smiled as though he had expected this.

"Yes, I know—your nature would never allow you to sit still, poring over scriptures or organizing martial arts texts in your head."

"I am sorry."

"No. Your will is so resolute that I shall not try to change your mind."

"Master."

"I know that the Mount Hua Sect's martial arts do not suit you. Mount Hua's techniques are so mercurial and dazzling that even those with whole legs struggle to learn them. Your leg is severely impaired. In your current state, you will never reach the highest levels. Do you understand?"

"But I will never give up."

"You are not the kind of boy who gives up. If you were, you would have died five years ago. Ho-ya!"

"Yes!"

Suddenly, Sage Hyeon-so reached out and placed his hand on Dam Ho's head. The unexpected gesture startled Dam Ho, but he did not pull away.

The hand resting on his head was warm.

"I believe in you."

"…"

For an instant, Dam Ho's shoulders trembled.

Something hot surged up from within his chest. Overwhelmed by an emotion he could not understand, Dam Ho was at a loss.

Sage Hyeon-so removed his hand from Dam Ho's head and rose to his feet. Dam Ho stared after him in a daze.

Sage Hyeon-so retrieved an old, worn text from a cabinet behind him.

"Take this."

"What is this?"

"Years ago, while organizing the scriptures in Spirit Treasure Palace, I came across it by chance."

Dam Ho accepted the text.

How old it was—he could not tell. The cover was frayed and tattered, and it seemed as though the slightest pressure might cause it to crumble.

"It is called the Heavy Heaven Heart Method."

"Heavy Heaven Heart Method?"

A look of doubt crossed Dam Ho's face. He had never heard the name before.

"I imagine it is unfamiliar to you? I felt the same when I first discovered it. According to the records, it is a heart method created in the early days of the Mount Hua Sect, when it first settled on this mountain."

"Then why is it called the Heavy Heaven Heart Method?"

Dam Ho asked with a puzzled expression.

A martial art's name was meant to reflect its characteristics.

The name "Heavy Heaven Heart Method" conveyed a sense of weight and gravity—a quality that stood in stark contrast to the mercurial, flashy nature of the Mount Hua Sect's martial arts.

"The sword of Mount Hua is fierce and ever-changing—such is its fame throughout the world. But was it always so? The early martial arts of the Mount Hua Sect must have been stately and solemn, like the great boulders of this mountain. Over centuries of change, they evolved into what they are today."

Sage Hyeon-so had never practiced martial arts himself. But as a Scholar Taoist who had memorized and organized countless martial arts texts, his insight was not insignificant.

"In this world, there are things that never change, and there are things that change with the passage of time. The martial arts of the Mount Hua Sect, if one must classify them, fall into the latter category. They were refined, modified, and improved out of necessity—and so the Mount Hua martial arts of today were born. Everyone desires the new. But does that mean the old is necessarily useless? I do not believe so."

In that moment, Sage Hyeon-so was thinking of his own master, the Heaven Vault Master.

The Heaven Vault Master had been a genius.

He had advanced Mount Hua's martial arts to new heights, and the martial artists of the Mount Hua Sect wished to emulate him. The Mount Hua Sect of today was, in a sense, trapped in the shadow of that extraordinary figure.

The Heaven Vault Master had wished for the disciples of Mount Hua to find something different from himself. Perhaps that was why he had led his only disciple, Sage Hyeon-so, toward the path of a Scholar Taoist.

"Ho-ya, within this Heavy Heaven Heart Method lies the ancient teachings of Mount Hua, preserved intact. I do not know what you will find there, but I am certain you will find what you seek."

"Master."

"If you cannot find what you need in the Mount Hua of today, then seek it in the Mount Hua of old."

"Yes…"

Dam Ho clutched the Heavy Heaven Heart Method to his chest.

Whether he would truly find what he sought within its pages, no one could say. But the warmth of Sage Hyeon-so's kindness alone made Dam Ho feel as though he had gained the entire world.

Seeing Dam Ho like this, Sage Hyeon-so smiled.

'Yes. That is enough.'

***

Dam Ho returned to his room and carefully opened the old text.

Turning past the cover, he found the faint characters "Heavy Heaven Heart Method" inscribed upon the inner page. Dam Ho ran his fingertip gently over the characters.

'Heavy Heaven Heart Method.'

He turned the page with care.

Mount Hua is tall and straight.

Its form is that of a sword—yet beware, ye people.

Mount Hua bears the shape of a blade, yet it is itself a mountain of stone.

It bears the weight of countless ages, and thus it maintains its uprightness.

Weight comes first; lightness follows.

The heart must always be heavy, and must not be easily swayed.

The heavens appear empty, yet are full—and their weight is sufficient to encompass all the earth.

The human heart is like the heavens; if it can bear that weight, no wind shall ever shake it.

Dam Ho absorbed every word as he turned the pages.

Image Heaven Above the Heart—the heart contains the image of the heavens.

Heavy Heaven Within the Heart—the heart holds the weight of the heavens.

Moving Heart Governs Heaven—when the heart moves, it can govern the heavens.

Heavy Heart Moves Heaven—a heavy heart moves the heavens.

The forgotten martial arts of ancient Mount Hua were revealing themselves before him.

It was a cloudy morning, as if rain was about to fall.

Since early morning, disciples of the Extreme Poison Sect had been searching in pairs in all directions.

“How long do we have to keep doing this? It feels like it’s been at least fifteen days already.”

“The Grand Elder lost one of his legs, so he won’t give up easily. We just have to keep searching until he tells us to stop.”

After searching for a while, one of them suddenly frowned.

“Ugh, the smell is terrible.”

“What is this smell?”

The disciples took out flat pills from the medicine pouches at their waists and placed them under their tongues.

It was a pill made with fish mint. Fish mint is a medicinal herb that’s difficult to use because it smells like rotting fish, but it can be used as a mild antidote. Keeping it in the mouth provides some protection against poisoning through the air.

The disciples then took out cloth masks and covered their mouths and noses.

“Be careful.”

“Mm.”

The disciples cautiously approached the source of the smell. When they cleared away some awkwardly placed branches, a cave appeared. The terrible smell was emanating from there.

The two disciples exchanged glances, then stepped back and put their hands under their cloth masks to whistle.

Shriek!

* * *

While the disciples of the Extreme Poison Sect tightly surrounded the cave entrance, Mang-ryo appeared.

In place of his severed leg, Mang-ryo was walking with a sturdy birch staff.

Thunk, thunk.

Making an asymmetrical limping sound, Mang-ryo roughly entered the cave.

Mang-ryo surveyed the inside of the cave with bulging eyes.

The cave was small. There didn’t seem to be anywhere to hide.

There was just a pile of grass that appeared to have been used as a bed, a few rotten fruits, and a similarly rotten deer carcass.

Mang-ryo’s gaze fell on the deer and paused momentarily. The deer’s belly skin was bulging.

“Hee hee.”

Mang-ryo approached and struck the deer’s belly with his birch staff.

Crack!

There was a sound of bones being crushed. When there was no particular reaction, Mang-ryo inserted his staff into the split in the deer’s belly skin and lifted it.

Inside the deer’s belly, he saw the curled-up corpse of Son Wi-hak. It was a horrific sight, already badly decomposed, and now with the head smashed from the recent blow.

Mang-ryo checked Son Wi-hak’s corpse several times. It seemed he had been dead for at least three or four days.

Mang-ryo smiled, baring his teeth.

“Yes, that’s right. I knew you couldn’t have gone far after being hit by my Death Poison Palm. You hid here and died from the poison!”

Mang-ryo’s eyes flashed with killing intent, and he suddenly struck Son Wi-hak’s body with his birch staff.

Thwack!

The already decomposed body of Son Wi-hak began to be crushed.

“You b*at*rd! You b*st*rd! You b*st*rd!”

Mang-ryo, still not satisfied, struck Son Wi-hak’s corpse repeatedly, reducing it to a pulp.

Crack! Crack!

Still not fully satisfied, he shouted:

“Where is that little brat!”

A disciple outside the cave answered:

“We didn’t see him when we came to the cave.”

Mang-ryo surveyed the cave once more. There didn’t seem to be any other place to hide.

“Urrgh… Where did he escape to?”

Bitter about losing his leg, Mang-ryo trembled with rage.

Mang-ryo shouted at his disciples:

“He was poisoned too. He either hasn’t gone far or is dead somewhere nearby! Find even his corpse!”

“Yes!”

Mang-ryo and his disciples left the cave, and it quickly fell into silence.

* * *

Read only at nineheavens.org

Translated by Nine Heavens!

https://discord.gg/XC9DTsTQ9Z

***

Three more days passed.

At the empty cave entrance, a disciple of the Extreme Poison Sect appeared and carefully examined the inside of the cave. After inspecting it silently for a while, he confirmed that nothing had changed.

“The Elder suspected something, but as expected, there’s not even a trace of human presence.”

The disciple of the Extreme Poison Sect held his nose.

“With the corpse poison, I can’t come back here again.”

The disciple left.

And two more days later.

The cave was so filled with the stench of rot that it had become uninhabitable for humans. The decomposing bodies emitted such a toxic smell that ordinary people couldn’t even look inside without their breath being cut off. Even insects no longer entered the cave.

But in the cave where nothing had happened for nearly five days, there was movement.

Squirm.

The deer carcass heaved and moved.

And from beneath it, Jin Ja-gang crawled out. His face was extremely emaciated, but Jin Ja-gang was still alive.

“Ugh…”

With a low moan, Jin Ja-gang struggled to push the deer aside. Beneath it was the pulverized corpse of Son Wi-hak.

Son Wi-hak had decomposed so much that it was difficult to recognize his form. Seeing this, Jin Ja-gang felt a pain in his chest.

He felt sorry for using his grandfather’s corpse to survive, and for not being able to properly take care of the remains.

Originally, Jin Ja-gang had planned to hide inside the deer’s belly. But he suddenly thought that if he were a tracker, he would certainly check inside the deer’s belly.

So he changed his plan. He would put Son Wi-hak’s corpse inside the belly, and he would hide beneath the deer.

He had dragged the deer to an uneven area of the floor with many depressions, and hidden his body in one of these depressions beneath the deer.

If Mang-ryo had pulled out Son Wi-hak’s corpse and examined it carefully, he might have noticed something bulging somewhere, but he didn’t. In his uncontrollable rage, he had pulverized the corpse without checking what was beneath it.

It was almost like surviving by pure luck, but it was also due to Jin Ja-gang’s determination to survive until the end.

Jin Ja-gang swallowed his tears, which were too dry to actually fall.

He imprinted the image of Son Wi-hak’s corpse deeply in his mind.

He would never forget this grudge.

Though he was surrounded by the stench of rot, covered in blood, and extremely emaciated, Jin Ja-gang stood there for a long time with an expression of viciousness unbefitting a ten-year-old child.

* * *

It was another fifteen days later that Jin Ja-gang finally left the cave.

The cave was so full of noxious fumes that the Extreme Poison Sect had stopped checking it. They believed that no living person could possibly survive in there.

But Jin Ja-gang had endured inside the cave, gnawing on the rotten flesh of the deer. Although the smell was terribly toxic, bearing the poisonous air wasn’t as difficult as he had expected. He didn’t even suffer much from food poisoning or stomachaches despite eating the rotten deer flesh.

Jin Ja-gang had some knowledge about certain diseases and medicinal herbs, so he knew this was certainly unusual.

After about a month and a half of searching without finding Jin Ja-gang, the Extreme Poison Sect finally withdrew, leaving only a small number of disciples behind.

Jin Ja-gang evaded the now less vigilant encirclement, circling around to descend from Hundred Flower Valley.

The outside world finally spread before Jin Ja-gang’s eyes.

* * *

Jin Ja-gang stole clothes from others’ homes, begged for food, or stole crops from fields. On rainy nights, he spent the night shivering under trees.

One convenience was that he didn’t get sick no matter what he ate. Even when there was nothing else to eat, he could consume rotten or spoiled fruit or fish without much problem. Afterward, he would pass foul-smelling stool, but Jin Ja-gang was satisfied just to avoid starvation.

But even that wasn’t easy to come by, so Jin Ja-gang was nearly starved to death by the time he reached the capital city of Yunnan.

It had been a month since he left Hundred Flower Valley.

***

The Martial Arts Alliance’s Yunnan Branch was built in the style of earthen wall houses, as was common in Yunnan, with two-story buildings with earthen walls and low ceilings. Several of these earthen houses were clustered together to form a large compound.

Befitting a branch of the Martial Arts Alliance, which boasted the highest prestige in the world, the main gate was wide open.

‘I finally made it!’

His heart was pounding.

If he could just reach that place, he could finally avenge the people of Hundred Flower Valley!

At this moment, Jin Ja-gang could see nothing but the main gate of the branch.

Unable to hold back the suddenly welling tears, Jin Ja-gang burst into tears and ran through the main gate of the branch.

“Please help me!”

At Jin Ja-gang’s parched cry, three or four warriors sprang like lightning from the guard rooms on either side of the gate.

“What’s the matter!”

The moment he saw the warriors of the Martial Arts Alliance, Jin Ja-gang felt all the tension leave his body.

‘I did it. It’s done now.’

Feeling his head spinning, Jin Ja-gang collapsed on the spot.

“The Extreme Poison Sect… they… killed all our… people…”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence before losing consciousness.

“Hey, kid!”

But the warriors hesitated to approach Jin Ja-gang.

Jin Ja-gang’s body swelling had gone down, but he was so starved that his bones protruded. The area around his eyes was sunken, and his lips were cracked with blood. Moreover, his skin was covered with unsightly mottled spots. He looked like someone with a contagious disease to anyone who saw him.

* * *

Jin Ja-gang slept as if unconscious, then woke up.

“Are you awake?”

In a small room, a diminutive, scholarly-looking middle-aged man was standing to one side.

Jin Ja-gang shrank back and looked around.

“Where am I…?”

“This is a separate chamber in the Yunnan Branch of the Martial Arts Alliance, and I am Seo Gil-pung, the Petition Supervisor of the branch. I heard you had something to report, so I waited until you woke up.”

Tears welled up in Jin Ja-gang’s eyes as he gradually returned from deep sleep to reality.

Seo Gil-pung spoke without approaching, standing at a distance:

“No one here will harm you, so please tell me what happened without fear. I heard you mentioned something about the Extreme Poison Sect…?”

Finally realizing that he had truly made it to the Martial Arts Alliance, Jin Ja-gang felt a surge of tears.

“The Extreme Poison Sect… invaded Hundred Flower Valley and killed everyone. My mother, my grandfather, everyone else too.”

“Hmm.”

The seriousness of the situation was evident just from Seo Gil-pung’s grave expression.

“It’s no small matter for one sect to attack another and annihilate it. Tell me in detail anything that could serve as evidence.”

Jin Ja-gang thought for a moment and then answered:

“If you go to Hundred Flower Valley, you’ll find the bodies of the people. They all died after being bitten by poisonous centipedes. I was also bitten by a five-colored centipede, but my grandfather saved me.”

At the mention of the five-colored centipede, Seo Gil-pung’s expression grew even more serious.

“So it seems you’re the only witness. And there’s no evidence.”

“There are people who were captured by the Extreme Poison Sect…”

“From what you’re saying, it sounds like this happened more than two months ago, which is plenty of time to destroy evidence. It’s unlikely that any traces remain in Hundred Flower Valley, and we can’t even be sure if the captured people are still alive. We can’t suppress the Extreme Poison Sect based solely on your word.”

Jin Ja-gang felt his mind go blank.