Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Namgung Tournament (1)
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I wonder what happened to Dang Ha-eun.
With such thoughts in mind, I walked and walked along the long, winding road.
If I was that worried, it would've been better to go check on her myself, but I had no choice—the situation was such that if I didn't keep moving quickly, disaster would strike. From Sichuan through Hubei, I'd already reached Anhui. It had taken a full three days.
"Extra! Extra! The young lady of the Sichuan Tang Clan was attacked by mysterious assailants!"
What a strange thing. I hadn't used lightness skill, but I'd come pretty fast in my own way—how had the rumors gotten here ahead of me?
I sidled over and asked casually.
"So, what happened?"
"How could one of the Five Dragons and Three Phoenixes fall to such rabble? She's unscathed, not a hair out of place. Those blind fools attacked without even knowing who she was."
"No other rumors? Like her wielding some golden, divine power, or the identity of the assailants...?"
"Not that I've heard."
Seemed they'd decided to keep quiet about the prayer beads and the Demonic Cult. I gave him a slight nod of thanks and entered the city of Anhui.
Anhui.
The domain where the Namgung Family reigned as kings.
This place was especially mountainous, making it hard to farm and be self-sufficient like in other regions.
As a result, they had no choice but to import all sorts of goods from elsewhere—which, put another way, meant trade flourished.
Where trade flourished, merchants naturally gathered in droves.
With merchants came trading caravans.
And those caravans sought protection from Anhui's overlords, the Namgung Family, allowing them to amass immense wealth.
That was why the Namgung name evoked images of riches and opulence. If this were the 21st century, it'd be like an organized crime syndicate lording over chaebol conglomerates.
Sure enough, Anhui's streets were lined with more prosperous buildings and flashy attire than anywhere else.
Even the street food looked delicious.
I bought a skewer of grilled pork and munched on it while mulling over my next move. I'd already used up the mysterious martial arts merchant persona, so I needed a new one...
First, let's sort out the timeline.
From the Dang Ha-eun incident to the trouble at the Namgung Family, it was roughly a month.
Why "roughly," you ask? The Namgung incident has a clear marker—"Namgung Tournament"—but the exact day of Dang Ha-eun's ambush isn't specified.
It might be mentioned somewhere, but my memory isn't sharp enough to recall every detail.
That's why I'd hurried here.
I couldn't know how long I'd have to wait if I stuck around to witness her ambush firsthand.
I grabbed a random passerby and asked.
"When does the Namgung Tournament start?"
The man flinched for a moment, scanning my clothes, then relaxed upon noticing I had no sword at my waist and replied.
"On the last day of this month. You've probably heard the talk everywhere—perhaps you're from out of town?"
He was a polite young man. I nodded.
"First time in Anhui. Quite flashy, isn't it?"
"Haha... flashy for good or ill, it's that kind of city. Here for the Namgung Tournament?"
He asked so suddenly that I countered in mock surprise. How had he pegged me as a martial artist without a sword?
The Namgung Tournament was fundamentally a gathering for swordsmen.
"My skills are meager, but growing up in Anhui has sharpened my eye. Have you ever seen how a mountain king passes through a flock of sheep?"
"Can't say I have."
"He hides his claws so as not to startle them, but doesn't cower or hold his breath—he strides boldly forward."
Here he was, solemnly gilding my face like some pompous sage. It was so absurd I couldn't help but chuckle.
"I'd rather you just insult me. Now I can't even show my face..."
I laughed, and he laughed with me. He had such a kind face—a real heroic type. If people turned into words, he'd be "heroic paragon." In a fantasy world, he'd be the chosen hero with a glowing badge.
We bantered back and forth, slathering gold on each other's faces like old friends, strolling the streets of Anhui.
His soft accent and low voice made for enjoyable conversation.
Before I knew it, we'd reached the point where the Namgung Family's grand gates loomed ahead. He stopped abruptly and offered a courteous clasped-hands salute.
"Brother, I'll head in now. Thank you for the fine encounter today."
What a fun guy from start to finish.
"Namgung Family?"
"Yes. I wasn't trying to hide it..."
"No, no offense taken. I just saw another young scion wandering about recently. And Namgung... figures, with that regal air of a king. As expected of the Namgung—names live up to their fame."
I teased, and he, who'd looked a bit apologetic, burst out laughing. He seemed about to say more, lips parting, then bowed his head slightly as if deciding otherwise.
As he turned to leave, I called out.
"Your name?"
His reply was just as courteous as before.
"Namgung Haejin."
"Namgung Haejin, the youth who'll be king. Farewell."
And so our brief encounter ended. As I walked on into the sunset, a thought struck me.
'Namgung Haejin...'
The Namgung Family heroine's brother had the exact same name.
"So, that senior simply handed this to you and vanished?"
Sichuan Tang Clan Lord's office.
Behind the middle-aged man in his green robe stood dozens of potted plants, flanked by dozens of elders in neat rows. On the table before them sat a single black prayer bead string, and every glance at it drew a heavy, conflicted sigh from the lord.
It was too monumental a stroke of fortune to chalk up to mere luck.
"He didn't give it—he lent it to me..."
The small voice made an elder who'd been staring holes through the beads bristle momentarily.
"Little Lady. This is no time for jests. Those beads are one of Shaolin's divine treasures, the 'Diamond Buddha's Divine Armor'—worn by their founding patriarch, Bodhidharma himself. They say his heavenly spirit resides within."
"Ah... so that's why it broke trees and beat people all on its own..."
She hadn't channeled a drop of her own inner energy, yet the golden aura had repelled foes, snapped trees, and wrought all sorts of havoc by itself. At the time, fleeing was priority one, so she'd bolted—but now it felt unfair.
If she'd known it was such a treasure, she would've confronted them head-on.
At least flung a barrage of poison needles!
"Sigh..."
His immature daughter and Shaolin's divine treasure.
The lord massaged his furrowed brow, staring at the sullen-faced Dang Ha-eun, but it wouldn't smooth.
"Too great a secret to keep, too uncertain the fallout to reveal. If Shaolin learns it's in our hands, they'd wage war to reclaim it. Yet returning it is tricky—the original owner is clearly real..."
This was like bearing a massive gold ingot on one's back: too heavy to carry forever, too risky to drop. The best course was returning it to its owner, but there was no guarantee he wouldn't reappear anytime soon.
After a moment's deliberation, the lord shot to his feet.
"I must go to Shaolin. Prepare at once."
Deal with it for now and think later—that was his decision.
"...Truly, there's no other way?"
It was a voice of raw anguish, ill-suited to the incense-filled hall.
A woman pleaded desperately with the seated monk, eyes closed in meditation, but he remained still as the Buddha statue, silently hearing her out.
Tears poured from her eyes like rain.
"You know... you know what kind of child our Hyea is... You've seen her character yourself, Grandmaster! If she grows, she'll surely be a pillar of the martial world!"
Lightning cracked in the downpour. Her anguished pleas sharpened into screams.
As venom crept into her voice, wrinkled lips delivered a gentle but firm refusal.
"We cannot kill to save. I understand your heart, but you must accept this request cannot be granted."
"...Is that how it is? In your vast compassion, Hyea remains just one soul among many."
Her fine hair disheveled, lips torn and bleeding, Emei's Jeongam Satae stormed from Shaolin's gates. Geumseon Grandmaster couldn't hide his pity.
Emei's Moon Phoenix, Seo Yul-hye.
Just a year ago, hailed as the martial world's future, her daughter had suddenly suffered a grave upper dantian rupture, falling unconscious.
Every physician agreed: the vessel was half-shattered; another’s spirit must mend it.
The upper dantian's spirit was one's very mind.
Extracting it was tantamount to killing someone.
Best case: amnesia. More likely: idiocy or death.
No other way.
To save one life, another must die—and that could not be.
"Amitabha..."
Thus, Geumseon Grandmaster merely closed his eyes and prayed before the Buddha.
Amitabha, have mercy on that child. Stretch forth your great, compassionate hand...