Chronicles of the Northern Heavens Chapter 78: Dongbang Ri's Help
The sky was a piercing blue that stung the eyes. The sunlight blazed so fiercely it made one long to pack a feast and set off on a leisurely excursion. But for those on the run, such brilliant weather was anything but welcome. Clear days like this left tracks all too easily, demanding extra caution even during movement. Especially when the pursuers were colossal forces like the Northwest Murim and Hwangha Suryeon.
Yeon-hoo and the Iron Blood Clan took the lead. Han Song and the Ghost Family trailed a short distance behind, scanning the rear.
Dongbang Ri, walking beside Yeon-hoo, kept glancing back.
She's in a lot of pain, isn't she?
At her transmission, Yeon-hoo turned. Han Yu-hwa's face was pale as death, sweat beading coldly on her brow. Beside her, Han Song's expression was not just grave—it bordered on heartbroken. Her condition wasn't improving; if anything, it was worsening.
Let me take a look...
Do you know medicine?
Not to brag, but I'd like to check her out.
Yeon-hoo called out to Han Song. "Let's rest a bit."
"Much obliged."
Soon after, they found shade and paused. Yeon-hoo approached Han Yu-hwa with Dongbang Ri.
Dongbang Ri asked Han Song cautiously, "May I examine her?"
"You know medicine?"
"Yes. I can't promise it'll help, but I'd like to take a look."
Even Han Song, a master healer himself, nodded in hope. "Lie on your back."
Dongbang Ri began inspecting Han Yu-hwa. Everyone watched intently, the Ghost Family holding their breath, eyes fixed on her.
After about fifteen minutes, Dongbang Ri straightened. Han Song asked immediately, "Can you treat her?"
"Yes. But..."
"Out with it."
"We need to cut out the wound with a blade and scrape away the festering insides... It'll be excruciating."
"...Festering?"
"Yes. It doesn't look it from the outside, but it's already started. The pain during that must have been unbearable—didn't you notice?"
Han Song's eyes trembled. Han Yu-hwa had shown no sign. He'd trusted his own skills, believing she'd recover in days.
Then Han Yu-hwa spoke. "I can endure it. Please do it."
"It'll hurt terribly."
"It's fine."
She even smiled. Dongbang Ri nodded and called out, "I need a dagger. A very sharp one..."
"Will this do?" Jeong-ryong offered one. His usual throwing dagger, its edge gleaming wickedly.
"It needs to be sharper. Otherwise, we risk nerve damage."
Jeong-ryong looked troubled; sharper than this? Then Yeon-hoo stepped forward. "Hand me the dagger."
Jeong-ryong passed it. Yeon-hoo wedged the blade between his fingers, channeled internal energy, and stroked it slowly. Tiny sparks flew like on a whetstone, honing it razor-keen.
"This sharp enough?"
"Let me see." Dongbang Ri plucked a hair and laid it across the blade. It parted effortlessly, scattering in the breeze. "Perfect."
Yeon-hoo stepped back. "We'll need to bare her torso. Ladies only to assist; everyone else, stay far back."
Han Song asked, "Can't we seal her blood points?"
"That could make it worse."
"Father, I'll be fine. Do as she says."
Reluctantly, Han Song retreated.
Han Song wanted to plug his ears. It all felt like his fault, torment gnawing at him. Yet his face remained ice-cold—his anguish matched by fury.
"Ngh..."
Han Yu-hwa's faint groan thundered in his ears. Jeong-ryong, unable to bear it, sealed the air around Han Song with energy.
Yeon-hoo gazed at her sweat-drenched face, inwardly admiring. What a woman.
It was willpower, endurance—but bearing a conscious vivisection? No easy feat. And done slowly to spare nerves, doubling the agony.
Yeon-hoo glanced at Han Song. His face told the tale.
Fifteen minutes, thirty... An hour passed.
"You bore it well."
At Dongbang Ri's voice, the Ghost Family whipped around—wind whistling from the force. Han Song was already there. Dongbang Ri pressed hands to the wound, channeling yin energy. Blood froze white around it before she exhaled and withdrew.
"Hoo... How is it? Will she be all right?"
"Better than expected, but she shouldn't move for three days..."
Dongbang Ri trailed off. The White Night Cartel's grand assembly was in four.
"Three days enough?"
"Yes. After that, no worries."
"Thank you. Well done." Han Song turned to Yeon-hoo. "We must part here."
"Join us in three days."
"..."
"With those two forces hunting you, we'll stick together."
"No need. Hide discreetly; attend the assembly. Nothing's more vital for you now."
He spoke as if knowing something. But Yeon-hoo held firm. "I'm stubborn."
"..."
"Akso."
"Yes, my lord."
"Find a quiet spot for three days."
"Understood."
Akso, Cheol-u, and Baek-un dashed off; Jeong-ryong and guards followed.
Han Song approached. "Drawing ire before ascending formally won't help..."
"Points can wait."
The cave was deep and vast. Hunters' remnants—tattered bedding, bowls, beast bones—littered it.
Han Yu-hwa suffered terribly that night. But by morning, her color returned, pain markedly eased—like a miracle.
"When did you learn medicine?"
"From childhood, reading old texts. It sharpened on the run with retainers. Couldn't beg Iron Blood or seek doctors; I handled all wounds."
Sadness shadowed Dongbang Ri's face. Yeon-hoo felt pity, guilt especially at Iron Blood's mention.
"Time to change dressings." He watched her tend Han Yu-hwa, then sipped from his flask. Her old words resurfaced, souring his mood.
Make me strong. Strong enough to aid my lord.
He could guess her pains, her grudges. Her plea for strength born of helplessness. And Iron Blood had tormented her clan—deepening the scar.
His mother came to mind. Then Dongbang Ri's face overlaid.
For Mother, if nothing else, I'll make you strong.
Yeon-hoo steadied his breath, eyeing Han Song. As Han Yu-hwa improved, so did his mood—even smiles in their chats.
And you've already helped me greatly.
Whoosh!
On the third day, downpour resumed. Stuck another day, they filled bellies with guards' hunted game, biding time in the cave.
Dongbang Ri and Han Yu-hwa chatted amiably. In days, they'd bonded like old friends—Han Yu-hwa especially eager, calling her "sister" despite the two-year gap.
Han Song's gaze on Dongbang Ri brimmed with warmth. A boon for Yeon-hoo.
At least the mighty Ghost Family won't be foes?
It was Northwest Murim's "gift"—mistaking Han Song's group for him kept Ghost Family in play.
Rumble. Crack!
The storm raged fiercer. Yeon-hoo gnawed meat, awaiting scouts.
Cheol-u returned first. "Hwangha Suryeon suspected on all northwest paths to the Cartel. At least five hundred."
"Northwest?"
"None where I went."
Akso arrived. "Northwest Murim ambushes on all southwest passes. Six spots, about five hundred."
A thousand was hefty—and unknowns behind. Even Yeon-hoo felt the weight.
He glanced at Han Song, whose eyes darkened—he'd heard.
Baek-un last, arms full of luscious fruits. "Unknown swarms everywhere like ants. Crossing mountains'll take effort."
"Good work." Baek-un delivered fruits to the women. "Picked in a grove en route. Sweet as hell."
"Thanks."
Yeon-hoo stepped to the entrance. Han Song joined, both staring at the towering range blocking west.
Beyond lay White Night Cartel lands. Hence the passes guarded.
"Heading to the Cartel?"
"Will you?"
"We must forgo. Daughter's life trumps the assembly."
Unexpected, yet sensible.
"Regrettable, but farewell here."
"Rough road ahead."
"No matter. Killing foes early's no loss."
Yeon-hoo said casually. Han Song studied him, faint smile forming. "The North's future looks promising."
"I'll take that positively."
"Meant positively."
Next morning, Han Song left for Ghost Family with a letter and promise of future meeting. Short, but fruitful companionship for Yeon-hoo.