Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Let's Have a Round
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Shh-shh-shh!
A giant spider descended onto the roof of the hall where Great Madam Namgung San-yeong resided.
'No matter what, I have to uncover information about the alcohol master and return to the Young Cult Leader!'
The giant spider's mind was filled solely with the thought of establishing some merit.
How long could he go on living like this pathetic creature?
In truth, he could feel his human dignity slipping away moment by moment, his intelligence and reason degenerating.
To halt that, he had to catch the Young Cult Leader's eye.
He knew well that the Young Cult Leader never forgave a traitor once betrayed, but right now, the Young Cult Leader's mercy was his only hope.
'If possible... maybe I can even ask about my daughter's whereabouts!'
The giant spider recalled the circumstances that had forced him into betrayal, then shook his head.
Focus on the task at hand first. Without finding the alcohol master, no rewards would come.
'She's... with someone.'
The giant spider narrowed all eight of his single eyes, staring intently at Namgung San-yeong.
Just then, an unfamiliar woman stood beside Namgung San-yeong.
At first, he thought she might be the alcohol master, but her facial features resembled Namgung San-yeong's, revealing her to be the daughter.
Thousand Leaves Sword Immortal Dang Gyujin.
He remembered her: the Nine Dragons Branch Family's heir who had unusually joined the Qingcheng Sect.
Born with an indescribable talent from childhood, she had been taken in by Master Wuho, a sworn brother of her father Dang Hoseon.
Though not formally registered in the sect's roster, Thousand Leaves Sword Immortal was now a renowned female expert representing the Qingcheng Sect, well-known even in the Divine Cult.
But the main reason the giant spider remembered Dang Gyujin was that, in this branch family full of human scum, she alone had treated 'Dang Unhwi' kindly.
Of course, even that warmth vanished like it never existed once she left for the Qingcheng Sect.
'Still, her face looks gentler than her venomous mother or younger brother.'
But one shouldn't judge by appearances when it came to Namgung San-yeong's blood.
Wondering what schemes they were plotting now, the giant spider pricked up his ears.
Namgung San-yeong's irritable voice shook the room.
"You're determined to stab this mother in the heart, is that it?!"
"That hardly compares to the daggers Mother has plunged into Unhwi's heart all these years."
"And after all that, do you still dare claim to be the child I painfully bore-"
Unhwi?
It seemed certain they were discussing the Young Cult Leader, but far from conspiring, the mother and daughter were clashing fiercely.
And very irritably, at that.
What the hell was going on?
Unable to comprehend, the giant spider just blinked his eight eyes.
* * *
Whish-whish-whish!
The long staff in my hand moved swiftly through the air, leaving countless afterimages.
Scattering Petals Staff Technique.
It was the martial art that outer clan warriors of the Sichuan Tang Clan primarily learned upon initiation.
Since time immemorial, the staff served as the foundational form for all weapons: spear, sword, saber, axe, whip, and more.
For me, who would eventually learn the sword, it was an essential weapon to master.
Dark impact points bloomed on the straw dummy's limbs, woven from tightly packed straw.
The strikes never deviated from the predetermined marks.
Whap!
And finally, the upward finishing blow.
Slice, thud-
The dummy's head slanted off and fell to the ground.
"Hoo-"
I sheathed the staff and let out a deep sigh.
Swinging it purely with physical strength for conditioning, without circulating inner energy, had soaked my clothes in sweat.
And then.
Whooo-
The moment I circulated my inner energy to dispel the fatigue, something stirred in my dantian.
Wriggle!
My inner energy was gradually condensing, on the verge of forming essence.
Yangguang Double Manifestation.
The stage where inner energy solidified in the dantian begins to reveal its true nature, influencing the body.
In terms of the Poison Dragon Heart Formula, it meant the Ghost Dragon stage—where it truly begins spewing venom—was not far off.
At this point, one could emit poison externally, even infuse it into weapons.
The sense of achievement from steadily advancing through these stages was beyond words.
I could understand why martial artists, even in old age, clung to training, unable to forget this ecstasy.
And the thrill of winning bets was no less potent.
"Five taels."
I extended my hand toward Dang Gon, who watched me with a twisted face.
"Damn it all! Here, take it! Here you go!"
Thud. A money pouch dropped into my palm.
Heh heh heh. The weight confirmed it was exactly five taels.
Even though he could have tried palming a card or something, he didn't—proof this uncle had some conscience.
"Lighten up that face. How's a master supposed to act when he can't even congratulate his cute disciple's progress and just scowls like that?"
"How am I supposed to act when my disciple robs the pockets of his master, whom he should respect every day?! I'm truly broke now!"
"Then why do you keep suggesting bets?"
"Because I'm pissed! Pissed off, that's why! Don't I deserve to win sometime?!"
Now even his polite demeanor was gone, spilling out his frustrations.
This is why gambling is scary, folks. Don't get hooked. It turns people into this.
It had been ten days since I started learning martial arts from Dang Gon.
In that time, I'd steadily fleeced him (?), and now we were moving into introductory techniques for the major Eighteen Weapons.
Just Light Step and Fist-Palm-Finger-Foot techniques opened up infinite worlds, yet here I was, barely toddling, trying to tackle weapon arts too.
Dang Gon had opposed it at first. With so many poison and hidden techniques ahead, weapons were overkill.
But my firm insistence ('Scared?') provoked him into teaching, one by one.
In exchange, we bet. Time to recoup his losses, or so he thought.
The results spoke for themselves.
"But didn't you say yesterday was your first time even holding a staff?"
"Yeah?"
"If you got caught palming cards, you'd really die, you know?"
"Hey! What kind of talk is that to your master?!"
"If you hate it, go whine to the Great Madam at the main hall."
With his soul stripped bare, Dang Gon was pure bluster now.
"To make it simple—awkward as it is to say myself—I'm a Mad Storm Dance genius, right? You think basic intro stuff would stump me?"
"That's because Mad Storm Dance is the comprehensive art of Tang Clan martial arts! Sure, growing up around them, you could intuitively grasp the 'flow' and forms. But the Eighteen Weapons originate from—"
Dang Gon grumbled on unjustly for a while before sighing.
"Sigh! What's the use? I got fleeced again today."
"That's why I lowered the stakes to a pittance. Where else will you find a pretty disciple who worries about her master's finances?"
"That pittance is half my monthly pay!"
He looked ready to explode if poked more, so I smoothly changed the subject.
"More importantly, in the second form, my foot keeps veering right. How do I counter with the waist here?"
"...Damn, you're infuriating. How'd I end up hooked by a guy like this? Argh!"
Dang Gon's virtue was that, for all his griping, he never skimped on instruction.
Thanks to that, I progressed quickly in martial arts.
All I'd known before were theories memorized from the Heavenly Demon's Peerless Arts.
It felt great filling the gap to actual combat so rapidly.
I spent a good while more practicing the Scattering Petals Staff Technique, asking about confusing parts and curiosities, before finally wrapping up the lesson.
* * *
After six hours of lessons, my destination was always the same.
"You're back again, Young Master! Come on in!"
"Yeah, yeah. No one boosts your sales like me, huh?"
"Exactly, exactly. We'll seat you at your usual spot. Food and drink...?"
"Same as yesterday."
"Quick and comfortable service! Hey, what are you all doing? Serve the Young Master!"
Ten straight days patronizing Qingfeng Inn.
Ordering full tables of booze and food each time, the owner bowed so low at the sight of me and Dang Gon that his back stayed bent.
"Are you secretly the owner of this inn, Young Master?"
"Huh? What're you on about?"
Today I was enjoying some ten-year-aged Yeoahong, but Dang Gon, glaring murder at his cup, spouted nonsense.
"Or maybe a shareholder?"
"Nope. Nothing like that. You think the Great Madam would let me have a stake?"
"...Then why come here every day? Plenty of other inns."
Why? To wait for someone, obviously.
But scanning around, no one to wait for today either.
Ten days of striking out.
Were there really no Hidden Demon Illusion Cult followers in this area?
I remembered a secret branch in Gu Ryong County.
Or maybe they all died or got hurt in the rebellion.
Unsure of the reason, nagging anxiety filled my head, but I kept a straight face and left marks diligently.
Hoping at least one might spot it someday.
"What's wrong? Booze not to your taste?"
"No way, it's great. But, uh! Nothing. I don't hate alcohol anyway."
Dang Gon griped every time but joined me because I comped far more expensive liquor than what I won from him.
How could a mere servant afford this luxury daily? Thanks to me.
Of course, I wasn't rolling in extra cash either.
Where'd it come from? Tabbed it all at the main hall, of course.
A month from now, the bill would terrify her. Shouldn't have messed with me, Mother. Heh heh heh.
"Speaking of, heard the news?"
"What news?"
"The First Young Lady returned this afternoon."
"...Sister?"
"Yes."
A strange feeling washed over me.
Dang Gyujin.
I'd never met her in person, but 'Dang Unhwi's' lingering memories of her burned intensely.
The only one in this powder keg family he could lean on.
Indeed, she'd sent letters often to 'Dang Unhwi.'
Asking if he was well, if anything bothered him, how training went, suggesting walks in good weather—all brimming with concern.
They arrived steadily even during my confinement, but I never replied.
No strong sense of being 'Dang Unhwi,' so why bother?
The issue was whether Dang Gyujin, even if friendly now, would stay that way.
I planned to seriously devour Namgung San-yeong soon.
Would she still side with 'Dang Unhwi' then? Doubtful. She'd back her birth mother, naturally.
"She must've returned looking splendid."
Still, I hoped to keep a good relationship with 'Dang Unhwi' intact.
Who knew if it would work.
Clink!
I set down my cup after lightly toasting Dang Gon.
"That enough?"
"You really plan to start?"
"Yep."
"The manor'll be chaos soon."
"You're grinning too much for someone worried."
"Oh, am I? Slip-up."
Dang Gon tried suppressing his twitching lips but failed.
No wonder—it'd be a riot to watch.
Nothing beats watching a fire or a brawl from the sidelines, and now I could join in? Irresistible.
With my body in decent shape and the Dark Lord visit nearing, I was set for some divine rat-catching fun.
* * *
"Th-this... to the Crimson Pavilion, Young Master?"
Hyung Sam's pupils shook wildly at the letter I handed him.
Crimson Pavilion was Third Young Master Dang Yucheong's quarters. Delivering there felt like jumping into a tiger's den.
"Why? Don't want to? Want me to send someone else?"
"N-no! I'll deliver your message perfectly!"
"Good, good. Oh, and if I hear you even glanced sideways, you're dead."
"I-I'll keep that in mind!"
Sheesh, he could whisper. So damn loud.
Patting his shoulder farewell, beads of sweat—or tears?—formed on his face.
The envelope read:
—Personal delivery to Dang Yucheong.
Let's spar a round, dickwad.