Chapter 148
Chapter 148
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 148
Chapter Title: The Vigilant Village Chief
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The old man swallowed his surprise upon seeing Hyeok Mulin's face.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down through his graying hair.
Then, spotting the Divine Demon Blood Death Squad standing behind him, the village chief's face stiffened, his entire body going rigid.
A moment later, he whipped his head around and asked the child's parents in a urgent voice.
"A-Are those the ones?"
"Yes, we're truly grateful to them."
Hearing the confirmation, the village chief gulped hard.
He somehow calmed his pounding heart with a few deep breaths, cleared his throat, and walked forward.
Approaching Hyeok Mulin, the village chief offered his thanks in a cautious tone.
"I heard you rescued the Mok family's child. We are truly grateful."
"It was nothing. We just happened to come across him on our way."
"I see. I am Yeom Bok, the village chief of this small hamlet."
"Hyeok Mulin, patriarch of the Hyeok Clan."
"Haha, a clan patriarch! But what brings you to a place like this in the dead of night...?"
Yeom Bok nodded at Hyeok Mulin's introduction and posed the question.
"A sudden downpour caught us without a proper place to stay the night. We'd like to rest here just until morning. Is there anywhere suitable?"
"We have no inn in the village, so there's nowhere fitting to offer you..."
Realizing they had simply come seeking rest and shelter, Yeom Bok let out a sigh of relief.
But this was a remote mountain village where outsiders rarely set foot.
As such, there wasn't even a single inn to be found.
As Yeom Bok stood there flustered and apologetic, Hyeok Mulin spoke up.
"As long as it keeps the rain off, even a rundown shed will do."
"If that's the case... please, follow me this way."
Yeom Bok thought for a moment, then led the way to a suitable spot.
After walking about fifty paces, they arrived at a grain storehouse at the edge of the village.
Opening the door, Yeom Bok revealed the interior.
"Last year was a poor harvest, so it's less than half full. You can spread straw in the empty space and bed down comfortably enough."
"This will do nicely. Thank you."
"Not at all. Rest well, then."
With a deep bow, Yeom Bok slowly departed.
The Divine Demon Blood Death Squad parked the carriage nearby and tethered the horses.
It was already deep into the night.
After a simple meal, they decided on a watch rotation, spread out straw for bedding, and settled in to sleep.
Once the entire squad—except the sentries—had drifted off...
Swish.
In the dead of night, Hyeok Mulin slowly opened his eyes and rose.
"......"
Gazing out the door for a moment, he stepped outside without a sound.
Bypassing the entrance, he leaped silently onto the roof.
A faint whisper of wind cutting through the air reached his ears, and Hyeok Mulin headed toward the source.
Soon, he spotted someone and halted on the roof of a thatched house where the figure was visible.
An elderly man practicing fist techniques in the courtyard, honing his martial arts.
It was none other than the village chief, Yeom Bok.
He looked every bit the age where his joints would ache and his body weary him, yet he continued his training late into the night.
Thud.
Hyeok Mulin descended from the roof and watched openly, making no effort to hide.
About two hours later, Yeom Bok paused his training.
As he wiped sweat from his brow with his forearm and caught his breath...
"W-What...!"
He noticed Hyeok Mulin.
"How did you come to be here, Hero Hyeok...!"
Yeom Bok's face was a mask of shock and embarrassment, but Hyeok Mulin remained utterly calm.
"You're dedicated. Don't you sleep?"
Something in that flat tone eased Yeom Bok's fluster.
Once his breathing steadied, he replied.
"The older I get, the less sleep I need."
"I see."
Hyeok Mulin nodded, glanced around, then asked him point-blank.
"When you first saw us, you couldn't hide your shock. Care to explain why?"
He had briefly suspected the man earlier, given his startled reaction.
Was the whole village a front for orthodox or unorthodox sects in disguise?
But the Divine Demon Blood Death Squad's checks confirmed it was just an ordinary mountain village.
Which left only the village chief showing any unusual response.
Yeom Bok flinched at the question but soon answered honestly.
"I served as a gatekeeper at the Murim Alliance for decades. I was barely first-rate at best, but I guarded the entrance until my hair turned white."
The Murim Alliance...
Hyeok Mulin listened quietly.
"After leaving the Alliance late in life, this village took in a wandering old man like me."
Yeom Bok laid out his life story.
"In gratitude, I've kept up my training to protect the village from any martial artists who might pass through unannounced."
So that's why he hasn't given up martial arts even at his age.
At the Alliance, he was little more than a statue at the gate, but here, he was the village's most reliable shield.
People feel truly alive when driven by purpose, so Hyeok Mulin could well understand why the old man persisted.
"You all carried an air different from the orthodox sect folk I knew, so I rashly assumed you were from the unorthodox paths. But if you truly were, you'd have ravaged the village the moment you arrived. It was just my mistake."
Yeom Bok bowed deeply, head low.
"I'm sorry for alarming you earlier."
Hyeok Mulin watched him silently.
'Not entirely wrong.'
The instincts honed over decades as a gatekeeper had served him right.
Though they weren't mere unorthodox—they were the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.
Gazing at him, Hyeok Mulin slowly stepped forward and spoke.
"When executing the fist form you showed, the first place to focus is the tip of your toes."
"...Hero?"
Yeom Bok looked puzzled at the sudden words.
But Hyeok Mulin continued undeterred.
"Next is the waist, which anchors your center. And finally, the fingertips."
Realizing this was instruction, Yeom Bok focused intently.
Hyeok Mulin's words flowed like the wind, reaching their conclusion.
"The essence of fist arts lies in the hands. But remember—it's not the beginning, but the completion."
Enlightenment dawned in Yeom Bok's eyes. He prostrated himself on the ground in gratitude.
"To offer such precious guidance...!"
For a man who had trained alone for decades, stuck at the first-rate wall, this glimpse of mastery was a revelation.
"P-Please wait just a moment!"
Face alight with emotion, he scrambled to his feet and dashed inside.
Soon, he returned to the courtyard and handed Hyeok Mulin a worn sheet of paper.
Unfolding it, Hyeok Mulin let out a low whistle.
"Ho."
It was a meticulously detailed map of Shaanxi Province.
Not just villages and roads, but mountains, rivers, cliffs, basins, plateaus—all terrain marked in fine detail.
The one map of the entire province Yeom Bok had brought from the Murim Alliance, yet he parted with it without regret.
Hyeok Mulin smirked at the unexpected windfall.
"My thanks. I'll put it to good use."
Tucking the map away, he turned to leave.
"Of course. Sleep well!"
Yeom Bok bowed low once more, nearly touching the ground, to his retreating back.
The next morning.
Perhaps due to the revelation from the night before...
Yeom Bok awoke feeling unusually refreshed.
He headed straight across the village to the grain storehouse.
To thank Hyeok, the clan patriarch, once more and share some simple food.
But upon arrival, he could only stare in dismay.
"No...!"
The martial artists who had slept there had vanished without a trace.
No people, no horses, no carriage—nothing.
They had melted away like clouds scattered in the night.
The villagers who followed him soon confirmed the scene.
"They left already?"
"Didn't even get to say goodbye properly. What a shame."
The villagers voiced their regret at the quick departure of their rare visitors.
But Yeom Bok felt both regret and relief.
He had told Hyeok one lie the night before.
During his time at the Murim Alliance, he had memorized the looks and auras of countless orthodox and unorthodox martial artists in Shaanxi.
Yet he had never seen or even heard of anyone matching those men.
Could they be...?
From the Western Frontier.
Or perhaps...
Demonic invaders from beyond the central plains.
'Should I report to the Alliance, just in case?'
They had shown him kindness, but Yeom Bok's bones were steeped in orthodox loyalty from a lifetime at the Murim Alliance.
After agonizing, he resolved to send word.
As he turned to speak to the deputy chief...
"You there, prepare a letter..."
A villager came running up, panting heavily.
"V-Village chief!"
"What is it?"
Yeom Bok eyed the red-faced man curiously.
"The river isn't flooding!"
"What? Is that true?"
"Yes!"
Forgetting his words, Yeom Bok bolted toward the river.
Time passed, and standing before it, he murmured in disbelief.
"How in the world...?"
The river flowed perfectly calm, just as the villager said.
Days ago, the rains had breached the embankment.
He had worried the flood would ruin this year's harvest.
Yet now the waters ran steady and serene.
Raising his gaze upstream, the village chief hurried toward the damaged site.
Upon arrival, he and the following villagers gaped in awe.
"Ahh..."
"So beautiful..."
A thick ice wall had replaced the collapsed embankment.
The villagers stood mesmerized by its gleaming form.
"Looks far sturdier than the old one."
"No more flood worries now."
"Which benefactor granted us this?"
They wondered who had built it.
But Yeom Bok, standing among them, knew.
As he stared entranced, the deputy chief approached.
"Thought this year's crops were done for. What luck."
"Yes. We'll eat our fill this year."
The deputy gazed contentedly at the gentle current.
Then, recalling something, he asked Yeom Bok.
"Oh, right—what were you about to tell me earlier?"
Yeom Bok fell silent a moment.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
"Nothing at all."
The deputy looked puzzled but nodded and left.
Alone now, Yeom Bok approached the ice wall.
As he drew near...
His reflection in it beamed with unbridled joy.