The Enchantress 4
—Hsssss!
"Easy, Bin-ah. Easy. Did that weird mister make you mad? There, there, settle down… If he dies, Daddy's going to be in a whole lot of trouble. B-Bin-ah!"
I grabbed her in a panic right as she was climbing down my leg, antennae bristling with pure murderous intent to chase the man and sink her fangs into him.
"What on earth is going on here…?"
A frigid voice slid into my ear.
Changryong, still blank with shock at the sight of the O-gongi, and I both turned. Of course the owner of that icy voice was Noonim.
She was already closing the distance at speed, eyes colder than anything I had ever seen from her, fixed on Changryong like a blade.
I. Am. Done for.
The words arrived in my head one clipped syllable at a time.
I had always thought I didn't really have a type in my previous life. Looking at her now, I knew I was wrong.
My type was the ice queen. The cold, untouchable city woman.
That sharp, intelligent face. That glacial expression. Those eyes that looked at Changryong as if he were something she had scraped off the bottom of her shoe.
This was pure, award-winning contempt.
While I carefully filed away this brand-new side of Noonim for later appreciation, she stretched out her arms toward the still-vibrating little ones and took them from me.
It felt a little like coaxing agitated children by popping food into their mouths.
Even after they were settled on her, the O-gongi kept flicking their antennae toward Changryong in pure outrage. Noonim stroked those trembling feelers with a fingertip and asked,
"So-ryong, what exactly happened? Why are the O-gongi so worked up? And what is Changryong doing here?"
Her question left me at a fork in the road.
In the space of a heartbeat I weighed two options.
Option one: cling to her with the most pitiful face I could manage. Noonim, that man suddenly appeared and forced a sparring match on poor, weak, still-learning me. When I refused he even leaked killing intent. Sob… Trigger her protective instincts, nestle against her, and thoroughly ruin his day. She might even hug me to comfort me.
Option two: forgive the pitiful fool who had just crashed and burned at unrequited love.
Then I remembered something Noonim had said only yesterday.
This guy belonged to the Divine Spear Yang Family, one of the Seven Great Clans just like the Sichuan Tang Family. Every three years the young masters of those seven houses gathered for something called the Seven Families' Bond—basically the murim version of a chaebol third-generation networking party. We would be seeing each other's faces whether we liked it or not.
If we're going to run into each other every three years, no point making a lifelong enemy. And the winner is supposed to show magnanimity anyway, right?
Before I even appeared he had already named their fifth child. The heartbreak had to be enormous.
Noonim was still staring at the flustered young man with that glacial gaze. I tugged gently on her sleeve.
"Miss, I think there's been a misunderstanding. I got lost on the way out of the Heavenly Martial Pavilion. Changryong happened to see me looking helpless and offered to show me the way, so we were walking together."
"The way? Changryong? Then why are the O-gongi…?"
Her expression clearly said the road-guide story was fine, but that didn't explain the furious little monsters.
I smiled at her.
"Ah, we were chatting as we walked and got along better than expected. Since I owed him a favor I offered to show him something interesting—asked him to release a little killing intent on purpose. Just a bit of teasing, but it looks like Changryong was quite startled."
Only then did Noonim nod. She turned to him and spoke in a voice utterly flat of emotion or inflection.
It was the tone of someone who understood that the deepest psychological wound is not a flame war, but total silence.
"Thank you for guiding So-ryong. From here I will accompany him. That will be all."
She spun away from Changryong and invited me to lunch instead.
"So-ryong, come along. Let's have lunch and you can tell me about your audience with the Alliance Leader. I'm curious what you two discussed."
"Shall we? I was just thinking about some nice hot dumplings myself."
I gave Changryong a quick bow and was about to turn when a thought stopped me.
I couldn't just leave it like that.
"Ah—one moment, Miss."
"What is it?"
"Just a quick word between men…"
I walked over to still-dazed Changryong and beckoned him to lower his head. The guy was taller than me, after all.
He bent down blankly, with no idea what was happening. I whispered right against his ear.
"I saved you twice."
His head bobbed up and down in frantic agreement.
At the restaurant near the reception hall I told Noonim, over dumplings, that the Alliance Leader had given me the Iron Safe Technique. Her eyes went round as saucers.
She checked every direction, then shifted to the seat right beside me. Even that didn't seem enough; still looking startled, she sent a sound transmission while clenching her dumpling so hard it nearly burst.
"You received the secret manual of the Fist King's unique martial art—the Iron Safe Technique?!"
Judging by her reaction, I had brought home something truly excellent. I whispered back near her ear.
"Yes. He said we resembled each other… Was that a good thing?"
"Of course it was! Training is said to be painful, but once perfected the Iron Safe Technique can block even blades and sword qi. It's the Fist King's exclusive art, sometimes compared to Shaolin's Diamond Indestructible Body Art…"
According to her explanation, the Iron Safe Technique was an external art that tempered muscle, bone, and skin until they became like steel. Master it and ordinary blades wouldn't even leave a mark.
So if I learn this, I become the bulletproof boy?
A martial art that reminded me of something from my previous life.
She went on: the Blood Cult's usual methods involved clawing or cutting a victim with concealed weapons and then draining the blood. That was exactly why the Alliance Leader had been a living calamity to them in his prime. They couldn't wound him, so they couldn't heal themselves by drinking, and he simply beat them into paste—a Blood Cult-exclusive munchkin.
"And because it's an external art, you should have no trouble learning it. The reason people usually can't study many styles is conflict with their internal cultivation method, but external arts are known to be largely free of that influence. Even someone of modest talent like you can reach mastery through pure effort."
In every way, it was perfect for me.
I made a quiet note never to forget the Alliance Leader's kindness. Then Noonim's voice came again, a little brighter, almost excited.
"And I can help you train it. I've heard the Fist King used to whip his own body every morning— I can do that for you!"
"Wh-whipping?!"
"Yes, So-ryong. We harden the skin by whipping it."
So… Noonim was volunteering to take a whip to me.
It sounded extremely painful and more than a little terrifying, yet from an experiential standpoint it didn't seem entirely bad. My parents in the previous life had always said more experience was better.
Purely academic curiosity, of course.
The next morning Changryong appeared with Geom-bong just as we were preparing to leave at dawn.
I had expected some kind of apology the previous evening when Do-ryong invited us to dinner and we sat together, but he had stayed silent then only to show up at this ungodly hour.
He claimed he had come to see us off. Geom-bong, carefully avoiding Noonim's gaze as she boarded the ship, sent a sound transmission.
"Young hero, thank you."
I turned at the unexpected gratitude. Apparently they were close; Geom-bong smacked Changryong on the back of the head and transmitted again, quietly.
"I heard the story from this idiot. Thank you for showing such generous magnanimity, young hero."
So he had spilled his black history to her overnight, gotten thoroughly scolded, and been dragged here to apologize.
Right on cue, Changryong's own transmission followed.
"I am truly sorry, young hero. And thank you for yesterday. After speaking with Geom-bong last night I realized how foolish I had been. Seeing your magnanimity convinced me completely. I apologize once more."
Good. You finally woke up. Big brother will be watching you from now on.
I gave Changryong and Geom-bong a slight nod and climbed back aboard the Zhuge Family's ship.
From Wuhan we traveled another ten days, reached Anqing, transferred to a small ferry, and landed at a place called Shitai before taking the official road. Five more days on that road brought us to our destination: Mount Huang.
Peaks dotted with sparse trees on sheer rock faces, the whole scene painted gold by the evening sun—exactly the kind of Chinese landscape photograph that ends up on calendars in my previous life.
Commander Gu Pae pointed toward a distant summit.
"Night is already falling, so we should lodge at the village inn at the foot of the mountain. Mount Huang is rugged, and it takes a full half-day just to reach the Namgung Family's seat."
Apparently Mount Huang was larger than I had expected, and the Namgung Family occupied only one of its many peaks.
Who builds a house on top of a mountain, seriously…
Grumbling inwardly, I followed the others into the single shabby inn the village possessed.
"Innkeeper, four rooms, if you would."
"Welcome, welcome! Four rooms… That would be one for the young lady, one for the young master, and two for the remaining gentlemen. Pal-rang! Pal-rang, get down here!"
At Gu Pae's request the innkeeper shouted for someone. Moments later a waiter with a bulbous nose and a mole the size of a thumbnail came thumping down from the second floor.
"Yes, master. Snff."
"Show these two guests to the better rooms, and divide the martial artists between the other two."
"Understood, master. Snff. This way, please."
The wet snuffling from that nose made my chest feel tight. We followed him upstairs. Once the rooms were assigned, the waiter rubbed his hands together and asked,
"Snff. Will the guests be taking dinner?"
"What's good here?"
"Our master is most skilled with dumplings of venison, a rich broth simmered from deer bones, and various mountain-vegetable stir-fries—those are the pride of the house. Our house-brewed yellow wine is excellent too; we steep it with herbs gathered on Mount Huang. And if you've come all the way to Mount Huang, you simply must try the Huangshan Stewed Pigeon—pigeon and local yam, absolutely the finest."
Venison meant someone around here hunted. Gu Pae ordered several dishes. Just as we were about to head to our rooms, the waiter, already turning downstairs, spun back as if he had remembered something.
"Ah—how many nights will the guests stay, and what about breakfast tomorrow?"
"We climb Mount Huang at first light, so prepare breakfast early. We'll only be staying the one night."
Gu Pae answered casually. The waiter's eyes flew wide.
"Y-you're climbing Mount Huang?!"
His shock made me, Noonim, Gu Pae, and even the Zhuge warrior who had joined us to deliver a letter all tilt our heads.
"What's wrong?"
"Y-you're not heading to the Namgung Family, are you?"
"We are, in fact. Why? Has something happened at the Namgung Family?"
We had heard there was trouble, but Gu Pae played dumb with perfect nonchalance. The waiter glanced around, looking extremely uncomfortable—like a man who wanted to speak but wasn't sure he should.
Gu Pae produced three iron coins from his robe and held them out.
—Clink.
"Truth is, for the past couple of months people who climb Mount Huang have been vanishing without warning."
True to a waiter's nature, that light little mouth opened the moment money appeared. He snatched the coins, gathered us close, and began explaining in a low voice.
"A tiger, perhaps?"
"No, sir. They vanished, but they were found again."
"Then it's nothing serious."
Gu Pae's face said he couldn't understand the fuss over people who had merely gotten lost for a short while. The waiter waved both hands.
"Snff. No, sir, listen carefully. These were woodcutters and herb-gatherers who climbed the mountain and simply disappeared. Search parties later found them in the underbrush or in caves, or else they came wandering down alone three or four days later with completely vacant faces."
"Strange enough, but what does that have to do with the Namgung Family?"
The waiter checked the surroundings once more before answering.
"Snff. The people who were found, or who walked down on their own, all started acting strangely. For a day or two after they woke they would just stare blankly and keep repeating the word 'immortal fairy.'"
"Immortal fairy?"
"Yes. After a day or two they usually come back to their senses. And when they do, they all tell the same story—that they met a beautiful fairy, lovely as the young lady here, and spent a night with her on the mountain… Snff."
Was this bastard a YouTuber in a past life too?
"And that is connected to the Namgung Family how, exactly?"
Gu Pae scowled the same way I felt. The waiter nodded as if he finally understood the question.
"Well, you can't just leave people who look half out of their minds, can you? So the villagers took them to the physician. The physician said every one of them had had far too much yang energy drained all at once…"
"Yang energy?"
Yang energy… If it's yang energy, then that means…
"Yes. Snff."
"And—don't be alarmed—one of the men who recovered claimed the woman he spent the night with was a young lady of the Namgung Family. Now, everyone in this village at the foot of Mount Huang lives off the Namgung Family's goodwill. You think they'd let a man say something like that and walk free? They grabbed him on the spot and reported him to the Namgung Family. The family launched an investigation, gathered everyone who had lost their minds on the mountain… and every last one of them swore the woman they spent the night with was indeed a Namgung daughter."
"What?! So you're saying a young lady of the Namgung Family has been roaming the mountain stealing men's yang energy?"
"Yes. Which is why that young lady is now confined inside the estate, and the men who were taken still haven't returned."
A young lady from a great house enjoying one-night stands.
Caught by her father and locked indoors… I wondered whether we would even be able to meet her. Her back and calves probably hadn't survived the beating.