Chapter 33
Chapter 33
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Even Thorny Paths Are Walked in Life (2)
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33
Chapter 33, Part 3. Even Thorny Paths Are Walked in Life (2)
Damho and Bang Jin-bo bid farewell at Bang Woo-gwang's grave.
"Father, I'll come back again."
Bang Jin-bo's eyes reddened once more. He wiped away his tears with his sleeve and headed somewhere.
There lay the wreckage of the carriage. It was the one Bang Woo-gwang and Bang Jin-bo had ridden in.
Bang Jin-bo began rummaging through the debris. Damho silently watched him, figuring there must be a reason.
After digging through the wreckage for a while, what Bang Jin-bo pulled out were a wok (Chinese-style pan) and various spices—cooking ingredients.
They were the last legacy left by his father, Bang Woo-gwang. He couldn't just leave them here. Bang Jin-bo loaded the items from the carriage wreckage onto the horse's saddle.
As he mounted up, Bang Jin-bo said,
"Brother, let's go."
In just one night, Bang Jin-bo's eyes had deepened immensely.
Damho nodded.
Bang Jin-bo had gone through a shocking experience that uprooted his outlook and worldview. The eyes of someone who had endured that were bound to differ from ordinary people.
Damho and Bang Jin-bo left the site of Bang Woo-gwang's grave.
Even as they rode, Bang Jin-bo sniffled from time to time. But as time passed, his tears gradually subsided.
Throughout the journey, Damho said nothing. Bang Jin-bo said nothing either. In that silence, the two traveled all day on horseback.
Occasionally, Black Ghost snorted impatiently. It wanted to gallop freely, but Damho wouldn't let it.
Damho patted Black Ghost's neck to soothe it. He understood its feelings, but now wasn't the time to run.
They spent most of the day on horseback. They dismounted only as the sun began to set, arriving at a nameless little stream.
With the sun down, traveling further was impossible. Damho decided to camp there.
He tethered the horse by the stream and gathered branches nearby. Damho built a campfire.
It wasn't for himself. Having spent long years deep underground, Damho barely felt cold or heat anymore.
The fire was for Bang Jin-bo. It was the least he could do.
Sitting by the campfire, Damho handed something to Bang Jin-bo.
"Eat this."
What he gave him was jerky—the same jerky Bang Jin-bo had given him before parting in Turpan.
Bang Jin-bo stared blankly at the jerky. Then, snapping to, he looked at Damho.
Damho was chewing the jerky methodically, eyes gently closed. The sight even seemed reverent.
Suddenly, Bang Jin-bo tucked the jerky into his bosom and stood.
"Brother, hold on a moment."
Damho opened his eyes and looked at him.
Bang Jin-bo fetched the wok from the saddle. He scooped water from the nearby stream into it and set it over the campfire.
He picked up a burning branch and rummaged through the streamside bushes, illuminating the area to pluck a few handfuls of wild herbs.
Just then, the water in the wok began to boil. He pounded the jerky and herbs together and added them.
Damho watched Bang Jin-bo silently.
Bang Jin-bo opened a small cloth bundle from the carriage wreckage. Finely ground grain flour spilled out.
He scooped a handful into the wok. A fragrant aroma instantly filled the air. He added a few spices.
The jerky, grain flour, and nameless herbs blended into a proper porridge.
"It should be edible."
Bang Jin-bo ladled a bowl and handed it to Damho.
Damho tasted the porridge Bang Jin-bo had made. A rich savoriness filled his mouth.
"It's delicious."
"It's a dish Father taught me. We'd make it like this whenever ingredients ran low."
"I see."
"It might not look great, but it should suffice as a meal."
"I'll eat well."
"Yes!"
Bang Jin-bo ladled himself a bowl and sat beside Damho.
Slurp!
The sound of them swallowing the porridge echoed.
Damho ate heartily. It felt like the most delicious food he'd ever tasted in his life. Bang Jin-bo's skills were that exceptional.
They quickly finished their bowls. After the meal, Bang Jin-bo looked at Damho.
"Brother!"
"What is it?"
"Could you take me to Dongting Lake?"
"Dongting Lake?"
Damho gazed at him quizzically. Bang Jin-bo dropped to his knees before him.
"I know it's shameless of me. But you're the only one I can ask."
"Why go to Dongting Lake?"
"It was Father's dying wish."
"Understood."
Damho asked no more.
That reason was enough.
"Really?"
"Rest now. We have a long road ahead starting tomorrow. You'll need to build your strength."
"Thank you, Brother. I'll never forget this kindness."
Bang Jin-bo shed tears again.
He was grateful to Damho for agreeing without even asking why.
To others, Damho might seem like a ferocious demon, but to Bang Jin-bo, he was an irreplaceable benefactor.
When everyone shunned their father and son, Damho alone did not. Though countless had died by his hand, Bang Jin-bo didn't see him as cruel.
Without Damho, the bandits would have killed or injured even more people, leaving greater sorrow in their wake.
"Brother, thank you."
Bang Jin-bo expressed his gratitude once more. Damho nodded and leaned back against a small rock by the fire.
Meanwhile, Bang Jin-bo took the wok and bowls to the stream to wash them. This was the most he could do now. Still, he intended to give his all.
He couldn't bear staying idle. So Bang Jin-bo kept moving without rest.
Damho said nothing.
Overcoming grief depended solely on one's own efforts. And Bang Jin-bo knew how to overcome it.
Damho closed his eyes.
The next dawn, Bang Jin-bo rose before Damho and prepared breakfast. With scant ingredients and spices, he whipped up a meal in no time.
Damho didn't stop him.
When cooking, color returned to Bang Jin-bo's face. That passion for cuisine would become his strength to live on.
After eating, Damho set off with Bang Jin-bo. His grief had eased somewhat, and Bang Jin-bo began chatting bit by bit.
He prattled on from his childhood stories to traveling the Western Regions with Bang Woo-gwang. Damho listened to it all.
It didn't matter if Damho didn't reply. Bang Jin-bo talked endlessly, his expression brightening as time passed.
But Damho knew. It wasn't that he'd forgotten his father's death—it was his way of processing the grief.
Bang Jin-bo missed his father.
Damho suddenly looked up at the sky.
'I wonder what Master is doing.'
He missed Master Hyun So.
He wanted to head straight to Mount Hua where he was. But he couldn't.
He'd been told to return only when unshakable even in raging storms. First, he had to confirm that in himself.
Damho silently urged Black Ghost onward. How far had they gone when a small village appeared ahead?
Bang Jin-bo brightened.
"Perfect, Brother. Let's stop there and buy some ingredients."
"Ingredients?"
"Yes! We're short on cooking supplies. Just a few things—we can pop in quickly."
Damho nodded, and Bang Jin-bo spurred his horse toward the village first. In his receding figure, Damho saw his own younger self.
Too worrisome to leave alone, impossible to ignore...
Perhaps Master Hyun So had felt the same emotions back then that Damho felt now.
The village was tiny. They wouldn't have stopped if not for Bang Jin-bo.
Barely thirty households, and with children, fewer than a hundred souls. Damho doubted they'd find ingredients there.
But Bang Jin-bo saw things differently. He knocked on ordinary homes, haggling.
Thus, he obtained a hunk of smoked pork, thickly dried fish, and some sun-dried mystery herbs.
Bang Jin-bo wrapped his hard-won ingredients in cloth and stored them preciously. Though never formally trained, he'd learned much peeking over Bang Woo-gwang's shoulder.
He knew well how vital ingredients were. To a master chef, nothing mattered more than quality ingredients.
"Let's go now."
A smile graced Bang Jin-bo's face for the first time in ages.
They left the village promptly. They sensed the villagers' unease.
Small hamlets were wary of outsiders. Best to leave quickly after their purpose was served—for everyone's sake.
Damho wasn't accustomed to camping. As a child, he'd lived in remote villages; as an adult, mostly at Mount Hua Sect.
But twelve years in that sealed underground space had made him adapt to any situation swiftly.
Damho was certain no hardship could surpass what he'd endured. Having survived the worst, nothing could faze him.
Camping was no big deal. Bang Jin-bo fared even better, despite his youth—years of camping with his father had seasoned him more than Damho.
The issue was Bang Jin-bo's stamina.
Until now, they'd ridden comfortably in the carriage his father drove, with minimal exertion. Riding horseback was vastly more taxing.
Naturally, their pace slowed compared to traveling alone. Still, Damho felt no urgency.
When Bang Jin-bo showed fatigue, they rested. Sometimes briefly, sometimes at length.
Bang Jin-bo grew brighter by the day, soon regaining his old liveliness.
"Brother, let's camp here tonight."
Bang Jin-bo suggested it first.
Damho nodded, and Bang Jin-bo burst into laughter as if he'd expected it.
"Hehe! Brother, just rest a bit."
Without waiting for a reply, Bang Jin-bo bustled about.
He gathered scattered branches for a fire and fetched water from the stream he'd spotted earlier.
He heated the wok over the campfire. Once hot, he added pork belly from the village.
Sizzle!
As the fat melted and smoke rose, Bang Jin-bo tossed in the smoked pork, kidney, and liver from the village, stir-frying vigorously.
What he served was Paosanyang, a traditional Hui dish. It called for lamb originally, but he'd adapted it with pork.
Tasting the unfamiliar dish, Damho's eyes gleamed.
"Where'd you learn this?"
"I followed the recipe from Father's notebook. How is it?"
"Delicious."
"Good. Hehe!"
Bang Jin-bo grinned sheepishly at Damho's response. For the first time, Damho smiled back.
Bang Jin-bo clenched his fist.
"I'll become the world's greatest chef for sure."
He believed that was the way to honor his father.