Chapter 37
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Traveling Companion
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Hmph! What kind of Tao do you think you’re cultivating in the mountains? The way of man has to be cultivated among men. Heh heh heh…”
“But do you even know where I’m headed, and you’re just following along?”
“I heard the talk. You’re buying silk and heading to the Western Regions, right?”
“So you’ve suddenly taken an interest in business?”
“Hmm… Business is business. If there’s giving and taking, that’s a deal, and if profit comes from it, well, that’s business, isn’t it? Heh heh…”
“You’re quite the sophist, aren’t you? You’ve washed off the Taoist stink, but what about that bookish smell clinging to you?”
“Don’t worry. I may not look it, but I’m proficient in all sorts of trivia—arithmetic, astronomy, geography, you name it. I’ll be a huge help on your trading route. Hell, I’ve even mastered the scripts and languages of the Western Regions. You’ve struck gold getting a talent like me—enough to bring glory to three generations.”
“I don’t care about glory or whatever. I do have important business taking me west, though. First, there’s something I need to handle here in Xi’an…”
“Heh heh… You’re already seeing the value in this body of mine. So, what’s on your mind?”
“Nogeuk. Somyeongcho.”
“Haha… Those guys? What, you planning to grab ’em and shake ’em down for info?”
Seonwoyong nodded.
“There’s something fishy about them. Feels like it might tie into the path I’m about to take.”
“As expected. That smell, you mean.”
“You caught it too, huh. That smell.”
“How could I not? I used to chase after a pack that reeked of it myself.”
“Why? Did you hate that bunch that much?”
“Hate or like—what’s the difference? Back in the days when my sect ordered it, I just did as told: bite if they said bite, chop if they said chop.”
“True, those days did drag on forever.”
Seonwoyong nodded.
The righteous factions of the martial world had been relentlessly hunting down the forces of the Great Cloud Bright Religion ever since the Ming Dynasty was founded, spilling rivers of blood.
Now branded as a demonic cult, with even their traces nearly erased, did this man know that those old events might be stirring again?
“Do I carry that smell too? If you’re such an expert on it, I must.”
Dokwang nodded.
Then he replied in a voice stripped of all mirth.
“You do. The smell of fire.”
“Heh heh… Knew it.”
“That martial art you showed earlier? Sure, you fanned it out with the Haenam Sect’s sword arts. But the footwork underneath followed the principles of the Reverse Eight Trigrams. A step only those who can see it will see.”
“To think you spotted that—I’ve got no choice but to acknowledge you now. Haha…”
“Anyway. What do you want to know about Nogeuk and Somyeongcho? Worth the trouble?”
“Nothing much. Just wondering if you know where those two are staying.”
Seonwoyong’s speech had naturally shifted to casual, but Dokwang didn’t mind.
“What’s so hard about that? Where two skirt-chasers like them are holed up? Has to be the stinking pleasure house that reeks of lust, and there’s only one under the Xingyang Merchant Association’s thumb… Heh heh…”
“Makes sense. So where is it?”
“Heh heh… Empty words won’t cut it. Buy me a drink, and I’ll guide you there myself.”
“Hmm. Not exactly a joyride, you sure you’re up for it?”
“Hey now, why fight it? See a rice cake, pay respects to the gods; see a drunk flop over, take a breather; drain the ditch, snag a crawfish too…”
Humming cheerfully, Dokwang drained the last of his cup and led the way out of the tavern.
Seonwoyong pulled out a few coins and handed them to the old woman before following.
“Our moods are foul, all of us.”
Over a dozen courtesans huddled together, trembling.
Their clothes were mostly stripped off—what should’ve been a steamy scene felt ice-cold instead, terror plain on their faces.
“How can you do this, sirs? Please, pick the girls you like and head to your rooms.”
A middle-aged woman, who’d been face-down in a corner of the guest room, shaking, finally mustered the courage to speak.
“Dream on. I’m not sleeping tonight, and neither are you.”
Somyeongcho, shirt tossed aside, stood there gripping a whip in one hand, laying down threats. Nogeuk sat silently at the table beside him, nursing his drink.
When Somyeongcho’s mood soured like this, he’d often get blackout drunk and pull stunts like this—nothing new to Nogeuk.
And between Nogeuk’s legs under the table, one courtesan knelt, working her mouth busily.
“What’re you doing? Didn’t I tell you to strip off every last stitch?”
Somyeongcho started barking at the women again.
That’s when a strange tune began to drift in.
Someone was beating a small drum and singing.
The comical melody and muffled lyrics were hard to catch, but the gist was clear.
Somyeongcho froze, ears perked.
As a martial arts master, his hearing far outstripped a normal man’s—he caught every note crystal clear.
“Neighbor’s turtle head~
Head won’t stand tall, all droopy~
Blames not his own noggin, just beats his wife night after night!
Neighbor’s turtle head~”
Anyone could tell it was mocking exactly what Somyeongcho was doing.
After listening a moment, Somyeongcho tossed his whip aside and gripped his unsheathed longsword.
“What’s up?”
“You hear that? Some lunatic’s begging to die.”
Nogeuk shot to his feet, cinching his pants, and grabbed his own bared saber.
“Hey, you. Go find out who the hell’s singing that and report back.”
True to form, Nogeuk was cautious.
He ordered the cowering middle-aged woman, then drew his blade with a grim look.
“Brother Nogeuk. Looks like heaven’s gift to wash away this rotten mood. Do me a favor and don’t get in my way today—I’m doing as I please.”
“Go ahead. But if they know who we are and came anyway, we might need to play it careful.”
Moments later, the middle-aged woman rushed back, stammering.
“Th-that… um…”
“What’re you waiting for? Spit it out! Who the hell are they?”
“Th-the singer… it’s that gentleman Dokwang… and…”
“Dokwang? That bastard’s the one singing? And?”
“The young master Seonwoyong from the Shenzhou Merchant Association—the one you two clashed with today—is with him.”
“What? That punk?”
Somyeongcho trembled with rage.
“What the hell are they thinking… Brother Nogeuk. Let’s go carve those two up clean.”
Unlike the fired-up Somyeongcho, Nogeuk stayed measured.
“That kid’s no pushover, and we can’t underestimate Dokwang’s skills either. Plus, they knew we were here—that song’s deliberate.”
“So they’re rubbing it in on purpose? But I can’t take it anymore. How’re we supposed to eat and live in Xi’an like this?”
“So what’s your plan?”
“Damn it. What else? No eyes on us here. You think we two can’t handle those two?”
“You mean use that?”
“What else would we save it for if not a time like this?”
Nogeuk nodded.
Then he led the way out the door.
The two courtesans clutched their stomachs, laughing. Dokwang beat the small drum, swung his hips, and sang on.
Beside Seonwoyong sat a seven-stringed zither.
Crash!
The door flew open, and Nogeuk and Somyeongcho burst in.
“You’ve come to the right place to die!”
The two courtesans, terrified by their blazing sword auras, shook and fled.
“Huh? You two were partying here too? Should’ve known—would’ve joined ya. Heh heh.”
Dokwang tossed a joke and laughed, unfazed by their killing intent.
“I don’t know your game, but you’ve walked into death’s door—prepare to die. Draw your weapons!”
Somyeongcho advanced half a step, raising his longsword.
Ready to swing at any moment.
“Whoa, easy now. What’s with you guys? Game? Take it easy. Put those blades down.”
Dokwang set down his small drum, trying to calm them.
Then Seonwoyong plucked the zither onto his lap and began strumming the strings.
A lonely melody echoed through the entire brothel.
It was “Drunken Idle Dream,” a tune of gentle rhythm, serene beyond words.
People began to doze off.
Nogeuk, Somyeongcho, and Dokwang didn’t notice, but nearly everyone in the brothel was already asleep.
“What sorcery is this? Quit that eerie plucking and grab your weapons—or I’ll cut you down as is.”
Nogeuk and Somyeongcho sensed something off about the zither’s sound.
Languor spread through their bodies; their killing intent slackened.
All they wanted was to lie down and sleep.
“Oh man… Did they spike the booze with dreamweed or what?”
Dokwang muttered too, tossing his small drum aside carelessly before flopping to the floor to sleep.
Seonwoyong’s playing grew ever more insidious.
Clang. Clang…
The swords slipped from Nogeuk and Somyeongcho’s hands.
They collapsed to their knees, then nodded off sitting up.
For a time, Seonwoyong’s “Drunken Idle Dream” enveloped the entire brothel.
Seonwoyong stopped playing and scanned his surroundings with his senses.
Dokwang was snoring away; Somyeongcho and Nogeuk dozed sitting.
Seonwoyong set the zither aside, rose, and approached Somyeongcho.
He raised his right hand and unleashed several finger strikes at key acupoints across Somyeongcho’s body.
Moments later, Somyeongcho began to shudder.
Soon, foam bubbled from his mouth as his body twisted; he staggered to his feet.
“Om mani padme hum… Om mani padme hum…”
Seonwoyong stared into Somyeongcho’s eyes and chanted the incantation.
“Kneel.”
He held those vacant eyes for a long moment, then issued the command.
Somyeongcho obeyed, prostrating himself fully before Seonwoyong.
The figure of Seonwoyong looming over the prostrate Somyeongcho was far from his usual self.
He embodied the absolute sovereign who ruled the martial world.
Seonwoyong raised his hand again, sending finger strikes toward Nogeuk.
The technique Seonwoyong wielded was the Bright Lord Soul-Summoning True Incantation, a supreme soul-enslaving art.
A secret rite passed only to the leaders of the Ming Cult, unique in that the incantation worked solely on its followers.
As the proxy of the Bright Lord, the leader held the power to read and command the souls of his devotees.
Seonwoyong had already discerned that the pair’s hidden martial arts belonged to the Ming Cult—arts never transmitted to outsiders.
As expected, the two yielded to the Bright Lord Soul-Summoning True Incantation without the slightest resistance.
“Do you believe in the infinite radiance of the Bright Lord?”
“We believe.”
“Do you believe that all things under heaven stand by his light, endure by his light, and perish by his will?”
“We believe.”
“Good. Then tell me where and when you pledged yourselves to the Cult.”