Chapter 47
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Ink Dragon Primordial Art
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Over a hundred horses clopped along, their bells jingling and hooves thudding in all directions, while the carriages continued to creak and roll onward.
The Shenzhou Merchant Troupe's procession, having left Absolute Glory Mountain, had passed through several bandit strongholds without further incident.
When Green Forest Chief Patrol Bangchung declared he would accompany them, Decisive Clarity Sword Guest Sa Hongcheong had been overjoyed at first, practically leaping with delight.
He had worried that the Huashan Fiend's schemes might turn every path into a bloodbath, but now he could hope for Bangchung's mediation.
Unexpectedly, however, nothing like the Absolute Glory Mountain incident happened again.
Noduk and Somyeongcho had vanished without a trace after that.
Once things settled that way, Bangchung's presence became nothing but a nuisance.
They couldn't show it openly, but Sa Hongcheong and the others grew increasingly indifferent in their treatment of him.
"Ding, ding..."
Han Sojung sat in the creaking carriage as always, plucking his seven-stringed zither today as well.
It had been nonstop practice ever since leaving the western front.
Seated beside him, driving the horses, Old Man Jang occasionally glanced sideways at the sight, tilting his head in puzzlement.
There was definitely something extraordinary about it.
At first, he had dismissed it as routine—sitting in a jolting carriage and plucking the zither all day, every day.
She couldn't even produce a proper note at the start, but now her playing rang clear in his ears.
Plucking a seven-stringed zither was a delicate art, and its foundation lay in firmly anchoring the instrument. Without that, producing the correct tones was impossible.
The sounds from Han Sojung's zither that reached Old Man Jang's ears now were perfectly precise, without the slightest deviation or waver, and her skill had improved by leaps and bounds.
Of course, every evening, unless something came up, Seonwoyong would call Han Sojung over and teach her to pluck the zither.
Old Man Jang had watched those sessions with particular attention, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Yet Old Man Jang could clearly sense it.
Han Sojung's internal energy was advancing by leaps and bounds.
It absolutely hadn't been coincidence that she, like those other experts at Absolute Glory Mountain, had withstood Seonwoyong's sound attack.
The same went for her zither playing now.
She wasn't channeling energy into pressing or plucking the strings, that much was clear.
But she was undoubtedly infusing energy into the zither itself, stabilizing its foundation before playing.
A moment later, Han Sojung's playing crested a peak and came to a halt.
Then an unexpected voice rang out.
"Hey there, kid. Why stop the zither so soon?"
Bangchung, riding ahead on horseback, reined in his mount and stuck his nose in.
'He should mind his own business—why show such interest in our young mistress?'
Old Man Jang had already been inwardly displeased with Bangchung, and now that he was meddling with Han Sojung's playing, he couldn't hold back.
"Chief Patrol, your nosiness knows no bounds. Even our young master's zither playing catches your eye?"
"Haha... To hear such fine music from morning till night—who wouldn't envy my luck? Haha..."
"Hmph. So, Chief Patrol, just how far do you plan to tag along?"
For Old Man Jang, hiding Han Sojung's true identity was more important than anything in the world.
It was only natural to be wary of someone like Bangchung, well-versed in rumors, sharp-eyed, and rich in江湖 experience.
"I'll go as far as Dunhuang. It's been ages since I visited the far western edge of the Central Plains—time to check in on brothers from the Green Forest's Seventy-Two Strongholds I've neglected too long."
"But why is that?"
Suddenly, Han Sojung spoke up, addressing Bangchung.
"Why what?"
"You think I don't know? You're not just listening to my zither—you're following that carriage up ahead."
The carriage right in front of the one Han Sojung rode carried Seonwoyong and Dogaang.
Even after his identity as Wudang's absolute master, Myriad Sword Scholar Son Mugi, was revealed, Dogaang's behavior hadn't changed a bit.
Everyone in the troupe had accepted him as he was.
"Ahem... Me? No way. I'm just captivated by your zither music..."
"Old timer, you're not being honest—that's why those two brothers up ahead are ignoring you, isn't it?"
Dogaang treated Seonwoyong like a brother, and despite the vast age gap, he called Han Sojung "brother" with easy familiarity.
"Hey, old timer. Isn't it boring hanging back there with the kid? Go up front and fetch us some liquor."
Dogaang called out from the lead carriage.
He was treating the Green Forest Chief Patrol like an errand boy for the troupe.
"Hey now, I'm the Green Forest Chief Patrol, after all. Do I really have to?"
"Out of this whole hundred-plus crew, you're the idlest one, old timer. What's the point of traveling if we can't enjoy a little fun? Let's drink."
True enough, in broad daylight, the only one bold enough to demand liquor from the diligently marching Shenzhou Troupe leaders was Bangchung.
"Tch... The thirsty man digs the well—why pick on me?"
"Heh heh... You think I don't know? Your throat's been bobbing like crazy from thirst for ages... Hurry up and go."
"Hmm... Tch. Fine, then slice up some of that ham as a side dish."
Bangchung spurred his horse forward, and Dogaang bellowed for Han Sojung.
"Hey, little brother! Come join us in this carriage and learn to drink."
"No, young master is only fourteen! How can you keep trying to teach him such things already?"
Old Man Jang blurted in alarm, but Dogaang ignored him completely.
"Bring that zither too. Let's hear Brother Seonwoyong's skills after so long."
Seonwoyong, who had been silently staring at the horse's back ahead, finally spoke up.
"For a mere coachman, you sure give a lot of orders."
"Come on, brother. On this endless journey of thousands of miles, how else are we to live without a bit of elegance?"
Han Sojung was still young.
Excited and thrilled at the invitation to join the drinking, he perked up.
Normally, he would have jumped down from the carriage and dashed ahead, but today, something possessed him to show off.
Carrying the seven-stringed zither, running from this carriage to that one da-da-da seemed embarrassing.
The cockiness of a boy just entering puberty exploded right on cue.
Standing atop the luggage rack of his moving carriage, zither in one hand, Han Sojung gauged the distance to Dogaang's carriage ahead.
From this luggage rack to that one was about five paces. In between, of course, were the two horses pulling his own carriage.
Han Sojung decided to use the lightness skill Old Man Jang had taught him before.
A single leap wouldn't do it, but if he lightly touched down on one of the horse's backs in front, it should be enough.
Gathering his breath and internal energy for the attempt, Han Sojung was caught by Old Man Jang's glance just then.
Instantly realizing the boy's intent, Old Man Jang cried out in shock.
"Young master!"
At that moment, Han Sojung launched into the air.
Just then, Old Man Jang yelled and yanked the reins, startling the two horses into rearing up on their hind legs and halting.
Airborne, Han Sojung overshot the intended horse's back and plummeted right toward the horses' noses.
The horses reared even more in panic.
Old Man Jang's face drained of color.
He yanked the reins with all his might, but he couldn't subdue the excited beasts in an instant.
Even as he fell, Han Sojung worried first about the zither.
He cushioned it with his hands as he hit the ground on his back.
But beyond the zither, he saw the frantic horse's front hoof descending.
Boom, clang!!
The hoof slammed down onto the zither.
The next instant, Han Sojung rolled away desperately, escaping the hoof.
The following carriages all screeched to a halt, and people looked around in confusion.
Han Sojung stood there too, zither in hand, wearing a baffled expression.
One thing was clear: the zither, squarely struck by the hoof, bore not a single scratch.
Han Sojung stroked the zither repeatedly, inspecting it.
"Oh dear. Are you all right, young master? How could you..."
Old Man Jang jumped down from the carriage, fussing over Han Sojung's tousled hair.
Han Sojung simply climbed aboard the halted carriage with Seonwoyong.
Old Man Jang remounted his own, and the procession resumed as if nothing had happened.
Seonwoyong and Dogaang's reactions to Han Sojung, now aboard their carriage, couldn't have been more different.
Dogaang stared gravely back and forth between Han Sojung and the zither, while Seonwoyong just gave a slight smile and teased.
"You mad little fool. Jumping like that from there? Were you trying to die?"
Seonwoyong and Dogaang had turned at Old Man Jang's shout and witnessed the whole incident from the start.
Han Sojung couldn't even reply, lost in replaying what had happened to him.
Right before the hoof crushed it, the mental technique from zither practice had activated on its own.
Whether from his resolve not to let the zither be ruined, or from the threat to his own life, he couldn't tell.
His mind stirred, transferring to the zither in his hands.
And with that mind, it had withstood the hoof—just as Seonwoyong had taught during zither lessons.
"You wouldn't have secretly learned some profound internal art, have you?"
"Nah, no way. I hate martial arts, remember?"
"Strange, really. It looked to me like sword aura briefly gathered on the zither strings... But that doesn't make sense."
The seven-stringed zither's strings were thin, tough wires, of course.
Even sound art masters didn't infuse sword aura into strings—that was unheard of.
Just then, Bangchung returned astride his horse, several wine jars strung together and dangling.
"Something happen? Looked chaotic."
"Nothing like that. Hurry up and toss those jars and climb on."
At Dogaang's urging, Bangchung handed over the jars and boarded the carriage.
Meanwhile, Seonwoyong gazed at Han Sojung's profile, murmuring inwardly.
'The boy's Ink Dragon Primordial Art is taking root at an astonishing speed. With such fitting talent.'