The Black Sand Stone and the First Breath of Heavenly Poison
After the fabric shop came the blacksmith. The escort warriors trailing behind us looked utterly bewildered by Dokgo Rin’s completely inconsistent itinerary, but since she held the reins here, we had no choice but to follow obediently.
“Welcome,” the white-haired blacksmith greeted us warmly as we stepped inside. He set down the blade he’d been sharpening on his whetstone and turned to face us.
“Are you looking for something specific?”
The old blacksmith must have instantly recognized who the real customer was. He addressed Dokgo Rin—with great care, despite her being far younger than him—and she responded with unusual politeness.
“Elder, I have one question. Do you happen to have any Black Sand Stone in this forge?”
The old blacksmith tilted his head, puzzled. “I do have some left over from when I bought it years ago to make high-quality glass… but may I ask what a young lady like yourself needs Black Sand Stone for?”
“I have an important use for it. Please sell me everything you have.”
“Oh dear, that’s difficult. I need it to meet a delivery deadline.”
When the blacksmith moved to refuse, Dokgo Rin pulled out the same coin purse she had used to buy the Thousand Silk earlier. It was probably her personal allowance.
“What if I give you all of this?”
The escort warrior behind her flinched and reached out, but she had already handed the purse over. The old blacksmith held it with a troubled expression.
“Young lady, no matter what, I cannot sell my credibility for money.”
Dokgo Rin smiled brightly. “Take a look inside first, Elder.”
“Even if you wanted to buy every piece of Black Sand Stone I have, your allowance alone wouldn’t—”
The blacksmith opened the purse as he spoke, then froze, eyes widening at the contents. Dokgo Rin raised two fingers as if she had been waiting for exactly this moment.
“I’ll pay double the market price if you sell it to me now.”
“Please come again, young lady!”
After receiving an excessively enthusiastic send-off from the blacksmith—who had chosen money over his principles—we returned to our lodgings at the Dragon Gate Inn before it grew too late.
“Rin, I thought you were just stepping out for a moment. What exactly did you buy at the market?”
“Just some thread and a few other things.”
“Thread?”
“Yes. The journey is boring, so I thought I’d play cat’s cradle with Chilbok along the way.”
“Hahaha, that’s not a bad way to pass the time.”
Dokgo Seok must have decided the ball of thread was nothing special. He laughed lightly and led us toward the stairs, saying we must be hungry and should eat dinner.
The Dragon Gate Inn where we were staying was clearly the largest in Hanzhong; it was packed with guests. The first floor had tables and chairs crammed together without partitions for ordinary customers, while the second floor consisted entirely of private rooms for the wealthy.
So this is what a class society looks like.
As I followed Dokgo Seok and Dokgo Rin up to the second floor, I glanced down past the railing and felt strangely like I had become one of the important people. Never mind that I was actually just a dog-butcher proletarian no different from the crowd below.
“Chilbok, what are you doing? Aren’t you coming?”
“Ah, sorry. The stairs seem pretty high.”
When I smiled awkwardly, Dokgo Rin muttered, “How dull,” and grabbed my right arm, pulling me along.
When Koreans think of Chinese cuisine, they usually picture the food from Hunan and Sichuan. That’s because those regions specialize in numbing and spicy dishes, which perfectly suit Korean palates that go crazy for heat. But China is enormous, and its regional cuisines number in the thousands, each with unique recipes and ingredients. The Shaanxi province we were currently in was especially famous for its noodle dishes.
“…Brother, what exactly is this situation?”
“It’s knife-cut noodles. Apparently it’s one of this inn’s signature dishes.”
The four of us—Dokgo Seok, Dokgo Rin, Gyeong-a, and I—were sitting around a round table eating hotpot when a man who looked like the chef entered carrying a massive lump of dough and a square blade. Since I was already nicely full, I set my chopsticks down and watched the chef’s performance. The way the freshly sliced noodles seemed to get sucked into the brass bowl was downright magical.
“Please enjoy.”
After preparing four portions of knife-cut noodles, the chef bowed and left. Dokgo Seok murmured with interest, “Shaanxi is called the home of noodles, but I never expected a dish prepared in such a unique way.”
“Let’s try it first, Young Master.”
At Gyeong-a’s urging, Dokgo Seok nodded and scooped some of the noodles from the milky broth with a ladle.
Slurp.
His expression was ambiguous; it was impossible to tell from his face whether he liked it or not.
“How is it?”
When Gyeong-a pressed for his thoughts, Dokgo Seok took another noisy slurp before answering.
“The texture is more unique than regular noodles.”
“…And?”
“That’s it.”
“You can be more specific than that, can’t you?”
Apparently frustrated, Gyeong-a stopped relying on someone else’s review and decided to taste it herself.
“Here you go, Miss.”
“Thanks.”
“And for you, Chilbok.”
“Thank you.”
Gyeong-a ladled noodles for Dokgo Rin and me as well as herself, then ate with an expectant expression. Immediately afterward—
“It’s delicious!”
Her eyes sparkled as she stared down at her bowl. Seeing her make such a fuss, I wondered just how good it was and tried the knife-cut noodles myself.
Ah, it feels like eating sujebi.
Because the noodles were made by slicing a large sheet of dough at an angle, the surfaces were uneven and bumpy. That gave them a texture similar to handmade dumplings. It wasn’t exactly the same as sujebi, though—more like regular noodles with the chewy, irregular texture of dumplings added in. Either way, I could see why this was the inn’s signature dish.
“How about you, Miss?”
When I asked, Dokgo Rin—who was sitting beside me—looked up with a startled “Hm?” Her mouth was splattered with broth; she must have been devouring it at an incredible speed.
“I-it’s not that tasty.”
She tried to play it cool. She had already emptied an entire bowl in the blink of an eye and was now pretending it wasn’t good. Her act was so unconvincing that I couldn’t help but smile wryly.
“Rin, go to bed first. Your brother is going to enjoy a little nightlife.”
“Yes. Have a good time, Brother.”
Clack.
After dinner, Dokgo Seok left the room we shared to go drink. Once she was alone, Dokgo Rin quickly pulled out the bundle she had hidden under the bed.
Black Sand Stone.
A rock that crumbled like sand with just a little pressure from a finger. Miners considered it bad luck because its appearance meant silver would no longer come from a silver mine. Still, when a small amount was mixed into glass, it produced far more beautiful colors than ordinary glass, so it had found some use. Most people didn’t even know it existed.
But for Dokgo Rin, who possessed memories from her previous life, this Black Sand Stone was an irreplaceable treasure. After all, the “Heavenly Poison” in her future title The Heavenly Poison Witch referred to natural uranium refined from this very stone.
According to Chilbok in the past, even a small amount of natural uranium caused no harm to the human body. But once it was concentrated and ingested, the story changed completely. Concentrated uranium could easily kill a person with a tiny dose. No existing antidote could neutralize it, and since it was tasteless and odorless, it was impossible to tell when someone had consumed it. It could even kill masters who had reached the realm of poison immunity. Simply by existing, it shook the very foundations of the murim world.
That was why it was called Cheondok—Heavenly Poison. Poison bestowed by the heavens themselves.
After setting aside the Black Sand Stone she would use to kill Wiji Cheon, the leader of the Murim Alliance, she ground the rest into powder, wrapped it in paper, and stored it away. She left only a single small piece out, then sat on the bed, rolled a sheet of paper into a tube, and inhaled the fine black powder piled on another sheet of white paper.
Sssssssip!
She chose nasal inhalation instead of oral because absorption through the mucous membranes was faster.
Good. It’s working.
This was one of the Sichuan Tang Clan’s secret methods for creating a Poison Human. By continuously consuming small amounts of poison, one could develop resistance to it—a form of alchemical training. Just as the old saying went, using poison to control poison. To handle uranium, she first needed to build up tolerance to it.
Feeling the Black Sand Stone powder rapidly absorbed through her nasal mucous membranes and the resulting mental euphoria, Dokgo Rin swiftly assumed a lotus position and began circulating her qi. Her ultimate goal was to become a complete Poison Human. Just like in her previous life, she would be reborn as a transcendent being with perfect resistance to the radiation emitted by uranium. Of course, the beauty-enhancing side effects that came with it were merely a bonus.