Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Returning Reward
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Congratulations! Woonsik Oh has successfully completed his master's first quest, 'Tug-of-War Contest'. As a special privilege reward, Food Virtue Points and a new trait ability will be added!
+100,000
‘Cooking with martial arts...’
An unexpected reward made a silly grin slip out before I knew it.
I was just starting to learn martial arts, and now I could apply it to cooking.
A new challenge. Just thinking about it made my heart pound.
Thump thump-
“Y-yes?!”
I thought it was my heartbeat, but it was actually my master's presence.
“Disciple, come out. We have somewhere to go.”
“Yes, Master.”
It had barely been fifteen minutes since I'd entered the annex and lain down on the bed.
As I've said many times, my master was a man of incredibly hasty temperament.
But what could I do?
I had to keep up.
I straightened my disheveled clothes at the call of my sky-like master and dashed out the door like an arrow.
Step step.
I followed my master down the corridor toward another annex.
‘Is this an array too? It felt like a short hallway when we started, but it's getting longer and longer.’
The building looked plain from the outside, like a simple tiled house.
But it seemed arrays were deployed everywhere, including the training grounds.
The inside felt as vast as a chubby blue cat's pouch from the modern world.
Along the corridor walls were occasional double sliding doors with thin papered wooden frames.
‘Were there this many rooms?’
As I tilted my head and walked the stretching corridor like stretched candy, one door caught my eye.
‘Huh, that door's blue.’
My gaze lingered instinctively, and my master called me.
“Disciple.”
“Yes, Master.”
“You can enter any room here. But that blue door—no matter what, you must never enter it.”
“Yes, understood.”
“Absolutely, keep it in mind.”
“Yes, I'll keep it in mind, Master.”
My master repeatedly impressed it upon me.
Countless question marks floated in my mind.
‘Why?’
But the fairy tale Bluebeard from my past life suddenly came to mind, so I let go of my curiosity.
As I've said many times, my goal is a natural death.
Sometimes ignorance is bliss in life.
“This is it. Let's go in.”
“Yes, Master.”
My master stopped in front of a door.
I quickly opened the double sliding door and confirmed he entered first.
Then I carefully stepped over the high threshold on tiptoe.
A heavy metallic scent mixed with the bitter, pungent smell of iron assaulted my nose as I entered.
“This place is...”
“Yes, this is the White Tiger Butterfly Sect's secret armory. Protected by an array, only those who have mastered the Flying Tiger Illusion Divine Art can enter.”
“That means...”
“Yes, only you and I can enter here.”
It was a glorious moment.
My chest swelled grandly, and my racing heartbeat drummed in my ears.
But in the face of overwhelming joy, I always stiffened like a jiangshi.
How should I express my gratitude?
How to convey this immense happiness?
After agonizing, as always this time too.
“Thank you, Master.”
I uttered a somewhat dry thanks. But my master smiled warmly with his eyes.
The sealed armory held countless weapons standing neatly.
Swords, spears, staffs, axes, and more adorned the walls and racks, each in its place.
But the most striking were the myriad swords: snake swords, two-handed swords, flexible swords, and others.
Their sharp blades gleamed as if alive, exuding such murderous intent that even a layman could feel it. These were master blades.
‘Intimidating.’
My master picked one weapon and handed it to me.
“My gift to you.”
It was a sleeve dart in the form of a spearhead.
The blade was intricately engraved with a tiger and butterfly symbolizing the White Tiger Butterfly Sect.
“Its name is Tiger-Butterfly Returning Shadow Dart. As the name implies, this hidden weapon always returns to its master's hand after leaving it.”
“Thank you, Master. I'll treasure it for life.”
I had received something incredible.
Tiger-Butterfly Returning Shadow Dart.
A small blade that hides in the sleeve.
It looked ordinary at first glance, but once thrown, it returned like a boomerang.
However, my master added that mastering it required attaining a high realm of martial arts.
‘A sleeve dart... Master thinks deeply.’
I was a cook who prioritized cuisine over martial arts.
If I strapped a large sword to my waist, I might terrify the small, precious common folk.
Master had considered that. What a warm-hearted man... Wait.
‘Earlier at the training grounds, Ryeongwol said something about how long this disciple would last. Must've misheard.’
Three days later, in the evening, I bid farewell to the sect's retainers and left my master's residence.
I was heading home with Maban.
Tomorrow was a business day for my main job.
‘Gained the Qi-Infused Medicinal Cuisine trait and a sleeve dart too.’
It was truly a stroke of great fortune.
“Heh, heh.”
I chuckled foolishly, keeping my iron staff at my side.
It was late night, everyone abed. No need to mind prying eyes.
“Heh, heh.”
“...?”
“Heh, heh. Heh.”
The exact same laugh echoed back. Obviously not from Maban.
A chill crept from my toes, freezing my spine.
I stopped and slowly turned toward the sound.
A woman was sobbing there.
“Miss, please don't.”
She stood on the bridge railing, weeping as she gazed across the river.
Her long black hair billowed below her waist in the wind, and silk shoes embroidered with flowers lay discarded at her feet.
The woman seemed about to throw herself into the river.
I sprinted full speed toward the bridge.
“Miss, whatever the reason, please come down. I beg you.”
At my urgent cry, she glanced back over her shoulder and spoke calmly.
“I am a monster. So just let me die.”
“What do you...”
I couldn't understand.
It was midnight, but by moonlight, she appeared petite and graceful, with a refined air.
“A monster? I don't know women well, but to me, you look round and... Ah, yes. Cute like a chick with beady eyes.”
Not sure if it'd work.
In this dire situation, I compared her to the cutest creature I knew.
“Hic... sob...”
She sobbed sadly, her small shoulders shaking, then slowly raised a hand to stroke her head.
Plop.
Her long hair, swaying in the wind, fell to my feet.
‘A w-wig...?’
Thank goodness.
My face doesn't show emotions easily, so I hid my surprise.
“See, young master? This hideous appearance... I am a wretched woman. I must wed soon. If my future husband learns of my baldness, not only will I be divorced, but I'll bring shame to my family.”
She was a noble lady from a prominent house but had long suffered from female pattern hair loss.
She'd hidden it with a wig, never telling anyone.
But it was a temporary fix, and it seemed to have worsened her condition.
Her crown was bare. Not smooth like male pattern baldness.
Her hair was drastically thinned, scalp visible, with sparse, spiderweb-thin strands.
A textbook case of severe female pattern hair loss.
In this era, there were seven grounds for divorcing a wife, one being severe illness.
Serious hair loss could count as illness, grounds for repudiation.
‘Must've been through hell mentally.’
She'd met her fiancé a couple times and grown feelings through letters.
From what I could guess, his character seemed forgiving of such afflictions.
But she was deeply insecure from years of illness, imagining the worst.
What to say?
My mind raced.
In my past life, after opening my restaurant, extreme stress gave me alopecia areata.
It recovered once the business stabilized, but before that, I patched bald spots for years.
The stress was indescribable.
‘I wore a hat even if imperfect. Thought about shaving my head if it kept falling.’
This was mid-Ming Dynasty.
Deeply Confucian patriarchal society.
For a woman, hair was face and dignity itself.
I could fully understand her pain.
What comfort to offer?
What words of solace?
But I lack eloquence, and clumsy comfort might wound more.
Instead of empty empathy, I resolved to solve it.
“Miss, when is the wedding?”
“...In two months.”
“I see. I'll improve—no, cure—your hair loss.”
She was suicidal. First, save her.
A promise I wasn't sure I could keep, but I had to say it.
“Is... that possible?”
“Yes. So please come down.”
I'd once alleviated the Nine Yin Absolute Pulse.
Hair loss was milder by comparison. Better real help than lame sympathy.
She hesitated, then finally stepped down from the railing.
I picked up the fallen wig and handed it to her. She shyly placed it back on.
“Young master, how can you cure my affliction?”
“Well... I'm a cook. I'll make you a 'Qi-Infused Medicinal Cuisine' dish.”
“Pardon? Qi-Infused Medicinal Cuisine good for hair loss? Is that possible...?”
“Yes.”
“But to cook, you need ingredients and tools...”
It was late night.
As she said, no proper ingredients or kitchen.
A noble lady couldn't go to a strange young man's home either.
“Don't worry about tools. I always carry a small pot and fire starter. Ingredients are the issue...”
I opened my backpack to show her.
I scanned around for hair-loss helpful ingredients.
“That'll do nicely.”
I smirked, pointing at it with a finger.