Are You That 'Ya-hyung' Bastard—No, the Nangin?
After seeing off Ho Cheon-an as he departed aboard the Tang Family’s Bicheon Carriage, Black Cat sorted through the thoughts that had been circling in her mind.
Ho Cheon-an had asked her to look into his origins.
Could he have lost his memories for some reason?
Tracing Ho Cheon-an’s movements had not been especially difficult, yet beyond a certain point the trail simply refused to stretch any farther. Considering the information network of the Wolbokdang, it was a strange thing.
It wasn’t just blocked. Senior Ho clearly lived in some hidden place when he was young.
Most likely a secret realm.
If a person is to live without leaving a single trace, a secret realm is the only real answer.
Any other information broker would have spat curses at the mere suggestion.
A secret place—or a secret realm.
The terms usually referred to locations where some creature capable of instinctively handling qi had settled along a spiritual vein, forming a natural formation that concealed the site from the world.
Spiritual beasts, demonic beasts, or spiritual herbs…
What people called spiritual beasts or demonic beasts were not truly beings from another world. They were simply species that struggled to grow in ordinary natural environments, or that found it difficult to accumulate the qi needed for survival or reproduction. Or they were creatures that had mutated after prolonged exposure to extreme qi and somehow managed to live on.
And now she was supposed to find such a secret realm?
An assignment that asked her to locate a place where simply discovering it could bring in a fortune of tens of millions of gold—it was the height of putting the cart before the horse.
I never imagined a person could come out of a secret realm.
Because secret realms were generally formed over the long passage of years, Black Cat herself had been trapped by that preconception. It was not easy to imagine that a person might create one out of necessity.
Yet after experiencing Hyeoncheonja’s Grotto, the frame of that prejudice had shattered.
If human ability can create a grotto as unfathomable as that, what reason is there that a secret realm couldn’t be made as well?
Whether the one who built Hyeoncheonja’s Grotto was truly Hyeoncheonja himself was something Black Cat could not know, but it was certain that the maker had been an extraordinary figure and a master who transcended eras. Was there any law that said such a person could not exist in the present age?
Black Cat thought of Ho Cheon-an. If he had not personally guided her through Hyeoncheonja’s Grotto, would she ever have arrived at this idea? She found herself thinking not.
In the end, had Ho Cheon-an given her a hint that would let her uncover his past?
If Senior Ho understands the enlightenment of others, it makes more sense that he gained that ability inside a secret realm.
The inference was completely wrong, of course, but Black Cat had no way of knowing that Ho Cheon-an had been hit by a truck and flung here from another world. To her, the idea that he had obtained the ability to perceive enlightenment from bare earth was far less plausible than the notion that he had acquired it inside a secret realm.
It won’t be easy.
No matter how outstanding the members of the Wolbokdang were, this was a matter of finding a secret realm. Even if she handled it personally, there was no guarantee of success, so Black Cat decided to make the time.
Wait for me, Senior. I’ll come back with a fine gift.
Thinking of Ho Cheon-an, Black Cat allowed herself a small smile.
Clack.
The instant I heard the sound I kicked the carriage door open and flung myself out. My legs had no strength left, so I rolled across the ground, yet even the impact of the earth felt wonderfully welcome.
“Oh my, are you all right?”
“...Uuugh.”
The one who caught me and helped me to my feet was a middle-aged woman.
“Th-thank you.”
“Think nothing of it. You look about second-rate, yet the motion sickness from the Bicheon Carriage seems to have hit you hard.”
I stood there trembling for a moment. How many times had I gone airborne on those hills? I couldn’t remember. All I knew was that it had been more than twice.
“Dear me, tsk tsk… to think you rode the Bicheon Carriage with Dang Do-yeon at the reins.”
“Looks like the man’s soul has completely left his body.”
People who appeared to be mechanics of some sort offered their own comments as they looked me over.
“I’m sorry for giving our guest such a shocking experience. The child meant no harm…”
I found myself staring at the middle-aged woman without meaning to. She gave an awkward smile and offered a martial salute.
“I am called Tang Cheo-ye, the Shipya-jang.”
“...I’m only a Sichuan Nangin, so simply calling me Ya Nangin is more than enough.”
“Very well. Ya Nangin. I speak now because I worry you may form an unfavorable impression of the Sichuan Tang Family, but we do not build monstrous carriages like that one. It is merely the runaway product of one particular artisan, and no one but Dang Do-yeon could possibly drive in such an absurd fashion.”
Supported by Tang Cheo-ye, I sat in a chair and accepted the water she offered, drinking it down.
“In the first place, no matter how sturdy a carriage is, flying through the air makes no sense. The horses themselves could never endure the shock. Do-yeon uses horsemanship of perfect unity between rider and mount to coordinate all four animals so that the impact is bled away.”
“...Then what exactly is that aerial posture control system?”
“Haa… even among artisans there are eccentrics. Why would anyone research a function for maintaining balance in midair when a vehicle is never supposed to fly in the first place… At any rate, you have suffered greatly because of Do-yeon and that child.”
So I had been unlucky enough to get caught in the collaboration between the Tang Family’s only runaway rider and its mad engineer, and had been hauled all the way to the Tang estate on a carriage roller coaster? Hahahaha.
“But Young Lady Do-yeon kept going on about being a specialized coachman for the Bicheon Carriage or something…”
Tang Cheo-ye’s face flushed.
“Those children even insisted that anyone who wanted to drive the Bicheon Carriage had to take an examination. They made the examination themselves, of course. But people who actually want to drive the Bicheon Carriage…”
There wouldn’t be any.
“Haa.”
Right—Dang Do-yeon was of the same generation as that Tang Do-gyeong. If she got along with the man who had raised every kind of hell just to create a fist technique, then Dang Do-yeon herself could hardly be ordinary. From now on I would have to be careful whenever I met anyone of the Tang Family’s Do generation.
“It may sound like giving poison and then the antidote, but thanks to riding the Bicheon Carriage you did arrive at the Tang Family Estate quickly, didn’t you? So rest well in the guest quarters and restore your energy.”
“...Yes.”
“Even if you make some mistake inside the Tang Family Estate, if you mention that you came on the Bicheon Carriage driven by Do-yeon, they might overlook it once.”
Just how far has that notoriety spread?
I wanted to protest that if it was that bad they shouldn’t be putting guests on it in the first place, but the thought that any such protest would have been ignored and we would never have left at all crossed my mind, so I let it go. At least I had obtained one free pass against mistakes.
Come to think of it, that woman was in the Tang Family. If she was the one who had built the aerial posture control device as well, it made perfect sense.
While I was still settling my body and mind against the ground-sickness, Dang Do-yeon appeared, her face gleaming as though she had finished the handover of the carriage. After that exhilarating run, every last bit of stress from head to toe seemed to have been completely purged.
“Shall we go, Ya Nangin!”
“...Yes.”
Dang Do-yeon and I left the armory and began walking through the Tang Family Estate. Perhaps because of the distinctive black bamboo hat of a Sichuan Nangin, eyes gathered on us at once.
This was the Tang Family Estate, after all—a place where only Tang Family people lived. Outsiders could enter only with permission, so even a stranger walking around was already a spectacle. And that outsider was a Sichuan Nangin.
No one blocked our path, but the stares were quite sharp.
“First let us leave your luggage at the guest hall, then we shall go pay our respects to the clan head.”
“...To the clan head?”
I asked again in surprise. I was going to meet the head of the Tang Family? A mere second-rate warrior like Ho Cheon-an?
If I were a storyteller, just the tale of meeting the Tang clan head would be enough to feed me for the rest of my life—that rare an opportunity?
“Heh heh, yes. Ah, and come to think of it…”
Dang Do-yeon hesitated a moment, then nodded.
“Well, you are the party concerned, so it should be fine. Have you by any chance heard the news that my elder brother Do-gyeong created a new martial art?”
“Th-the one after the Fierce Tiger Fist Technique, you mean?”
“You have heard of it? Nangin really do keep well informed… It is called the Tang Family Fierce Tiger Hidden Dragon Combat Method. I was told that Ya Nangin assisted in its creation. I do not know why the clan head wishes to meet you, but perhaps that is the reason?”
“Hmm.”
So the martial art Tang Do-gyeong created was quite useful. Hearing that I had a share in it felt a little strange.
In truth, if one asked which craft paired best with hidden weapon techniques, gambling was the clear answer. After all, the core of hidden weapons was stealth, deception, and sleight of hand.
And my gambling skills were closer to magic tricks than to the real techniques of professional cardsharps. Once everything had been mastered to perfection the type no longer mattered much, but true gambling skill lay in deceiving someone so thoroughly they never even realized they had been fooled.
Rather than dazzling someone while under full attention, the proper way was never to draw attention in the first place.
The reason I had demonstrated techniques in front of Tang Do-gyeong was that I knew, after he gained enlightenment, he would struggle from a lack of proficiency with hidden weapons.
Gambling skills gave a considerable correction to hidden weapon techniques, so I had thought that if he could absorb even a little of them it would help him learn. I had no certainty, but it was a kind of instinct I had developed while living as Ho Cheon-an.
Injecting gambling techniques into Tang Do-gyeong had apparently produced an even greater effect than I expected.
“What is the martial art Brother Tang created like? The evaluation inside the Tang Family, I mean.”
“He gathered the direct and collateral lines of the Tang Family and held a demonstration. Most of them responded with heated enthusiasm. Even though the art was incomplete, more than a few blood relatives clamored to learn it on the spot.”
“Oh.”
Did that mean I could look forward to a generous reward from the meeting with the clan head?
Tang Do-gyeong had created an excellent martial art, and I had contributed, so they had summoned me for an audience with the clan head, some kind words, and a reward—that seemed to be the idea.
If things went well, I might even be able to sell the Jade Wine Purple Spirit Elixir for a very high price.
With that money, should I make a proper investment in some merchant group?
Memorizing which merchant groups would rise and which would fall, and in which quarter, was one of the most basic fundamentals of Murim Cheonha. Money would multiply itself; if you missed that, you would have to run yourself ragged earning coin in the time you should have spent training martial arts.
With such thoughts in mind I arrived at the clan head’s hall.
“Are you that Ya-hyung, the Sichuan Nangin?”
Yet something about the atmosphere felt wrong.
Tang Gwang-ryeol, head of the Tang Family, was staring at me with burning eyes.