Chapter 43
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Even in Serious Times, That's for the Adults★
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After hearing the true nature of the spirit pill I'd taken, Biyeon passed out again before even a single incense stick's worth of time had passed since waking up.
Uihyeon gazed endlessly at his disciple like this, biting down hard on his parched, cracked lips as he pushed aside the relief of seeing the boy alive.
"It's my fault."
His voice was dry and withered, devoid of its usual gentleness, dripping with self-recrimination.
"If only I hadn't fallen for that obvious trap that day..."
As Uihyeon dry-washed his face, the memories of that day replayed vividly in his mind.
The blood-soaked alley and the headless corpse sprawled out.
The woman who'd guided him there, screaming behind him: *Why did you kill him when I brought him just as ordered?!*
The attack from the assassin wearing a deep hood, half his face covered in cloth.
Uihyeon felt a chill in that instant. The assault wasn't meant to kill him—it was thick with the intent to stall for time. And the attacker wasn't some third-rate street thug from the markets; he possessed first-rate skill, no, beyond that.
Uihyeon swiftly ended the assassin's life and grabbed the woman weeping before the decapitated corpse, interrogating her urgently.
*"What do you mean, 'brought him as ordered'?"*
*"Hic... That fiend threatened me to fetch the Taoist..."*
The moment he heard that, Uihyeon left the woman behind and bolted out of the alley. When he reached the spot where he'd told Biyeon to wait and saw no sign of him, a chill ran down his spine.
*"Help! Kidnappers, mmmph!"*
Hearing his disciple's scream from afar, he instinctively knew his belated hunch had been spot on.
They'd been after Biyeon, not him.
His disciple, whom he'd raised like a son since infancy, collapsed before his eyes, stabbed by a sword. Having witnessed it all, he cursed his own foolish choice.
He never should have left him behind. He should have suspected that sudden situation, even just once.
Hwaseum was practically Mount Hua's front yard, so he'd let his guard down—that was no excuse.
He'd rushed back to Mount Hua with the boy after hasty emergency treatment, but Biyeon was wandering on the brink of death from the poison coating the dagger that had pierced his side.
There was essentially only one way to expel that poison, which resisted all antidotes: offsetting its energy with spirit energy.
The Sect Leader had willingly provided a Jaso Pill for Mount Hua's child, nurtured by Mount Hua itself. Feeding it to a nine-year-old who hadn't yet learned an advanced internal art was akin to gambling, but refusing wasn't an option.
The paths before Biyeon were death by poison, death by qi deviation, or survival by safely absorbing the spirit energy—those three alone.
Supreme Sect Leader Mugyeong Jin-in, former Mount Hua's Greatest Sword Muyeong Jin-in, and current Sect Leader Jinmun Jin-in—these three supreme masters aided with their qi circulation. And Biyeon himself performed admirably, successfully expelling the poison from his body and reviving.
Three days. For those three days Biyeon lay unconscious, Uihyeon wandered through hell.
Even Uiseong, who had raged about hunting down the culprits and slaughtering them all, fell silent upon seeing Uihyeon's face.
"Uihyeon, this isn't your fault."
Even the Supreme Sect Leader's calm consolation failed to ease the guilt twisting Uihyeon's expression.
Everyone here cherished the child lying in bed, gasping shallow breaths, and thus understood his anguish to the bone.
*Knock knock.* The sound of the door being rapped echoed, and Doseon entered.
His grand-disciple, who'd reportedly woken but now slumbered again with eyes closed, and his own disciple, haggard and worn. He glanced at each of their faces in turn, masking his bitter expression as he reported straight to the Sect Leader and Supreme Elder.
"The prisoner in the Thunder Prison has died."
"Died? We took every measure to prevent suicide, didn't we?"
They'd severed the tendons in his limbs, searched his body thoroughly, and even gagged him to stop him biting his tongue.
External interference? Unlikely—only Mount Hua disciples with access to the Thunder Prison could have killed a prisoner there.
Doseon's next words cut short the suspicions branching toward an inside job.
"It's..."
After hesitating, a word long unspoken in the martial world slipped from Doseon's lips.
"Gu poison."
"What? Did you say gu poison?"
A shocked cry burst from Muyeong. The Supreme Sect Leader's face hardened rigidly.
The generation that had endured a great war with the Demonic Cult remembered gu poison all too well.
"...Demonic Cult."
A groan leaked from Muyeong's lips.
Gu poison was the Demonic Cult's most heinous curse technique.
It involved forcing the victim to swallow a lethally venomous 'gu' worm, then manipulating the host at will once it burrowed in. The caster could command it to torment or kill the host.
Demonic Cultists fed it to their own to enforce 'life-or-death' missions, or slipped it to Righteous Faction experts to turn them against allies—used in such cruel ways.
After the armistice, with the Demonic Cult holing up in the Heavenly Mountains of Xinjiang, gu poison had become mere legend. Its reappearance now meant...
"Has the Demonic Cult finally broken the long armistice with the Martial Alliance and risen once more...?"
The Supreme Sect Leader's murmur, stiffening everyone in the room, didn't reach the little child now deep in sleep, breathing softly. Glancing at the ceiling, he sighed lowly.
"A storm of blood will sweep the martial world once again."
* * *
"Senior Brother, you feeling okay now?"
"You got poisoned! All better? No issues with daily life or training?"
"I heard the injury was super serious—thank goodness... You recovered so fast."
"See? Body like steel."
The moment I returned to the dorms after recovering, questions and well-wishes poured in. I managed to calm my junior brothers, who rushed over with teary faces.
The Sect Leader and Uihyeon had strictly forbidden anyone from mentioning I'd taken a Jaso Pill. Not that I planned to blab anyway—no risk of it slipping out.
It wasn't like I'd leaped straight to superhuman status, freely wielding internal energy and sword aura.
My boosted internal energy now was barely enough to bridge from third-rate to first—couldn't even make the jump. You needed at least half a jia to count as first-rate.
Sure, overflowing energy meant nothing if you couldn't wield it or harm foes—that wouldn't qualify as first-rate anywhere.
If I fully absorbed the lingering spirit energy into my dantian, I'd reach first-rate. But that'd take at least two years, maybe three. Assuming diligent training.
*Even then, blooming plum blossoms on the spot would be impossible.*
Mount Hua's plum blossoms weren't real flowers—they were sword aura. Required over one jia (60 years) of internal energy, plus peak-level sword aura control.
Come to think of it, even back when I watched those chair-balancing training sessions as a baby, not many of those selected Core Disciples could bloom plum blossoms, right?
What kinda idiot was past-me, throwing tantrums because my Plum Blossom Swordsmanship forms didn't produce blossoms? A punk not even third-rate.
I clicked my tongue at my past foolish self. Biyeong, sitting beside me, quietly tossed out a question.
"So, who's behind it?"
"No clue."
I shook my head with a sigh.
The adults wouldn't tell me—the victim—the culprits behind my near-kidnapping. They clearly knew, though.
*Demonic Cult, maybe?*
When Uijin mentioned them before, they shut it down quick: *You kids don't need to know.* High chance, given that. Annoying, not knowing the exact Demonic Cult-Righteous Faction dynamic in this world.
Tiring of the barrage, I slipped away from my clinging juniors toward the training grounds.
There sat one gloomy junior brother.
Not training hours, so just me and him on the grounds.
Bidam jumped up upon spotting me, bowing.
"Oh, Senior Brother! All better?"
"Yup. Fit enough to climb cliffs."
Brushing it off casually as I approached, I noticed the real sword by his side.
It didn't look new at all.
"What? Why's your sword so beat-up? Picked it outta the trash?"
As I snatched it up to inspect, came a feeble reply.
"Master said going down to Hwaseum's too dangerous for now, 'cause of your incident..."
"Huh? Heard other juniors went down and back with their masters just fine? Sure, no sightseeing, just the smithy, but still."
"Thing is..."
Bidam's master, Uimin, was a cheapskate with a hoarder streak—never tossed anything.
Other chair-balancing kids got gifts at least once as kids, but that guy never bought candy, let alone presents, with his own money.
Bet this sword was the one he'd used as a third-generation disciple our age. Too stingy to buy new.
And my near-kidnapping gave the perfect excuse to skip taking his disciple down.
Bidam grumbled with a pout.
"I'd rather keep using wooden swords than train with this. What even is it..."
Ignoring him, I drew the blade from the sheath to check. Rusty sheath was fine if the edge was good.
"Blade's fine? Uimin Uncle kept it nice. Hey, as long as it swings, it's good."
"It's embarrassing! All the other brothers have new swords, just me...!"
Mid-rant with flushed face, Bidam paused, eyeing his sword in my hand, then my new one beside me.
Hope flickered slyly in his eyes.
"Senior Brother, wanna swap if you don't mind?"
"No way, this here's my custom blade."
That hope snuffed out before it could spark. This was the very sword I'd stabbed into the kidnapper's leg.