Cultivator: Jongchil 7 - The Drunk Daoist's Clue
Heukam Dosa kept tilting his cup until he passed out. At first, we traded drinks back and forth, but soon enough, he was chugging straight from the gourd. His drinking pace was on a whole different level from mine. Like a car with busted brakes, he downed the booze until his film cut out and he collapsed face-first onto the floor. At least he wasn't a mean drunk—that was a small mercy. Seeing him like this, it was hard to picture the lofty Daoist riding clouds. Which side was the real Heukam Dosa? I used my internal energy to blow away my buzz. He could probably do the same, but it seemed like he enjoyed the intoxication itself. Well, yeah—what's the point of being an alcoholic if you just sober up?
"As expected. Passed out again."
Jin Sawol clicked her tongue as she came in to clear the table, eyeing her master sprawled out in a drunken stupor. She was wearing an outer robe, probably mindful of my presence. I wondered if she'd loosen up her outfit once she dropped her guard. Perfect timing—the obstacle called Heukam Dosa was out cold, so this was a prime chance to build something with her.
"Thanks for the hard work, Miss Jin."
"Hmph. Whose fault do you think this is?"
Her response wasn't exactly friendly toward me. Fair enough—she had to deal with this mess late at night because of me. If I had to pull an all-nighter because of someone, I'd be fucking pissed too. Still, I didn't back down from her icy attitude and kept the conversation going. A true master turns crises into opportunities.
"It's partly my fault, so let me help clear the table."
"I'll just take the thought. Can't have a guest lifting a finger, or Master will chew me out for sure. He's weirdly old-fashioned about stuff like that. Always going on about flexibility, but to me, he's less adaptable than Old Man Hansu."
With that, she started tidying up. I kept talking to prevent any awkward silences—let the flow die, and any progress with her was dead in the water. In situations like this, the key was keeping the audio from going quiet.
"Have you been living here with the Daoist all this time? How long has it been?"
I might've been an awkward outsider, but she didn't hate talking to people. Surprisingly, she answered earnestly. Stuck in this remote mountain hollow with only a stinky old geezer for company, she probably craved chats with someone young.
"Since I was nine, I think? Don't remember exactly. Barbarians invaded our village and razed it to the ground. Mom and Dad died, so I became a beggar, wandering around scavenging. By chance, I caught the Daoist's eye."
"Must be tough for a young woman like you living in a place like this."
"I go down to the market at the mountain base once a week. Look at Master's drinking spread—gotta keep it fancy, right? Keeps me from getting too lonely."
She said that, but she couldn't hide the loneliness.
"As the Daoist's disciple, you must be learning all sorts of things."
Maybe even how to read the secrets of heaven? If so, her value just skyrocketed. Characters who could read heavenly secrets were rare as hell in Extreme Sword Heavenly Line.
"Eh, sure."
She brushed off that question, hefted the roughly cleared table, and headed out with prim steps, glasses and snacks still scattered on it. Our brief chat ended naturally. Not very substantial. We hadn't gotten emotionally closer, either. Looked like conquering Jin Sawol would take more time. Beauties never come easy.
*-*-*
I spent the night in Heukam Dosa's room. Sharing a bed with another dude was no joke. The old bastard's bachelor stink was so bad I pulled deodorizer from my inventory and sprayed it around. Fuck, would I start smelling like that when I got old? Gotta stay on top of antioxidants. Come morning, Jin Sawol brought breakfast: multigrain rice, veggie banchan, and braised pork. Lavish for a mountain shack, though a modern palate might find it bland. After we ate, Heukam Dosa led me outside.
"I owe you for the liquor, so I'll offer a little help. But handing you the straight answer to that Han guy's homework would go against propriety, so I'll just give you a simple clue."
Heukam Dosa said something I wasn't even that curious about. I'd gifted him booze to score the Mukhyeol Yeomju and Jin Sawol. Hell, I was still racking my brain on how to snag her.
"The clue alone is plenty."
"Follow me."
He took me to Biryubokpo. The waterfall, formed by a small stream, was modestly sized—unfitting for the grand Jangbaeksan, perfect for kids to splash in.
"To solve Han guy's problem, you need to understand Han guy's thinking. Back in the day, young punks from the Central Plains came to him—even geniuses born with Ohaeng Jiche or Cheonsal Star. Do you know what those are?"
"Bodies suited for martial arts, right?"
"Roughly, yeah. More precisely, Ohaeng Jiche means a peerless body attuned to the qi of the five elements: fire, water, wood, metal, earth. In other words, a genius who efficiently absorbs heaven and earth's qi. For a normal person, filling the dantian with a cultivation method is like water dripping on a stone. For someone born with Ohaeng Jiche, it's like this waterfall."
(For the record, I'd already met a genius born with Ohaeng Jiche.)
"Cheonsal Star is the genius—or the energy itself—born under the worst, most ominous of the 36 Heavenly Stars: Heavenly Calamity. A body that can master any demonic art, regardless of sect. If Ohaeng Jiche is the perfection of fate, Cheonsal Star is the perfection of defying heaven. Just like Ohaeng Jiche, it's an ideal martial body."
The Demonic Cult leader in the current generation had a Cheonsal Star. They popped up plenty in novels. Scary how they said it only appeared once every few decades, yet late-game powerhouses all had them as passives. Even upgraded versions showed up. Unavoidable power creep in wuxia. Still, they weren't common enough to trip over. Having even one guaranteed at least the Present Realm.
"But Han guy rejected even those geniuses. Do you know why?"
Heukam Dosa tossed the question at me like it was only proper.
"Because he doesn't value martial talent. So he looks at something mental?"
"Exactly. That's his Dao. You've already passed one of Han guy's other tests. What did you feel there?"
"Hmm... not sure."
I said that, and Heukam Dosa grinned, pulling the gourd from his waist. After chugging like a fiend last night, he was at it again. True-born drunkard.
"Han guy's will is like this: A man drinks liquor; liquor doesn't drink the man. A human wields martial arts; martial arts don't wield the human!"
He proclaimed that and gulped it down. From where I stood, this old fucker was already thoroughly eaten by the booze. Yet here he was, striking poses in front of me. Fucking dentures-clacker.
"Your thirst for martial arts makes you miss something. What Han guy wants you to find is what you're overlooking."
Heukam Dosa chuckled and shuffled off unsteadily. Knowing the answer, I got the gist of what he meant. Without it, his words would've just confused me more.
The real priority is how to make Jin Sawol mine. Han Kangwoo's riddle can wait.
How to win her heart? Simplest way: ram my dick in her pussy somehow. With Power of Sex and Sex Mastery, I could make her cum her brains out via rape alone, even implant total loyalty. But she was Heukam Dosa's disciple. Piss him off bad enough, and it'd be a world of hurt.
Heukam Dosa's a quirky character skilled in all sorts of odd tricks—cross him, and shit gets tricky.
Plus, if Han Kangwoo caught wind of a rape, apprenticeship was toast. Too much risk. Even optimistically dodging their eyes to force her, she was trained by Heukam Dosa. Not sure I could overpower her.
For now, observe Jin Sawol and brainstorm plans.
Maybe something would click while watching her. Or I'd find a weakness. Heukam Dosa let me crash at his place for a few days under the pretense of solving Han Kangwoo's riddle, so I could keep eyes on her up close. I pretended to ponder the riddle while peeking at her.
"Master! Seen my underwear anywhere? You didn't puke it into the stream after another binge, did you?"
"Ahem! No idea. When I'm drunk, it's not me, so..."
Jin Sawol handled all the housework. Tending the veggie patch, cooking—everything. Heukam Dosa only helped verbally. His chores? Simple yard sweeping or dishes. Classic freeloading geezer. If I had to serve an old fart like that, I'd have arranged his funeral ages ago.
Of course, he wasn't totally idle. He had his own gigs.
"What're you working so hard on?"
I asked him as he pored over books with brush and ink at the ready. He crossed his arms, face deep in thought. Wait, was that a shitting face? Didn't seem senile yet.
"Naming kids."
"You do naming?"
"I do anything that pays. Daoists get all sorts of requests."
He tapped the book with a finger.
Wonder if trusting this old coot with names would just get some super corny results?
"Hmm... Creation's agony is real. These parents want sturdy, healthy kids. Reading the five elements qi: Ma family gets Ma Dongseok, Kang family gets Kang Hodong... For the Kim family, Kim Donghyun or Kim Jongguk—which is better?"
......Yup, Daoist through and through. Either way, they'd grow up tough as nails.