Appointment Ceremony (1)
The Poison King was a master of poison acknowledged by all.
The title of “King” or “Saint” was bestowed only upon those who had reached the pinnacle of their field, with nowhere left to climb.
Thus, Dang Mugi believed there was nothing about poison he did not know.
Yet.
I can’t figure it out.
Dang Mugi gazed at the Eastern Sword Dragon, who sat cross-legged before him.
His posture was utterly relaxed, motionless as a statue.
Draped in the green cloth symbolizing the Tang Clan, he exuded an air of refined dignity.
But the thick, hazy mist enveloping him changed everything—that was Mountain Peak Poison, a creation Dang Mugi had poured his heart into refining.
Not just any mountain poison, but Mountain Peak Poison.
It didn’t merely paralyze the meridians, preventing them from functioning. It assaulted the inner energy itself, devouring it from within.
For an ordinary martial artist, one breath would bring a sense of obstructed energy flow. Two breaths, and control would slip away. By the third, the poison would spread fully, wracking the body in agony.
But.
He looks completely unaffected.
As if he had achieved the legendary realm of immunity to all poisons, straight out of ancient tales.
Even Dang Mugi himself couldn’t remain so composed against a poison he’d never encountered before.
The Eastern Sword Dragon wasn’t a direct descendant of the Medicine Sage, or so he claimed—but he certainly seemed like one.
Which makes me feel all the more sorry for him.
If it weren’t for his desire to protect someone like Dang Si Yul, the Eastern Sword Dragon never would have fallen so easily to the Poison Demon’s toxins.
He must have deliberately taken the surprise attack to contain it within his body and neutralize it.
But the Poison Demon’s poisons are the nemesis of all things pure.
If he’d been fully prepared like now, it might have been different—but even then, it was a gravely dangerous situation.
A pleased smile crept across Dang Mugi’s face.
At some point, he had stopped smiling altogether, feeling himself grown old and weary.
His son Dang Mun Su’s smiles had deepened only after Dang Mugi lost his own.
This was the first genuine smile in ages.
Dang Mugi waved his hand at the Eastern Sword Dragon, as if the sensation wasn’t unwelcome at all.
Poison arts advance by exposure to ever greater varieties and quantities of toxins.
To others, it might seem a casual gesture, but in truth, it administered a blend of rare and lethal poisons.
“Mm—.”
The Eastern Sword Dragon shuddered faintly, letting out a low murmur of admiration.
And then.
Shing—!
The sword resting before him unsheathed itself, dancing through the air.
Flying Sword.
Dang Mugi’s pleasure turned to astonishment—nay, outright shock.
A Flying Sword was the hallmark of a super peak expert, demanding a massive surge of genuine energy.
Yet the scene before him showed no such flow of energy.
It meant his control was so perfect and efficient that no leakage could be detected from outside.
Even as he absorbed the poison!
Unless that sword is the Pa Cheon Sword from ancient legends...
But records described the Pa Cheon Sword as entirely black. This blade, while black-based, bore gold and white decorations.
……
Dang Mugi’s expression hardened once more.
If he hadn’t already appointed the Eastern Sword Dragon as the clan’s Honored Guest, he might have felt threatened enough to eliminate him.
He simply couldn’t gauge the limits of this young man, barely past his early twenties.
But soon, a smile returned to Dang Mugi’s face.
After all, he had welcomed this promising youth into the family.
Dang Mugi spoke for the first time.
“Do you know the Tang Clan’s weakness?”
“……”
“It’s no one else—it’s me.”
The Eastern Sword Dragon continued circulating his energy, his sword weaving through the air, but Dang Mugi pressed on undeterred.
“There’s been no true martial artist since me. The young master tournament is rational enough, but under that system, politics trumps the martial fundamentals.”
“……”
“These fools don’t dream of reaching my level—they just want to wield me like a blade. So, Honored Guest, bring fresh wind to this house.”
Dang Mugi waved his hand again, administering more poison as he continued.
“Take good care of Si Hyeok, heh heh.”
With a rare, elder’s cackle, Dang Mugi vanished.
I was screwed.
It hurt like hell.
“Cough!”
I spat out the blood I’d barely held back.
I’d spread the Heavenly Demon Divine Art throughout my body to block the poison’s invasion. Against ordinary toxins—like the Poison Demon’s—it would never penetrate.
But was this the Poison King for nothing?
He hadn’t even harbored killing intent, yet his poison pierced the Heavenly Demon Divine Art’s defenses.
Of course, the art acted as a filter of sorts—roughly 5% made it through, by my estimate.
Even that was enough for severe poisoning.
[That mad old coot!]
Pa Cheon whipped through the air, dispersing the toxic qi.
Because it carried Dang Mugi’s own energy, Pa Cheon could absorb it—unlike common poisons.
[Pretending to bestow a favor while poisoning you—he means to kill!]
“It is a favor.”
I repeated the process of transferring poison from the saturated Avoid Poison Jade to the Black Needle.
“At the Poison Man realm the Poison King has achieved, one absorbs vast quantities and varieties of toxins until the body produces them itself.”
[And you think he meant for you to reach that?]
“Yeah. In simple terms, it’s like handing over a weapons blueprint.”
Bonus: he seemed to have some grand misconception about me. Ignoring the pain and near-death scare, it was a huge win.
[A mad idea.]
“Right? Who thinks of slamming poison into their own body? Poison practitioners are all insane.”
After repeating absorption and expulsion over ten times, every trace of toxic qi finally left my body.
“Just look at the results. Thanks to him, I’ve got both the Poison Demon’s and Poison King’s poisons.”
Not just stored in the Black Needle—Pa Cheon had absorbed some as inner energy too.
Pa Cheon grumbled.
[You’ve been way too obsessed with poison lately.]
“Can’t help it if I’m playing Medicine Sage heir. That’s how it has to be in the jianghu.”
[I agree, but... a true martial artist speaks with the sword.]
“That’s what I’m saying.”
I recalled the earlier events—peeking through slitted eyes amid the haze, there’d been one dizzying moment.
“That swordplay you pulled off alone earlier? It had Asura Twelve Forms mixed in.”
[……Yeah.]
“Be grateful the Sado family’s a relatively new house, so their arts aren’t well-known, and the Poison King isn’t big on swordsmanship. If this were the Nangong Clan, you’d be diced to pieces.”
Righteous sects are pure; demonic ones, turbid.
Demonic arts are sinister.
That’s the setting in Murim Returner.
The Asura Twelve Forms blended swift and illusory sword principles to overwhelm and dismantle foes—a brutally practical, murderous art.
A Medicine Sage heir from the righteous faction using something sinister? Unthinkable.
“You’ve got skills. Whip something up.”
[You think swordsmanship is that simple?]
“What’s the difference?”
[Sigh... where to even start.]
Pa Cheon twitched emphatically, as if to say listen up.
[Fist Cannon or Domination—they’re all one-shot techniques. But swordsmanship is different. It has structure, logic.]
Simply put, Pa Cheon’s creations were short stories; a full sword art was an epic series.
Creating a sword art is like distilling a warrior’s life and insights into steel... Hm.
“Ah.”
I was certain.
If Pa Cheon had a body, he’d be trembling in lotus position right now.
His occasional foolish moments aside, Pa Cheon was a genius too.
Just one cursed by blocked meridians and suppressed by Sado Gwang.
That’s why a mere sword had half-achieved Three Flowers Gather at the Summit.
Long story short: Pa Cheon started muttering like a madman.
[Most martial arts assume gripping the sword by hand. Essential for swinging, yes—but it limits attack paths and methods. So then—]
“……”
In other words, he’d craft a Flying Sword technique. Good enough.
I sheathed Pa Cheon at my waist and returned to my quarters.
Perhaps due to my impending Honored Guest status, the rooms were larger, and people bowed deeply as I passed.
Honored Guest.
Like an honorary family member—but treated as the clan’s supreme elder.
I had no intention of meddling in Tang affairs, but if I did, I’d have young master-level sway.
...Come to think of it, didn’t he ask me to bring a fresh wind? Blow in some change?
From my Murim Returner-informed perspective, Dang Mugi’s insight was astonishing.
No outstanding martial artist had arisen since him—that was true. And the devastating losses to the Poison Eye Monk later? Also true.
But the future’s already changed.
Originally, Dang Si Yul would have become young master unchallenged—but not anymore.
What butterfly effects this would spawn? Even I couldn’t predict.
Something’s bound to happen at the ceremony.
Combining Dang Si Hyeok’s young master appointment with my Honored Guest ceremony into one grand event? I’d been horrified.
A clan like the Tangs would send invitations far and wide for such a spectacle.
What if the Murim Alliance inquired? What if Meng Wi Hak himself showed up?
I’d tried to slip away early, citing prior commitments.
But the Alliance unusually announced Meng Wi Hak’s formal seclusion.
This is pure honey.
Crowds would flock: prestigious sects like the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families, mid-to-small factions seeking ties, even lone wanderers.
Where people gather, information flows.
A safe chance for me to gauge shifting futures.
Verify if my knowledge matched reality.
And moreover.
Muyoung Sintu.
Having already teased the Shadowless Divine Thrower by finding a treasure, now a massive event like this?
He couldn’t resist biting.
Confirm intel, reclaim the elixir.
By this world’s clichés, some punk would pick a fight—but I was the Tang Clan’s Honored Guest.
I wore that cumbersome green shawl for a reason: maximum visibility.
No lunatic would challenge an Honored Guest. If one did, blink away and toss to the Poison King.
Back in my quarters for a rest, Pa Cheon groaned.
[Got a rough frame... but it’s still a stretch. Seeing a pure sect’s arts might unlock it.]
And that resolved sooner than expected.
Just ten days later.
“Kim Dong Yun! Receive the sword of this Jade-Faced Sword Dragon, Mo Yong Hak!”
A madman had come to pick a fight with the Tang Clan’s Honored Guest.