The San-gong-dok Freak (Official)
A short distance from the inn, the evacuated crowd had gathered.
In their rush to flee they looked a mess—clothes askew, hair in disarray. Most of them sat in recovery breathing, fighting to claw back whatever scraps of internal energy still clung to them. It was locking the barn door after the horse was gone; the Qi they had permanently lost was not coming back.
"How much did you lose?"
"Judging by my circulation… about five years' worth, maybe…"
"Lucky you. I lost around ten. Damn it—do you know how much the elixirs to fix this are going to cost…?"
"Waaahhhhhh!!!! I'm ruined!!! I tripped on the way out, my breathing broke, and I was late getting clear!!! I think I lost more than ten years!!!!"
"It's all right, kid. You're young—you can rebuild it slowly. Ten years isn't that much Qi, right?"
"It is not all right!!! My peers are pulling further ahead of me this very second!!! I'll be too ashamed to even show my face at reunions!!!"
"Who would've thought those disposable gas masks the waitress was selling would actually help…"
"I didn't take any chances—I just stopped breathing entirely. Charged the window on pure apnea."
"Smart. San-gong-dok scatters martial arts; breathing techniques barely work against it."
People from the neighboring buildings, having heard the biohazard alert, came pouring out and drifted over to join the crowd. They wanted to know what had happened—why a biochemical terrorism warning had gone off at all.
Everyone who had been inside the inn was only too happy to spin the tale. The rough outline was the same: two poison-using mercenaries had clashed, and one of them had detonated San-gong-dok.
Stories like that always get inflated. Surviving a biochemical attack is the kind of thing that turns into a war story.
"Hohoho~!!! The Dokdan Swordswoman fought the San-gong-dok Freak… and a San-gong-dok bomb went off!!! At my age, to witness something this rare…"
"Good heavens! Elder, then which of them used the San-gong-dok?!"
"Hohoho~! That I didn't see~."
"Are you an idiot? Obviously it was that San-gong-dok Freak from the McLang Trading Company who set it off! Stop interrupting the elder!"
The outdoor scene was pure chaos. Everyone was murmuring, fretting, offering their condolences—when suddenly…
CRASH!!!!!!!!
Someone smashed through a window and came flying out. It was the brave waitress who had gone back inside to rescue anyone still trapped. Drawing on every scrap of strength she possessed, she had shattered the glass and reverse-charged her way to freedom—and now she hit the ground screaming in pure terror.
"Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!! It's the San-gong-dok monster!!!!!!!!!!!"
Thud-crash-tumble!!! She was so rattled she couldn't even land properly and rolled across the dirt.
"What's going on?!"
"Isn't that the waitress?"
"Child! What happened!! What did you see in there!!"
Still sprawled where she had tumbled, the waitress clutched her head, her face twisted in the kind of horror reserved for things no language can properly name.
"Kyaaaaa!!! He took the San-gong-dok!!!!!! Sprinkled it like salt!!!!!! On the takoyaki!!!!! On the takoyaki!!!!!! With these tender eyes!!!!!! Hwaaaaaaak!!!!! My head!!!!!! My head is going to split open!!!!!!"
The crowd recoiled as one.
"What in the world is happening in there!!!!!!"
"I knew it—it was the San-gong-dok Freak who set it off!!!!!"
"No!! We left the Dokdan Swordswoman behind!!! There are still people inside!!!"
And then—
Step. Step.
Footsteps sounded from within the inn. Through the ruined front entrance, beyond the thick haze of smoke, a human silhouette took shape.
Slowly, steadily, it walked out through the eerie poison fog.
The San-gong-dok Freak. Gong Ryun. The Dokdan Swordswoman was slung over his shoulder like a sack of luggage.
Just as the Dokdan Swordswoman had once used a green poison mist for dramatic effect, the pure white San-gong-dok fog was putting on quite a visual show of its own—though not in a flattering direction. To the watching crowd, he looked like some devil crawling up out of a sulfur hell.
In the dead silence, Gong Ryun dumped the Dokdan Swordswoman onto the ground with a casual thump. She was a martial artist; she was tough enough that a rough landing wouldn't hurt her.
"…"
And then he simply stood there, saying nothing. Every eye was locked on him, waiting for his next move.
"…"
In truth, Gong Ryun was rattled. The sudden weight of every gaze in the street had blindsided him—far more attention than he had bargained for. All he had wanted was to drop the Dokdan Swordswoman off and be on his way.
Still, it felt wrong not to say something. He opened his mouth.
"…I'll be taking the Morlaren Canyon commission from the South Gate."
A victory declaration. And a stake driven into the ground. This whole mess had started over exclusive rights to that job, after all.
The crowd erupted—a wild mixture of frenzy, admiration, terror, and contempt.
"Woooooooooooo!!!!!!! San-gong-dok Freak!!!!!! The pure essence of the Unorthodox!!!!!!!"
"What a complete psychopath!!!!!! Staging a biochemical attack just to secure his own profit!!!!!!"
"The South Gate's most vicious freak!!!!!!!!!"
"He's genuinely insane!!!!!! And that's what makes him cool!!!!!!!"
"If you're going to be Unorthodox, you need at least that much guts!!!!!!"
"Terrifying!!!!! Too terrifying!!!!!!"
"This psycho!!!!! He already won the duel and he still set off a bomb!!!!!"
"What, did not getting to use your poison arts leave you frustrated or something!!!!!!!"
"Don't tell me he's going to keep pulling terrorist stunts even after coming north!!!!!!"
"Stoooop it!!!!!! The North Gate lost!!!! So please, no more terrorism!!!!!!"
"I won't so much as set foot near Morlaren!!!!!"
"Dokdan Swordswoman!!! I'll remember you!!!!!!"
"But you were pathetic!!!!!!"
"Right, kihehehe!!! Not only did she lose in one second, she got teabagged with a bomb!!!!"
"Good heavens!!! He committed terrorism over exclusive commission rights?"
"The world is ending!!!"
"I warned you all from the start!!! This is what Unorthodox mercenaries are like!!!"
"Big bro!!!! Kugh!!! I believed in you!!!!! That flashy showmanship!!!!! The kind of crowd control that drives both fans and haters completely insane!!!! You are literally my idol!!!!!!!"
"…Loro. Do not even think about learning that."
"Oooooooh!!!! San-gong-dok Freak!!!!! The Sichuan Tang Clan's secret weapon!!!!"
"I heard they dumped him on this backwater planet because he can't control his biochemical terrorism urges!!!!!"
The uproar rolled on for some time.
Gong Ryun could hardly slip away in the middle of all that, so he simply stood where he was, arms folded, poker face locked in place. He was thoroughly bewildered—but he made damned sure not to show it.
Four members of the Orthodox faction were watching the whole spectacle. They, too, were discussing the incident.
"Hmm. That so-called San-gong-dok Freak is probably being framed. I clearly saw the San-gong-dok detonate from the mechanical arm. And judging by the conversation those two had right before it went off, it was almost certainly a mechanical malfunction."
"If sharp-eyed Wiseol has judged it so, then it must be true. It does appear to have been an accident."
"Someone still bears the fault!!! The damage is far too great to just let it slide! The responsibility lies with that mechanical-arm woman for not maintaining her self-destruct device properly!"
"Setting the cause of the explosion aside for a moment… what on earth is that San-gong-dok fellow? Is he somehow immune to San-gong-dok? That's the more astonishing part… is he truly of the Sichuan Tang Clan?"
Tang Bernoulli answered that question.
"If you include all the branch families, the Sichuan Tang Clan has far too many people for me to know every one of them… However…"
Bernoulli flooded her eyes with internal energy. Both irises blazed with green Qi-fire.
Seeking Poison Eyes.
An ocular technique specialized in detecting and analyzing the flow of toxins.
"Hmm… just as I thought…"
"Oh! Have you found something?"
"Yes… exactly as I expected…"
"Well? What is it?"
"Anyone can see it…"
Bernoulli spoke with absolute certainty.
"Anyone can see he's a Sichuan Tang."
Namgung Hyeong nodded in agreement.
"Mm! I thought the same. I was still half-uncertain, but if Bernoulli says so, then it must be true!"
"Yes, Namgung Hyeong… A suspiciously even-featured face. A suspiciously polished Orthodox manner of speech. And a deception technique that makes his internal energy appear meager."
"And the reason for disguising his Qi as weak would be…"
"Yes… inducing complacency is a fundamental skill for any poison artist… just as I present myself as a child…"
"And on top of that, the restraint to hold back his primary poison arts until the very end! He is a model for the entire Tang Clan!"
"And above all else—immunity to San-gong-dok… That is impossible unless you've spent a lifetime breathing and eating inside a cloud of the stuff… He is no ordinary poisoner…"
"My goodness! Bernoulli! If he's not a poisoner… then… is he a Poison Child?"
A Poison Child. A child of poison.
Those who simply carry toxins in their bodies are called poisoners—people who endure monstrous training to remodel their dantians so they can wield true poison arts. But a poisoner is not the completed form of poison cultivation. Every time they use their arts, they suffer from their own toxins.
A Poison Child is different. A Poison Child is exposed to poison from within the mother's womb—born into it. A being perfected as poison itself, immune to a specific toxin.
"Yes, Karina… He is a Poison Child… A child born of poison… someone who has spent an entire lifetime submerged in it…"
"Good heavens… I can hardly believe it. Is a San-gong-dok Poison Child even possible? Even with immunity, how could anyone use martial arts? San-gong-dok is a poison that erases internal energy!"
"Yes… it should be impossible… That's why the Tang Clan abandoned the project after years of failed attempts… But… it seems some branch family… continued the experiments in secret…"
"A desperate bid to claw their way into the main line!"
"Most likely… The Sichuan Tang Clan inducts any Poison Child into the direct line regardless of origin… A collapsing branch family, throwing one last desperate gamble onto the table… and an innocent infant sacrificed for it… Ah… the whole story writes itself…"
"This is monstrous!!! Shouldn't we go seize that man at once and hear his story?!!!"
"…No… Even a branch family… is still Orthodox… In the modern galactic martial world, where children's rights are excessively well developed, even the Sichuan Tang Clan must obey those laws… If a child formally declares that they refuse… the Poison Child process is halted at once… They never have to swallow another drop of poison… and they can live as an ordinary human being…"
"Then that man…"
"He either rejected the Poison Child process midway and walked away of his own free will… or, out of devotion to his family… he chose to keep swallowing poison until he became a complete Poison Child… One of those two… That is precisely why Poison Children are so rare. …In his case, I suspect it was the former… He left the clan himself, and has been living quietly on this backwater planet."
"How awful…"
"He has already left the Tang Clan… What right do I have to approach him…? I know the pain a Poison Child endures… all too well… If anything, he would not want to meet us… It would only dredge up painful memories… All we can do is cheer for him from afar…"
"Ah…"
"Respect his path…"
The four Orthodox martial artists wore bitter expressions. Realizing there was nothing they could do, they turned their backs on Gong Ryun and slowly left the scene.
Even as she walked away, Bernoulli kept her Seeking Poison Eyes fixed on Gong Ryun's dantian.
What an absurdly successful specimen… To think a dantian's internal energy pattern could be altered this thoroughly… Just how vicious was the training he endured…
It should have been impossible. And yet the success story stood right there in front of her. Faced with an invention of the century, Bernoulli felt not admiration so much as pity for the Poison Child.
Which family had managed it? She would never know. There was no way to investigate. Branch families were scattered across the entire galaxy, and even among their own, the Sichuan Tang Clan was the most secretive house in the stars. Even if, after Herculean effort, one somehow identified the branch responsible, the evidence would be destroyed and buried in an instant.
No doubt the reason they had never publicly revealed the invention of a San-gong-dok Poison Child was that same Tang instinct for secrecy. Until the moment is right, never show your hand. That is the way of the poison clan.
Judging by the energy flowing through the San-gong-dok man's dantian, the degree of completion was extraordinary. Based on that refinement, he had most likely rejected the process and broken free near the very end of Poison Child training. The reason was unknowable. Resentment toward his family, perhaps—or a yearning to live a life of his own, rather than a life for the clan. Whatever it had been, Bernoulli chose to respect it. As a fellow Poison Child, she understood that pain better than anyone.
May you be happy… From this day forward, at least… live your own life…
Bernoulli offered a silent prayer for his well-being, and walked on with heavy steps.