Last Dance (Final) - 6: Qilin's Corpse, the Worst Omen
Seeing a qilin's corpse was the worst of bad omens. Even if it was a tale from legend rather than history, hadn't even Confucius himself died two years after beholding one? I, a mere youth whose sole talent was his bloodline, hardly thought I could overcome an ill fate that the Master himself couldn't endure. Honestly, considering he'd passed at over seventy, it seemed like simple natural causes—but had he not laid eyes on that qilin's body, he might've lived to ninety, even a hundred. That was how much one needed to avoid witnessing a qilin's corpse. Especially not its dying throes. And if those throes involved taking spicy punches from one of the sa-hung, then one had to stake their life on it.
"Get off! Get the hell off it right now, you bastard!"
Thanks to that, I'd become a berserker afraid of neither sa-hung nor anything else. A peak realm body clashing with one of the sa-hung might mean death? Letting this fight drag on and botching the qilin's survival wasn't "might"—it was a 100% certainty. And not a clean end, either—I'd be left trembling through a terminal life, never knowing when the axe would fall. No way in hell. Not after I'd finished my pilgrimage across the Central Plains with dreams of peaceful days in Kaepyeong once I left Gyeirim behind. I didn't want a death sentence at the very last moment.
Krr, krrraaaang!
Startled by my desperate intervention, Do-cheol hesitated, stepping back. That cry only pissed me off more. A sheep in looks, but roaring like some mangy mutt? Rootless bastard—that's why you're trying to slaughter a qilin right in front of people.
It's your kind keeping me from going home.
Kki-ing!
Kki-ong!
Soon enough, from the direction Grandfather and I had flown in, Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i came charging over. Right, they'd come along too. I'd forgotten after Grandfather unilaterally kidnapped them.
Kki-ing! Kki-ing!
Kki-ooong~
Anyway, the pair made a noisy entrance, and the moment they spotted Do-cheol, their eyes rolled back in fury. Kki-ing-i joined me, pounding on Do-cheol alongside, while Kki-ong-i rushed to the qilin, licking its body with her tongue.
"What a mess."
Grandfather, watching the whole spectacle, summed it up perfectly in those few words. No better way to describe it. A peak master thrashing for survival, a spirit beast loathing the sa-hung, and a belatedly joining Hwagyeong master formed a perfect combo, mercilessly hammering Do-cheol.
Krrang! Krraaaang!
But even against all three, Do-cheol wouldn't go down. The punches definitely landed—its fluffy wool dulled the impact a bit, but I could feel the solid thwacks. Still, Do-cheol endured. It reacted most violently to Grandfather's blows, the Hwagyeong master, but never collapsed or fainted.
'Immune to humans?'
Not 100% immune, of course. It twitched with every hit, so it felt the pain. But if it wouldn't drop, it was meaningless. It had to faint or die for this beatdown to end.
'What now?'
This was a problem. Good that Do-cheol was too busy getting pummeled to counterattack, but we couldn't keep wailing on something that wouldn't fall forever.
"S-stop!"
"What."
"Huh?"
I was pondering setting it ablaze when words—not beastly roars—emerged from Do-cheol's mouth. Human speech.
"You vile creatures! They say the world's most treacherous and wicked are black-haired beasts—and they weren't wrong! How dare humans meddle in the affairs of gods?!"
Not parrot mimicry, but fluent, clear pronunciation.
"...Beasts can speak too?"
I nodded absently at Grandfather's words. Even for a sa-hung, talking like a human was—
Gal!
A roar exploded from Do-cheol.
"How dare you treat this body, descendant of the Flame Emperor Shennong, as mere beast! As some second-rate mimic of human speech!? Wrong! Rather, you humans ape the voices of gods, and sheep are modeled after this body's form!"
"Never called it a sheep, though. So it knows it looks like one."
Neeeoooom!
Grandfather's fist cracked back down on Do-cheol's head at the bellow. Do-cheol wailed in beastly voice again. A Hwagyeong thunder punch worked wonders, as expected.
"Un-i."
"Yes, Grandfather."
"Your letter mentioned a Do-cheol, sure, but I never dreamed we'd actually see it. Thought it was some feral spirit beast gone mad on bad feed."
He hadn't believed me, but I wasn't offended. As a reincarnator, I had no preconceptions about Do-cheol—but to this world's folk, it was as alien as extraterrestrials. More believable to say a wild boar came down from the hills than aliens landing a spaceship.
But what appeared before Grandfather was the latter: an intergalactic extraterrestrial. The shock he felt was exactly that.
"And a deer that fought Do-cheol. Then that must be the qilin."
I turned at Grandfather's incredulous mutter. There lay the qilin, slumped on the ground, gasping ragged breaths. Even Grandfather, symbol of eccentricity, seemed flustered witnessing Do-cheol and the qilin... Wait.
'Why's it trying to die?'
I rushed to the near-dead qilin. No. You're not fated to close your eyes here. Not meant to gasp like this. I punched Do-cheol bloody to save you—what now...!
"Un-i, didn't you say earlier? It was the last gasp."
Grandfather's calm response crushed me. Not a metaphor—it truly was its final rally. Whether I pried off Do-cheol or not, the qilin's fate was sealed.
Kki-ing, kki-iing!
Kki-ooong...!
My shock and horror infected Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i. No, they reacted even more fiercely. They licked the limp qilin frantically, pressing to its sides as if to warm its cooling body with their own.
"Live qilin is good omen, dead one bad. We've seen both, so business as usual."
'What kind of logic...'
Grandfather's miraculous reasoning left me speechless. Technically correct, but agreeing felt wrong. Averaging good and bad to zero? What even was that.
Giri-ring...
Finally, the rattling qilin raised its head with a plaintive cry.
Giring...
Then it licked my hand with its tongue. As if thanking me for thrashing Do-cheol. Honestly, I didn't need such trivial gestures. If you really cared, recover and rise. Your death turns licks and all into pure ill omen.
"Pity. A decent spirit pill might've pulled it through."
Grraaak!
Tsking softly, Grandfather resumed pounding Do-cheol. As if the qilin's death was set, no more to see. Still, his words sparked faint hope.
"A spirit pill would do it?"
"Hm?"
Before Grandfather could reply, I rummaged through my robes. For the Hwagyeong master and One Pillar King to call it "decent," it had to be top-grade across the Central Plains. Ordinary pills wouldn't cut it. So, hope on this. I'd neglected it since receiving, didn't even know its name—but the giver deemed it worthwhile. None other than the Baekryeon Cult Leader himself.
'Meant for emergencies anyway.'
And no future peril would top this. A curse dooming me to die in two years? Hoarding then would be madness.
Searching his robes, Un-i pulled out a small pouch.
"Ho ho."
The item emerging drew an involuntary gasp. Ten-Thousand-Year Snow Ginseng. No idea how our grandson got it, but an undeniable top-grade spirit pill had appeared.
"Not bad at all."
"Then it can save this qilin, right?"
"That it can. But..."
The qilin gazed at the ginseng with fading eyes, as if knowing it could extend its thread of life. Beside it, the white deer sent Un-i imploring looks. Annoying, them demanding their master's sacrifice for a stranger—but qilins were kings of furred beasts. Deer instinctively offered goodwill and loyalty to them. Knowing Un-i as master, they merely pleaded with eyes. Had they not, they'd have snatched it by force.
"Un-i."
"Yes, Grandfather."
"Take that yourself, and you could aim higher. Or give it to your wife or the inspector."
"I know."
"Yet you'd use such a precious elixir on that qilin—a beast you've just met?"
Un-i nodded without hesitation.
"The world has countless warriors, but only one qilin."
The answer brought a smile. Exactly. In this Daesong realm, peak masters were beyond count, even Hwagyeong over a dozen, heaven's chosen. But qilins? Singular. Ruler alongside the yellow dragon, sovereign of all furred beasts, so virtuous it spared grass and insects. Only one in the world.
'We've raised Un-i well.'
How abundantly he'd grown, to so readily part with ten-thousand-year snow ginseng. Heartwarming, truly. Our eldest grandson was raised right.
"Then do it. I'll aid its qi—feed it without worry."
"Yes, Grandfather."
With that, Un-i shoved the ginseng toward the qilin. Receiving such benevolence, it blinked hesitantly. But rather than words, Un-i urged with action.
"Just eat."
Giri-ring!?
He stuffed it straight into the qilin's mouth. Splendid. In life, one deed often outweighed a hundred words.
Giring...
Thanks to Un-i's bold resolve, the qilin chewed the ginseng, blinked a few times, then gently shook its head.
'Well, now.'
Its horn detached, falling to the ground—like a parting gift of gratitude to our Un-i.