Chapter 79
Chapter 79
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 79
Chapter Title: Young Hero Kang...! (1)
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Soap.
With my departure for Shaolin Temple coming up soon, I racked my brains trying to think of something useful to leave behind, and soap was what came to mind.
Isn't soap a staple in alternate history tales? Improved hygiene, lower mortality rates, population boom—the combo that boosts national power!
Especially in this era where midwives can't guarantee sanitation, at least making sure they wash up before delivering the baby seems like it could make things safer.
I didn't know the exact recipe, but roughly mixing waste cooking oil with lye water should do it, right?
How to mix it? That's for the maids to figure out.
"Son, woolgathering again?"
"No, Mother!"
But I couldn't stand watch over it all day, so I'd pop into the kitchen now and then to check, and right now I was training in martial arts with Mother.
As her palm strike hurtled toward my shoulder, I deflected it upward, only for my thrusting fist to be caught mid-motion and yanked forward.
I pushed off the ground with my pulled hand, twisting my body to evade the strike aimed at my side.
When Mother dodged my probing kick, I used the momentum from my arms to spring back up like a coiled spring.
I skipped all the ranged attacks like palm force, finger wind, or fist wind, sticking purely to close-quarters combat using only our bodies.
"Do you understand how to move now?"
"Yes. Better than before."
I got it. It had only been a couple of weeks of footwork training, but I finally understood what Mother was aiming for.
Training footwork means securing advantageous positioning and creating more leeway for wielding weapons or hands in combat.
If Master's or Peng Yeon-hwa's teachings honed instinctive judgment to speed up attacks with weapons or hands,
then Mother's focused on footwork and body techniques to buy time for deciding attacks, ensuring you wouldn't be outmaneuvered by the enemy.
It's hard to say which approach is superior, but ultimately, a true martial arts master benefits from excelling in both.
"Yes, my son has improved so much."
This was the first time I felt my skills growing while training with Mother. I'd always thought I only improved when practicing alone.
"To truly call yourself first-rate, all your techniques must ultimately flow together organically."
"Organically..."
The pinnacle of a first-rate master is understanding the intent behind forms and wielding them freely.
Only then can you step toward the next realm of peak mastery. What Mother described was really just the bare minimum requirement.
"What about peak masters?"
"Hm?"
Everyone said it: grasp the meaning of forms and wield them freely to reach the end of first-rate.
But I'd never heard how to become a peak master.
"You'll learn in time. Don't rush it..."
The fact that she wouldn't tell me suggested it was better I didn't know yet. I was curious, but... I guess I had to trust her for now.
"Let's take a break. Heading to the kitchen again?"
"Yes, Mother."
During the break in training, I went to the kitchen. An older maid guided me there.
"We made it as you instructed... but is this perhaps stone soap?"
"...Pardon?"
I couldn't hide my embarrassment at the maid's explanation.
Wait, soap already existed? I'd been washing with bean flour until now?
According to this knowledgeable maid, they made soap or substitutes here using various ingredients.
It was a luxury item worth a pretty penny, but Eon So-young wasn't so strapped for cash that she couldn't afford it.
No, in alternate history novels, soap definitely didn't exist even in the Joseon era...! Something even the king marvels at...
Was it only missing in Joseon?
"Sorry for the pointless trouble. Use it if there's a need, or toss it if not."
"No, no, young master. And please speak casually."
I shook my head.
Young master in name only—what it really meant was a house husband, a man with no meaning beyond being Eon So-young's spouse.
Talking down to an elder like that didn't sit right with me.
"I got the idea from seeing someone use lye water for laundry before... Sorry."
"It's truly fine. This is no trouble at all."
Apologizing more would just make her uncomfortable.
"Then I'll be off. Thanks for your work."
I'd just tell Eon So-young to have the midwife on standby when labor starts and wash up thoroughly with cheap soap or whatever.
What if the baby catches some infection from dirty hands? It could even harm the mother!
As I stepped out the kitchen door, a maid stared at me with wide, shocked eyes.
Wait, that face...?
"Young Hero Kang...!"
I tilted my head, recognizing her face, when a gasp of horror leaked out from behind me.
I didn't want to turn around. God, I really didn't want to.
But when I did, Namgung Hye was glaring at me, eyes wide as saucers.
Master, didn't you say you'd erased her memories?
Namgung Hye had snuck into Mother's estate following A-hyeon.
If Mother's pregnancy was real, the maids would never let her see Mother.
"To the kitchen first...!"
A-hyeon led her, thinking of the mother figure who oversaw the kitchen.
[I got the idea from seeing someone use lye water for laundry before... Sorry.]
As they neared the kitchen, a man's voice from what should have been a women-only space made Namgung Hye and A-hyeon freeze simultaneously.
He was here, that man.
Lye water, lye water.
It was nothing special, yet the words kept tickling her mind for some reason.
Lost in thought, Namgung Hye reacted slowly even as A-hyeon tugged her arm to hide—and then the door opened, revealing the man's face.
The man who always passed on Mother's well-wishes.
The man who comforted her, saying Mother was fine and not to worry.
The kind man who personally washed Mother's sweat-soaked bedding.
And the man who violated Mother, betraying her in the process.
"Young Hero Kang...!"
Namgung Hye gripped her sword hilt with trembling hands.
As soon as she did, the Soaring Palace Swordsmanship she'd honed for years flowed naturally from her grasp.
Kang Yun's face twisted in surprise at the sudden thrust toward his chest, and he smacked the flat of the blade with a fist loaded with power.
The force rippled through the sword, nearly wrenching it from Namgung Hye's hands.
'How...?'
She was sure he'd had no internal energy when they first met.
Afterward, her own energy had been sealed, so she couldn't tell, but he seemed to have trained some.
But to overpower her—a first-rate master—in a clash of strength?
Lady Namgung, wait—please, just hear me out…!
"Shut that filthy mouth!"
How could he even suggest talking? After assaulting her mother!
Soaring Palace Swordsmanship was the Namgung family's basic sword art, but in Namgung Hye's hands, it carried refined variations and power, giving it a sharp edge.
Four prongs of sword qi threatened Kang Yun's vital points, but he evaded with footwork and deflected the follow-up thrusts with palm force, still pleading.
"Please, just hear me out. I never..."
"I don't want to hear it!"
Unlike the textbook-precision sword forms flowing from her blade, Namgung Hye's heart tossed like a skiff in a storm.
Her mother was carrying this man's child.
Her loving mother had flung herself at him like some harlot.
If she didn't swing her sword, the despair would crush her—Namgung Hye couldn't stop.
The maids, having heard the commotion, fled beyond the sword's reach.
Normally she'd feel sorry, but her blade didn't halt.
Sometimes it moved plainly to exploit openings, other times with blinding speed to lock down his movements.
But Kang Yun was a cut above.
Subtle finger winds checked her plain strikes, and her swift blades were shoved aside by heavy palm force, failing to pin him down.
Her forms were equal or superior in subtlety, yet he brushed them off effortlessly with apt counters.
The gap in their internal energy reserves was that vast.
It infuriated her that even as he defended without counterattacking—clearly holding back—he landed not a single scratch.
"You bastard... how could you do that to Mother...!"
Namgung Hye was furious. Never had anyone incensed her like this.
The Namgung family's pampered only daughter had seen the world as beautiful—until the old monster captured her, her first taste of despair.
But the man who appeared claiming to be his disciple wasn't hope, but at least not despair.
Then, like a prank, he'd toppled the fragile pillar propping up her heart, as if merely extending her life.
"I won't forgive you!"
"Hye-ah!"
Namgung Hye's sword halted abruptly.
She hadn't wanted to see him. If he vanished, the nightmare would end, and Mother would return to normal.
She knew it wasn't true, but she couldn't endure without drawing her blade.
Yet the Mother who entered her view was beautiful.
Her hands cradling her belly, cherishing the life within—that was a woman, through and through.
A womanly Mother that Namgung Hye didn't know.
"Hic..."
She didn't want to cry in front of this man; it'd make her too pathetic.
But Namgung Hye couldn't stop the tears.
Eon So-young cautiously approached her sobbing daughter.
Even if her feelings for her late husband Namgung Tan had faded, her love for the daughter born of him was separate.
Namgung Hye still resembled her greatly, and half the blood in her veins was Eon So-young's.
"Hye-ah..."
Namgung Hye flinched at the arms embracing her gently, then surrendered to Mother's bosom.
Eon So-young didn't know what to say.
Sorry? Take care from now on? Mother was wrong?
No words could soothe her daughter's heart.
She simply stroked her back softly, waiting for the tears to subside.
About fifteen minutes passed, and Namgung Hye's sobs seemed to quiet.
"Hye-ah...?"
As she pulled back to look at her face, Namgung Hye clung to Eon So-young this time.
"Mother..."
Eon So-young's heart ached, sensing faint resentment in her daughter's voice.
Of course—what fault did the girl have?
She had a husband, albeit near death, yet allowed her heart to another man; she and that young man who took her were the guilty ones.
As she glanced at Kang Yun standing awkwardly like a guilty pup, Namgung Hye lifted her head from her forehead.
"Mother... explain."
"..."
"What happened, and what you'll do from now on."
Kang Yun paled.
"Make me understand..."
Could she? Eon So-young thought it unlikely.