Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 2
>Chapter Title: Timber Sword Manor (3)
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A middle-aged man in his fifties lay on the sickbed, his face pale.
Even breathing seemed burdensome, as he kept coughing incessantly.
Each time the elderly physician attending him wiped his mouth with a cloth, black blood stained it.
“Haa...”
A sigh escaped the old physician’s lips upon seeing this.
The patient’s condition was worsening by the day, and the end was not far off.
Despite employing all his knowledge and experience in treatment, this was a disease the physician had never encountered in his long career.
‘What am I to do?’
As the chief physician of Timber Sword Manor, visions of the chaos to come flickered before his eyes.
A bloody feud would erupt among the brothers.
‘Clan Head, why didn’t you just name a successor?’
The Clan Head had not designated one.
This left even the retainers helplessly watching the situation unfold.
In truth, it was something everyone knew.
‘If you favored him so much, why not make the youngest your heir?’
The Clan Head doted on the youngest, Mok Yu-cheon.
His talent was so exceptional it might appear only once in three generations.
At fourteen, he had mastered the clan’s martial arts, reaching the realm of a first-rate expert. Now, at just sixteen—two years later—he had stepped into the threshold of peak mastery.
It would be no exaggeration to say his overwhelming talent placed him among the top ten young prodigies of his age.
Moreover, his temperament mirrored the Clan Head’s perfectly.
‘Young Master Mok Yu-cheon.’
Had the Clan Head openly supported him, the retainers would have stepped forward to solidify his position.
Even though he was the son of a mere courtesan.
Of course, that would incur the wrath of the Great Madam.
‘This is disastrous. Truly disastrous.’
The Great Madam’s affection for her eldest son, Mok Young-ho, was boundless.
Even if he was branded a wastrel, it never wavered.
Because of this, the second son through the third had begun openly revealing their ambitions.
The moment the Clan Head drew his last breath, Timber Sword Manor would be stained with fraternal blood.
‘What will become of us? Hoo.’
A mere physician like him could not intervene.
It was then, amid his sighs, that the Clan Head’s door opened.
‘Who?’
The physician turned, his expression hardening.
A face powdered white to cover wrinkles.
Lips reddened with rouge, adorned in lavish jewelry and ornate robes.
This middle-aged woman, with upturned eyes brimming with arrogance, was Timber Sword Manor’s Great Madam Seok.
The physician bowed his head.
“Gr-Great Madam.”
“As I thought.”
At her question, the physician nodded with a faint sigh.
“My meager skills offer no remedy.”
“I see. As expected, medicine alone cannot save him.”
“It is my incompetence. Please, punish me...”
-Swish!
Great Madam Seok waved her hand dismissively, signaling she wanted no more of it.
She let out a sigh before speaking.
“From you to all the renowned physicians in the area, none can even name the illness. They call it some inexplicable anomaly that defies medical explanation. There’s only one path left now.”
“Madam!”
At her words, the physician’s white beard trembled as he gazed at her.
Great Madam Seok shot him a cold glare.
“With my husband’s life hanging by a thread, do we have the luxury to be choosy?”
“But sorcery is little more than freakish tricks for fortune-telling. How can we resort to such vulgar occult practices...”
“You yourself said his condition is an anomaly no different from one.”
“That is true, but...”
“Then why oppose calling in a sorcerer who deals with such anomalies? Are you telling me to simply wait for my husband to die?”
“That’s not what I...”
“I don’t want to hear it. I’ve already summoned a sorcerer to the annex. You’re dismissed, Physician.”
“Madam!”
“Do you wish to be dragged out by force?”
With that, the physician was all but chased out.
The situation was beyond saving anyway.
Stepping outside, he clicked his tongue in pity, glancing back at the inner chambers where the sickbed lay.
‘Calling in a sorcerer to treat an anomaly? Haa. They’ll end up killing him with their shamanistic nonsense.’
* * *
“...This is the current state of Timber Sword Manor.”
“What an entertaining family. This place is.”
‘Entertaining?’
Even after learning of his precarious position, that’s what he had to say?
Go Chan stuck out his tongue at Mok Kyung-un’s reaction.
In a way, Mok Kyung-un was at the very epicenter of danger.
If his identity as a fake were exposed, he might not even survive the retainers—not the other young masters—but have his limbs torn apart.
Yet here he was, utterly composed after hearing all this.
‘I can’t fathom what he’s thinking at all.’
If Go Chan were in Mok Kyung-un’s shoes, he’d try to escape by any means.
It was a hopeless situation, after all.
Even Gam Escort, his supposed protector, was preparing to abandon him.
In the end, the boy would be discarded amid the chaos.
‘...Even though he subdued me with poison, this is no situation he can handle. You fool.’
For now, he had no choice but to follow.
But he had no intention of helping Mok Kyung-un succeed.
That’s why he withheld some information.
If the truth was seventy percent, he’d hidden the thirty percent concerning them.
‘Hoo. Just you wait.’
Once the poison was neutralized, he’d exact revenge one way or another...
-Flinch!
Go Chan’s body shuddered as his eyes met Mok Kyung-un’s.
Just looking into those eyes sent chills down his spine.
He despised himself for being so intimidated, but this boy was no ordinary person.
There was something about him that instilled fear in people.
‘Devilish bastard.’
Yes, that term fit best.
He still couldn’t shake the image of those ferocious eyes.
“Go Chan Escort.”
“Y-Yes.”
Go Chan responded crisply, discipline snapping into place.
Regardless of his inner thoughts, instinct screamed to obey the boy unconditionally right now.
“So, originally, the real Mok Kyung-un and Gam Escort planned to set me up as a body double and manipulate the eldest, Mok Young-ho, into killing Mok Eun-pyeong.”
“...Yes.”
That had been their primary optimal plan.
Operation name: Fisherman’s Gain.
They’d let the second son, Mok Eun-pyeong, relax in the false security of the body double’s “death,” only for the eldest, Mok Young-ho, to strike from behind.
To that end, they’d even planted false hopes in Mok Young-ho through a hired courtesan.
‘Not bad. Pretty clever.’
Mok Kyung-un smirked.
The plan was plausible.
If executed, neither the Great Madam—the mother of those two sons—nor her maternal clan could intervene heavily.
It would tarnish their reputation, after all.
‘Almost worked, until I became the variable.’
Now he understood why Gam Escort was switching sides.
Gam Escort didn’t trust him.
If there had been trust or certainty of complete control, he’d have tweaked the optimal plan slightly and proceeded.
But distrust prevented that.
In the end, Gam Escort’s wavering and the household’s turmoil would inevitably turn against him.
‘Only one conclusion.’
He had to either kill Gam Escort or win him over.
But both were difficult.
The latter failed due to Gam Escort’s fundamental lack of trust in him.
The former was tough because, unlike Go Chan, Gam Escort was definitively stronger.
“ Go Chan Escort.”
“...Yes.”
“How much stronger is Gam Escort compared to you?”
“Compared to me?”
“Yes.”
“...Gam Escort is a first-rate expert, so at least two or three times stronger than me.”
Go Chan possessed the skills of a second-rate warrior.
Gam Escort, by contrast, was first-rate.
His internal energy neared thirty years’ worth, so numerically over twice as much—but factoring in enlightenment and technique, it was three times.
That was the typical gap between second-rate and first-rate.
“Do you think I could kill Gam Escort, in your opinion?”
“Huh?”
“Exactly as I said. Could I?”
Go Chan frowned at the question.
After grasping the household dynamics, had he decided Gam Escort needed to die?
But he still didn’t know they were switching sides.
Or had he deduced it from fragments?
-Gulp!
If so, his insight was uncanny.
What kind of person was this?
Worlds apart from the real Mok Kyung-un in cunning.
“Is the question too hard? You’ve fought me, so you should have a sense.”
After a hesitant pause, Go Chan answered.
“Y-Young Master, you’re strong and agile, but a first-rate expert surpasses lowlifes like me in technique and internal energy alike.”
“So, conclusion: I can’t win.”
“...Yes.”
“Don’t hold back. That’s my take too.”
“......”
If he knew, why ask?
Puzzled, Mok Kyung-un rephrased.
“Then, if I learned martial arts, would my odds improve?”
“Huh?”
“If I cultivated martial arts?”
Go Chan nearly scoffed at the question.
He acknowledged the boy was stronger than him, a second-rate warrior.
And that he was no ordinary person.
But learning martial arts was an entirely different matter.
Barely controlling his expression, Go Chan said,
“...Young Master. The foundation of martial arts is internal cultivation.”
“Internal cultivation?”
“Yes. It refers to circulating the natural energies of heaven and earth through breathing techniques—specifically, the inhalation method—to build internal energy.”
“And?”
“With internal energy accumulated, one grows stronger and more powerful.”
“That figures.”
Mok Kyung-un had never met anyone physically stronger than himself.
Yet those who practiced martial arts stood out.
“But internal energy isn’t built overnight.”
“It takes time?”
“Yes. It varies by individual and breathing method, but internal energy forms and accumulates through prolonged practice. Can one who just starts martial arts overnight catch up to someone who’s trained for decades?”
‘And you’re already too late.’
Internal cultivation had an ideal starting age too.
Best between five and nine years old, when the body is flexible and the meridians free of impurities.
At Mok Kyung-un’s age, impurities would have clogged and narrowed the channels considerably.
“So, short-term, it’s impossible.”
“Yes.”
‘No. You’ll struggle your whole life.’
Go Chan didn’t mention that.
No need, and it might just annoy him into retaliation.
‘Squirm all you want. It’s futile. Now you see your position?’
The Clan Head was on his last breath.
Even the manor’s chief physician and other experts called it hopeless—an inexplicable anomaly.
Once the Clan Head died, no amount of struggling would save this fake.
‘Wait for it. When that moment comes, I’ll repay every humiliation...’
-Thud!
Then Mok Kyung-un rose to his feet.
He beckoned Go Chan.
“Let’s go.”
“Huh? Where?”
Surely not fleeing?
That would be foolish...
“Guide me to where the Clan Head is.”
“Huh? Why there all of a sudden?”
Mok Kyung-un smirked.
“My lifeline is tied to that Clan Head’s survival. I want to see just how dire it is with my own eyes.”
‘!?’
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