Thirty Years' Power and a Mother's Shadow
While Dang Chehwan meticulously peeled away the last of the tough shell with a clam knife, I voiced the question nagging at me. "By the way, how much internal energy does this Jeju fruit pack?"
The Yang Wife answered in his stead. "I've heard the ones offered to the imperial court hold thirty years' worth. Is that right?"
"Exactly, Little Aunt."
For a moment, I doubted my own ears. Not ten or twenty years—thirty whole years!
"So you're saying, Dang Jihwan, you'll split it in half for me. You sure that's okay?"
"Of course it is!"
Before I swallowed the elixir, the Yang Wife firmly locked the Gold Merchant Guild's doors to keep anyone from barging in. I awkwardly shed my upper garments and settled into a sturdy chair, readying myself.
"Here."
Dang Chehwan sliced off a knuckle-sized piece and popped it into my mouth. It felt ridiculous, like a baby bird being fed morsel by morsel, but there was no helping it.
Still, this taste—
Every elixir I'd taken so far had been deep, dark, and bitterly astringent. Shattering that prejudice, the Jeju fruit was shockingly sweet. From the moment it touched my tongue, a refreshing zest spread across it, and the ripe flesh went down easy. It would've been nicer if my master or the Yang Wife had fed it to me, but enduring the tyranny of this near-stranger Dang Chehwan was pure torment.
Thankfully, with my prior experience consuming elixirs, I absorbed it smoothly without any mishaps.
Even so, Dang Chehwan, now behind me, chimed in. "What's this sudden whim from someone who's always held back?"
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Dang Chehwan was still face-blind toward me, so he wasn't talking to me anyway—he meant it for Dang Jihwan. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore him, but Dang Chehwan wouldn't shut up.
"Even if you pretend otherwise after learning the Emei Sect's heart method, it won't help."
Emei Sect?
The Emei Sect, one of the Nine Great Sects with their Buddhist nuns, was the undisputed prestigious faction of Sichuan. But here in Tang Family Village, everyone bore the Tang surname—what nonsense was this?
As stable internal energy steadily built up through my meridians, I cracked my eyes open slightly and caught sight of the anxious Yang Wife.
"You said you'd help our Jihwan—why are you so rude with your words, Second Young Master?"
"Then would you answer instead, Little Aunt? Is it fine for a lay disciple to casually reveal their sect's martial arts?"
Before I knew it, the two were bickering fiercely with me stuck in the middle.
"Don't slander Jihwan without proof!"
"You're getting so defensive—does that mean it's true?"
Listening in, the clan's rules flashed through my mind like a life review. Children with the Tang surname had to train only in the Tang Family Fist until age ten. The Yang Wife must be a lay disciple of the Emei Sect, secretly teaching her son martial arts.
Dang Jihwan, you little shit...
Suddenly, all the suspicious things about Number Four clicked into place. Why my older-by-a-year "brother" Jihwan often tired during the same training as me, why the Yang Wife dragged him off every night—it all made sense. I thought he was a mama's boy, but it was murim-style apron strings.
That explained why Dang Chehwan kept picking on Dang Jihwan—suspicions of rule-breaking.
As I sorted my thoughts, Dang Chehwan placed a hand on my shoulder. "You okay with this? Your son's safety is in my hands."
...For the record, there was nothing wrong with the Jeju fruit he'd given me. He fed me this precious elixir just to pull this intimidation stunt.
"Idiot! He's not my son—he's the Fifth Young Master!"
"What? You fooled me completely...!"
The Yang Wife suddenly raised her arms into a stance.
"That stance—Azure Mulberry Fist! They say you were once praised as sect leader material in your youth. Looks like it's true."
"...Just a passing thought, but if something happens to you, Second Young Master, our Jihwan becomes family head, right?"
With her socks completely knocked off, the Yang Wife faced off as Dang Chehwan assumed a Tang Family Fist guard, his usual smug, vile expression plastered on.
"I'll yield the first move."
"Haaah—!"
The Yang Wife charged with a shout, snapping me to full attention. I glanced uneasily toward the door where Sohee had been standing.
...Yup, Sohee. Her footwork was always lightning-quick. Leaving the door unlocked and slipping out meant someone might come to this madhouse.
People, wait till I finish the elixir before you fight...
As a desperate measure, I ducked low to avoid the commotion. Luckily, this much movement didn't disrupt absorbing the elixir's energy. Prone on the wooden floor, I craned my neck to watch their spar.
They're not using swordsmanship or hidden weapons, so it's a proper martial exchange?
Anyway, risking qi deviation, I scrutinized the Emei Sect's Azure Mulberry Fist.
...No clue. The punishment hall deputy was wrong. Stamina and all that—eyes are supreme. How am I supposed to learn without seeing properly?
Still, the Yang Wife held her own decently against peak-stage Dang Chehwan.
...Or at least, the atmosphere and momentum suggested it. As probing strikes turned into heavy, internal-energy-laden punches...
"As expected of the Emei Sect's pure qi. It's lamentable that such talent only protects your son."
"You're praising my internal energy—while eyeing what exactly?"
In her usual flashy robes—not training garb—the Yang Wife's curves provocatively accentuated with each fist technique. Her broad-mindedness matched her ample bosom.
"If it's uncomfortable, I'll close my eyes."
Thankfully, Dang Chehwan wasn't the type to lust after his father's wife. Seizing the perfect opening, the Yang Wife smirked triumphantly and snatched an iron brush from her desk, hurling it at Dang Chehwan.
Sohee's dad never had iron brushes at work, obviously.
"Heh, teaching Jihwan hidden weapons too?"
His senses sharp, Dang Chehwan casually deflected it, but watching made qi deviation hit me hard.
"Hrraaagh!"
No, seriously. I should've puked like Sohee and left instead of sticking around for this crap—pure regret.
Once upon a time, a retired soldier elf said humans stabbed with swords can't scream? That was me now. No wound, but electric shocks prickled from head to toe.
Circulating qi deliberately was for learning demonic arts. I'd rather dive into a frozen lake right now. My lower abdomen itched madly, arms numb.
"Kuhk—cough."
"Not as good as your sister, they say? You're pretty decent."
"And you, Little Aunt... only trained in fists over swordsmanship?"
The crazy bastards ignored my blood-spitting, complimenting each other.
Dazed by vertigo, I vomited up more than half the swallowed Jeju fruit. No more craving the family head seat. Just let me live. Get me out of this hell...
Then a bell-like voice boomed in my head.
{{{Enough already!}}}
The Bright Light Heart Language—the Bi Yeon Pavilion Master pulled out a bug from her bosom and subdued the two horse-foal parents.
Thud! Thud thud!
"Cough—"
Guessing the chaos from sounds alone, I lay like a corpse, clinging to consciousness, when Sohee shook me awake.
"Yohwan, you okay? I fetched the Bi Yeon Pavilion Master!"
Sohee brought the Pavilion Master. Without her, I'd be...
"Fuck those bastard bitch..."
Sohee glanced at Dang Chehwan and said, "Th-they're still alive, so no revenge yet, right?"
No, thinking about it, she had her weird side too. Born absent-minded or raised by a cult dad—who knows.
"Yohwan, are you lucid?"
The Bi Yeon Pavilion Master rushed to me, placing hands on my meridians. Only then could I fully relax under her normalizing touch.
"Huuuugh!"
I gasped deeply and blacked out completely.
* * *
Scrape, scrape. The sound of pear-peeling grated on my ears.
After Dang Chehwan peeled the Jeju fruit with who-knows-if-washed hands, someone visiting the sickbed was a relief already.
"It was qi deviation."
"How much internal energy did I gain?"
"Even now, that's all you're curious about?"
"Obviously. I went through this to build internal energy."
The Bi Yeon Pavilion Master sighed deeply before answering. "Ten years."
"I gained ten years?"
"No—your current internal energy totals ten years."
"Fuck..."
I'd had about six before. From thirty years' worth, only four gained—abysmal efficiency.
At five years old, ten years' internal energy sounds impressive? For street beggars or lowborn martial scrubs, maybe. But I grew up in the wealthiest of the Five Great Clans' Tang Family Village.
The Bi Yeon Pavilion Master stared piercingly at me. Her hand moved, and my occiput throbbed dully.
"Ow, why hit me."
Internal energy strikes—no dodging visible ones, or it'd just piss me off more?
"Not the time to lament wasted elixir. A bit later, and we'd be holding your funeral."
"I lived, so who cares."
She prescribed five more days' rest, but for brief qi deviation, no lingering aftereffects.
The Yang Wife's calm face before the thirty-year elixir resurfaced.
"Auntie, just one question."
No flicker in her wrinkles as always, but I had a slight hunch she'd answer honestly now. If she had a heart, she'd pity a kid back from death's door.
"Who the hell is my mother?"
Anyone else, maybe not—but the Pavilion Master would know. Among direct kin, she was older than my father.
"Dead?"
If details were tough, I'd take a simple yes/no.
Post-recovery, I'd pondered: no reason to hide a normal death. I hoped to crack her iron poker face.
"Killed by the clan like Sohee's dad?"
Technically, Mirror Ghost and I did that one. If Sohee's from the Blood Cult, was my mom from the Demonic Cult or something?
"Dang Yohwan."
I scrutinized her face closely. First-time agitation plus a warning meant something real about my birth.
"No matter what, you're a Tang."
Yeah, never doubted that. No starving or getting sneered at elsewhere. How lucky to be a useless goose in this flock.
"Mirror?"
"The Poison King seemed worried about you too."
Me, about that kid?)
"Just my thought, but learning acupoints in advance might help."
(She specially asked, so that much.)>
"Thanks, Pavilion Master!"
Only then did I wave cheerfully at my auntie. Yeah, family bonds gotta count for something, right?