156. Camping in the Hills
“Aigoo… prison.”
The old couple recoiled in horror at the word. Won Seung asked,
“Three days ago, when this official stopped by for lunch, someone else was there.”
“We told the other officers several times already… That guy said he wanted to try running an open-air tavern himself for a few days, so we just lent it to him for a bit.”
The old couple explained that they’d only taken a little money and lent it out for a few days. The bastard had vanished right after poisoning Won Seung.
Hmm. He must think he successfully poisoned me and went into hiding. Probably waiting to hear news of my death.
The creep couldn’t have dreamed that his victim was Dokgoe’s disciple and the eighteenth-generation sect leader of Cheondaemun.
After asking a few more questions here and there, Won Seung let out a deep sigh and ordered the prison warden,
“Release them.”
The warden shook his head.
“I can’t. I need an official document stamped by the Ministry of Justice at minimum.”
“Fine. I’ll send the document over soon.”
On the way back, Jang Hyo-gan asked curiously,
“Why release the old couple?”
“They don’t know anything. But what do you think will happen if word spreads that they were arrested by the Ministry of Justice and then released?”
Jang Hyo-gan thought for a moment, then smacked his forehead.
“Kill to silence them?”
“Exactly. Keep a close eye on the old couple… and that bastard will definitely show up. Report this plan to the Ministry on my behalf and get the official document from them to give to the warden. Once the couple’s released, assign someone to tail them. I’m heading home for the day. Too much crap today.”
Won Seung spoke with a gloomy face, and Jang Hyo-gan looked at him with pity before replying,
“Don’t worry. I’ll watch the old couple personally.”
Jang Hyo-gan received his orders and left.
Won Seung stopped by his office before exiting the palace. Upon reaching Samya County, he headed straight for Hwapyung Guest House.
Jang Chun-sam jumped in fright at the sight of Won Seung and hurried over, bowing deeply. He had no choice—Won Seung held his lifeline in his hands.
Jang Chun-sam asked with an anxious look,
“Lord Ju, what brings you here at this hour?”
“Brother Chun-sam, looks like we won’t be seeing each other much longer. Came to say goodbye before I kick it.”
“Pardon?”
“I got hit with Dang Clan poison. Terminal.”
“Gasp!”
Jang Chun-sam’s face turned ashen. If this guy dies… where the hell do I get the antidote?
He was the type who’d scoffed at such poisons existing, refused the antidote, endured it, and ended up shitting blood for days.
“No way those rotten bastards… Then what about me?”
“Ever hear of retainer sacrifice? You’re coming with me.”
Jang Chun-sam collapsed to his knees with a thud and begged,
“I was wrong! Lord Ju, please show mercy. If you cure me, I’ll hold a memorial service for your blissful rebirth every year.”
“What good’s a memorial after I’m dead? If you wanna live, find the guy who poisoned me.”
“Ah!”
Jang Chun-sam snapped to attention.
Won Seung described the open-air tavern and the man’s appearance.
“Don’t trust the looks. Could be disguised.”
If he’d fooled Won Seung’s eyes, he’d used top-tier human-skin mask or Face-Changing Pill to alter his features. The Dang Clan’s disguise arts were legendary too.
Won Seung didn’t mention suspecting the Dang Clan. The guy might panic, and it wasn’t certain they were involved anyway.
Jang Chun-sam ground his teeth.
“Who dares harm our Lord Ju? I’ll drag the bastard out.”
Since when am I ‘our’ Lord Ju?
Brother Chun-sam, cut the act. It’s too obvious.
Won Seung asked,
“Where’re the Bi Sword Sect folks?”
“Bi Sword Sect?”
“The ones who crashed at my place.”
“Oh… You didn’t know? They’re camping on the hill behind Lord Ju’s house.”
“The hill?”
The land behind Won Seung’s house was a gentle slope. The Bi Sword Sect disciples had pitched tents there.
Hah… If the mighty Bi Sword Sect—one of the Four Great Sword Sects—is living like beggars, who’d believe it?
He felt like a heartless landlord who’d evicted his tenants, leaving a bad taste in his mouth.
Back home, Won Seung locked the door and entered the medicine room.
A simple bed sat in one corner of the medicine room.
Won Seung swallowed the medicine he’d prepared earlier and began meditating to circulate his energy.
He’d first mastered the poison arts section from Dokgoe’s writings. Poison arts accumulated toxins in the body for use—a finicky, dangerous martial art he’d put off even after gaining sixty years of inner energy.
At their peak, poison arts reached the Poison Man realm. Won Seung had seen his master Dokgoe die when that realm shattered. No way was he aiming for it.
Still, poison arts could be incredibly useful if handled right.
To cultivate them, one needed poison resistance and top-grade toxins.
Like the Dang Clan’s secret poison Sam-o-dan-sim-san he’d just ingested…
Pure toxins could be separated and vaporized with the right know-how. Isolate the toxic qi, store it in key body acupoints, then recombine with energy circulation and inject into an enemy’s meridians when needed.
Easier said than done, of course. Required at least a full cycle’s worth of inner energy, poison resistance, and exceptional circulation skill. Won Seung had it all.
He’d delayed anyway out of fear of screwing up. But now, he had to cross that river.
Won Seung drew up energy from his dantian and the yin-yang twin acupoints, spreading it through all three major meridians. Then he began gathering the Sam-o-dan-sim-san poison permeating his bloodstream.
First goal: Collect the toxic qi in the Laogong acupoint on his left palm. No ordinary circulation would do. He swallowed Dokgoe’s special toxin binder and used a unique method to draw it in.
After two hours of full-body cycles, he sealed the Sam-o-dan-sim-san toxic qi in his palm.
Won Seung wiped the sweat beading on his forehead, then began separating the toxic qi. His two days of analysis showed it was a blend of three pure poisons.
Over another two hours, he fully separated them and distributed the qi to the meridians in his left ring, middle, and pinky fingers.
Only after confirming the seal did Won Seung open his eyes. He popped three Boheoldan pills and meditated again to heal his damaged meridians. By the time he emerged, dawn was breaking.
Won Seung muttered to himself as he examined his left hand’s three fingers.
Dang Clan bastards… No clue they just helped my training.
Thrust those three together… and anyone would die from Sam-o-dan-sim-san toxic qi.
He suppressed the urge to test it outside and ate breakfast.
Time to head to work.
Diligent officials weren’t late.
Won Seung arrived with a haggard, sleep-deprived face, and Deputy Yu Seon said pityingly,
“Just rest. Why come in?”
“I’m gonna die on duty.”
Won Seung noticed Jang Hyo-gan’s seat was empty.
“Where’s Jang?”
“Surveillance on the old couple.”
“Guess I’ll check it out too. Hold down the office and report any news right away.”
Won Seung went to the open-air tavern.
The old couple, seeing the official they’d doomed to death, fidgeted awkwardly and served him noodles.
Won Seung ate heartily and set down coins, but the couple waved them off.
“We can’t take this. Absolutely not.”
“No, no. Gotta settle accounts properly to face King Yeom with a clear conscience.”
“Aigoo…”
The old couple made miserable faces.
Won Seung scanned the area and locked eyes with the hidden Jang Hyo-gan. Jang glared wide-eyed, signaling tight surveillance. Won Seung nodded in thanks and headed to Samya County.
The county magistrate greeted him.
“Heard you were poisoned—why’re you out?”
Yu Seon must’ve blabbed extras.
“Gotta check if the last case wrapped up right.”
“You’re… incredible. So composed facing death. I really misjudged you last time—sorry.”
The magistrate spoke sincerely.
“The Ministry of Revenue’s sending money today.”
Ten thousand nyang was pocket change for the national treasury managers. The Justice Ministry had pushed, pitying Won Seung’s plight, and they’d coughed it up quick.
Won Seung left the county office, bought candy, pastries, and snacks from the market, and climbed the hill behind his house. Sure enough, tents dotted the slope.
Ey, poor souls…
Just then, Im Cho-ye emerged from a tent and bumped into him.
“Why’re you here?”
Im Cho-ye said in a sulky voice.
“Heard you guys were here. Eat this.”
Won Seung offered candy and pastries; her face lit up. A food-loving beauty… might turn into a chubby one later?
As she munched, he asked,
“They demanded the money from selling your house?”
“Yeah, gotta go protest again today.”
“Go and they’ll pay.”
Im Cho-ye’s eyes widened. Her martial uncles were ace fighters but hopeless at earning coin—if she relied on them, they’d starve. She’d thrown tantrums at the county office… but hadn’t really expected results.
But coming from Justice Investigator Won Seung, she got it instantly.
“Big brother pulled strings!”
Im Cho-ye threw her arms around his neck.
“Only you really care about me.”
“Hey, calm down. I’m the one who kicked you out.”
Then Gi Seung-gyo stepped out of a tent and saw the scene. His gaze was profoundly meaningful.
“Misunderstanding!”
Won Seung frantically waved it off and peeled her away.
The tents were better furnished than expected. Im Cho-ye’s had a soft pine-branch bed draped in cloth. A makeshift hearth held a scavenged broken pot.
No moneymaking skills, but top-notch as servants.
Jin Eok-so was out, they said.
“He’s not fully recovered yet?”
“He can move.”
“Why still in the capital? Need travel money? I can lend some.”
“……”
Gi Seung-gyo said nothing, silently gathering firewood.
“Don’t wanna say? Fine. Cho-ye, let’s go get the money. They’ll pay for sure with me there.”
At “get the money,” Im Cho-ye perked up and jumped to her feet.
On the way, Won Seung casually asked,
“What’s really keeping you in the capital?”
Im Cho-ye stopped and stared at him.
“Why curious?”
“Gotta know the situation to help. Like with the money this time.”
Im Cho-ye pondered, then said,
“Not something you can help with. But since you’re curious…”
She glanced at a nearby candy shop. How long since she ate? Craving more already?
Won Seung sighed, bought some, and popped it in her mouth.
Im Cho-ye chewed as she explained,
“Uncles have to defeat Dae Yeon-ui Sword. Only then can they become official Bi Sword Sect disciples.”
“What? Dae Yeon-ui Sword?”
“He was Grandpa’s disciple. But he betrayed and left.”
The Bi Cheon Sword Saint, wandering the world on sword challenges, had abandoned his sword at Mount Hwang and secluded himself by the Fujian coast. There, he took in a brilliant prodigy and raised him. But one day, that disciple vanished with the Bi Cheon Sword Manual.
Furious at the betrayal, Grandpa swore never to take another disciple.
“So he made you servants?”
“Grandpa’s pride is sky-high. Couldn’t break his own vow.”