Chapter 47: Where Would We Have Women's Clothes?
The disciples of Musanggok each pursued their training to grasp a unique dao intent unmatched in the world.
Won Seung let out a sigh as he spoke.
"Musanggok's swordsmen try to awaken to the essence of the world with just one blade. But I wonder what they can really gain by forsaking the world. A sword's nothing but a hunk of metal, after all."
"……."
Yong Jo-un ignored Won Seung's words.
What did a scholar know about a warrior's path? Only those who had pushed their bodies to the brink could understand the ecstasy that followed.
And it wasn't just about overcoming oneself.
The blade was merely a tool for cultivation. Yong Jo-un believed the true essence of life lay at the boundary between life and death, and he trained to comprehend its reality.
Arguing with the ignorant was foolish.
As Yong Jo-un turned to leave without a word,
Thud!
Something fell inside the inner quarters.
Won Seung, Jong Bi, and Ogu's gazes snapped toward the sound. Jong Bi's face drained of color.
In that instant, Won Seung realized what Jong Bi had done.
Yong Jo-un's expression hardened. His earlobes twitched.
"Teacher U, I told you to stack those gourds properly. They keep falling, and it'll ruin the taste!"
Won Seung tried to play it off lightly, but it was too late.
A meaningful smile crept across Yong Jo-un's face. He had already caught the faint breathing sound. It was so subtle that only someone paying close attention would notice.
"Clever little bastard. Almost had me fooled."
He glared at Won Seung with a chilling voice.
Won Seung sighed and turned to Jong Bi.
"Teacher Song, what happened?"
The paralysis needles wouldn't have come out on their own.
Jong Bi scratched her head, flustered.
"W-well... I'm sorry, young master. She kept begging, so... I just pulled one out."
Aigoo. Calling him "young master" so politely at a time like this.
"No helping it, then."
Even though they'd been caught, Won Seung remained shameless.
He met Yong Jo-un's icy stare head-on.
"Sorry about that. Turns out I have another profession."
"Cut the bullshit and bring out the assassin."
Yong Jo-un shook the blade in his hand—a clear threat that he wouldn't tolerate disobedience.
Won Seung waved it off.
"Calm down and hear me out. My other job is as a physician."
Yong Jo-un glared as if he could devour him on the spot, but Won Seung stayed composed.
"You know what a physician's duty is, right? Treat and protect any patient who comes your way. Of course, excluding public enemies of the jianghu..."
"That one... that woman is an assassin who kills people."
Yong Jo-un started to say "that bastard" but switched when he remembered the assassin was a woman.
"I know. Not all assassins are bad. Some have no choice but to take the job."
Like me.
"Enough nonsense. Did you send the assassin?"
Yong Jo-un stepped closer, close enough to grab Won Seung by the collar with a single reach.
Won Seung backed away slightly.
"Why would I? Get a grip."
Yong Jo-un seethed inwardly. If not for his sect's rules, he would have struck this punk down already.
He spoke coaxingly.
"That assassin's qi clashed with mine. Her internals are locked up—she'll die from it. But she has something to say before she goes."
"I know, I know. Some terrifying hidden ailment, right?"
"?"
Yong Jo-un's thick brows twitched. Calling it a terrifying hidden ailment yet looking so nonchalant... as if it were already resolved.
No way he resolved the qi clash already, right? Even if it's only three stars, it's Musanggyeol qi...
What Yong Jo-un had used was his sect's ultimate art, Musanggyeol. Even in Musanggok, few were taught it. It required innate talent and bone-grinding asceticism to master the breathing technique.
Dissolving the hidden ailment it left behind in a single day would be astonishing.
Yong Jo-un glared at Won Seung.
The assassin was one thing, but this guy's true nature was piquing his curiosity.
He's not as simple as he seems.
No matter how skilled a physician at piercing meridians, resolving a hidden ailment wasn't easy. Even knowing the meridians and method, it would take a first-rate expert at least seven days and nights.
If Yong Jo-un knew Won Seung was the disciple of the jianghu's eccentric, Dok Goe, he might have accepted it. But without that knowledge, his suspicions only deepened.
Won Seung spoke soothingly.
"But come on. Even if she's an assassin, do you really have to beat a pretty girl to death to feel better? You said you wouldn't kill the bad guy I told you to, right?"
Yong Jo-un thought he understood the situation.
These young fools had been bewitched by her beauty. There was a saying in the jianghu: beware of the old, women, and children... and here they were, risking their lives over a pretty face.
He figured if he hadn't noticed, they would have been killed by the female assassin.
"You mad bastards. Judging assassins by gender... I told you, she'll definitely kill you. You think she'll let you live after you uncovered her assassin gig?"
"Fine!"
Won Seung suddenly raised his voice and snapped his folding fan against his palm with a crack.
"Let's ask her ourselves! I'll bring her out for a confrontation."
Won Seung laid down a condition.
"But don't kill her in this house. Once treatment's done, we'll send her off, and you can do whatever then—kill her or spare her. Promise that, and I'll let you meet."
"Deal!"
For Yong Jo-un, confirming the client was more important than killing the assassin right away. He was certain it was Cheongsu Gate, but he needed proof.
He agreed readily.
"Then follow me."
With Yong Jo-un accepting so easily, Won Seung headed into the inner quarters.
"Wait here."
He told Yong Jo-un to wait in the parlor, then went to his room.
The woman had fallen off the bed and was sprawled on the floor, trying to rise with one arm. Somehow, she'd pulled out six paralysis needles herself. But with her arm useless, she couldn't reach the critical point on the back of her neck.
Unable to support her spine, she just flailed. Like an upside-down cockroach struggling—it was unseemly, no matter how beautiful she was.
Won Seung clicked his tongue.
"Persistent, aren't you? You made all that noise, and now the Yong descendant caught on. He's waiting in the parlor. I told you clear as day—if he comes demanding I hand you over, I can't stop him. This is all on you."
The woman's face paled briefly before hardening into cold resolve.
"Teachers Song and U, bring a stretcher and load her up."
Jong Bi and Ogu entered with the stretcher. Jong Bi apologized sheepishly to the woman.
"Sorry... I shouldn't have pulled the needles..."
"Hey!"
Smack!
Frustrated, Won Seung smacked the back of Jong Bi's head.
"What do you have to apologize to her for? If you're sorry, say it to me."
At the same time, he resolved to keep Jong Bi out of anything involving this woman from now on.
As Jong Bi approached, the woman spoke up.
"Wait! I can't meet an enemy like this."
Won Seung realized she had a point. Meeting a foe while paralyzed and face-down would be mortifying for him too.
If he valued his own pride, he should respect hers.
Won Seung thought for a moment, then fetched a pea-sized pill from the medicine room.
"Swallow this."
She shook her head, but Ogu lunged and pried her mouth open.
Oh! Ogu's rough with women!
Rediscovering Ogu's talents.
Won Seung quickly popped the pill into her mouth.
She lowered her eyes in resignation. But Won Seung stayed vigilant, pulling the remaining needles only to step back three or four paces.
"Don't worry. It's san-gong poison—effects wear off in a day. No inner energy for you. Sure, as an assassin, you probably have ways to kill without it. But remember, the Yong descendant's outside. He's got his ears perked, listening to everything."
Jong Bi said,
"Shouldn't we change her clothes too?"
The woman was in her assassin garb—bloodstained and torn, an eyesore.
"Where would we have women's clothes?"
Jong Bi ducked into her room and returned with flowing women's attire.
"Gasp? What the hell? Pervert?"
"Misunderstanding. Bought it as a gift."
Jong Bi looked embarrassed. Up close, it resembled what So Sansan had worn to the opening ceremony.
"You? Aren't you into Hwa Yeo-wol?"
"Hearts change. That's why they call it fickle. Of course, I still like Hwa Yeo-wol."
Jong Bi glanced at the woman.
Aigoo, poor guy.
The assassin training camp's aftereffects ran deep. Growing up rolling around with women made real ladies seem unreal, breeding fantasies about ordinary girls.
Plus the Swolhyeol San hangover. It suppressed lust, so Jong Bi's pent-up instincts were exploding.
"So Sansan's too small for her anyway."
Jong Bi silently fetched two more outfits from her room. Clearly Yang Yeon-seo's and Hwa Yeo-wol's.
"Not Hwa Yeo-wol's."
Won Seung handed her Yang Yeon-seo's clothes.
"You can move now, so change and come out."
"You want me to wear this?"
Yang Yeon-seo's outfit was floaty yet scholarly somehow.
"To look a bit prettier. Might open a path to survival?"
"I'd rather die. Neutralize the san-gong poison. Let me fight and die without regrets."
"No. You're more important than you know. You can't die. Keep fighting, and I'll have Teacher Song dress you."
Jong Bi stepped forward with eager eyes.
The woman nodded.
"Fine. Just get this pervert out."
Won Seung took Jong Bi and Ogu out, waiting by the door.
Moments later, she emerged. Jong Bi's eyes went wide. Just a quick wash and hair fix, but her beauty sprang to life.
Seemed she'd taken Won Seung's advice to heart.
"Let's go."
Yong Jo-un waited with a stony face. He hid it well, but his patience was on the verge of snapping.
"What took so long?"
"You heard everything—why ask?"
Won Seung seated the woman across from Yong Jo-un.
"You two, out."
At Yong Jo-un's words, Jong Bi and Ogu left with displeased looks, but Won Seung stayed.
"Why aren't you going?"
"Told you. As a physician, I need to monitor my patient's condition."
Won Seung sat where he could watch both.
"I'll be quiet, so you two talk. Nice, right? Conversation instead of blades."
Yong Jo-un shot Won Seung a displeased glance but gave up and turned to the woman.
"Who was the client?"
"……."
"Think I can't kill you with this guy here?"
Yong Jo-un's voice was ice-cold. Having endured harsh years fueled by vengeance, beauty didn't sway him.
"Would a failed assassin beg to live?"
The woman matched his chill.
They're two of a kind. Perfect match.
Won Seung thought to himself.