Chapter 74
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: Finding a Method
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The Alcor Star wasn't a form of energy like the vital energy of the Seven Stars Seven Origins.
It was energy aligned with one's heavenly constitution.
In other words, it was akin to innate true qi, making it impossible to remove the Alcor Star.
Occasionally, martial artists would die from depleting their innate true qi because it was the root vital energy of humanity.
The best way to eliminate the energy of the Alcor Star was to kill the person who possessed it.
'Could I lower the Alcor Star's energy with spirit energy? I should give it a try.'
If he could absorb the vital energy of the Seven Stars, then surely he could attempt this.
On the fifth day.
Mak Jimong still lay down to take his medicinal broth from me and receive acupuncture treatment.
Even though I inserted quite a few needles, which must have hurt, he didn't complain.
"You know, my mind really is getting clearer. Scholar Cheon, you're a divine physician, a true divine physician."
It was only natural.
The acupuncture was meant to sharpen the mind and improve blood circulation.
"At this rate, am I going to become a genius? Before, even when I read books, nothing stuck in my head, but now even difficult scriptures sink right in."
There was no trace of hostility in the way Mak Jimong looked at me.
Not only had his dantian warmed to me, but my dedicated treatment had also fostered gratitude, turning it into genuine goodwill.
"You were always a sharp-minded person at heart, Little Gate Lord. It's just that your disordered qi affected your intellect as well."
"Hahaha! In that case, Scholar Cheon is practically my benefactor. As I said before, heal me, and we'll become sworn brothers."
As I picked up a needle, Mak Jimong gazed up at me from where he lay.
"Scholar Cheon."
"Yes?"
"When I become Gate Lord, will you serve as my strategist?"
I flinched mid-insertion.
This offer went beyond mere fondness—it stemmed from trust.
"You'd be my sworn brother and my strategist."
I smiled.
"My talents are meager. I wouldn't be of much help to you, Little Gate Lord."
I refused politely.
"What are you talking about? Do you think I don't know about you? I've looked into everything."
"What have you looked into?"
"That you're superior to anyone else. That's why even in the Murim Alliance, you always got along well with people. Hypocrites have a habit of crushing anyone they see as better than them to protect their vested interests."
"Doesn't the Unorthodox path do the same?"
Mak Jimong let out a wry chuckle at my laughing retort.
"Of course we do too. But once we submit to someone superior, we don't stab them in the back anymore. Submission means obedience. That's how a certain order is maintained. It might look evil to you, but that's how it is."
Mak Jimong's way of addressing me had changed.
From "you bastard" to "my friend."
The Unorthodox path certainly had that aspect.
Up until now, Mak Jimong had often shown sides unfit for an heir to the Unorthodox Supreme Lord, but no elders or seniors nitpicked him for it.
They had submitted to the Supreme Lord, so they submitted to his heir as well.
In the Murim Alliance, they would have clamored to drag down an incompetent like Mak Jimong.
That system did foster competition and bring forth better talents.
Even so, if Mak Jimong still lacked the ability to lead them, it wasn't guaranteed that the loyalty sworn to his father, Mak Yeohyeon, would extend to him.
The Unorthodox path was, after all, a world that revered the strong.
That's why Mak Jimong knew it well and didn't want to miss this chance to grow stronger.
He needed someone reliable to support him solidly.
"The Unorthodox path must have fine scholars too. You just haven't found them yet, Little Gate Lord."
"...You think so?"
Mak Jimong's eyes gleamed.
"Fine. Then recommend someone as good as you, Scholar Cheon. Otherwise, I'll cling to you relentlessly."
I gave a bitter smile.
That meant he'd harass me.
I didn't respond and instead drove the needle in deep.
"Ugh! Why does the needle hurt so much today? It's just my imagination, right? Yeah?"
"I've been inserting them to the same depth every time. Why would it hurt only today?"
"Ugh! Ack! Eek!"
"It's all in your head."
"Really just my imagination?"
"Of course."
I vowed to make the needles hurt for the remaining five days.
Yes, and make the broth even more bitter too.
I left Hopyeon Market.
Besides needing the bitter herb gosam to punish Mak Jimong, I also required herbs to protect his blood vessels.
Since it was just buying herbs, I set out alone.
For the first time in a while being by myself felt refreshing.
With so many people and events crashing into me lately, I'd almost forgotten who I was.
Namchang was the capital of Jiangxi Province.
Naturally, the Hyuncheon Sect held sway, and the martial clans were under their rule.
This was my first time in Unorthodox territory, but I saw less overt Unorthodox influence than expected.
Martial groups didn't interfere much in the daily lives of the common folk.
Leaving Hopyeon Market meant crossing the river to reach the city center.
The area with Hopyeon Market felt desolate, while the opposite side formed the bustling city.
The river was wide and abundant, drawing fishermen with rods and boatmen netting fish along the banks.
It was a scene straight out of a painting.
When I asked passersby the river's name, they called it the Geangan River.
Gazing at it, my friend Ho Hyeonbyeok's face suddenly came to mind.
He'd apologized for not being able to boat on Poyang Lake, Jiangxi's premier pastime.
And for missing out on Dengwang Pavilion, one of Jiangnan's three famed towers—he felt guilty about it.
Dengwang Pavilion was Namchang's premier landmark, a must-visit for outsiders.
Ho Hyeonbyeok promised we'd go together once his family matters settled.
I crossed the river and entered the crowded streets.
The atmosphere differed sharply from Anhui's northern roads, making it fun to sightsee.
Here, they hawked more aggressively than in the north.
The locals had a lively, fun-loving nature.
After buying a few herbs from an apothecary, I headed to an inn.
No place was better for gauging the local vibe.
The biggest inns always had renowned storytellers during peak hours.
Storytellers shared regional politics and events, serving as info hubs.
I asked merchants around and entered the largest inn.
It was a five-story building: the first two floors for common folk, three and up for high-class guests.
I sat in the center of the first floor.
It was just after mealtime, so seats were scarce.
"What'll it be, sir?"
A friendly-looking server asked me.
The servers here seemed older and more composed.
"No storyteller today?"
The server, who looked about thirty, replied politely.
"Oh, no, sir. We have two regulars. One came at lunch, and the other will arrive soon."
"Then bring the premium dishes. Can't listen to a storyteller on light fare."
"Thank you, sir."
Ordering expensive dishes was the unwritten rule for storyteller sessions.
As the server brought my order,
a boisterous group burst into the inn.
"Dengwang Pavilion was meh. Hyped as one of Jiangnan's three great towers, but whatever."
"Hey, famous sites are like that. Big name, no substance."
"Red Cliff in Hubei, site of the Battle of Red Cliffs, was a total letdown too."
"Still, we saw the famous Dengwang Pavilion. Good enough."
Two men and two women, all wearing swords but dressed in plain traveler's robes, hiding their sects.
'Being Hyuncheon Sect turf, they dressed carefully.'
Sects had distinctive uniforms, but Orthodox martial artists risked trouble wearing them openly.
Most sightseeing warriors from afar probably did the same.
No point starting fights on vacation.
They skipped the first and second floors, heading to a window table on a higher one.
From then on, they lowered their voices, barely audible.
I ignored them.
Another group entered: three men.
One was a middle-aged elder nearing fifty, another a young boy carrying a drum for rhythm.
'Those must be the storytellers.'
The last was a middle-aged swordsman; their similar looks suggested family.
The elder climbed a small stage in the corner.
"I am the storyteller Pung Cheongja."
Pung Cheongja (Wind Listener) was a fairly famous storyteller in Jiangxi.
"Today, I've got a ton of fun tales. Where to start?"
Pung Cheongja opened with jokes.
Escort agency mishaps, bandits raiding a battlefield subdued by a passing hero.
Minor incidents from Jiangxi sects.
He warmed up the crowd for about half a shichen.
"Pung Cheongja, enough chit-chat. Give us some murim stories."
A man tossed silver into his bowl.
The crowd followed suit, throwing money.
I had my server add silver to the bowl too.
With the bowl filling up, Pung Cheongja wet his throat and spoke.
"Let's start with recent happenings right here in Namchang. A new star has risen in Jiangxi."
As his grandson struck the drum, he continued.
"A scholar invited by the Unorthodox Supreme Lord. His knowledge surpasses the Ten Perfected Scholars, and his martial arts rival Demonic Cult division leaders."
"Where's a scholar like that in this world?"
"His name is Cheon Taesan, formerly of the Murim Alliance's scholars. There, he reformed the infamous scoundrel Pang Soun. Then at the Nangong Family, he tamed their headache, Nangong Mubaek. Now, he's educating Hyuncheon Sect's Little Gate Lord Mak Jimong. Truly a specialist in reforming delinquents."
Boom! Clack!
As the grandson kept rhythm, Pung Cheongja scanned the crowd.
"In the Alliance, he exposed elders' and seniors' corruption, earning the title Ghostly Scholar. In Hefei, battling Demonic Cult and Blood Cult thugs, he gained the moniker Heavenly Dragon Scholar for mastering the Nangong Family's Vault of Heaven Unfettered Sword Technique to manifest a heavenly dragon."
Boom! Clack!
"In Hefei, he took the stage at the Lord's sixtieth birthday duel, earning Scholar Sword Immortal. Some say if he reforms Mak Jimong into a proper man, Hyuncheon Sect will prosper; otherwise, it'll decline."
"The Unorthodox path's future rests on Scholar Cheon."
"Indeed. And Scholar Cheon received a gift of one hundred thousand pyeong of land from the Lord, where he's settling landless farmers, dividing fields. People flock to him. High in martial prowess and learning, cherishing the common folk—many follow him. If you're jobless or homeless, ask Scholar Cheon. Won't he give you a spot on that hundred thousand pyeong?"
A chill ran down my spine at how thoroughly Pung Cheongja spilled my details.
Storytellers were mostly from the Hao Clan network—it made sense.
Then someone spoke up.
"Is that for real?"