The Child Fated to Die
Jerky?
Woon-hyeon’s gaze drifted toward the small wicker basket in the child’s hands. Resting inside were two more strips of dried meat, each about the size of her palm.
Just then, a faint sound reached his ears.
Tsk.
Woon-hyeon’s eyes rounded in surprise as he looked at her.
Tsk? Did she... just click her tongue at me?
Before he could even begin to ponder why, the child marched briskly into the room. Reaching into her basket, she fished out a strip of jerky and thrust it toward him with an utterly reluctant scowl.
Woon-hyeon looked back and forth between the child and the jerky, completely bewildered.
Seeing his hesitation, she shoved it even closer to his face.
"Here. You can have it."
"...N-No, I am fine."
Chewing tough jerky the moment he woke from the brink of death was out of the question; merely speaking strained his throat to the point of agony.
"More importantly... some water, please..."
At once, the child's face brightened. She spun on her heels and pitter-pattered across the room, returning a moment later with a wooden bowl filled with water.
"Thank... you..."
Woon-hyeon took small, careful sips while observing her. Humming a quiet tune to herself, the child carefully tucked the jerky back into her basket.
Just who is this child?
Come to think of it...
I never even sensed her approach.
Woon-hyeon stared down at his trembling hands. He tried to extend his senses to check if anyone else was nearby, but as expected, he could not detect a single presence.
My meridians are an absolute wreck.
It was only natural. His body had been battered to the brink of collapse by deadly poison and brutal combat. Not only were his energy pathways in disarray, but not a single inch of his flesh remained uninjured. In truth, surviving at all was nothing short of miraculous.
Woon-hyeon turned his gaze back to the child, who was still rummaging through her basket.
"Did you... happen to be the one who saved me?"
The child raised her head and met his gaze.
Faced with her blank, unblinking stare, Woon-hyeon asked again.
"I asked if it was you who saved my life."
Yet the child simply continued to stare at him, clearly failing to comprehend a single word.
Woon-hyeon let out a soft sigh.
Of course. How could a tiny child have saved me?
He had been struck down by the venom of the Tang Clan, renowned throughout the Central Plains as peerless masters of poison. There was no way a mere child could have neutralized such lethal toxins.
Then just who could have...
As his thoughts drifted, a round rice ball suddenly appeared before his eyes.
Woon-hyeon stared in surprise at the child offering it to him.
"Is this... for me?"
The child nodded.
"Eat."
Right on cue, Woon-hyeon’s stomach let out a resounding rumble. His throat still ached, but the water had eased the dryness, and the gnawing hunger was undeniable. He accepted the rice ball from her hands.
Its lumpy, irregular shape suggested that the child had made it herself. She watched him intently, her eyes urging him to take a bite.
Under her expectant gaze, Woon-hyeon took a bite.
"It is delicious."
The corners of the child’s lips curled up in profound satisfaction. She plopped down onto the floor across from him, pulled out another rice ball from her basket, and began to munch on it with tiny bites. Watching her eat, with stray grains of rice sticking to her little fingers, was surprisingly endearing.
A strange sense of peace washed over him as they sat together in silence, eating their meal. Little by little, he savored each mouthful of savory rice until the ball was completely gone.
Woon-hyeon licked his lips and cast a subtle glance toward the basket beside her.
"Do you... happen to have any more?"
The child’s head snapped toward him with a sharp glare. Her eyes were fiercely protective.
It was embarrassing to beg a child for food, but being alive meant being hungry, and there was little he could do about it.
"I still feel rather hungry..."
The child rose to her feet. Rummaging through her basket once more, she marched toward him with purposeful strides.
"Thank you, child. I shall never forget this kind—mph!"
Before he could finish his expression of gratitude, something was shoved forcefully into his mouth. It was a leafy clump of green herbs, reeking of fresh soil.
"Mmph, mmgh!"
Woon-hyeon tried desperately to spit the unknown wild grass out, but his battered body lacked the strength to pry away the tiny hand clamping down on his mouth.
Confound it! I lowered my guard just because she is a child!
Regret came too late. His exhausted body gave way under her surprisingly firm grip, and he collapsed onto his back.
"Mmph! Mmmph!"
At least... at least dust the dirt off before feeding it to me...!
To make matters worse, the child proceeded to pour water straight into his mouth, forcing him to swallow merely to keep from drowning.
Gulp!
"Cough! Hack! Guh-cough!"
Having choked down the dirt-caked clump of weed, Woon-hyeon wheezed for air, staring up at the child in utter disbelief.
"W-What in the world... did you just feed me...?"
He could not finish his sentence. Darkness rushed over his vision, and he lost consciousness on the spot.
Watching him slip into an even, peaceful slumber, the child smiled with satisfaction and wiped the water droplets from her face with the back of her hand.
How many hours, or perhaps how many days, had passed?
Woon-hyeon’s eyes snapped open once more.
You little rascal!
Bolting upright, he suddenly froze.
What is this?
Woon-hyeon clenched and unclenched his fists several times. His body, which had felt as heavy as waterlogged cotton, was undeniably lighter.
No, this is not just my imagination. Even my meridians are noticeably more stable than before.
Just as he was marveling at this inexplicable change, the door swung open, and the child appeared once again. She glanced at him sitting upright, then trotted into the room.
Woon-hyeon asked warily, "How long was I unconscious?"
Still rummaging through her basket, the child replied casually, "One day."
"One day? Only a single day?"
My body recovered this much in just one day?
"W-What was that you fed me yesterday?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know...?"
She fed me weeds without even knowing what they were?
"I just pulled it out of the ground because I thought it'd be good for an old grandpa."
"What kind of nonsense is that...?"
To feed someone an unidentified herb simply because it looked healthy—what kind of blind luck was this?
"Are you hungry?" the child asked, slipping her hand back into the basket.
Instantly reminded of yesterday's ordeal, Woon-hyeon flinched and recoiled instinctively. He cleared his throat with a dry cough and spoke with utmost caution.
"I am... a bit hungry."
"Here. Eat this."
To his immense relief, what she held out was another rice ball just like yesterday's. Woon-hyeon eyed her cautiously before taking it and eating.
Just as before, the child sat across from him, happily munching on her own portion, before casually strolling out of the room.
From that day on, Woon-hyeon’s condition improved at an astonishing pace. Although he still could not circulate his internal energy due to his unstable meridians, his external injuries healed steadily day by day.
Every single day, the child visited him to provide rice balls and water, occasionally bringing mysterious wild herbs and shoving them in his direction. At first, he tried to refuse the unidentified flora, but he was given no choice. The child would glare at him unblinkingly until he swallowed it, and if he hesitated, she would force it down his throat.
After two such incidents, Woon-hyeon finally realized the truth: his unnaturally rapid recovery was entirely thanks to the medicinal herbs she brought him.
From then on, he obediently accepted everything she handed him.
And so, half a month passed.
Woon-hyeon often came out to sit on the wooden veranda and bask in the sunlight. His internal injuries remained severe enough to prevent the circulation of internal energy, but outwardly, he looked completely uninjured and well-composed.
During his half-month stay, Woon-hyeon had deduced several facts.
First: The child lived completely alone.
This was the child's home. Her room was right next to his, meaning they were sharing a modest two-room cottage. Throughout the past half-month, he had kept careful watch for any approaching presence, but the only footsteps belonged to the child. There was no sign of parents, siblings, or kin.
Second: However, someone was looking after her.
The child did not cook. That was only natural given her young age, but the question remained: where did the daily rice and snacks come from? After observing closely, he discovered that an individual delivered food once every day. That person never set foot inside the cottage; they merely left a day's worth of provisions in the courtyard and departed immediately. For the past half-month, that delivery person had been the sole visitor to this secluded dwelling.
And finally, third.
"..."
Woon-hyeon reached into his robes and pulled out a book he had kept hidden.
Black Sky Art
This was a demonic cultivation manual—a mental method designed not to cultivate ordinary internal energy, but to amass demonic qi.
Finding such a book in this room could only mean one thing.
She is a child of the Demonic Cult.
And that meant... he was currently within the territory of the Demonic Cult, the Hundred Thousand Mountains.
Did she save me because she doesn't know who I am?
Or did someone have an ulterior motive?
Ever since realizing that this place belonged to the Demonic Cult and that the child was one of their own, Woon-hyeon had not let his guard down for a single moment.
What kind of place is the Demonic Cult?
A den of monsters obsessed with blood and carnage. An unprincipled horde that would slaughter their own kin without hesitation in the pursuit of absolute power and supremacy. Beasts in human guise who brought death in their wake, governed solely by the law of the jungle.
Therefore...
It would not be surprising in the least if she revealed her true colors at any moment.
Crunch. Crunch.
Woon-hyeon watched in silence as the child stepped into the courtyard. His eyes locked onto the axe held firmly in her small hand.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
The child walked straight toward him. With every step she took, the gleaming blade of the axe swayed up and down.
"Grandpa."
The child stopped before Woon-hyeon.
It has finally come.
Meeting the child’s gaze, which burned with an eerie determination, Woon-hyeon pushed all of his senses to their absolute limit. If a battle were to break out here, he resolved to subdue her with as little harm to the child as possible—
"Just how long do you expect me to feed you and let you sleep here for free?"