The Hundred Herb Garden
It was the afternoon of the second day at the Jegal Estate.
Within a tranquility he had not known for a long while, Namgung Cheon had just finished a two-hour cycle of internal cultivation in the guest quarters when a voice drifted in from beyond the door.
"Uncle."
"Enter."
The door slid open, and Jegal Seoyeon spoke with an oddly cautious expression on her face.
"I'm sorry to disturb your rest. It's just… Grandmother is asking for you. She's in the Hundred Herb Garden—I'll show you the way."
A subtle tension was unmistakable in the way her words trailed off. He couldn't tell what lay behind it, but Namgung Cheon saw no need to ask. He simply rose from his seat.
The winding footpath to the Hundred Herb Garden stretched before them. Following behind Jegal Seoyeon as she walked silently ahead, Namgung Cheon sank into thought.
His maternal grandfather, whom he had met only yesterday—the Heavenly Mechanism Wondrous Calculation, Jegal Myeong. In his previous life, during the Great War of Justice and Demons, the man had been the Demonic Cult's single greatest thorn.
A ruthlessly calculating strategist who had driven thousands of demonic warriors into inescapable traps. The formations he unfurled had been the most towering wall to block the Cult's advance, time and time again.
And yet, when I faced him yesterday, he was someone else entirely.
Nothing more than an ordinary grandfather, testing his grandson while betraying a quiet undercurrent of expectation. That strange gulf between the two men had left an unfamiliar taste in his mouth.
Then what manner of person was his maternal grandmother?
Namgung Cheon summoned a single, brutal memory from the Great War of Justice and Demons.
The Red Ridge Blood Incident. The day a violet poison mist had swallowed thousands of demonic cultivators whole in Red Ridge Gorge—and the woman who had unleashed that slaughter.
The Thousand Poison Blood Empress, Tang So-hye.
And such a woman is my grandmother.
Namgung Cheon swallowed a hollow laugh. It was, truly, an irony too bitter for words.
While he was lost in these thoughts, Jegal Seoyeon came to a halt at the path's end.
"I'll wait for you here. She probably won't talk very much."
Namgung Cheon gave a silent nod and continued on alone toward the pavilion.
As he climbed the creaking wooden steps, an old woman inside looked up from the herbs she was sorting. Her white hair was pinned neatly into a tight bun; she was a plain, kindly-faced elderly lady of no particular note.
The moment she saw Namgung Cheon, her face broke into a radiant smile and she beckoned him over.
"Oh my, my grandson has come! You've had a long way to travel—well done, well done."
The instant that ordinary, warm voice touched his ears, a sense of wrongness stirred within Namgung Cheon.
The gentle grandmother before his eyes—and the cruel Poison Empress of his memories. Faced with that overwhelming gulf between the two, Namgung Cheon found himself, for a moment, at a loss for words.
Tang So-hye paid no mind to her grandson's subtle stiffness. She came closer and took his hand firmly in hers.
"When did you grow so tall? You've got your father's sturdy frame, every bit of it. But those stubborn eyes—those are my daughter's, without a doubt."
The warm, wrinkled warmth of her palm traveled into his. Namgung Cheon stiffened awkwardly, unaccustomed to such affectionate warmth—an embrace he had never once felt in either of his lives.
Perhaps noticing his rigidity, she gently released his hand and led him to the tea table.
"Now then, let's start with a cup of tea."
Tang So-hye poured chrysanthemum tea she had brewed with her own hands and held the cup out to him. The tea was perfectly clear, its fragrance delicate and light.
Namgung Cheon gazed at it quietly for a moment, then took a slow sip. The warmth spreading through his whole body loosened his tension bit by bit.
When he had drunk, Tang So-hye broke into a bright smile and spoke in a low, gentle voice.
"I've heard plenty about you from Hwa. You must have been through a great deal. Are you all right?"
Across both his previous life and this one, had anyone ever asked him such a question?
No. I don't believe anyone ever has.
If his past life had been an unbroken succession of battles, this one had been an unbroken succession of trials to prove himself—and Namgung Mugang and Jegal Hwa had hardly shown him any particular favor, preferring instead to test and verify him from every angle.
That was why Tang So-hye's soft tone and simple question stirred something strangely tender in his chest.
"……Yes. I'm all right."
Even at his answer, Tang So-hye did not seem reassured. She studied his complexion with worried eyes—then soon chuckled softly and opened her mouth again.
"Your mother was never satisfied unless she did everything her own way. I suppose you take after her in that, too."
She seemed to drift into memory for a moment, thinking of something, then pointed to a corner of the garden.
"Look over there. When your mother was young, she turned that flower bed into an absolute ruin, time and time again. That red flower over there—I told her a hundred times never to lay a finger on it, but she insisted it was too pretty, tried to snap it off anyway, and nearly paid for it dearly."
Where she pointed bloomed a beautiful flower of an unusually deep, vivid crimson.
Namgung Cheon gazed at it for a moment, then heard himself speak.
"A Blood Heart Flower, isn't it."
At that offhand remark, Tang So-hye's teacup—raised halfway to her lips—froze in midair.
She turned her head slowly to look at him. The calm in her eyes had given way to unmistakable astonishment.
"How do you know that? Most people don't even know its name."
Namgung Cheon answered with perfect composure.
"I remember reading about it in the clan's medical texts. They say the name comes from its venom, which burrows directly into the heart and stops the blood."
Of course, that was a lie.
Thousands upon thousands of my demonic cultivators died to that flower's poison.
It was not something he could have forgotten even if he had tried.
Tang So-hye stared at him intently for a long moment. Namgung Cheon met her gaze without so much as a flicker.
A silence settled between them. And then, at last, a fond smile spread across Tang So-hye's lips.
"Hoho, you truly are my grandson. Your mother's mind, your father's nerve—and my own sharp eye, all rolled into one."
She patted him lightly on the shoulder and clicked her tongue.
"I'm sure your grandfather must have put you through some test or other when he met you. That old man can never rest until he's seen straight into a person's heart—yes, even his own grandson's. But I can't stand such things one bit."
Having tossed off that light jab at her husband, Tang So-hye continued.
"A person's heart—whoever claimed you can see all of it just by peering inside? And when it comes to one's own grandson, watching quietly from beside him and trusting him without end is more than enough, surely."
Tang So-hye gazed at Namgung Cheon with evident satisfaction, then seemed to reach a decision. She untied a small bead threaded on red cord from her sash and pressed it into his hand.
"This is my gift to you."
The bead that settled into his palm was cold as jade, yet a faint warmth seemed to radiate from somewhere deep within it. Namgung Cheon's eyes wavered as he looked upon it.
Tang So-hye spoke.
"It is the Poison Avoiding Bead."
The Poison Avoiding Bead—a treasure in which the accumulated secrets of the Tang Clan resided. A vessel among vessels: so long as one merely held it in the mouth, it could neutralize nearly any poison known to exist. There were rumors that even within the Tang Clan itself, only a handful existed.
"The jianghu is a pit of serpents that hands you poison with a smile. What you must guard against is not blades but people. This will shield you from the filthy schemes you may well face in the days to come. When you need it, all you must do is hold it in your mouth."
It was not payment, nor a reward—it was pure, unreserved goodwill. And of all things, in the form of a treasure as rare as the Poison Avoiding Bead.
Namgung Cheon looked down quietly at the bead resting in his hand. The gentle warmth radiating from it became an unfamiliar emotion, one he had never known in either life, and spread slowly through his chest.
"……I accept it with gratitude."
He bowed his head deeply, and with complete sincerity.
A satisfied smile played at the corners of Tang So-hye's mouth. She watched him for a long while with tender eyes.
"There now—though looking at you, it keeps reminding me of when I was raising my Hwa."
From that point on, Tang So-hye poured out old stories for a long time, and Namgung Cheon listened, silently tipping his teacup. How clumsy his daughter had been the first time she took up a sword. How she had opposed her betrothal to Namgung Mugang, and turned the entire household upside down over it.
In Tang So-hye's memories, Jegal Hwa was neither the lady of the Namgung Clan nor the famed martial matriarch known as the Mother of Martial Splendor. She was only her awkward, stubborn daughter.
A smile never once left Tang So-hye's lips as she spoke. But at the same time, Namgung Cheon read the emotion steeped in her gaze.
Longing.
A daughter given away in marriage was called an outsider leaving the house—the saying went, and it meant precisely that a married daughter was rarely seen again. In place of that absent daughter, he had come. And so, upon her grandson's face, she was straining to catch glimpses of the child she had lost to marriage.
So this is the heart of a mother who has sent her child away.
An emotion he had witnessed in neither his past life nor this one. Unfamiliar, yes—but a warmth that was by no means unwelcome.
Right up until the moment he left the pavilion, Tang So-hye never let go of his hand.
And that warmth—it was far warmer than the heat the Poison Avoiding Bead held within itself.
By the time Namgung Cheon emerged from the quiet pavilion, the sun was already hanging from the western ridgeline, washing the whole world in soft amber.
When he returned to the guest quarters, Mujin, Jegal Seoyeon, and Baek Heon—who had been standing there like a wooden statue—all greeted him at once.
Jegal Seoyeon searched his face first of all, then let out a sigh of relief.
"You weren't gone very long. More importantly… are you all right?"
"I'm fine. We simply shared tea and conversation."
His answer was as indifferent as ever, but his expression had grown noticeably softer. Sensing that subtle change, Jegal Seoyeon asked nothing more and gave a quiet nod.
At that, Mujin crossed his arms and spoke up.
"Lady Jegal, you only went to pay respects to the man's grandmother—why all this fretting? From where I stand, she seems a thoroughly kindly soul."
Jegal Seoyeon's expression stiffened slightly at his question. Then she let out a quiet sigh.
"She is kindly. It's just…"
"Just what?"
She hesitated for a moment—then, as though resigning herself to it, went on.
"She sees through every lie and every little scheme, no matter how clever. So when you're sitting across from her, it gets a bit… hard to breathe."
It was a candid confession unlike anything one would expect from the prodigy known as the Dark Phoenix. At the sight of it, Mujin burst into booming laughter—and even Namgung Cheon found a faint smile touching his lips.
Once that laughter had thoroughly dissolved the heavy air, Mujin—waiting for exactly this moment—stretched and spoke up.
"Well then, we leave tomorrow. Doesn't it seem a shame, going straight back to Anhui like this?"
He clapped a hand on Baek Heon's shoulder, who stood beside him like a stone Buddha.
"Don't you agree? You slave away escorting our young master everywhere—now that we're finally out and about, we ought to at least have a drink somewhere with a view."
Baek Heon flustered at the sudden question, at a complete loss, while Mujin laughed heartily and turned back to Namgung Cheon.
"Since we're out this far already, what do you say to a trip to Dongting Lake? It's only two days by boat from Wuhan."
At Mujin's words, Jegal Seoyeon chuckled and chimed in.
"Not a bad idea. It's not far—and the sunset over Dongting Lake as seen from Yueyang Tower is called the finest sight under heaven."
Everyone's gaze turned naturally toward Namgung Cheon. Receiving their expectant eyes, he fell briefly into thought.
Dongting Lake, is it…
Judged purely on efficiency and profit, an excursion like this was a waste of time. But Dongting Lake was a vast body of water straddling the border between Hubei and Hunan. And Hunan meant—
That is where the White Lotus Sword Sect stands.
Those who kept the orthodox banner flying in that barren land where the unorthodox factions held sway. He had forged a connection between them and the Hwacheol Sect, but a relationship only newly sprouted had to be watered in person if its roots were ever to take firm hold.
A chance to establish a foothold in Hunan, beyond Anhui. This was no waste of time at all.
Namgung Cheon made his decision.
"Very well."
At his terse approval, Mujin cheered and pounded Baek Heon on the shoulder. Baek Heon scrambled in flustered confusion at the sudden commotion, while Jegal Seoyeon watched the scene with a faint smile.
Namgung Cheon observed the noisy tableau in silence for a moment, then turned his gaze away and looked up at a night sky that had, without his noticing, gone completely dark.
Countless stars lay scattered across the heavens, and among them the moon shone brilliant. It was precisely because so many small lights gathered together that the moonlight stood out all the more radiantly.
As he gazed upon that scene, two faces passed through Namgung Cheon's mind.
Jegal Myeong. And Tang So-hye.
In his previous life, they had been nothing more than enemies to be eliminated.
And yet—
Family.
A maternal grandfather who had shown him expectation, and a maternal grandmother who had offered him warmth for no reason other than that he was her grandson. Like the stars of the night sky, they lent their presence beside him each in their own way, making him shine all the brighter for it.
This was a bond, an emotion, he had never once experienced in his days as the Heavenly Demon.
……It's not bad at all.
A lonely life strewn with endless strife—that had been the essence of the Demonic Path, and the road he had walked.
But things were different now. He had mastered orthodox martial arts rather than demonic ones. And instead of shouldering everything alone, those bound to him as family and comrades now walked beside him.
Perhaps…
A premonition stirred within him—that this new road might lead him to a summit different from the one of his previous life.
And within that unfamiliar, unaccustomed flicker of hope—
"What are you thinking about so hard?"
To Mujin's question as he came near, Namgung Cheon answered quietly.
"That it seems it won't be so bad."
A faint smile, resembling the moonlight itself, spread across his lips.
Namgung Cheonma
Author | Baek Rihang
Publisher | Samyang C&C Co., Ltd.
Managing Editor | Editorial Department
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