25. How About Learning Some Martial Arts?
"You bastard! You're the one who seduced my daughter!"
Hwangbo Daeryeok. His eyes blazed red like a starving beast robbed of its prey, piercing straight through me.
Teacher? No way!
I wanted to scream my innocence, but my trembling lips wouldn't even let out a proper cry. My legs buckled, and I nearly collapsed right there.
It was at that life-or-death moment.
"Father!"
Hwangbo Suyeon, standing beside me, called out to Hwangbo Daeryeok in a voice sharp and laced with irritation. Those three short words.
In that instant, an unbelievable miracle unfolded before my eyes. The world's top master, a mountain of a man, flinched like a rain-soaked puppy, his shoulders stiffening.
"Ah, no... Suyeon. I was just..."
Was this the same macho uncle who'd dominated a blood-soaked battlefield with overdose-level charisma moments ago? Eyeing his daughter with a glare, and now he was fidgeting, glancing nervously.
The supreme powerhouse of the world, a iron-blooded patriarch who seemed devoid of mercy or tears. Yet before his daughter, he shrank endlessly—the ultimate doting dad.
Ugh... yes, this is it. That perfect dual charm, tough exterior with a soft heart! The textbook multidimensional character that drives readers wild!
Even as I shook like a leaf, my web novel writer's instincts kicked in, and I couldn't help but admire his flawless cliché appeal deep down.
Hwangbo Suyeon shot her father another icy glare before hurrying to my side, positioning herself like a bodyguard.
With the suffocating clash of patriarchs and the intrusion resolved, the blood-drenched back garden of Moyong Sega gradually regained its cold reason.
The situation wrapped up more cleanly and swiftly than expected.
And Seol Muyeong, the vengeful ice spirit of the snow arts who'd honed her blade for revenge. She hadn't plunged her sword into Moyong Cheol's heart herself—her sworn enemy's leader.
But witnessing his pathetic end, and the core Moyong Sega executives who'd abetted his evils getting brutally crushed by Hwangbo Sega's fierce tiger corps... that alone seemed to snap some of the chains of her deep grudge.
"I'll spare those who had no part in it."
She sheathed her eternally frozen blade, Seola, and declared coldly.
"I have no desire to stain my hands with the blood of ordinary retainers and innocent servants unaware of the patriarch's crimes."
Moyong Sega's main branch now fell fully under Hwangbo Sega's control. Hwangbo Daeryeok stayed behind to manage the scene until Mu-rim-meng's official investigators arrived, shouldering the heavy political burden as one of the Five Great Families' patriarchs.
"Suyeon, you head back to Nakyang first."
"Yes, Father."
Prioritizing his daughter's safety, Hwangbo Daeryeok arranged a top-tier guarded carriage for us to return to Nakyang ahead. Me included.
But an utterly unexpected intruder boldly crashed our perfect homecoming.
"Author-nim, please take me in."
Seol Muyeong. With Seola strapped to her back, she stuck to me like my shadow.
"Uh... Muyeong? Your revenge is over now. Isn't it time we each went our separate ways?"
I tried to dissuade her gently, as kindly as possible.
But this ice queen's response shattered my shallow hopes.
"That night on the pitch-black Manjangae cliff, when I leaped off, I already swore two oaths to the heavens."
Her eyes ignited with terrifying zeal.
"The first was, of course, avenging my family's injustice."
She stepped closer and dropped to her knees.
"The second: to devote my remaining life in loyalty to my savior, the great 'Yulgong' author who granted me this miraculous fortune!"
Aah, throb. Another massive headache struck my skull like lightning.
Why were all these rigid murim folks so relentlessly clingy?
"No, I don't need any grand loyalty like th—"
"If you cast me out!"
Ching! Without a hint of hesitation, she drew Seola from her back.
And pressed that chilling, lethal ice blade right against her slender neck!
"Better to end my life here and now than live like a beast ungrateful for kindness!"
A drop of red blood beaded on her neck and froze solid. She meant it. This crazy woman was dead serious about suicide on the spot.
"Aaaah! Fine! Fine, just put the sword away!"
I flailed my arms in panic and surrendered unconditionally.
In the end, battered by mental exhaustion worse than torture aftereffects, I boarded the carriage with Seol Muyeong in tow.
Clunk, clunk.
The carriage Hwangbo Daeryeok specially arranged was enormous even from outside, its interior far more luxurious and comfortable than a top inn room. Plush carpets muffled the jolts from the rugged mountain roads of Yodong.
But there was already a passenger.
"Hohoho, you young folks have such vigor."
A white-haired elder with a long beard, clad in worn but dignified robes. His wrinkled face beamed with kindly warmth, his eyes crinkling like an enlightened immortal.
"Ah, elder. Did you perhaps board the wrong carriage...?"
His presence felt so out of place that I asked cautiously. This was definitely the exclusive ride Hwangbo Daeryeok arranged just for our group.
"Hohoho, no misunderstanding. I had business nearby and was heading back to Nakyang anyway."
The elder stroked his long beard, explaining in a most amiable tone.
"Ran into Hwangbo the patriarch by chance, and that friend kindly offered me a ride since we were going the same way. Take care of me on the journey."
Calling the Five Great Families' patriarch "that friend" so casually. I instantly sensed this old man's identity was no trifle.
"Ah, I see. The pleasure's mine."
I bowed quickly, minding my manners. In murim, judging by appearances alone could get you killed.
"I'm Yeon Woon-ryong. I teach literature to the students at Cheongryong Mugwan in Nakyang."
The elder raised an eyebrow, intrigued by my introduction.
"Ah, a literature teacher. A noble profession indeed."
He chuckled softly and patted his chest lightly.
"I'm Jo Myeong-hwan. Just an old wanderer drifting like the wind through murim's dangers, tending to the sick here and there."
"A physician...? Wait, your name—pardon, honored name again?"
My voice cracked in surprise.
"Jo Myeong-hwan. Hohoho."
The elder still smiled gently, but a faint tremor of anticipation flickered in his eyes.
"A physician... Jo Myeong-hwan..."
A thunderbolt name flashed through my mind.
"No way...?"
My pupils shook violently.
"Hohoho, as expected. You recognize this worthless old man's name."
He shook his head modestly, feigning detachment from worldly fame like a transcendent sage.
"Indeed. I am one of the Ten Great Masters the gossips chatter about..."
He paused dramatically for effect.
"...one of the Four Sages: the Physician Sage, Jo Myeong-hwan. Ah. Ha. Ha. Ha."
That contrived, awkward laugh bursting from his lips. Memories flooded back of my mad research phase, inputting this real murim world's settings and characters for my wuxia novels.
The countless rumors from inn gossips and back-alley informants about "Physician Sage Jo Myeong-hwan."
Powerful. Righteous. Competent. Master of the world's top healing arts, with martial prowess ranking among the Ten Great Masters—an overwhelming immortal realm.
But behind that perfect spec lurked his fatal personality flaw. Outwardly, a hermit shunning the secular world, avoiding the spotlight. Inwardly, an attention-craving geezer dying for recognition and praise.
Not showy, but desperately hoping someone would spot him and applaud. A quintessential, deeply ingrained attention whore.
That was Physician Sage Jo Myeong-hwan before me. Seeing my shocked reaction, he cleared his throat humbly, but his lips twitched uncontrollably, cheeks flushing with joy.
This... a golden connection just rolled in?
The world's top physician and absolute master. Plus an old man weak to flattery. To survive this brutal murim threatening my life, I instinctively resolved to grab this rope with both hands.
"Heavens! To think I'd meet the legendary Physician Sage in my lifetime!"
I sprang up and prostrated flat on the carriage floor, offering the most elaborate, exaggerated bow despite the tight space.
"This ignorant fool from Henan humbly greets the great hero Jo Myeong-hwan, savior of lives across the land!"
At my extreme flattery and praise, Jo Myeong-hwan's face bloomed like cherry blossoms. His nostrils flared, lips splitting ear-to-ear in delight.
"Ahem! What fuss over a mere old doctor!"
He waved it off lightly, but his hand barely touched me, his expression radiating utter bliss.
"Rise, Teacher Yeon. Such fine manners and keen eye in one so young. Kehkehkeh!"
He laughed heartily, gently helping me up by the shoulder.
But the moment his hand brushed my wrist, his kindly eyes twisted oddly, sharpening into a physician's piercing gaze.
"Hmm...?"
A low, heavy groan escaped Jo Myeong-hwan's lips. He released his pull, instead clamping my wrist pulse firmly and heavily.
"Your condition... it's far from ordinary."
All trace of levity vanished from his voice.
"Here, lie back comfortably for a moment."
The title Physician Sage wasn't won in a card game. From my subtle pallor, ragged breath, and the horrific pulse waves, he'd instantly seen my body was wrecked.
Following his instructions, I leaned back against the carriage seat and lay down carefully. He closed his eyes, placing index and middle fingers gently on my wrist's pulse point.
Only the rhythmic clunk of wheels filled the heavy silence.
Does pulse diagnosis really take this long?
I stared at his face, barely breathing, sweat pouring, as time dragged endlessly.
Deep, dark furrows creased his forehead. He probed for ages, twitching fingers to shift positions minutely, like navigating a vast maze hidden in my body.
Sweat beaded on his brow too, as if he'd found something defying medical common sense.
His expression shifted: bafflement to shock, then grave solemnity.
How much longer did that suffocating silence last? Finally, Jo Myeong-hwan exhaled a heavy sigh, slowly releasing my wrist.
"Haa..."
My heart plummeted at that weighty sound. Even modern doctors sighing like that meant terminal.
I swallowed hard, squeezing out a hoarse question.
"Ph-Physician Sage... is my body that bad?"
"Wh-why... are you...?"
Hwangbo Suyeon and Seol Muyeong flanked me, fists clenched, staring desperately at his lips.
But Jo Myeong-hwan didn't name a diagnosis. With his piercing gaze, he stared intently, then tossed an utterly unexpected curveball.
"You... said you're a literature teacher at Cheongryong Mugwan, right?"
"Yes, but... what does that have to do with my illness?"
Chills ran down my spine as I stammered back.
Jo Myeong-hwan stroked his beard slowly, eyes gleaming like he'd unearthed the world's most fascinating treasure.
And his next words were a bombshell that uprooted my shallow murim survival strategy.
"How about... learning some martial arts?"
What? No, Hwangbo Daeryeok too—why did these Ten Great Masters always hit me with the most unimaginable questions?