Chapter 230
Chapter 230
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 230
Chapter Title: Spring
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Dang Mujin wasn’t particularly flustered.
In truth, Nangong Myeong had been unusually quiet lately, so he’d wondered if the guy had finally come to his senses.
But Dang Mujin had known Nangong Myeong for several years now. He was well aware that Nangong Myeong wasn’t the type to straighten up like that.
He’d probably just been lying low because there weren’t many good targets left in Sichuan.
Still, on the off chance it was a joke, Dang Mujin probed casually.
“Got a sect in mind?”
A short, single question.
Sure enough, Nangong Myeong launched into his explanation with excitement.
“For starters, the Nangong family probably won’t attend, and even if my father shows up by some miracle, he won’t bring the household to the Nangong estate. There’s no way he’d travel that far while leaving the Xuanyuan Sword at home. Sneaking into a Nangong household without the Xuanyuan Sword would be pointless.”
“Uh… I see.”
“The next best option is Shaolin Temple, the hegemon of the martial world. Their martial arts are renowned for their variety and high quality. But realistically, Shaolin’s a tough nut to crack.”
“Yeah?”
“The average skill level there is sky-high, and with so many people around, it’s hard to slip past unnoticed. Even without the divine monks, there’ll still be those thousand-li monks. I don’t think I could handle one, and even if I escaped in time, the odds of getting caught are high.”
“Hmm.”
Dang Mujin nodded perfunctorily.
Stealing martial arts from Shaolin without a master’s permission meant severe punishment.
Yet Nangong Myeong didn’t seem to care about that at all.
Then again, what thief in the world climbs a wall expecting to get caught?
“In the end, the most feasible top target is the Zhongnan Sect. They have one of the longest histories, and their grounds are vast relative to their numbers, making it easy to hide. With some luck, I might even snag the treasure said to have been left by the Eight Sages. Plus, it’s not far from Wudang Mountain.”
Nangong Myeong rattled off his plan without pause.
It was clear he’d been plotting this for quite some time.
Dang Mujin grabbed Nangong Myeong’s shoulder with a serious expression.
“Nangong Myeong. I support your plan.”
Nangong Myeong looked a bit surprised.
Dang Mujin was a sensible guy who usually tried to talk him out of these things.
“What’s with the straightforward response?”
“But promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“If you get caught raiding the Zhongnan Sect, you go back to the Nangong family—not the Dang household. You become someone with no connection to the Dang family. Got it?”
Nangong Myeong smiled meaningfully.
*
A short time later, on a spring day when the snow hadn’t fully melted.
A visitor Dang Mujin wasn’t especially thrilled to see arrived at the Dang household: Hwayeon Nun.
Dang Mujin gave Hwayeon Nun a quick nod of greeting and tried to slip past.
She visited the Dang household often, and politely greeting her each time was a bit of a hassle.
Besides, regardless of her actual age, she looked like a girl in her mid-teens, which made formal bows feel awkward.
On top of that, Dang Mujin knew Hwayeon Nun was filling Mok Wana’s head with strange romantic advice.
No, if it were just romance advice, that’d be fine. She was influencing Mok Wana in other odd ways too—like developing a taste for romantic novels.
Nangong Myeong had secretly informed him that a corner of Mok Wana’s quarters hid a few such books.
Even more terrifying, some of those romantic novels were authored by Hwayeon Nun herself.
This wasn’t baseless suspicion. The intel originated from Hwayeon Nun’s right-hand woman, the Red-Faced Rakshasa Beggar.
Nangong Myeong had even infiltrated Mok Wana’s quarters to confirm that a couple of the books were penned under the alias “Haryeong.”
‘Why is someone who could rival the world’s greatest writing romantic novels instead of martial manuals?’
It’d be great if she slipped the Emei Sect leader, White Crane Elder Nun, a hint for her next breakthrough. But no, she showed zero interest in that.
Dang Mujin couldn’t understand Hwayeon Nun.
In any case, he tried to subtly avoid her as usual.
But today, Hwayeon Nun walked straight toward Dang Mujin. No escaping.
Dang Mujin replied with mild annoyance.
“What is it? Aren’t you here for Wana?”
“Well… it does involve Wana somewhat, but not for the reason you’re imagining.”
“Then what?”
“There’s trouble near Nokgun Mountain. I’d like you to check it out.”
“What kind?”
“Seems like a lot of people there have fallen ill lately.”
“They’re not quarantined like before, so just visit a local physician.”
Hwayeon Nun shook her head.
“They did, but there’s been no improvement. They thought it’d pass quickly, but it hasn’t.”
“The illness has been around for a while, then.”
“Started around the end of last autumn.”
Unconsciously, Dang Mujin stroked his chin. End of autumn.
Contagions spread fast in warm areas and slow in cold winters. Most die down over winter.
One possibility came to mind.
“Consumption?”
Hwayeon Nun shook her head, her white hair fluttering lightly.
“No mention of coughing. Doesn’t seem like consumption.”
A contagion that wasn’t consumption spreading through winter was odd.
A physician’s curiosity stirred in Dang Mujin’s chest. Good reason to go.
He’d planned to visit Nokgun Mountain anyway—to check on folks he’d met, gather poisons.
Unlike other distant places, it wasn’t far, so time wouldn’t be an issue.
“I have to head to Wudang Mountain in summer, so I can’t stay long. That okay?”
“Of course. It’s always better for a skilled physician to examine once than for quacks to poke around endlessly. If you can’t cure it, who can?”
Hwayeon Nun’s voice brimmed with trust.
Dang Mujin felt better hearing praise for his medicine than for his swordsmanship, poison arts, or metallurgy.
“By the way, you said it involves Wana. What did you mean?”
“I suspect it might relate to poisons. I hear her poison knowledge rivals yours.”
“Poisons, huh.”
Nokgun Mountain was full of them. Even insects and plants harmless elsewhere carried mild toxins.
Survivors there had some resistance, so mild poisons were brushed off easily.
Hard to imagine them suffering from poison, but a winter-long contagion felt off. It was plausible enough.
“…I see. I’ll go with her.”
Traveling with Mok Wana was good for Dang Mujin too.
He was teaching her martial arts lately, so it’d be efficient.
He had two main reasons for teaching Mok Wana.
First, her internal energy carried poison essence, plus her medical knowledge. Once she progressed, they could research poison arts together.
Second, she was hopelessly uncoordinated.
She’d learned basic internal methods in the Demonic Cult, but her poor coordination crippled her practical training.
Unlike Dan Seoryeong, who’d picked up lightness skills easily while following the masked one.
Normally, he wouldn’t bother teaching her, but her clumsiness was perfect now. He was seeking foundational martial arts for the Dang household.
He taught her various basic forms.
Any she could learn would be simple enough for the entire household later.
Finding one that paired with poison arts would make it ideal as their foundation.
Hwayeon Nun asked,
“When do you plan to leave?”
“No need to dawdle. As soon as we’re ready.”
“Got it.”
*
The very next day, Dang Mujin prepared to depart for Nokgun Mountain.
Originally, he’d planned to go with his friends and Mok Wana—five in total—but they all declined for their own reasons.
Hong Geolgae refused, citing the need to teach Wang Jincheong martial arts.
Nangong Myeong zipped off to the Emei Mountains, saying he’d scout the Emei Sect before infiltrating Zhongnan.
Hyeon-gong wasn’t busy, but Three-Eyed Buddha kept him.
Hyeon-gong gazed at Dang Mujin and Mok Wana with sad eyes.
Dang Mujin bid farewell to his father, Dang Jesun, then spoke with Dan Seoryeong last.
“It won’t take long.”
“Hmm… It won’t be dangerous, right?”
“Don’t worry. It’s not far, and I’ve been there a couple times.”
“Okay.”
Perhaps because Dang Mujin and Mok Wana ended up traveling alone unexpectedly, Dan Seoryeong’s expression was subtle.
Her gaze held complex emotions: a touch of regret and worry for Dang Mujin, mild displeasure toward Mok Wana, and faint encouragement.
Of course, Dang Mujin couldn’t read those nuances.
He spread his arms and hugged Dan Seoryeong tightly.
“I’ll be back.”
“Yeah. Don’t be late.”
As they set off, Mok Wana glanced back at Dan Seoryeong.
Unlike Dang Mujin, she somewhat understood the emotions in Dan Seoryeong’s gaze.
Dan Seoryeong and Mok Wana gave each other small nods.
*
With friends, they’d have raced using lightness skills freely, but Mok Wana’s were unreliable.
In the end, Dang Mujin and Mok Wana took a carriage to Nokgun Mountain.
Though both used horses, riding differed vastly from carriage speed—worlds apart.
Neither knew how to ride well, so the slower carriage it was.
It took them nearly three times longer than usual to arrive.
Mok Wana exclaimed at the village.
“Oh… This is the village?”
“Yeah.”
Dang Mujin, too, was inwardly impressed after so long.
The village had grown massively each visit.
But compared to its size, few people moved about now, no merchants, giving it a desolate feel. Likely due to their poor health.
A few villagers recognized Dang Mujin and approached.
Leading them was Pyo Chung. His complexion looked far better than the others. As a martial artist, he could shrug off most ailments.
“Young Master Dang, long time!”
“Long time no see.”
A mischievous glint entered Pyo Chung’s eyes.
“The young lady beside you is new… but I know who she is at a glance. The Dan young lady you mentioned last time, right? Congrats on the wedding?”
But Dang Mujin shook his head.
“No. This is Mok Wana.”
Mok Wana nodded shyly.
Pyo Chung—and the villagers—froze, sensing a gaffe.
“Uh…”
Pyo Chung hemmed and hawed, rolling his eyes, then clapped exaggeratedly.
“Ah, right! I got mixed up. You said it was Mok young lady, not Dan. My mistake, Mok young lady. Has it been three years since the wedding?”
“…No. I married Dan Seoryeong. We even have a daughter who’s starting to run around. It’s been about a year and a half.”
The mood grew awkward. Pyo Chung struggled to salvage it.
“Then, what’s your relation to this young lady?”
Dang Mujin pondered how to describe Mok Wana briefly. No simple term fit.
Then, Mok Wana muttered softly.
“Concubine…”
“Already a concubine after less than three years?”
A village woman’s face flashed with contempt toward Dang Mujin.
Dang Mujin waved it off.
“Hey, no. She’s just a close friend.”
The villagers’ expressions turned even more serious.