Chapter 275
Chapter 275
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 275
Chapter Title: Blood-Soaked
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Dang Mujin's group followed the path the old man had taught them, heading deeper into Gireun Mountain.
Jinhae trudged along at the very back, mulling over what Namgung Myeong had said before they entered the mountain.
'Shall we take the blood-soaked path?'
It felt vaguely familiar, yet no matter how much he pondered, he couldn't grasp its exact meaning.
In the end, Jinhae approached Namgung Myeong and asked.
"Namgung hero. What did you mean by that earlier?"
But Namgung Myeong didn't answer Jinhae's question. Instead, he turned the inquiry back on him.
"Jinhae. Do you think you're a martial artist of the jianghu?"
It wasn't a topic Jinhae had ever really considered. Not because it was too difficult or because his thoughts were shallow—it simply wasn't something that needed deliberate thought.
"Of course."
"Is that so? Then when did you become one? From birth?"
If it was about having the talent for being a martial artist of the jianghu, then yes, from birth.
But that didn't feel like the right answer. Talent alone wasn't enough; without training in martial arts, one couldn't truly be called a martial artist of the jianghu.
So Jinhae shifted his response slightly.
"No. I became one the day I set foot in the Qingcheng Sect."
"Why do you think that? Doesn't stepping into the Qingcheng Sect make you a Daoist rather than a martial artist of the jianghu?"
"A Daoist, but also a martial artist of the jianghu. Because that's when I began learning martial arts."
Jinhae thought his answer was perfectly logical. But Namgung Myeong saw it differently.
"Not everyone who learns martial arts becomes a martial artist of the jianghu. Martial arts are just one skill among many, like medicine or cooking. In a Daoist sect like Qingcheng, it's merely a means to cultivate immortality."
Jinhae nodded without arguing.
Such matters were matters of personal perspective, so there was nothing strange about Namgung Myeong thinking that way.
"Then, Namgung hero, when do you think I became a martial artist of the jianghu?"
"Let's reframe it. You're saying you don't even know when you became one?"
"Yes."
"If you yourself don't know, then you're not one yet."
A strange word game.
Namgung Myeong wasn't much older than Jinhae.
Jinhae felt that Namgung Myeong was being a bit arrogant in speaking to him this way.
This time, Jinhae countered.
"Then, do you consider yourself a martial artist of the jianghu, Namgung hero?"
"Definitely."
"Since when? From birth?"
"No chance. I began learning the sword twenty years ago, but only about five or six years ago did I truly become one."
Five or six years. Jinhae thought back to what might have happened around then.
A memory surfaced. It was around the time Namgung Myeong had broken through the wall to the peak realm. When he was about twenty-two or so.
'Does breaking through to the peak make one a martial artist of the jianghu?'
It struck Jinhae as childish gatekeeping, and he scoffed inwardly.
Until now, Jinhae had looked up to Dang Mujin and his group, including Namgung Myeong, with admiration.
But now he wondered if Namgung Myeong was a bit pathetic.
"Namgung hero. As you know, I broke through the peak wall not long ago myself."
Namgung Myeong waved his hand dismissively at the mention.
"The peak wall? That's not what I mean. Breaking through to peak just means you're a bit better at swinging a sword, a bit better at killing people. It has little to do with becoming a martial artist of the jianghu. Peak isn't some special or extraordinary realm anyway."
The moment Namgung Myeong said that, Hong Gyeon, walking ahead, turned and glared at him.
After mocking him for a full four years just for being the first to reach peak, how could he now claim it wasn't impressive?
Hong Gyeon still hadn't forgotten the humiliation from back then.
Namgung Myeong had strutted around back then as if reaching peak meant ascending to immortality.
Of course, Jinhae knew nothing of that backstory.
"Then when do you think a person becomes a martial artist of the jianghu, Namgung hero?"
"It's not something I can explain simply in words. But you'll understand someday."
As Namgung Myeong finished speaking, Hyeon-gong, leading the way, shouted.
"There's a village!"
Dang Mujin and Hong Gyeon let out sighs of relief.
Unlike what the old man at the foot of Gireun Mountain had said, finding a path inside was no easy task.
'You'll naturally find the way while foraging for water and food.' That essentially meant 'wander endlessly while searching for water and edible food.'
At any rate, they'd found a village, so they could relax a bit.
People wouldn't settle where there was no water or food. Solid proof they were on the right path.
Dang Mujin's group approached the village to check which way the unorthodox martial artists had gone.
The village was tiny. Just four houses. Almost embarrassing to call it a village.
"Anyone here?"
They called out as they poked around the village. But not a single soul in sight.
"All out working?"
When Hong Gyeon muttered that, Dang Mujin shook his head.
"Even if the men went out to work, the women should still be here."
In these remote mountains, there was plenty of outside work, but housework was no small task either. They had to make everything from scratch at home.
"Feels ominous."
The vague foreboding intuition crept in stronger.
Dang Mujin entered one house and looked around inside.
Someone had vanished mid-twisting vines for rope; arrowroot vines were scattered everywhere.
And a faint chill in the air. No sign anyone had stayed overnight.
The other houses were much the same. As if everyone had cleanly vanished from everyday life.
"No one's here."
"No food either."
Even Jinhae, with little worldly experience, could guess what had happened.
Gireun Mountain had food, but not in abundance.
No reason for passing unorthodox martial artists to spare the villagers' provisions out of kindness.
The question was whether those unorthodox fighters had killed the villagers.
If this were an ordinary village near Sichuan or Luoyang, the unorthodox wouldn't have harmed anyone.
The unwritten rule of not provoking the authorities only held if civilians weren't touched.
But Gireun Mountain was different.
So remote even tax collectors couldn't reach, let alone officials.
A whole small village could vanish without the government noticing, or knowing who did it.
Not every unorthodox martial artist was a blood-mad lunatic, but assuming none among dozens enjoyed killing was overly optimistic.
Just as Dang Mujin was about to leave the village, Namgung Myeong began searching it thoroughly.
"What are you doing?"
"Luck might turn up some leftover food."
Dang Mujin's group didn't have much provisions either. Enough for three days at best. After that, they'd have to forage on the mountain.
But Namgung Myeong's brief search didn't uncover food.
He found two young children hiding under a dusty floorboard.
Brother and sister, no older than five or six.
Even when Hyeon-gong reached under and pulled them out, they didn't resist much.
Not from exhaustion or hunger. They clutched dried fruit and nuts.
Kids that age grew fast, but these two were similarly sized. Probably twins.
Hyeon-gong hoisted them up and said.
"They aren't even crying. What's your names?"
The girl answered crisply.
"I'm Yarul Ran, and this is Yarul Hwan."
Dang Mujin's group thought of Yarul Dal-eum. But the chance these kids were related was slim. Yarul was a common surname up north.
"Where are your parents?"
"Don't know. They told us to stay quiet under the floor until they came back."
"How many days ago was that?"
"About three days?"
Hyeon-gong paused for a moment, then flashed a playful grin.
"Hmm. Three days under the floor? Impressive patience. You'll be great someday."
"We hear that a lot."
"Pretty cocky. I could last five days."
"You're an adult, mister."
Yarul Ran shot back sassily.
Thinking she'd won the exchange, a confident smile played on Yarul Ran's lips.
But she showed no sign of grasping what it meant that her parents had hidden her under the floor and not returned in four days.
The boy, Yarul Hwan, seemed oblivious too. At least that was a relief.
Jinhae stood a bit apart, watching how Dang Mujin's group handled things.
Not because he saw himself as an observer. When one latecomer joins a group of four, it naturally turns out that way.
Dang Mujin's group exchanged silent glances, then casually sat on the floor.
Hyeon-gong spoke to the kids.
"Ran, Hwan. We need a place to stay the night. Mind if we crash at your house?"
Jinhae glanced at the sun. Barely mid-afternoon or so. Too early to settle in.
Yarul Hwan seemed shy, just gauging the mood silently.
Yarul Ran spoke for him.
"You should ask Dad, not us."
"Your dad's not here, so I'm asking you. You're the lady of the house when he's gone, right?"
Yarul Ran thought for a bit, then nodded.
"Sleeping over's fine. But we can't give you food."
"Food? No worries there. We'll share ours with you."
As Hyeon-gong unpacked his bundle, the kids' eyes lit up.
Out came all sorts of treats: sweet dried persimmons, crisped dried noodles, steamed-and-dried rice cakes. Long-lasting mountain rarities.
"How's that? Enough?"
Hyeon-gong popped a persimmon in each mouth. Their faces lit up in bliss.
How often did mountain kids taste sweets? The overwhelming sweetness drowned out their parents' absence.
Starting with persimmons, Hyeon-gong fed them various snacks. But mostly dried, so soon they wanted water.
"Hmm, no water set out..."
He looked ready to fetch from a stream. This time Hong Gyeon offered his gourd.
"Try this instead of water?"
Assuming more treats, the kids sipped—then made odd faces.
"Tastes weird."
"It's grain liquor. Weird taste, but good smell, right?"
"Hmm."
They swallowed the shares Hong Gyeon gave. A fiery burn raced from throats to bellies.
Strange, intense flavor and aroma. The kids gagged a little.
But intrigued anyway, kids being drawn to刺激.
Bravely, they downed a couple more gulps.
Soon their eyes grew glassy.
And that wasn't the end. Finally, Dang Mujin started playing with them.
He tossed his flying rings to catch their attention, then whittled wood into discs for them in a flash.
The kids tossed and caught them eagerly. They staggered from the buzz but didn't stop. As if making up for three days cooped up.
Watching, Jinhae felt a twinge of frustration. They didn't have time or food to spare.
"Namgung hero. Don't we have no time to lounge like this?"
"There's an order to things. Just wait."
Sunset comes quick in mountain villages.
As dusk fell, Yarul Ran and Yarul Hwan slumped into deep sleep, sitting up.
Dang Mujin waved his hand before their eyes to confirm.
"Out cold."
At those words, Dang Mujin's group's faces hardened. As if they'd never been playing just moments ago.
Dang Mujin said.
"Jinhae. Get ready."
"No bedding to prep. The unorthodox swept it all, looks like."
"Not bedding. To move."
Dang Mujin gazed in the direction they'd go.
"Before the kids wake, collect the villagers' bodies, catch up to the unorthodox martial artists, and make them pay."
Only then did Jinhae realize why they'd played so diligently with the kids.
Some tasks are best done while children sleep.
Like gathering parents'惨 corpses or bloody battles.
Jinhae asked Dang Mujin.
"Can we catch them by tonight? They passed three days ago."
"No need to worry. We'll run till we do."
Jinhae was speechless. Dang Mujin's plan was recklessly bold, no retreat.
Cover three days' travel in one night? While burying the dead?
And that wasn't all. Then fight the unorthodox right after, no rest likely.
"Terrible choice. Better rest fully today, pace ourselves conserving strength, then fight."
Jinhae looked around. Hong Gyeon, Namgung Myeong, Hyeon-gong—they'd surely agree.
But his expectation missed the mark.
Namgung Myeong already had Yarul Ran on his back; Hyeon-gong, Yarul Hwan.
Jinhae let out a hollow laugh.
Dang Mujin said quietly.
"Let's go."
Dang Mujin's group bolted full speed down Gireun Mountain's night paths. Jinhae hurried after.
No easy feat. Jinhae halted twice to vomit while running.
Before dawn broke, they spotted eight unorthodox martial artists.
Dang Mujin said.
"Jinhae. Take the kids and wait a bit. Keep back so they don't wake."
"Fighting now? Catch your breath first."
But Dang Mujin flung two flying rings from his sleeve, answering with action.