Chapter 295
Chapter 295
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 295
Chapter Title: Nangong Clan
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As days passed, rumors spread like wildfire among the Beggars' Sect members that a massive clash was brewing in the martial world. A strangely chilling atmosphere seeped even into the bustling streets of Kaifeng.
An elderly physician came to find Dang Mujin and spoke.
"Patriarch Dang. When the bloodshed erupts among the martial artists soon, might I be of help?"
Dang Mujin looked at the aged physician. He had surely lived a life indifferent to the affairs of righteous or unorthodox sects. The only reason for such an offer must be to aid Dang Mujin.
And at first glance, the old physician's proposal seemed reasonable. His medical skills would undoubtedly prove useful.
But Dang Mujin firmly rejected it.
"It would help, but it's not a good choice. Please return home."
"Be honest with me. With over a hundred martial artists gathered in Kaifeng, how could you handle them alone?"
"This is because your life is at risk, sir. You must understand."
"..."
"If you're content with your medical achievements, retreat to a place far enough to avoid entanglement. If not, come to the Dang family estate and learn more medicine. Either way, do not stay in Kaifeng. That's my true wish."
The old physician turned away with a faint sigh.
Almost everyone without martial arts training is uninvolved in the righteous-unorthodox great war.
But physicians are one of two types who face life-threatening danger in martial artists' conflicts, even without cultivating martial arts.
The physician's profession rests on one premise.
If a patient is before you, you must treat them.
Some physicians seek wealth over medicine, others fame.
Yet even they wouldn't abandon a dying patient. Because medicine is benevolence, people respect physicians.
But when bloodshed looms, things change.
The logic of those pressing blades to a physician's throat is just as simple.
You treated and saved my enemy, so pay for that sin with your life.
If only such threats ended there—but many physicians actually lost their lives.
Ironically, at the very moment physicians are most desperately needed, people begin denying their actions.
Curiously, the other type threatened in martial conflicts is the blacksmith. The reasoning is similar.
You forged the sword that killed my comrade, so atone with your life.
Dang Mujin found the coincidence amusing. Wasn't he a martial artist, a physician, and not a blacksmith?
Fate seemed to whisper that no path among the three would let him escape a life drenched in blood.
'Even without meeting the elder, I'd have tangled with the martial world.'
Meeting the eccentric Yi Chung that spring at twenty must have been heaven-sent, the least painful way to get involved.
Thus, Dang Mujin never once regretted leaving Chengdu with the eccentric.
Dang Mujin watched the departing physicians' backs, then looked up at the sky. The moon was more than half-waned, now quite thin.
Dang Mujin fiddled with the letter hidden in his sleeve.
[Around the next new moon night, Nangong Clan warriors will arrive in Kaifeng.]
He pictured the Nangong Clan warriors rushing to Kaifeng, and the righteous sect martial artists from Anhui Province.
But likewise, unorthodox warriors would be approaching Kaifeng.
Would the Nangong Clan arrive first?
Unknowable. Dang Mujin rose and vanished into the night.
*
Days later, Hwahwa Nogae, who had volunteered as scout, returned with news.
"Unorthodox warriors are approaching."
Faces darkened. The Nangong Clan and Anhui righteous warriors hadn't arrived yet. As feared, the unorthodox had come first.
But there was no other way.
To keep ordinary folk out of the fight, the righteous martial artists moved to the Beggars' Sect outskirts to prepare to meet the unorthodox.
Among the righteous were poison experts like Seolhwa. With possible Hundred Fragrance Flower in the enemy ranks, it was only natural.
Nangong Myeong climbed a walnut tree to the highest point, spotting the distant unorthodox warriors.
"Looks like over a hundred on their side too."
"Quite a number."
Not a national war with tens of thousands clashing.
But the ferocity would rival any state conflict. Among over two hundred warriors total, not one lacked martial arts.
No second- or third-rate rabble either. They wouldn't survive a single expert technique. Numbers alone wouldn't decide this fight.
Hong Geolgae shouted to Nangong Myeong.
"New moon tomorrow night—when's the Nangong Clan coming?"
"How should I know? They'll be here soon. By distance, it's about time."
"Not dragging their feet to swoop in like protagonists at the last dramatic moment?"
Hong Geolgae grumbled nonstop. But his tone held not complaint, but anticipation.
Anticipation that, even at the brink, Nangong Clan warriors would arrive on time.
Nangong Myeong smirked.
"Protagonist, huh. Suits the Nangong Clan perfectly."
Nangong Myeong leaped down from the tree.
*
One day before the new moon, faint moonlight barely lit the night.
Righteous and unorthodox warriors faced off at a considerable distance.
In the darkness, only hazy silhouettes visible. But heightened senses caught each other's presence.
Still too far to start fighting immediately.
Manryeokseung showed deep regret.
"In the end, Nangong Clan support won't arrive in time. This won't be easy."
Dang Mujin beside him spoke.
"Today's fine. I can buy us a day."
"Buy time? How?"
Manryeokseung asked.
A question, but also permission to execute the plan.
"I have a plan. They'll fall for it nine times out of ten."
Dang Mujin walked forward, gauging distance to the unorthodox on a nearby hill.
'About two hundred zhang.'
Then he checked the wind.
Not bad. No headwind, so sufficient.
Dang Mujin stood still, inhaling deeply, then exhaling.
His breath carried a faint scent. A formless mass of poison qi drifted lazily toward the unorthodox.
Dang Mujin mentally measured distance.
Fifty zhang.
One hundred zhang.
One hundred thirty zhang.
No one knew what he was doing, but sweat beaded on Dang Mujin's forehead.
Sending poison qi over a hundred zhang purely on internal energy, without even wind—this was an advanced feat the old Dang Mujin couldn't have managed.
He inwardly regretted no one could appreciate it.
One hundred fifty zhang.
One hundred seventy zhang.
Finally, one hundred eighty zhang.
'This is the limit.'
Strength drained from Dang Mujin's body, head spinning. The membrane wrapping the poison qi dispersed.
Simultaneously, Drunken Rapture Fragrance—poison scented like fragrant liquor—spread around.
The unorthodox responded swiftly.
"Poison! Hold your breath!"
They stopped breathing the moment the scent wafted unexpectedly.
Gwang Yeomra had anticipated poison attacks, enabling quick reaction.
But Gwang Yeomra missed one thing.
A panicked warrior shouted.
"Holding breath does nothing! It's seeping through the skin!"
Drunken Rapture Fragrance didn't just enter nose and mouth.
One of Dang Mujin's few poisons that penetrated skin.
The unorthodox panicked greatly. How to evade such poison?
But their panic didn't last.
"...Nothing much?"
"Yeah. Is it even poison?"
True to its unassuming name, Drunken Rapture Fragrance only mildly lifted spirits, like a drink.
No disruption to internal energy flow, no life threat.
It didn't burrow into organs or marrow, so anyone could tell it was harmless.
But Gwang Yeomra stayed wary.
"It might manifest late—don't relax. Retreat, detoxify, then advance."
Gwang Yeomra responded calmly.
He figured the righteous needed to rush to end it quickly, not them—no need to hurry.
The unorthodox retreated about a hundred zhang per his orders.
From a low hill dotted with thorny shrubs to now below it.
Even Dang Mujin couldn't send poison that far, especially with the hill blocking.
Confirming their retreat, Dang Mujin told Manryeokseung.
"It worked well. Even rushing, they won't return till tomorrow night. Best to rest today."
"...You used poison?"
"Yes."
"Not lethal... Half a day to detoxify at most. Won't buy till tomorrow night."
"Want to bet? I say they won't approach till sunset."
"...No bet."
Manryeokseung wasn't foolish, and trusted Dang Mujin too much.
*
The unorthodox sat cross-legged, circulating qi to expel Drunken Rapture Fragrance.
But it clung stubbornly.
Mild effect, but viscous poison blending with internal energy—that was its trait.
Blended, yet no symptoms. Even till sunrise.
Soon the sun hit midheaven. Gwang Yeomra eased tension slightly.
They'd rested with qi circulation overnight—no issue fighting now. Best condition, in fact.
"Arm weapons."
"Yes."
As unorthodox moved again, wind blew down the hill.
They didn't know, but unlike prior winds, it carried pollen from the Early Thorn Tree, thorns thick on its branches.
Sun-dried dew from its flowers.
"Urk!"
Inhaling the pollen, unorthodox warriors retched indiscriminately. Gwang Yeomra too.
"Ugh."
Drunken Rapture Fragrance wasn't fatal, but mixed with blooming Early Thorn Tree pollen, it caused extreme nausea and vomiting.
Martial arts began with breath; impossible to control amid such retching.
Fighting now would be disastrous. Gwang Yeomra hurriedly withdrew them.
"Ugh, retreat! Further back!"
Gwang Yeomra led the retching warriors far back.
Vomiting persisted long after.
*
As Dang Mujin predicted, only after another day into deep night did unorthodox reappear.
Manryeokseung felt pleased his judgment held.
Dang Mujin, his group, Manryeokseung, and Hwahwa Nogae narrowed eyes at the unorthodox.
Dark new moon night, but eyes adjusted to darkness discerned their faces faintly.
And a highly fortunate discovery.
"No transcendent experts visible except Gwang Yeomra. I'm not mistaken?"
"Looks that way to me."
Peak-or-higher outnumbered them.
But worst fear averted. Righteous dreaded demonic protectors sneaking in.
Everyone pondered.
'Right, can't have protectors wandering from the leader.'
'Sacrificing unorthodox as bait to wear us down. Rational for Gwang Yeomra.'
'That Gwang Yeomra will flee if things turn. Must catch him.'
Dang Mujin toyed with his flying wheels. His heart raced with excitement.
New moon night, no moonlight. Who could dodge wheels thrown from shadows?
'Gwang Yeomra's head might fall to me, not Hong Geolgae or Manryeokseung.'
Brief standoff ended; battle began. Both groups charged down the low hill at each other.
Hong Geolgae and Manryeokseung rushed Gwang Yeomra. Enemy's one transcendent tying up ally's two.
Even peaks favored unorthodox. Their choice seemed foolish at glance—but possible with Dang Mujin.
'Melee in darkness. Perfect for me.'
Under these conditions, Dang Mujin was confident of transcendent-level feats.
Each wheel throw felling two or three clutching throats.
Dang Mujin shook his sleeves lightly; wheels emerged, hooking fingers.
He spun them idly, scanning targets, spotting an unorthodox warrior clashing midair with sword.
First-rate or peak unknown—irrelevant. Darkness hid the flying wheels.
Dang Mujin swung arms casually; wheels arced, slicing the foe's neck.
Like a farmer scything rice with a sickle—simple as that.
Such ease in taking life felt surreal.
Catch returning wheel, throw.
Catch, throw.
Two at a time. Dang Mujin methodically harvested lives unhurriedly.
After eight, an unfamiliar old man's whisper reached his ear.
"You're the Dragon Physician? If asked who sent you to the afterlife, say Mu Yeonggaek."
Chill ran down his spine.
Approaching so stealthily, presence concealed—not ordinary.
'Transcendent?'
Unclear. And he'd likely die unknowing.
One mistake: assuming only Gwang Yeomra threatened among the horde.
In that instant, Dang Mujin racked his brain for escape.
None came. Caught from behind—already over.
As he tensed for death throes, a familiar voice came from beyond the old man.
"Then, elder, answer Nangong Myeong."