Chapter 309
Chapter 309
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 309
Chapter Title: Namgung Hyun
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Dinner was over, but it was too early to go to sleep.
Dang Mujin sat in the inn, chatting idly to pass the time. He didn’t want to retreat to his room and spend the evening alone.
The others were in much the same boat.
Hyeon-gong was lost in thought, Physician Yang and Physician Yeom were engaged in a heated debate about medicine, and Seolhwa was eavesdropping on the conversations of the other guests making a racket in the inn. Her efforts hadn’t been in vain—lately, Seolhwa’s ears had sharpened considerably.
Time passed like that until a noisy commotion announced the inn door being flung open.
Clunk—
“Dang Mujin!”
It was Namgung Myeong’s voice. Dang Mujin turned his head with a bored expression and looked at him.
“What now?”
But before a reply could come, Dang Mujin shot up from his seat.
He had noticed someone slung across Hong Geolgae’s back. The only time an able-bodied man let himself be carried like that was when his life hung by a thread.
The inn’s patrons stirred in confusion.
“What’s that? A corpse?”
“No way. Who’d bring a dead body in here...”
Hong Geolgae laid Namgung Hyun down on a table, and Namgung Myeong gave a brief rundown of the situation.
“Looks like he swallowed poison.”
“No idea what kind?”
Namgung Myeong nodded.
Of course, Dang Mujin wasn’t disappointed in the slightest. If they knew, that would’ve been the strange part.
Dang Mujin immediately extended the index and middle fingers of his right hand, thrusting them deep into Namgung Hyun’s throat. Even unconscious, Namgung Hyun’s Adam’s apple bobbed wildly as he began vomiting up the contents of his stomach. Fortunately, there was no food—just a watery, foul liquid.
Dang Mujin rolled Namgung Hyun onto his side to let the vomit drain freely, then drew a small knife and made shallow cuts on the back of his neck and upper chest.
“W-what? What’s going on?”
The sudden bloodshed threw the inn’s patrons into panic.
A few, fearing they might get hurt, tried to sneak out, but Hyeon-gong explained the situation to calm them down.
Ignoring the reactions around him, Dang Mujin pressed his fingers to Namgung Hyun’s wounds.
He gradually drew out the poison qi spreading through Namgung Hyun’s body, sniffing lightly at the scent wafting from the skin. Amid the sour smell of stomach acid was a familiar odor.
‘It’s been a little while since he ingested it.’
‘Not a mineral poison. Seems like a mix of plant and animal toxins. Good thing it hasn’t reached his brain yet.’
After some time, a good portion of the poison dispersed through Namgung Hyun’s body had been absorbed into Dang Mujin.
Dang Mujin lifted his hands from the wounds. Namgung Hyun was a martial artist who had trained diligently for years, after all—his body could handle detoxifying the rest on its own.
But the job wasn’t done.
Removing the poison didn’t mean the body snapped right back to normal. Poisons ravaged the body from within, so proper treatment had to follow the extraction.
Physician Yeom spoke to Dang Mujin.
“His pulse is sunken and faint, irregular. Temperature’s slightly low, and there are red spots the size of red beans on his lower body.”
“How about his limbs?”
“His feet are especially cold, his limbs are convulsing, and his knees are rigid like stone.”
As expected of a skilled physician, Physician Yeom had checked all the key symptoms.
Meanwhile, Physician Yang hadn’t been idle. He pried open Namgung Hyun’s mouth and briefly inserted his pinky into his nostrils. No blood on the lips or in the nose.
Physician Yang pressed his ear to Namgung Hyun’s neck and listened. Breathing was faint but unobstructed—no gurgling from blood in the airways.
“No vomiting of blood or nosebleeds. Breathing’s weak but steady.”
Putting the information together, Dang Mujin issued his prescription.
“Physician Yang, massage his limbs for now. Physician Yeom, prepare a decoction of Major Defense Wind Soup. Add about three to five parts extra eucommia and atractylodes. Depending on progress, we’ll follow up with Regular Tonifying Decoction, Poria Decoction, or Major True Earth Powder.”
“Understood.”
The inn’s patrons gawked, mouths agape, as Dang Mujin’s group treated Namgung Hyun. It was the first time they’d seen physicians exchanging ideas and working systematically together.
As far as they knew, physicians were secretive types who feared revealing their trade secrets and hated letting anyone into their clinics.
They often refused to even examine patients if outsiders were present—joint consultations? Unheard of.
In their eyes, Dang Mujin and the two physicians either didn’t fear exposing their secrets or were so skilled they rarely had anything to hide. Or both.
Either way, the immediate treatment was just about wrapped up.
Namgung Myeong asked Dang Mujin.
“What happened?”
“That’s for you to tell me. Anything come to mind?”
“Not nothing...”
Hong Geolgae, fidgeting restlessly nearby, caught the eye. To an outsider, it might look like he was the one who poisoned him.
Dang Mujin turned back to Namgung Myeong.
“So what’s your hunch?”
“Bit tricky to discuss here... Let’s move to a room.”
“Got it.”
Everyone except Physician Yeom, who had gone to prepare the decoction, headed to a guest room. The one Hyeon-gong and Hong Geolgae shared.
The room was split down the middle: one half neat and tidy, the other a total disaster.
“...”
Seolhwa hesitated at the door, and Hyeon-gong explained.
“The clean side’s mine.”
Hong Geolgae mumbled excuses.
“Didn’t expect a crowd to barge in...”
Dang Mujin’s group laid Namgung Hyun on the clean side, covered him with a blanket, kicked Hong Geolgae’s belongings aside, and sat down. It was hard enough to fathom why a beggar had belongings in the first place.
With seven people crammed into a space meant for two, it was extremely crowded.
Hong Geolgae glanced around cautiously before broaching the subject.
“Who the hell poisoned him?”
His words said one thing, but everyone easily read his true intent.
Hong Geolgae wasn’t wondering who did it. He just wanted confirmation that Namgung Hyun hadn’t been poisoned by someone else—that he’d done it himself.
But Dang Mujin shook his head.
“No one else fed it to him. The poison definitely contained three-wing nuts, platycodon, and Sichuan melia fruit. All have distinct colors, scents, and tastes—not suited for slipping to someone secretly. On the plus side, the pain wouldn’t have been too bad.”
Namgung Myeong agreed.
“No signs of outsiders breaking into Namgung Hyun’s room.”
Hong Geolgae’s face twisted with guilt.
Seolhwa tried to console him.
“It was a lethal strike. Don’t worry about it.”
She meant that since Namgung Hyun had gone for a killing blow mid-tournament, Hong Geolgae had nothing to feel sorry for.
It was a bit off-target comfort, though, and didn’t ease Hong Geolgae much.
But Namgung Myeong brought up something else.
“Losing the tournament was probably the trigger for the poison. But it’s not entirely your fault.”
Even as he consoled, Namgung Myeong couldn’t resist teasing, his wording subtle.
At any rate, Namgung Myeong seemed to have some inkling, so the group listened closely to what came next.
Dang Mujin asked.
“What else?”
“Remember how I said the Namgung family rarely enters tournaments? Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Simple enough: win and break even, lose and take a loss.
“The Namgung family has a culture of avoiding tournaments unless victory is certain. They tell you not to compete otherwise. And from what I know, among the Namgung family’s young martial artists, there are at least one or two more talented than Namgung Hyun. Even if the family decided to participate, he wasn’t in a position to represent us.”
“Then why enter?”
“He wanted even that small achievement, I guess. To understand, you need to know about his father.”
Namgung Myeong had once called Namgung Hyun a cousin, so his father must be a brother to Namgung Jincheon.
“Namgung Hyun’s father, Namgung Jinsan... How to put it. Yeah, the family black sheep. Mild-mannered and kind, but zero martial talent.”
“No talent at all?”
“Yeah. Might be first-rate now, who knows.”
Namgung Myeong’s father, Sword Ghost Namgung Jincheon, was a transcendent master, and his uncle Poison Eagle Thunder Sword Namgung Jiny a was a top-tier peak expert. And in that family, he was the only one stuck at first-rate.
No, probably not even that. Namgung Myeong’s words hinted at something below.
A second- or third-rate martial artist in the Namgung family, which prized martial achievement above all. Needless to say, he wouldn’t have been treated well.
But at the same time, Dang Mujin couldn’t wrap his head around Namgung Myeong’s story.
“With so many people in the family, there have to be some weaker than Namgung Jinsan, right? Even non-martial artists.”
“Of course. They don’t rise high, get quietly sidelined—that’s their daily life. But they manage without too much ambition. My uncle was the same.”
Uncle meant Namgung Jinsan was the eldest son.
An older brother ignored by his younger siblings.
“I don’t remember him being persecuted by Father or my uncles. He just trained quietly on his own. But after Namgung Hyun was born a bit late, issues arose with Uncle.”
“Issues?”
“He doted on Namgung Hyun too much. Uncle thought his son’s talent wasn’t as pitiful as his own and didn’t want him enduring the same humiliation. So he stole elixirs from the family vault and fed them to Namgung Hyun. For his boy’s future.”
The mood turned tense.
Even clan heads or sect leaders couldn’t freely use elixirs. Even Divine Victory had coveted the Great Return Pill but couldn’t take it himself, handing it to Dang Mujin instead after he healed Mok Inhang.
In that context, stealing elixirs was an unforgivable crime. Even retainers faced severed meridians or death.
“...So what happened?”
“Couldn’t execute the clan head’s brother. Three years in the thunder prison.”
“That’s lucky, at least.”
“Then, three years later, right after release, he stole more elixirs and fed them to Namgung Hyun. Another three years. Oh, both elixirs Uncle stole were ones meant for me.”
Namgung Myeong gave a wry smile.
Not bitterness over missing them. No grudge against Namgung Hyun, either.
“Three more years pass, he’s out—but banned from the vault. So he switched tactics.”
“Again?”
“Yeah. Stole family funds, bought elixirs, fed them, three years. Couldn’t get money? Borrowed secretly from merchant groups using the family name, bought more, three years. In and out of prison nonstop—I barely remember his face.”
By now, worry crept in for Namgung Myeong’s uncle’s state. Namgung Jincheon didn’t seem the type to tolerate that easily.
“...He’s still alive, right?”
“Far as I know, just three-year stints in prison, no other punishments. No beatings, no severed meridians.”
“Surprising. Way more lenient than expected.”
“I asked Father about it. He said a father acting for his son—how could they punish him more harshly than that?”
Namgung Jincheon had a soft side? Highly unexpected.
Namgung Myeong continued.
“Don’t know what happened after. I got exiled from the family. But I can guess why Namgung Hyun entered the tournament.”
Dang Mujin could guess too.
Namgung Hyun wanted to repay his father’s devotion and sacrifice.
To give his father even a shred of pride.
To compensate, even slightly, for over a decade—or two—in prison.
“This tournament’s entrants were overall low-level. Righteous war aftermath kept most prestigious sect disciples away. Namgung Hyun saw it as his chance. Defied opposition or snuck out. Convinced he’d win, so the loss hit hard.”
Hong Geolgae looked ready to die of guilt. He was soft-hearted.
Hong Geolgae said.
“Why not just ask me to throw the finals quietly?”
“Didn’t think he’d swallow poison.”
“But—”
As Hong Geolgae started to protest, Namgung Myeong cut him off.
“Once you pick up the sword, defeat comes someday. If not now, later. What matters isn’t avoiding defeat—it’s rising again. And those broken early recover easier later. Better now than never.”
Namgung Myeong had a coldly pragmatic side here. Family trait or personal nature, unclear.
“A father committed excess for his son. The son wanted to achieve merit to offset it. Just father and son. No need for outsiders to coddle them. Especially swordsmen.”
Namgung Myeong concluded.
A brief silence fell.
Soon after, they noticed Namgung Hyun’s eyes were open.
He stared blankly at the ceiling.
Finally, Namgung Hyun spoke to Namgung Myeong.
“Brother.”
“Speak.”
“I’m finished.”
“Putting down your sword?”
“No. Can’t.”
“Then you’re not finished. A martial artist ends only by dropping the sword or losing his head.”
“I snuck out, entered the tournament on my own, tarnished the family name. The clan head won’t forgive me. I’ll bear my father’s sins too.”
Namgung Myeong sensed the thick fear in Namgung Hyun’s voice. Beyond worry—pure terror.
His chest tightened. When he left the family, Father was stern but not cruel.
Revered and respected by retainers, not feared.
Had Father changed?
Namgung Myeong placed a hand on Namgung Hyun’s forehead.
“No. No need to fear like that.”
“Will you speak for me?”
“Speak? Nah. No need.”
Namgung Myeong smiled.
“The new clan head will forgive his devoted cousin once.”