Chapter 324
Chapter 324
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 324
Chapter Title: Wi Jinan-hyang's Village
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Naturally enough, Dang Mujin could not kill Tuhee right away.
A painless death. A death that left no body or grave, as per Tuhee's request—he lacked the confidence to grant that. But that wasn't the only reason.
In fact, the matter of the method of death was relatively minor.
Dang Mujin spoke to Tuhee.
"...I'll think about it some more."
"Right."
Tuhee did not press him either.
*After a while, Dang Mujin discussed Tuhee's story with his friends.
When the conversation ended, Namgung Myeong shared his thoughts.
"I never thought you'd hesitate over something like that. You're the one who's killed the most people among us, so what's one more?"
"...You think I've killed the most?"
"When we swing our swords or clubs to kill one, you take out several with your flying rings, don't you?"
It was strangely persuasive. But the important thing wasn't how many he'd killed so far.
"That's different. I don't kill people carelessly."
"What's so different?"
"Killing those who try to kill me is different from killing those who have no such intent."
"Tuhee would try to kill you if she lost her mind. In that situation, you'd kill her too, right?"
He was right.
If he'd encountered Tuhee at the cave entrance and his life was in danger, Dang Mujin would have killed her. He probably wouldn't have felt much remorse.
But now, even after receiving her request, killing Tuhee felt wrong.
Why?
Because of the conversation?
Not exactly. If Tuhee went mad right now and tried to kill Dang Mujin, he would take her life without much hesitation.
So what was the problem? What kind of people did he kill, and what kind did he spare?
Dang Mujin couldn't quite define his own criteria.
*Though Dang Mujin lacked the confidence to kill Tuhee, since he'd received her request, he felt it was right to at least prepare some way to fulfill it.
He believed the answer lay in poison. A poison that caused no pain and brought death unnoticed. A poison that was clean to the end.
But such a poison wouldn't materialize just by thinking, so to clear his mind, Dang Mujin occasionally wandered the village, chatting with the villagers.
It was an ordinary village.
No unorthodox martial artists, no inn as villages usually had, no ruffians lounging in an inn.
Suddenly, a question unrelated to poison came to mind.
Dang Mujin went to find Tuhee. She was sitting on the porch of a small house, basking in the winter sun.
Dang Mujin asked her.
"Elder, how did you end up living in this village? It seems you've been here quite a while."
Tuhee smiled faintly as she spoke.
"When the mania came and I realized I couldn't drive it away, I left the orthodox martial world. Too many people there knew me, so I had to go somewhere."
"That makes sense."
"I had two choices. Cross the Yellow River to the northern unorthodox world, or south of the Yangtze to the southern unorthodox world."
"Why did you choose the south?"
"The north is cold. I hate the cold."
Dang Mujin glanced at Tuhee's expression. He thought it was a joke, but it didn't seem so.
People were like that.
Even when leaving home in despair, they hated the cold. Even when deciding to die, they hated pain. Knowing nothing mattered after death, they still clung to vain youthful glories and couldn't die.
Knowing such a lingering life brought no happiness, they still lived on. That was humanity, that was life.
"Back then, the mania was shorter and more intense than now. Unlike today, when it struck, I didn't know what happened. After each episode, the surroundings were often a sea of blood."
"You killed people?"
"...Yes. I killed wild beasts too, but people as well. I still remember clearly. The eyes of those who feared me and hid their anger. Eyes full of servility and hatred... By the time I grew used to such gazes, I had arrived at this village."
As Tuhee spoke to Dang Mujin, she sank into old memories.
*Tuhee, Wi Jinan-hyang, lost consciousness again and woke.
It was indoors, reeking of blood, her body sticky.
Thus, Wi Jinan-hyang realized. She'd done it again.
A new wave of self-loathing filled her chest. Wi Jinan-hyang murmured softly.
"...I should die."
But she wouldn't die this time either. Knowing she brought only harm to the world yet unable to abandon it. Wi Jinan-hyang feared death, and her attachment to the world was as great as her self-loathing.
She was still young, beautiful, a woman full of dreams. Just gone mad.
Breathing in, the fishy blood scent pierced deep into her nose. A faint nausea rose.
As she rose, a small clattering came from her hair. Dried blood crust falling to the floor.
Indeed, the surroundings were soaked in half-dried blood. Two corpses, nearly torn apart, lay there. A man and woman. Behind them sat a child of about five or six, staring at Wi Jinan-hyang. Fortunately, she hadn't killed the child.
Wi Jinan-hyang offered no word of comfort or apology to the child.
Washing away guilt with sorry words after the deed was cowardice.
Wi Jinan-hyang glanced at the child and thought.
'A dog's life.'
She turned from the child and went outside.
After killing, one of two situations followed.
Brave villagers led by someone came for revenge, or everyone fled, not a soul in sight.
But the result was the same. Even the brave fled upon meeting her blood-smeared eyes. A blood-soaked madwoman wasn't one for talk.
Wi Jinan-hyang inwardly hoped the villagers had fled beforehand.
She'd grown used to their fear and hatred, but that didn't mean she liked it. She still hated their hate-filled gazes.
It was strange. Commit acts deserving hate, grow used to it, yet hate being hated. Even a bit frightening.
But this village was different.
The people hadn't fled. Nor did they rage for revenge.
They dragged their feet indifferently, as if unconcerned with her deeds, absorbed in their own tasks.
Strange.
As Wi Jinan-hyang looked around for a long time, an elder approached. No martial artist. By his air, perhaps the village head.
The head stared at Wi Jinan-hyang. A gaze thick with pity more than hate.
Meeting it, Wi Jinan-hyang steeled herself.
If this elder tried to kill her, she must die. This time, truly muster the courage.
The elder spoke.
"Did you sleep well last night?"
"...You're boldly mocking me."
Making her recent resolve laughable, Wi Jinan-hyang furrowed her fine brows.
"Not mocking. Just asking after your health."
"Did you come because you thought I'd cause trouble?"
"No. Whatever you do, we can't stop you anyway."
Not exactly warm talk, but Wi Jinan-hyang inwardly liked it.
It had been ages since she'd had a proper human conversation.
"You didn't come to a blood-soaked madwoman without reason."
"Truth be told, I didn't expect much, but talking now, I think I can ask one favor."
"A favor?"
A favor. An unexpected word.
She could guess the rest. Just die. Leave the village now. Something like that.
Coincidentally, Wi Jinan-hyang was willing for both.
But the head made an unforeseen request.
"Take care of Jiso."
"Jiso?"
"Kang Jiso. The daughter of the couple you killed."
Wi Jinan-hyang looked back. Through the wide-open door, two corpses, a blood-crusted room, and the child sitting blankly.
She realized now the child was a girl.
"Me? Take care of a kid?"
"Yes."
Absurd.
Not just that she'd never cared for a child even when sane.
"Listen, does that make sense? I'm a madwoman. When my eyes roll, I see nothing."
With blood crust in her hair, it was highly persuasive. But the head didn't back down.
"You killed her parents, so isn't that the least you can do? Without parents, Jiso dies anyway."
"The village can raise her."
"Our village is dirt poor; no one can take in an orphan."
Wi Jinan-hyang looked at the villagers. Their weary eyes met hers.
Eyes worn by life.
Now Wi Jinan-hyang understood. They hadn't fled not from bravery, but because they half-hoped for death. Like her.
Wi Jinan-hyang smirked at the head.
His shallow intentions were clear. He wasn't asking because he thought she'd raise the child well.
'Just doesn't want a guilty conscience.'
Hates taking the orphan, hates thinking the child dies because of them.
Shallow. But human.
Her mind said refuse, but her mouth answered on its own.
"Fine. Got it."
The head seemed surprised, as if not expecting acceptance.
Wi Jinan-hyang didn't know why she'd said it either. But no takebacks.
She'd been ready to die at the elder's hand; refusing this was awkward.
Instead, accepting meant she needed something.
"Here."
Wi Jinan-hyang tossed her sword to the head. Not a precious one from Wi Sword House. One picked up along the way.
But swords were inherently valuable.
"That'll fetch a decent price. Get me four sturdy shackles in exchange."
The head nodded.
*Wi Jinan-hyang sat in the house, staring at the little girl, Kang Jiso.
Kang Jiso stared blankly back. Neither approached; they just sat. No food, for two full days.
On the second night's dawn, Wi Jinan-hyang realized the mania was coming.
Outside, the shackles the head brought waited. Sized for beasts, not people, they were large.
Large or not, she had a use.
Wi Jinan-hyang looped the four shackles around the house's foundation pillar, then shackled her knees and forearms instead of wrists and ankles.
Her breath grew ragged, consciousness faded, then returned.
*For the first time in ages, Wi Jinan-hyang regained senses where she'd lost them.
Looking back, the child was there. Kang Jiso still lived. But Wi Jinan-hyang remained bound.
Now the problem was Wi Jinan-hyang. She could shackle herself but not unshackle.
If the child brought a dull knife in her madness, she'd die helpless. Or fetch villagers to humiliate and kill her, if the kid thought that far.
But Kang Jiso approached and released the shackles.
No key needed. No lock; pull the crossbar, and they fell loose.
Wi Jinan-hyang drank from the well, returned, and re-shackled her limbs.
*Three more days passed; the second fit came and went. Again, the child released her.
Limbs weak from days without food.
But Wi Jinan-hyang went outside, found a bird's nest, took eggs, and gave them to Kang Jiso instead of eating.
The child gulped them down. Wi Jinan-hyang stroked her head, then buried the parents' corpses.
*It must have been quite noisy, but villagers paid Wi Jinan-hyang little heed.
They were exhausted, gaunt, poor. More than any southern village she'd seen.
Now Wi Jinan-hyang questioned the village. Good location for trade, fields below the hill—why so poor? They didn't seem lazy.
She almost asked Kang Jiso, but went to the head instead.
His answer was simple.
"Our village has no martial artist."
Having wandered the unorthodox world for two or three years after leaving the orthodox, Wi Jinan-hyang understood.
This was unorthodox territory. Where fists and blades mattered more than law.
In unorthodox lands, each village had martial artists. Ruffians barely worthy of the name, or stronger ones.
They seemed tyrants or wretches. But they had a role.
Without them, wanderers or outsiders would kill and rob unchecked.
Local martial artists blocked them. Parasites on villagers, yet protectors.
In a way, like the orthodox Beggars' Sect disciples.
Lazing and eating for free normally, but ready when danger struck.
Wi Jinan-hyang asked the head.
"Never had one?"
"We had one once. But he got knifed seven years ago. He wasn't great, and this area's full of decent bladesmen."
So, robbed repeatedly for seven years.
Seven years. Enough to break spirits. Poverty like a leech, inseparable.
Now Wi Jinan-hyang saw the head's intent.
Not worry for Jiso or easing conscience. Just needed a sword arm.
Wi Jinan-hyang understood her role.
"I'm a madwoman."
"No one would deny it."
The head admitted instantly.
Wi Jinan-hyang smirked. As before, he wasn't hateful.
"To you, a madwoman; to outsiders too."
"Glad tidings, the best I've heard."
The elder returned the sword. Now Wi Jinan-hyang owed four shackles' worth.
And opportunity to repay approached. Four sword-bearing men swaggered from afar below the hill.
Wi Jinan-hyang shook off her right sleeve, baring the scabbard, and descended.
She advanced on the men.
Seeing a rare beauty, smiles bloomed on their faces.
Wi Jinan-hyang swung. Four laughing heads flew skyward.
She thought.
'Died smiling—good start.'
*Time passed. The village escaped grinding poverty.
People thanked Wi Jinan-hyang sincerely.
The beam she'd bound to became a cave; shackles, a blocking boulder.
Silent child Kang Jiso grew into an adult; Wi Jinan-hyang's face, once adult, gained wrinkles.
Tuhee vanished; only the house-guarding dog remained.
Old, but fangs sharper—a mad dog.
Wi Jinan-hyang's life balanced precariously.
Tuhee deemed even this excessive. But people never stay content.
As life stabilized, Wi Jinan-hyang dreamed nightly.
Ever different dreams. Yet always the same.
In sleep, she returned to youth.
Not as Wi Jinan-hyang, but Tuhee—standing proudly before people. Mingling freely with hometown folk, enjoying men's dazed gazes. Sometimes toying, haughtily toying hearts.
Then suddenly waking in a dark cave.
Rising with the sensation of falling far below.
"..."
In darkness, she peers at her reflection in a small puddle on the cave floor.
Not lovely Tuhee, but mad Wi Jinan-hyang stares back.
She stares blankly long, then flees to dreams again.
Her happiest days. Life's deepest summer. Moments gone forever.
"...The story wandered."
With that, Wi Jinan-hyang ended her long, plain tale.
Dang Mujin sighed and asked.
"Then there's no need to die. You're content now, aren't you?"
"I can't be anymore. Dreams recall happier times."
"Then live relying on dreams? Kang Jiso needs you, the village too."
"That might have worked. But now even dreams teeter."
Tuhee murmured.
"I can be happy in dreams because people remember Tuhee beautifully. If they don't, I won't be happy even there. I couldn't endure that... I'd go madder. Couldn't even guard the house."
Tuhee smiled bitterly.
"I know my request burdens you. I know I'm in no position. But I'm a house dog. Don't want to fall lower. If you wish, I'll teach Great Bell Dance."
"..."
"Extend a helping hand to this timid dog. That's my only request."
Tuhee spoke thus to Dang Mujin and rose.
Heading to the dim cave instead of house, she muttered.
"How nice to turn back time, regain Great Bell Dance, become myself again."
Dang Mujin watched Tuhee vanish into darkness.
He mulled her final words repeatedly.
From them, Dang Mujin glimpsed a faint possibility.