Chapter 335
Chapter 335
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 335
Chapter Title: The Extremely Venomous Yellow Spirit Master
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The Extremely Venomous Yellow Spirit Master and Myeongryeon Satae turned back without even entering the Dang Family Manor, but Dang Mujin felt uneasy just because the Righteous-Demonic Great War had been mentioned.
Of course, as the Yellow Spirit Master had said, the Righteous-Demonic Great War wouldn’t erupt right away.
Even though the righteous Murim world had just weathered a crisis and fire was now at their feet, it would take at least a few months to convene a meeting to discuss future countermeasures.
And that wasn’t the end of it. Even if they miraculously wrapped up the meeting in one smooth go, it would take several more months to relay the news to each sect and clan’s headquarters, select personnel, and assemble them.
By the time all that dragged on for one reason or another, a full year would likely pass before they could march on the Demonic Cult.
“A year...”
People usually thought of a year as a generous span of time.
But Dang Mujin knew full well it wasn’t that long. Hadn’t just a year flown by while he handled various matters with his friends, earning him some subtle glares upon his return—and wasn’t that only recently?
“Time is short. No dawdling—I need to prepare something.”
Harboring these muddled thoughts, Dang Mujin wandered aimlessly through the Dang Family Manor with a furrowed brow.
Before long, someone approached hesitantly. It was Jang Ilnam.
Jang Ilnam began speaking in a cautious tone.
“...Are you very angry?”
“Pardon?”
When Dang Mujin asked back, Jang Ilnam hemmed and hawed.
“I went too far earlier, didn’t I? There’s no set way for a father to play with his daughter. Besides, it’s not like she was alone—with you there, a little fondling of Bi-ryun wouldn’t be dangerous. I was shortsighted. Sorry about that.”
He’d spoken so firmly earlier, but it seemed that incident still weighed on him. Dang Mujin waved it off.
“No, no. Bi-ryun isn’t some ordinary dangerous item. You were right to scold me for acting rashly. I’m not upset over something like that.”
Even as Dang Mujin said this, Jang Ilnam still looked uneasy.
“It’s fine to say if you’re upset. It was all my fault...”
“Really, it’s not that.”
“But your expression looks so troubled...”
Only then did Dang Mujin realize he’d been frowning the whole time. Smoothing the wrinkles between his brows, he explained.
“It wasn’t because of that. I just met with the Yellow Spirit Master and Myeongryeon Satae, and what they told me has me a bit on edge.”
“The Yellow Spirit Master? If that fellow came in person, it must have been serious.”
From Dang Mujin’s experience, it was better to share serious matters with someone reliable and discuss them rather than brooding alone.
And with the Three-Eyed Buddha currently staying at the Dang Family Manor, Jang Ilnam was undoubtedly the most suitable person to seek advice from on this topic.
“Yes. Actually...”
Dang Mujin relayed the brief conversation he’d had outside the main gate.
He expected Jang Ilnam to offer advice on how to prepare for the coming Righteous-Demonic Great War.
But what Jang Ilnam brought up was quite different from Dang Mujin’s expectations.
“That Righteous-Demonic Great War—do you really have to take part?”
“Pardon?”
“Haven’t you done enough already?”
When Dang Mujin didn’t immediately grasp his meaning, Jang Ilnam continued.
“You’ve only been back a few days after wandering the entire Central Plains through all that hardship. Even if you step back a bit this time, who would dare criticize or gossip about you?”
Jang Ilnam’s question carried complex emotions.
Affection for Dang Mujin, his benefactor.
Pity for his three children, who would feel their father’s absence again.
Worry for Dan Seolyeong and Mok Wanah, who would fret over sending their husband to dangerous lands.
Concern for Dang Jesun, who wouldn’t sleep soundly with his son off in perilous places.
Jang Ilnam was not a ruthless man. Unlike most martial artists who charged into every fight, he believed it right to avoid avoidable battles and flee when flight was possible.
Telling him to dodge the Righteous-Demonic Great War if he could was, in a way, the most Jang Ilnam-like advice. Establishing feats and raising one’s name held little importance to him.
“I heard about your recent journeys from Brother Hyeon-gong.”
“Is that so.”
“Do you know the big difference between you and the others who fought in the righteous-demonic clash?”
“What do you mean?”
“The others went to the battlefield because their sects and clans were in danger. But the Dang Family Manor wasn’t in much peril. No interests were at stake either. Yet you stepped up for those in even greater peril.”
It seemed Hyeon-gong had subtly boasted about his exploits, puffing himself up.
But as with Hyeon-gong’s tales, the facts weren’t wildly distorted.
Jang Ilnam continued slowly.
“And it wasn’t just one fight. You battled alongside Daoists from the Kunlun and Zhongnan Sects, and wielded your sword beside Shaolin monks and Beggars’ Sect disciples.”
“That’s right.”
“They must have been life-threatening battles. No matter how exceptional you and your friends’ talents, you couldn’t have comfortably cultivated to the cusp of the transcendent realm amid all that.”
“Of course, they weren’t easy fights. But—”
As Dang Mujin started to speak, Jang Ilnam slowly shook his head, cutting him off.
“More than that, look back at the past. You were the first to notice the Demonic Cult’s movements, and you uncovered their involvement in this righteous-demonic clash. You’ve more than fulfilled your role already. Even after the Righteous-Demonic Great War ends, no one will have contributed more than you.”
Jang Ilnam seemed to think Dang Mujin had braved dangers out of some special sense of mission.
But nothing Dang Mujin had done was intentional. He hadn’t charged in with any particular righteousness. He’d simply acted on whatever came his way at the moment.
Of course, Dang Mujin didn’t bother pointing that out. Sometimes, it was better to stay quiet.
In truth, he felt a subtle pleasure. Being praised for past deeds wasn’t so bad.
As Dang Mujin remained silent, Jang Ilnam raised his voice slightly and pressed on.
“But what have those you helped done for you in return? At best, a few words of thanks. Now it’s time for you to look out for your own interests. No—actually, I think stepping back safely without chasing gains is best.”
“How could I? They’re people I’ve already forged bonds with. Besides, I’m still young enough that retreating feels premature.”
“No, you must. Protect your family, protect yourself. I guarantee no one has the right to gossip about you. If they do, I’ll set them straight. I mean it.”
Embarrassing words. And pretty sound advice, too.
But Dang Mujin held one firm conviction: This Righteous-Demonic Great War wouldn’t end simply.
Moreover, its aftermath wouldn’t conveniently spare just the Dang Family Manor.
Even if he followed Jang Ilnam’s wish and took a step back, neither the manor nor Dang Mujin could escape the storm. That was the price of entanglement in Murim affairs.
In the end, it came back to square one, leaving Dang Mujin with a single conclusion.
Prepare for the coming Righteous-Demonic Great War.
He said,
“I’d love to if possible. But calamity wouldn’t be called calamity if it were easy to evade.”
It might seem like he held the authority to decide, but in truth, it wasn’t something he could choose. Just like the many events Dang Mujin had faced so far.
Jang Ilnam couldn’t hide his regret.
*
Somehow, while talking with Jang Ilnam, his thoughts organized themselves, and several tasks came to mind.
The first that popped up: He needed to teach poison arts to the physicians.
“For those who can learn poison arts, teach them poison arts. For those without talent or too old, teach them how to handle poisons without cultivating poison arts.”
He had to look after the Dang Family Manor’s physicians, but there was much to do for his own sake as well.
Comparing himself to his friends, Dang Mujin was dissatisfied with his martial prowess lagging just a step... no, ever so slightly behind.
“I need to break through to the transcendent realm as soon as possible. Only then can I escape these three taking turns to strut around.”
Dang Mujin had two paths: hidden weapon techniques and poison arts.
His hidden weapon skills were steadily advancing, and he could now handle four Bi-ryun, so there was no rush there. Which meant he should focus on poison arts now.
And the power of poison arts was determined by the quality of poisons one could wield.
Dang Mujin went to Dan Seolyeong and asked.
“Seolyeong, I need some poisonous herbs and poisons. How much spare money do we have?”
He felt like a no-good husband cadging money from his wife.
Dan Seolyeong replied.
“Poisons? Have you asked Wanah?”
“Why Wanah?”
“She’s collected a bunch of various poisons.”
“What I need isn’t ordinary poisonous herbs. I’m looking for something special.”
Dan Seolyeong brought up what Dang Mujin hadn’t considered.
“That’s why I’m telling you to ask her. She has a lot of poisons from the Western Regions.”
“...Poisons from the Western Regions? How’d she get those?”
“These days, Western merchants come to the Dang Family Manor selling poisons. Didn’t you know?”
Dang Mujin recalled seeing several Western merchants on the road to Chengdu. Thinking back, it was a bit odd.
Western merchants followed nearly identical routes, nine out of ten times.
They entered the Central Plains via the northern borders or near the Heavenly Mountains, traded through Luoyang and Chang’an, and liquidated their cargo in Wuchang. They sourced most goods for the return trip from there too.
However, a few diligent ones took ships from Wuchang to Sichuan for silk. Sichuan silk, known as Shu brocade, boasted the finest quality across the Central Plains.
Of course, the Dang Family Manor didn’t produce silk, so they had little contact with Western merchants.
Furthermore, he couldn’t fathom why they’d bring poisons to the Dang Family Manor.
Seeing Dang Mujin’s puzzled look, Dan Seolyeong continued explaining.
“You know those Western porters pick up simple herbs or odd plants along the way for extra income?”
Naturally, Dang Mujin had no idea.
“...Herbs, fine, but why plants?”
“If they stumble on a spirit medicine, they could live off the proceeds for life. Western merchants and porters can’t distinguish spirit herbs, so they grab anything strange or unusual.”
“If I were a merchant, I wouldn’t let porters collect junk—it’d hinder the work.”
“Apparently, allowing it lets them pay porters less. Since it’s not bulky or heavy, they turn a blind eye.”
Quite an intriguing story. Dan Seolyeong went on.
“Anyway, they sell the decent herbs or plant scraps in Wuchang and toss the unsold stuff. But some porters stubbornly held onto their scraps until Chengdu.
Wanah bought a few that looked promising, so now quite a few bring poisonous herbs all the way to Chengdu. Even folks just shuttling between Wuchang and Chengdu have popped up.”
Poisonous herbs had extremely few buyers. Even Wuchang’s herbalists bought medicines and herbs, not poisons.
But Mok Wanah was one of the rare few interested in them.
When Western merchants came to Sichuan for silk, it was only natural their porters, thinking they had nothing to lose, stopped by the Dang Family Manor.
Dang Mujin’s chest swelled with quiet anticipation.
Mok Wanah surpassed him in poison sensitivity and resistance. Poisons she’d selected wouldn’t be ordinary.
Dang Mujin headed straight to Mok Wanah.
“Wanah, I heard you collected poisons from the Western Regions. Can I take a look?”
“Of course!”
Mok Wanah led Dang Mujin to a small storeroom attached to the annex.
The quantity of poisonous herbs stored there wasn’t particularly large, but every one was unfamiliar to Dang Mujin. And for medicines and poisons, quality and rarity mattered more than quantity.
Like a child showing off treasured toys, Mok Wanah chattered excitedly.
“This plant has strong poison in its roots. It stiffens limbs and quickens breathing. They say if you harvest seeds, plant them, let summer flowers bloom, and leave them until winter starts, the petals turn black and shrivel. The poison in those dried petals is far stronger than the roots. Planning to plant some in spring.”
“This fruit’s seeds have a property that blends well with other poisons. They make incompatible poisons compatible. The toxicity weakens a bit, but handled right, it could yield good results.”
“This frog has poison in its slime. In Tianzhu, they coat arrows with it for hunting.”
Dang Mujin touched each poison Mok Wanah described, sniffed them, and occasionally tasted a tiny bit. Mok Wanah didn’t find his actions odd at all.
After she explained nearly twenty kinds, one item caught Dang Mujin’s eye.
In the storeroom corner sat something resembling a pig’s bladder.
But it was less than half the size, blackened, and shriveled dry on the outside. Moreover, it was the only item she hadn’t explained.
Dang Mujin pointed at the pig-bladder-like object.
“What’s that?”
“Some Western porter said he saw a spider bigger than a man while crossing the Pasa region. Its face supposedly looked human... Anyway, thinking it might fetch money, he extracted this from the corpse.”
Dang Mujin was familiar with venomous spiders, but nothing came to mind about such a thing inside one.
Pondering deeply, however, something pig-bladder-like did surface.
“That... isn’t a poison sac, is it?”
“Seems like it. But the poison’s so potent I couldn’t touch it.”
Spiders’ poison sacs were at most the size of a pinky nail tip. But this was dozens, hundreds of times larger. The tale of a man-sized spider wasn’t a lie, apparently.
“Must’ve been expensive.”
“Not as much as you’d think. The caravan master hated it—threatened to kick him out if he didn’t toss it.”
“Hmm.”
An enticing tale.
A spider larger than a man, with a human-like face. No matter how you sliced it, a spirit beast.
As Dang Mujin strode toward the spider’s poison sac, Mok Wanah startled and grabbed his sleeve.
“That’s dangerous to touch!”
“It’s fine. You know I’m used to poisons.”
Dang Mujin touched the sac’s surface. As expected, no poison leaked from the exterior.
Next, he untied the string tightly knotted at the sac’s opening. Mok Wanah muttered anxiously.
“It’s really dangerous...”
“I said it’s fine. Who am I? Dang Mujin.”
Confidently replying, Dang Mujin brought the opening to his nose and took a slight whiff.
And only two days later did he regain his senses.