Chapter 342
Chapter 342
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 342
Chapter Title: Tidings
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Dang Mujin suddenly holed up in his quarters, cutting off all contact with the outside world.
On the third day of his self-imposed confinement, Dan Seolyeong went to find Hong Geolgae.
"Hey. Hong Geolgae."
"What?"
"Do you know what's going on with Dang Mujin?"
"Not really."
At Hong Geolgae's immediate reply, Dan Seolyeong's eyes sharpened.
"If you don't know, that's it? Go find out."
"...Why me?"
"I don't know what's up with Dang Mujin, Mok Wana doesn't know, and neither does Father-in-law. Even Uncle Chusam, the physicians, Seok Jiseung, and Master Seok don't know. So it must be something related to his martial arts that's got him shut away in his room. Right?"
As always, Dan Seolyeong's words carried conviction.
Hong Geolgae mumbled in response.
"Yeah, probably. But if you're curious, shouldn't you go ask him yourself? You're husband and wife."
"If he's shut himself away over some martial arts issue, what do I know about that stuff? The only things I know are a simple breathing method and one lightness skill."
"Hmm..."
"Go ask him what's going on. Got it? Now, get up!"
Worried that backtalk here might lead to talk of settling his food tab, Hong Geolgae trudged off toward Dang Mujin's quarters.
Unexpectedly, there was no bar on Dang Mujin's door.
"I'm coming in."
No reply came. But Hong Geolgae entered anyway, unconcerned.
Dang Mujin sat leaning against the wall, deep in thought.
Hong Geolgae plopped down in front of him and asked.
"Something happen?"
At Hong Geolgae's question, Dang Mujin pondered for a moment before speaking up.
"It's like this..."
Dang Mujin recounted in detail what had happened to him during the recent spar.
Hong Geolgae nodded quietly, listening intently.
Hong Geolgae's initially playful expression gradually turned serious. By the end, it felt almost solemn.
When Dang Mujin's long-winded tale finally concluded, Hong Geolgae spoke in the gravest tone imaginable.
"Uh... Didn't I say something stupid before?"
"What stupid thing?"
"That Peak Realm can't be considered true experts or whatever nonsense. Actually, Peak experts are experts too. Everyone says so. Right?"
"..."
"You know as well as I do, a Peak expert gets respect anywhere in the martial world. Most sect leaders are Peak experts. The Emei Sect's Abbot Heungbaek is a Peak expert, the current Qingcheng Sect leader is too, and Elder Hwahwa No-gae is as well. Does anyone complain? No one's got beef with it. Namgung Myeong and Hyeon-gong are just outliers. No need to set the bar ridiculously high and get depressed over it."
Hong Geolgae's consolation was so earnest that it only made Dang Mujin feel more uncomfortable.
But Hong Geolgae, oblivious to Dang Mujin's inner turmoil, pressed on.
"You're still young. Your future's bright. Give it time, and you might figure it out and become a Transcendent Peak expert. Right?"
The attitude—treating his peer like a junior disciple—felt subtly off-putting.
Suddenly, Dang Mujin recalled a saying: when close friends stop teasing and offer serious comfort with a straight face, things are truly dire.
But on one point, at least, Hong Geolgae was right. There was no need to hold himself to such high standards. His situation was worlds apart from his friends'.
'Yeah. Unlike those guys who eat and breathe martial arts, I'm a proper family man. If I even overtook them in martial prowess, that'd be unfair.'
Dang Mujin was proficient in medicine and metallurgy, had started a family unlike his friends, and had established his own clan before turning thirty.
Even while pursuing both poison arts and covert techniques simultaneously, there was no need to feel disappointed over lagging slightly behind his friends in raw power.
No, it was odd even to think of himself as lagging. Dang Mujin believed he could hold his own against Hong Geolgae. Of course, Hong Geolgae might disagree, but that was beside the point.
Dang Mujin brushed it off casually.
"Don't worry about it. I wasn't moping in here heartbroken. I just needed time to sort my thoughts."
"Oh? I worried for nothing then."
Hong Geolgae finally let out a sigh of relief and left.
*
Dang Mujin emerged from his quarters, but a corner of his mind still felt uneasy.
He could accept lagging behind his friends for now.
But failing to grasp even a clue to the next stage was unacceptable. He couldn't shake off his lingering attachment to the Transcendent realm.
After some deliberation, Dang Mujin headed to Samanbul's quarters.
In the back courtyard of Samanbul's residence, he faintly heard the scrape and clash of metal.
Venturing into the yard, he saw Jang Il-nam and Namgung Jincheon crossing swords.
Their blades clashed a couple times in midair, then the tips met precisely in empty space and halted. A bizarre sight, like points touching points. And not just once—it happened three times in succession.
Dang Mujin sat beside Samanbul with a puzzled look.
"What's going on with that?"
"Il-nam is deliberately matching blade tips to break the flow of the spar. Like facing a copycat in baduk—it saps your momentum, so they quit out of boredom."
"...Is that like baduk cheating? If I were the Sword Ghost elder, I'd beg to keep sparring just out of fascination."
"I think the same. It's no ordinary skill."
"Has Elder Jang surpassed the Sword Ghost in attainment?"
"Who knows. If the Sword Ghost went all out, Il-nam couldn't respond like that."
Soon after Dang Mujin arrived, the spar fizzled out inconclusively.
It had lasted quite a while, though—faint beads of sweat dotted Jang Il-nam and Namgung Jincheon's skin.
As they caught their breath, Dang Mujin described the darkness he'd glimpsed in his trance and asked the three Transcendent experts.
"...In a situation like this, what should I do to step into the next realm?"
"That's not a question we can give a definitive answer to."
Namgung Jincheon answered first, but it wasn't satisfying.
"I've heard that when crossing into the Transcendent realm, you see a path. There must be some knack to finding it, right?"
Namgung Jincheon shook his head.
"The most common mental image is a path, but not everyone encounters one. And it's not just one path. The form of the path, the way to find it, the way to step onto it—all differ. What was right for one person can be wrong for another."
Samanbul shared his own experience.
"Namgung Jincheon's right. I never saw a path. Instead, I felt crushing pressure like carrying a house-sized boulder, followed someone's chanting of the Six-Character Mantra, ascended to the heavens, and attained enlightenment amid lotus fragrance."
"Hmm."
It only muddled his mind further. But one thing was clear.
"But there are clues leading to the next realm, right? Like the sound of the Six-Character Mantra or lotus scent."
"Indeed."
"Why did I get no clues at all?"
"No idea."
Jang Il-nam chimed in with his take.
"Maybe Mujin's skills aren't mature enough yet to grasp the clue for the next realm?"
"Hmm. Doesn't seem like it... Or is it too soon? Hard to say."
Jang Il-nam's response, Samanbul's, even Namgung Jincheon's—all were vaguely hazy.
It made sense, in a way. Dang Mujin didn't practice standard martial arts like recommended methods or sword styles. Even from the vantage of advanced experts, gauging his level was tricky.
It seemed comparable to Transcendent in some ways, middling Peak Realm in others.
That was just his covert techniques; comprehending his poison arts was even harder.
But Dang Mujin saw this ambiguity as a good thing.
'Actually, perfect. Means there's still potential, right?'
As Jang Il-nam suggested, maybe his middling attainment was why he hadn't gotten a clue.
With bone-grinding training over months or years, wouldn't he catch some hint next time—be it floral scent or a path?
It stung his pride that even Hong Geolgae had found his clue while he hadn't, but it beat falling hopelessly behind.
Plus, didn't he have helpers now?
Dang Mujin humbly asked Namgung Jincheon.
"Elder Namgung Jincheon. Mind if I request occasional spars?"
But Namgung Jincheon's reaction was subtle.
"I can spar, sure. Won't help much, though."
"No way. You easily granted me enlightenment before."
"You're hoping I'll recreate that 'trigger' for you. But that method only works once."
"Why?"
"Because it relies on mortal peril and desperation. Even if I show you the exact same strike again, can you feel the same desperation as last time?"
"..."
"Impossible. You won't forget that spar. Even if my blade grazes your hair and touches your scalp identically, you'll expect it to stop."
It was understandable.
Still, clutching at straws, Dang Mujin pressed.
"But couldn't it work again somehow? If luck's on your side, maybe twice. Swing a bit more perilously..."
"Pointless. And I can't do it multiple times. I'm leaving the Dang family estate soon anyway."
"You're leaving?"
"Yes."
Those who gather must part. But the idea of Namgung Jincheon departing felt alien to Dang Mujin.
Few who entered the Dang estate for any reason ever left.
No need to mention Dan Seolyeong or Mok Wana; the three friends had quietly settled in, and the Demonic Cult warriors and Jang Il-nam had taken root as if it were natural.
"When I came to Sichuan Province, I had four goals. I went via Emei Sect to reach the Dang estate first, so now I'll leave for Qingcheng Sect."
"Four... So Qingcheng isn't the end. Where next?"
"They say there's a God of Gambling in Sichuan Province? I'll catch him and lop off his head."
"...Pardon?"
Dang Mujin and Samanbul managed neutral expressions, but Jang Il-nam was different. He clapped both hands over his mouth in shock. Fortunately, Namgung Jincheon didn't suspect him.
Dang Mujin feigned nonchalance.
"Any grudge against the God of Gambling?"
"Not really. But someone dubbed the God of Gambling must have amassed a fortune. I'll seize all his money and treasures and send them to the Namgung family. It'll surely aid that naive young patriarch. What more can a gruff father do for his son at the end?"
"..."
A truly touching paternal bond.
But everyone except Namgung Jincheon knew the truth, leaving them speechless. They could only hope Namgung Myeong wouldn't get found out and lose his head.
They could fit a prosthetic arm if he lost his left, but no prosthetic head for a headless Namgung Myeong.
Dang Mujin subtly probed.
"The God of Gambling's movements are elusive; no one even knows his face. What if you can't catch him? You won't linger in Sichuan forever."
Thankfully, Namgung Jincheon wasn't obsessed.
"Can't be helped. Then I'll visit Fairy Hwayeon for a spar and head to the Demonic Cult."
"To the Demonic Cult?"
"Yes."
Surely not defecting. With a trembling voice, Dang Mujin asked.
"What do you plan to do there...?"
Namgung Jincheon didn't answer.
Instead, he bared white teeth in a childlike, innocent grin.
*
Time passed, and full spring arrived.
Dang Yeong had come to accept Dang Mujin as his dad, and Dang Iryeong and Dang Haewon no longer cried in his arms.
Like shedding oil grime, Namgung Jincheon's prowess soared daily.
He easily subdued Jang Il-nam and soon matched Samanbul evenly.
Then, with brief farewells, Namgung Jincheon left the Dang estate.
"Hope we meet again."
"Take care."
Around the same time, a long-lost connection reappeared.
Hyeon-gong, who had slipped away to Zhongqing, returned to the Dang estate with Seolhwa. Dang Mujin only now realized Seolhwa had vanished too. He recalled Hyeon-gong leaving alone at first.
Hyeon-gong immediately addressed Dang Mujin and Hong Geolgae.
"Long time. Made any progress?"
Bringing up attainment right away meant Hyeon-gong had attained enlightenment.
Before Dang Mujin could reply, Hong Geolgae elbowed Hyeon-gong's side.
Hyeon-gong looked at him, and Hong Geolgae bowed his head, sending a transmission in a mumble.
- Don't mention martial arts around Mujin for a while.
- Why?
- Mujin might never reach Transcendent. Says he's hit his limit.
Hyeon-gong's mind raced.
'Judging my background at nine points, Mujin's at nine and a half.'
'But if he can't reach Transcendent, his prowess is seven points?'
'Poison arts are rare, Venom Ring's power no joke—add half, makes seven and a half. Medicine and metallurgy together, another half. Total: eight points.'
'Me at eighteen, him at seventeen and a half. Gap'll widen from here.'
A historic moment.
For the first time in Hyeon-gong's head, Dang Mujin's ranking dipped below his.
'Still, versatile with solid background. Good as a subordinate.'
Hyeon-gong gazed at Dang Mujin with a profoundly subtle, meaningful expression.
A smile precisely conveying half a point of superiority—and the growing gap ahead.
Dang Mujin's reason didn't grasp the smile's meaning, but his right fist instinctively did.
Dang Mujin's fist sliced the air.
Crack.
But Hyeon-gong caught it in his hand.
Hyeon-gong's grip even held newfound attainment.
Dang Mujin debated drawing a blade, then noticed something.
Seolhwa standing beside Hyeon-gong looked unusually serious.
Recalling Seolhwa's usual somewhat vacant expression, something had clearly happened.
"...Seolhwa. Something wrong?"
At Dang Mujin's question, Seolhwa replied with surprisingly clear pronunciation.
"A thief bitch showed up."