Chapter 38
Chapter 38
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: Heavenly Martial Pavilion
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"Joint locks? I don't like the sound of that. Wouldn't it be better to learn a sword technique or a footwork instead?"
Dang Mujin suggested casually, but Yi Chung shot back.
"Xuanwu Divine Skill, Heart-Piercing Sword, Flying Floss Palm, Cloud Wander Step. Have you perfectly mastered even one of the martial arts I've taught you?"
Dang Mujin trained diligently every day. He focused his mind to execute forms, connected them fluidly, and refined his movements. Through endless repetition, he vaguely sensed the intent behind them.
It was like running in circles on a treadmill. But after intense practice, he realized something had changed since a few days ago. His internal energy flowed more smoothly, and the power of his forms grew day by day.
He had never experienced sudden enlightenment, but stacking progress like this was surely the path upward.
Still, if they were talking perfect mastery right off the bat, he had nothing to say. Perfect already? No way.
"...Of course not. It's going to take a while."
"Right? Stop poking around and master what I've taught you."
"But joint locks—do any of them even work?"
"Plenty. In fact, they suit you and me perfectly."
"Why? I get it for you, old man, but what's wrong with me?"
"Our goals are different. A typical martial artist wants simple things: clash with foes and win, make a name as a powerhouse. But you and I are different. Winning isn't our top priority."
Yi Chung's dream wasn't reaching the pinnacle of martial arts—it was gathering all the world's medical knowledge.
Dang Mujin's goals, on the other hand, were hazy. He wanted to become someone greater, but not enough to risk death for the next realm.
"So we need ways to save our lives, even if we lose. Joint locks have techniques like that."
Yi Chung read off titles from the martial arts manuals.
"Chaotic Tracks Step. Not fast, but it muddles your footprints to evade pursuit. Perfect for shaking off chasers and fleeing. Turtle Breath Great Law. Lowers your body temperature and stops your heartbeat—you just hold still."
"What's the point of just sitting there?"
"When there's no escape, you play dead."
"Doubt it'd work."
"If no one had survived with Turtle Breath Great Law, it wouldn't be so famous."
Nangong Hwan, standing behind them, listened with a bewildered expression.
He'd assumed an outsider in the Heavenly Martial Pavilion would hunt for top-tier manuals, but their conversation was downright weird.
Yi Chung kept checking random books. Face-changing disguise arts, bone-shrinking skills to alter build—they looked useful enough.
Then he spotted "Bedchamber Arts," and Dang Mujin instinctively reached out before pulling back. Curious, but too embarrassing to check.
Dang Mujin secretly hoped Yi Chung would pick it, then said,
"Taking this long? Find anything?"
"Yeah, got it. This one."
The book Yi Chung grabbed was titled Monkey Escape Skill. A monkey's fleeing technique—the lamest name of them all.
Lameness aside, Dang Mujin found the name odd. If it mimicked a monkey's escape, shouldn't it be Monkey Escape Divine Skill or Monkey Escape Step?
When Dang Mujin asked about the name, Yi Chung explained.
"Ever actually seen a monkey?"
"Nope."
"Monkeys flee but circle back, hurling stuff. Monkey Escape Skill draws from that habit."
Dang Mujin's face fell. What good was that?
"Why learn something like this?"
"It's about the throwing. Remember when Hong Geolgae threw spit to take down those thugs in the market?"
"Oh. Got it."
Unlike other fighters, Dang Mujin could use poison. No need for close swordplay—just land a poisoned weapon from afar to drop them.
"Projectile or throwing arts seem minor, but masters are rare. Unless you're training as an assassin in the Shadows of Slaughter, this is pretty much your only shot."
Yi Chung handed the Monkey Escape Skill to Dang Mujin.
"So memorize it."
*
Time to memorize oral formulas varies by person.
The dim-witted might take all day for a short one, but Dang Mujin's wits were sharp enough.
The formula wasn't long, so when he emerged having committed it to memory, the sun was still high.
One problem, though.
"I've got it memorized, but no clue what it means."
It read like poetry or nonsense syllables. He could recite it, but felt no wiser or stronger.
"Of course. Recite it during practice and ponder the hidden meanings between lines. Formulas are just guides to insight—they don't solve everything."
As Dang Mujin mimed hurling junk while reciting, Yi Chung vanished and returned with a large bundle and two small ones.
"What's this?"
"Herbs and poisons I asked Nangong Jincheon for yesterday. Now for the tricky part."
Yi Chung unpacked, revealing a veritable assortment.
The large bundle brimmed with pricey herbs.
Recognizable ones like golden fleece flower blooms, agarwood, deer antler—but others were mysteries.
"This is real rhino horn—rarer than gold by weight. Dragon bone over there too."
Yi Chung showed and explained.
Dang Mujin's heart swelled. These weren't things money alone could buy easily.
Heading home with just this bundle would make his brief jianghu trip a roaring success.
Yi Chung opened a side bundle: miscellaneous herbs, roots, petals, tiny pills.
"Minor spirit herbs and elixirs. Won't boost your inner power much, and the energy's impure. Better sell for travel funds."
Spirit medicines required fully absorbing one before the next.
Dang Mujin's dantian still held half-undigested Black Peony qi. No point coveting weak stuff.
"And the last one's most crucial."
The final bundle held toxic items: Sichuan chinaberry, areca nuts, suspicious powders, odds and ends.
"All poison?"
"Yeah. Blood scorpion wings, seven-colored spider venom sacs. Black centipede fangs. Some I don't even know."
"Been wondering since yesterday—why does Nangong Clan stock this stuff?"
"Trophies from killing off black path assassins. Can't leave it for innocents, no buyers, no use for us. It piles up."
"Hmm."
Dang Mujin guessed why Yi Chung took it.
In Zhuul Village, Yi Chung had circulated qi amid corpses, absorbing poison. Same idea here.
"But how do you use absorbed poison?"
"Want a demo?"
Yi Chung led Dang Mujin outside to a small shrub.
He pressed his palm to it. A black mark appeared, emanating a acrid medicinal stench like botched pills.
Just the smell dizzied his head—potent poison.
"Form a tiny poison core above your dantian, gather poison there. Release as needed. Versatile, even if unorthodox."
As he spoke, a black droplet beaded on Yi Chung's index finger. It hit the ground, withering short grass yellow in seconds.
Amusing to watch, but a nightmare for his foes.
Yi Chung lightly demonstrated Flying Floss Palm.
"Flying Floss Palm. Light as drifting floss, far from overpowering. I taught you this over other palms because poison users don't need brute force. A light touch lets it seep in—that's enough."
He flowed through the soft, swaying forms.
"Unless it's lethal venom, experts block it with inner power. But repelling it mid-fight? Near impossible—like painting with your left hand while swinging a sword with your right."
Dang Mujin watched, imagining: as Yi Chung's foe, how would it feel if a graze decided victory?
"Righteous fighters shun poison because it's so damn effective and deadly. Plenty call non-blade, non-flesh methods cowardly."
"But you're righteous and use it."
"Who said I'm righteous?"
"Huh?"
Dang Mujin blinked stupidly. Wasn't Yi Chung obviously righteous?
Had he unwittingly trailed an evil path martial artist?
"You're in Nangong Clan now. They wouldn't take evil pathers."
"If anything, I'm between righteous and evil. Don't care if foe's righteous or demonic. I treat Shaolin monks bedridden with illness or infamous fiends alike."
Yi Chung drew a sword from his belt—one of Dang Mujin's new shortswords, Disease-Cutting Sword. He swung at empty air.
"Killing's the same. I slaughtered healers like Zhuul Village's who spread plague for profit. Even threatened or killed those hoarding cures to seize the formulas."
"You killed them for not sharing cures?"
"You've heard rumors I slaughter physicians?"
"Thought they were bullshit."
"They're not. Dozens fell to me. Countless want me dead. But I've healed so many, few act on it."
Dang Mujin and Yi Chung's bond defied labels—closest was master-disciple.
Yet Yi Chung never claimed mentorship, introducing him merely as a companion.
Perhaps to spare Dang Mujin his enmities.
Yi Chung continued casually.
"Anyway, to wield Flying Floss Palm right, build that poison core above your dantian. So, wanna start light with a seven-colored spider venom sac?"
Yi Chung dangled a pinky-tip-sized black sac under Dang Mujin's nose.
Dang Mujin recoiled reflexively.
"Are you nuts?"
"Nuts? It's a poison core, sure—but used right, it's medicine. Wanna see?"
Yi Chung jabbed Dang Mujin's shoulder well point.
A tangy, sweet herbal scent bloomed; forge-knotted muscles relaxed blissfully.
He didn't stop, kneading gently. Dang Mujin's body melted languidly.
"Try this examining patients back home. Word'll spread: Tang Clinic cures by wrist-grab alone. Sichuan's Divine Healer Dang Mujin. How's that?"
The most tempting pitch Yi Chung had ever made.
Dang Mujin still recoiled at the venom sac, but his hand reached out and took it.