The Bird That Drinks Poison
Fluttering as if leaving the world behind and standing alone,
Sprouting wings and ascending to immortality.
Drifting freely with the wind, severing the ties of the mortal world, wings finally sprout as one ascends to the heavens as an immortal.
This was a passage from the famous poem Former Ode on the Red Cliffs, penned by the Northern Song Dynasty poet and scholar Su Shi.
Dang Sobaek, the Patriarch of the Sichuan Tang Clan, softly murmured the poetic verses as he stepped out of his chambers.
In the training grounds, the clan members were practicing their poison arts alongside their hidden weapon techniques. A pungent, acrid odor hung in the air.
Tsk. Danwu has come to visit...
It had been so many years that the memory was hazy. Just picturing the bastard's face made a surge of irritation rise within him. Unconsciously, a sliver of his unsuppressed aura leaked out.
Swoosh—
The flowers that had bloomed so brilliantly with the arrival of spring withered all at once, unable to withstand the toxic energy.
The training disciples turned to look at Dang Sobaek. Soon, their eyes fell upon the withered flowers, and their faces filled with shock.
"Focus on your training," Dang Sobaek said, clearing his throat as he turned away.
I planted hepatica precisely because of its hardy vitality, hoping to avoid this.
To think they couldn't even withstand that briefest of moments.
Pondering whether he should plant the far more resilient Hundred-Fold Wood instead of flowers next time, Dang Sobaek made his way toward the reception hall.
Creeeak—
As a maidservant opened the door, a young man who looked barely twenty years of age sat inside.
Dang Sobaek's long-time friend and rival.
The current Number One Under Heaven in the martial world.
The Heavenly Sword Emperor.
Namgung Danwu.
"Hmph. You look remarkably radiant. Did you undergo a Rebirth of the Flesh or something?"
Despite Dang Sobaek's strangely thorny remark, Namgung Danwu merely let out a good-natured chuckle.
"I broke through my bottleneck and reached a new realm not long ago. It is all thanks to you."
Dang Sobaek's brow twitched. Had the bastard come all the way to the Tang Clan just to brag about that?
While an old friend reaching a higher realm was something to be celebrated, it was not so for Dang Sobaek.
That ever-easygoing smile,
That attitude of being detached from worldly affairs—
It all felt like a mockery. Even though he knew well that Namgung Danwu harbored no such malice.
Yes, this was ugly jealousy.
"Your tongue is as slick as ever," Sobaek retorted.
Unbothered by Sobaek's sharp tongue, Namgung Danwu spoke. "Tell me, Sobaek. Do you remember how long it has been since we first met?"
"Who knows."
Dang Sobaek quietly cast his mind back to the past.
Their first meeting was at the Shaolin martial arts tournament.
He had faced Namgung Danwu in the finals, and after a fierce clash of skills, Dang Sobaek had emerged victorious.
However, that was his first and last victory.
Haha...
A warm spring breeze drifted in through the window. Recalling the memories of that day brought a bitter sensation rising from the depths of his chest.
Perhaps losing to him had been a profound shock.
From that day forward, Namgung Danwu embarked on a journey of martial challenges, claiming victory in every single duel.
By the age of thirty, when a man stands firm.
When Namgung Danwu returned to the Tang Clan to challenge him to a rematch, his single sword strike split the blue sky.
Dang Sobaek was no longer his match. Before that overwhelming power, his martial arts were utterly dismantled.
Unlike himself, who had received the full backing of his clan as the Young Patriarch, Namgung Danwu was a mere member of a branch family who had achieved everything solely through sheer effort and talent.
He hated losing.
He chased after Namgung Danwu's footsteps. He went on his own martial journeys, slaughtering wicked factions to accumulate real combat experience.
He crossed the threshold of death multiple times.
Yet, he still could not catch up. He could not surpass him. The gap between him and Namgung Danwu was a vast chasm that refused to close.
Even though he had fully mastered the Tang Clan's secret art, the Mandok-gwigong, and refined his hidden weapon techniques to their absolute limits.
Thirty years had slipped away in that pursuit.
"What kind of person do you think you have been in my eyes all this time?"
"You certainly know how to bring up embarrassing topics. What is it you actually want to say?"
"Your greatest strength is neither your hidden weapons nor your poison arts. It is your unrelenting tenacity—a venomous determination that ensures you achieve whatever you set your mind to."
Namgung Danwu's voice was remarkably solemn. Even the smile he usually used to mask his thoughts had vanished.
It was likely meant as encouragement, but it did not resonate with Dang Sobaek at all. Instead, it only fueled his irritation.
"Ha! You are full of nonsense today."
"But I am entirely sincere. It is because of you that I was able to reach this realm. You likely have no idea how anxiously I have spent these years. With you standing right behind me the moment I let my guard down, how could I afford to waste a single moment? I swung my sword through countless agonizing hours, all to avoid being overtaken by you."
Despite Namgung Danwu's praise, Dang Sobaek's face remained contorted. A harsh curse slipped naturally from his lips.
"You bastard."
Yet, Namgung Danwu simply pressed on with what he wanted to say, likely accustomed to Sobaek's prickly nature.
"Therefore, I am looking forward to seeing you this time as well."
Only then did Dang Sobaek understand what Namgung Danwu was getting at.
He was speaking of Ascension.
Since the Rebirth of the Flesh was a precursor to Ascension, the day Danwu would leave this lower realm was likely not far off.
In other words, Namgung Danwu was telling him to catch up.
But...
That is impossible.
Regrettably, Ascension was an unattainable dream for Dang Sobaek.
To ascend, one had to reach the ultimate peak of martial arts and undergo the process of Rebirth of the Flesh.
Dang Sobaek shook his head with a bitter expression.
"Give up on me this time."
"What do you mean?"
"I cannot undergo the Rebirth of the Flesh."
The Sichuan Tang Clan's Mandok-gwigong had a clear and distinct limitation.
Though its power was immense, it was a technique that amalgamated all sorts of chaotic, toxic energies.
The prerequisite for undergoing the Rebirth of the Flesh was to possess perfectly pure internal qi.
This was why the Wudang Sect produced the greatest number of ascenders, and conversely, why the Tang Clan had never produced a single one.
"Is it because of your poison arts?"
"Yes."
Namgung Danwu paused, picking up his teacup. He savored the aroma before taking a slow, careful sip.
"I have never once doubted you. So, you will succeed this time as well."
It was an entirely groundless belief.
Yet, precisely because of that...
Hmph...
A spark of motivation flared within him.
Because those words came from none other than Namgung Danwu.
If it were that bastard, he would have overcome even a situation like this. If Danwu could do it, there was no reason Sobaek could not.
Had he ever attempted only the things that were deemed possible?
Through grueling training, he had eventually executed the Torrent of Ten Thousand Flowers, a technique once thought to exist only in theory, and had brought his clan's secret art, the Mandok-gwigong, to its absolute peak.
Though Mount Tai is high, it is still a mountain under heaven.
Dang Sobaek was not the kind of fool who would merely stare at a peak without even attempting to climb it.
He viewed this challenge in the exact same light.
"To do that... I will have to redefine the Mandok-gwigong."
This was uncharted territory.
Yet, martial arts inherently stagnated and withered without constant evolution.
It was an absolute necessity if the Tang Clan was to move forward and produce an ascender.
Namgung Danwu quietly watched Dang Sobaek, who had closed his eyes and drifted into deep thought.
Modifying a secret martial art was by no means an easy feat.
In fact, it was incredibly common for someone to attempt to modify a technique with their own interpretations, only to end up with a degraded, inferior version.
He would face countless failures, and despair would become a daily companion.
Yet, Dang Sobaek had always found a way.
He had created an entirely new martial art utilizing Heavenly Silk to compensate for the weaknesses of hidden weapons.
Even during the Great War between Orthodox and Demonic Factions, when everyone had fallen into despair while trapped within the Inescapable Net...
You always had that look in your eyes.
He had never given up.
In truth, when it came to the theoretical aspects of martial arts, Dang Sobaek was far superior to him.
Namgung Danwu stood up with a bright smile.
The only reason he had delayed his Ascension was to ignite a fire within his old friend.
"I shall depart the lower realm soon. The next time we meet, it will be up there. No matter how long it takes, I will be waiting for you."
The Sichuan Tang Clan's Patriarch's office.
A scroll hanging on the wall depicted a single bird.
It had deep green feathers, a long neck, and long legs.
And a pair of mysterious red eyes.
In a way, it appeared divine, yet at the same time, it exuded a bizarre, sinister aura.
The name of this bird was the Jimjo.
A legendary venomous creature said to harbor such potent toxicity that a mere brush of its feathers would instantly kill all surrounding vegetation, it was the ultimate symbol of the Tang Clan.
Dang Sobaek brushed the dust off the scroll as he lost himself in thought.
Over the years, he had dissected every poison art of the Tang Clan, and not satisfied with that, he had even mastered the techniques of the Southern Barbarian Five Poisons Sect and the martial arts of Tianzhu.
It had not been in vain.
For he had found a way.
Surprisingly, the answer had been close at hand.
The Jimjo...
Returning to the source.
The reason one could not achieve Ascension through poison arts was because the inner qi was impure. In other words, if he could resolve this issue, there would be no obstacle.
Muhyeong-jidok.
The legendary peak of poison arts, characterized by being colorless, odorless, tasteless, and formless.
If he could reach this state, ascending even with the Mandok-gwigong would no longer be a mere dream.
However, there was one problem.
To manifest Muhyeong-jidok, one absolutely required Jimjo poison. It was the final, indispensable catalyst to reach that state.
But... this is highly problematic. I must find a substitute.
Although records of the Jimjo existed in ancient texts like the Classic of Mountains and Seas, the Huainanzi, and the Records of the Grand Historian, they were closer to mere myths.
He could not afford to waste precious time searching for a beast whose very existence was uncertain.
"Are you outside?"
The moment Dang Sobaek's voice fell, the waiting maidservant stepped lightly into the office.
"Speak, Patriarch."
"Summon the Young Patriarch."
"As you command."
In less than the time it took to drink a cup of tea, the Young Patriarch's voice echoed from outside.
"Patriarch, did you summon me?"
"Yes, Seoah. Come in."
Her breathing was slightly ragged, suggesting she had rushed over in the middle of her training.
"What... is the matter?"
"As I mentioned before, I intend to step down from the position of Patriarch now."
Dang Seoah's pupils dilated. She was clearly shaken.
"It is... too early. I do not yet possess the capacity to succeed you, Father. My martial arts, my experience, and my reputation are all sorely lacking. I beg of you to reconsider."
Dang Seoah bowed respectfully, speaking from the bottom of her heart.
The Sichuan Tang Clan was currently enjoying its absolute golden age. And the man standing at its pinnacle was Dang Sobaek.
Putting aside his martial prowess, she was far too young to shoulder everything he had built. The clan members still placed their absolute trust and reliance on Dang Sobaek.
"No, you will do splendidly. You know this as well, do you not? This is a matter that can no longer be delayed. For the sake of the Tang Clan."
"...Your resolve is firm, I see."
"Do not worry too much. I have already spoken to the elders; they will assist and support you."
"Do you intend to enter secluded meditation immediately?"
"Yes... that would be best."
Dang Sobaek rose from his seat and gently stroked Dang Seoah's hair.
"Father..."
"I am sorry, as your father. For placing such an excessive burden upon your shoulders."
"I-it is fine."
His heart was heavy.
Yet, there was no other way.
Had it been solely for his own sake, he would never have thrust such a burden upon her.
The reason Dang Sobaek had made this decision was for the descendants who would follow in his footsteps.
Only by finding a substitute for the Jimjo poison and discovering a way to reach the realm of Muhyeong-jidok could the Tang Clan finally produce an ascender.
Dang Sobaek gently pulled Dang Seoah into a light embrace. He could feel her body trembling slightly.
"I will find a way, without fail."
"I believe in you, Father. Because if it is you... you will surely succeed this time as well."
Dang Sobaek looked back at the painting on the scroll once more.
The Jimjo in the painting was soaring toward the heavens with its wings spread wide.
Dang Sobaek entered secluded meditation.
Unless it was absolutely necessary, he severed all communication with the outside world and focused entirely on his training.
At the same time, he recorded every step of his progress.
Year One
Forgetting to eat and sleep, I have devoted myself entirely to analyzing the Mandok-gwigong. Having already mastered its peak, its flaws are finally beginning to show.
Year Three
I have corrected the flaws, yet the path forward remains obscured. I met with Seoah for the first time in a while. She seems to be leading the clan well. I hear she is seeing some rascal from the Namgung Clan... I do not approve.
Year Five
Still no progress. They say Danwu has finally ascended. It seems he was delayed by handling his clan's affairs.
Year Ten
Reaching Muhyeong-jidok through the Mandok-gwigong is theoretically possible. I have made some minor breakthroughs. Amusingly, by mixing hepatica—which has absolutely nothing to do with poison—with Southern Barbarian centipedes and our clan's Seven Treasures Fatal Powder in precise proportions, I managed to obtain a translucent, pure poison. It was colorless, but not odorless; formless, but not tasteless. More refinement is needed.
Year Twelve
I met with Seoah, now the Clan Leader, after a long time. She informed me she intends to wed that rascal from the Namgung Clan. Apparently, he is a rising star of the current generation, a fellow who resembles Danwu... I do not approve.
Year Fifteen
My health has deteriorated rapidly. It is only natural, given that I have been directly tasting and experimenting with deadly poisons close to Muhyeong-jidok. Had it been anyone else, they would have dissolved into a pool of bloody water by now. Oh, Danwu, my old friend. Can I truly pull this off? A profound skepticism gnaws at me.
Year Eighteen
Why! Why! Why on earth?! I have combined every rare herb and toxic substance in existence! How much further must I go...?
Year Twenty
It is dreadful. There is no substitute for Jimjo poison. No, what was I even researching Muhyeong-jidok for in the first place? ...Seoah, Danwu, I am sorry. It seems this is as far as I go.
Year Twenty-Two
I did nothing. A profound lethargy has settled over my entire body. My flesh withers day by day, and I cannot summon an ounce of will.
Year Twenty-Five
I have regained my senses. I spent some time looking through records of the upper realm. They say martial clans exist there as well, though it is uncertain, as it is merely recorded in ancient texts. If so, the Tang Clan does not exist there. My goal is not mere Ascension. I wish to reach that realm and proudly clash swords with that bastard once more. ...I have resumed my research.
Year Thirty-Nine
I cough up bloody phlegm without end. My life hangs by a thread. Yet, I have finally done it! At long last, even without Jimjo poison, I have found a way to reach Muhyeong-jidok! However, Ascension seems out of reach. Ah... time is too short. If only I had just one more year... I am dying by the second.
Year Forty
Though I may not reach it myself, for the sake of Seoah and the Tang Clan, I leave this method I have discovered as a record.
·
·
·
Dang Sobaek coughed violently.
Cough—
Bloody phlegm stained the palm of the hand he used to cover his mouth. Dang Sobaek tried to summon a bitter smile, but his facial muscles, paralyzed by the poison, refused to obey.
"Had I not spent so much time wandering in search of answers... perhaps I could have seen Seoah and Danwu's faces once more. What a pity."
Cough—
Another torrent of bloody phlegm erupted from his throat, mixed with fragments of his ruptured internal organs.
Dang Sobaek sat at the desk tucked away in a corner of his seclusion chamber and picked up the brush.
Because his arms would not move as he wished, his handwriting was a chaotic mess, and the pages of the book were stained by the dark red blood that spilled from his lips from time to time.
Yet, he did not care.
As long as it is legible, that is enough.
To pass down the method he had discovered, his realizations, and his insights to future generations was his final duty.
He lost track of how many days had passed since he began writing. Forgetting to eat or sleep, Dang Sobaek focused entirely on completing his work.
And at long last...
He finally completed the final chapter of the Mandok-gwigong:
The Muhyeong-jidok Chapter.
Though he had failed to realize his own dream...
With Seoah's talent...
She would surely reach it.
Dang Sobaek quietly closed his eyes.
That night.
He dreamed.
The wings he had yearned for so desperately were attached to his back.
He soared freely through the azure sky, looking down upon the earth below.
The people looked as small as fingernails, and he could see their lives, lived with such fierce intensity.
Though he had failed to achieve Ascension in the end, had his life not been meaningful in its own right?
Fluttering as if leaving the world behind and standing alone,
Sprouting wings and ascending to immortality.
Drifting freely with the wind, severing the ties of the mortal world, wings finally sprout as one ascends to the heavens as an immortal.
Murmuring the verses, Dang Sobaek ascended endlessly into the sky, if only in his dream. Passing through the heavens, he reached the vast cosmos filled with countless stars.
This is enough.
Feeling a strange, ethereal sensation, Dang Sobaek let go of his final connection to the mortal world.
He was ninety-three years old.
Dang Sobaek tried to sit up, but his body refused to cooperate.
The sensations throughout his entire body were overwhelmingly unfamiliar.
Am I... not dead yet?
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
The blurry shapes around him gradually came into focus.
It was a pitch-black cave.
The agonizing pain that had plagued him for so long had completely vanished.
He slowly opened his mouth, intending to speak.
And yet...
"Chirp—"
A sound that should never, under any circumstances, escape a human mouth slipped past his lips.