Clash at the Pinnacle of the Martial World (2)
Singui was taking the pulse of Namgung Daeso, who lay sleeping peacefully. Ilhyang, watching from the side, handed him a cup of tea.
"Have some of this first."
"Thank you."
Singui wet his lips with the tea and resumed his careful examination of Namgung Daeso. Needles were embedded in various points across the young man's body—just as promised, ones designed to induce deep sleep.
"Hmm……."
Singui stared at him, letting out a low hum as if grappling with an unsolved puzzle.
"Nom nom nom~"
In stark contrast, Namgung Daeso smacked his lips contentedly, as if savoring a delightful dream.
Singui removed the needles from his body.
"It's markedly different from before."
From the brief pulse diagnosis, his heartbeat thrummed with vigorous strength. Singui probed various parts of his body. Unlike his previous checkup, the muscles were perfectly toned, his breathing deeper and more stable than ever. Even the weakened qi and blood had fully recovered—so thoroughly that, had Singui not known about the injury beforehand, he might have overlooked it entirely.
And his conclusion?
The body of an extraordinarily healthy individual. People like this usually lived out their days free of illness, passing peacefully in old age.
Perhaps the Cheonmu Jiche had finally fully taken root.
"I just don't know."
Singui rose from his seat with a puzzled expression. Ilhyang, who had been watching anxiously, asked urgently,
"Is there something wrong with the youngest young master?"
"No, he's perfectly healthy. Worrying about him would be a luxury at this point."
"Phew…… That's a relief."
"I've finished my business here. Time to go."
"Yes, take care."
"Right."
As Singui stepped out, he glanced back inside on impulse.
'Hm?'
"Nah, no way."
As he passed the maid, he'd caught a familiar scent.
'Must be my imagination.'
It wasn't the sort of smell one would associate with that girl.
'Cheong-a Dan isn't something you pick up at the local apothecary.'
He might have made it on a whim in the past and given the leftovers to Namgung Hancheol since they were tricky to dispose of otherwise, but it was surely being cherished somewhere safe. Fitting its name.
Its effects could slap the face of any other spirit elixir.
"Probably just stale and throwing me off."
Singui lingered at the doorway instead of leaving promptly, and Ilhyang, who had been neatly tucking Daeso's blanket, approached him.
"Did you forget something?"
Sniff sniff!
Seizing the moment, Singui flared his nostrils and inhaled deeply once more.
'It kinda smells like Cheong-a Dan, but also not… It's ambiguous.'
At that instant, Ilhyang's face flushed beet red.
'Oh no!'
Singui realized he'd been sniffing too obviously.
"My apologies!"
"Did you… smell it?"
Ilhyang mumbled with her head bowed low.
'To make such a blunder in front of a lady…….'
Singui closed his eyes briefly and nodded slowly.
"Heup!"
Ilhyang clutched her face and bolted out toward the outside.
Singui's expression crumpled. He realized he'd acted without thinking.
He shut the door and hurried out of Namgung Daeso's quarters. Ilhyang watched from behind a tree, muttering bitterly under her breath.
"Seriously…… I muffled the sound perfectly!"
That morning at the market, she'd spotted a basket of plump, roasted sweet potatoes. The vendor's pitch had been so persuasive she'd bought them without thinking. At lunch, she'd suggested just one each to Ihyang and Samhyang, boiled a few—and they were so delicious they'd each scarfed down three more.
When Singui had hummed and furrowed his brow slightly!
Ilhyang had smelled it too. The scent she'd thought was a perfect crime, thanks to impeccable sphincter control.
"Haa…… How am I supposed to face Singui now?"
Meanwhile, Singui headed back to the medical hall, reflecting,
"Even if she's just a maid, that was a grave discourtesy to a woman. Next time I see her, I should apologize with a few Cheong-a Dan pills."
That aside.
"What was that smell, really?"
* * *
In the Gunsajeon.
Namgung Je-cheon clutched his head, staring at the names scrawled on the letter.
"Agh. Headache."
His hand absentmindedly reached for a wooden box nearby. He popped open the lid, peeled off a Hwandan pill, and tossed it into his mouth.
"Nothing beats these for a headache. Running low now, though."
He'd shared some with the maid sisters last time and snacked on them himself, so the once-plentiful supply was dwindling.
"Gotta ration them."
Namgung Je-cheon tossed the wrapper carelessly to the floor.
Scrawled on the fallen paper: Cheong-a Dan.
* * *
In response to Mujikja's words, the one-armed elder said,
"What did you say?"
He wore an incredulous expression.
"That… I've found the answer."
"It can't be the answer I'm thinking of, can it?"
"It is."
"Heh……!"
The one-armed elder let out a deep sigh. Mujikja gazed at Ilseon Dosa and asked once more, with utter sincerity,
"What do you think when you see this garden?"
An out-of-left-field question, utterly unrelated to their prior conversation.
Ilseon Dosa looked at him.
'Impossible to read.'
In the past, no matter how drunk or hot-tempered, the tiger-nosed one who shattered Wudang's Josa Hall was Mujikja. And now, this Mujikja looked like a true Daoist.
'Heavens…… Has he truly attained enlightenment?'
Ilseon Dosa shook his head briefly. He knew better than anyone how difficult that was!
That single step forward was excruciatingly hard.
No less than a decade and a half.
The time he'd devoted to taking that one step—and still, he hadn't.
But.
He and Mujikja had known each other for over half a century. From childhood, they'd been the pride of Shaolin and Wudang—sometimes comrades in training martial arts, other times fierce rivals. They'd chased each other's shadows relentlessly, honing their skills without rest. One day, they'd awakened to find themselves the pinnacle masters of Shaolin and Wudang.
Thus, Ilseon Dosa prided himself on knowing Mujikja better than anyone. They'd gotten blackout drunk together just yesterday.
And this morning, not even an hour after opening his eyes, the man was mimicking an enlightened monk.
Convincingly, at that.
Ilseon Dosa was still dazed but decided to play along with his old friend's tune.
"A splendidly manicured garden."
"Any other impressions?"
"You want a more detailed critique? Fine, why not."
Ilseon Dosa knew better than anyone how meticulously Mujikja tended this garden.
"The trees here are all uniformly trimmed. The rich hue of the leaves and the seamless green canopy soothe the viewer's mind. Oh ho!"
Suddenly, Ilseon Dosa exclaimed in admiration.
"Traces of martial arts in the pruning. And at a considerable realm, too."
To identify the exact technique, he placed a hand on a branch.
"Faint, but this energy is…… Taeguk."
Ilseon Dosa then stepped sideways.
"Hm……."
A different low hum this time.
"This area seems untouched by you. Unlike the last spot, the branches are sparse, and some are outright broken. Honestly, compared to before, I can't call this impressive."
"That's all?"
Mujikja asked softly.
Ilseon Dosa eyed him intently once more.
'Is there more?'
He scanned the garden again, searching for what he'd missed. Why this pointless question? What had changed him?
Finally, finding nothing, Ilseon Dosa nodded.
"That's it. Why the sudden question?"
To that, Mujikja pointed at the unkempt section Ilseon Dosa had just criticized.
"I thought the same until just now."
"About what?"
Mujikja then pointed to the impeccably tidy side.
What followed had nothing to do with the garden.
"After Namgung crushed us utterly, I couldn't forget that day. You felt the same, I'm sure."
For Ilseon Dosa and Mujikja, it was a bone-deep scar they'd never erase.
"Ngh……."
As Ilseon Dosa grunted, Mujikja continued.
"After that, we both lived haunted by it. We wandered far and wide, eventually settling in his home, Namgung. We toiled to exorcise his sword from our minds—each in our own way."
For masters at their level, cultivation needed no fixed locale.
"My method was tending this garden; yours, sweeping the courtyard."
"Indeed."
Ilseon Dosa nodded along. This was ancient history.
"You infused Wudang's harmony into the trees; I imprinted Shaolin's ferocity into the earth."
"Right. We each found the best approach for our arts' natures. And so, over a decade passed. Our martial prowess advanced beyond that day, no doubt."
"It'd be weirder if it hadn't."
Then it happened.
Ilseon Dosa's eyes widened. An utterly unexpected reaction from Mujikja.
Mujikja was caressing the shabby branches from moments ago.
"No, we might have been on the wrong path all this time."
"Wrong path?"
"Meeting that child today made me realize it."
'That child?'
Who?
Mujikja pressed on.
"He called it excessive. And this shabby garden? His handiwork."
"Who the hell is this kid? You're shaken by a mere child's words?!"
"Heh heh, who he is doesn't matter. What matters is he saw what I couldn't."
'Has he lost his mind?'
Ilseon Dosa couldn't believe it as Mujikja smiled with gentle benevolence. He'd known him since youth—Mujikja was the last sort fit for a Daoist. Quick to flare like fire at a touch. The type to punch first upon eye contact.
And now, that man smiled serenely.
'Insane. Or…… because of that child.'
Who the hell? No—Ilseon Dosa didn't care who. He shifted the question.
What had the child done?
The answer came soon.
"We were both trapped. By him—his overwhelming strength."
Mujikja grasped a leafy branch.
"What are you doing?"
Mujikja grinned and shook the tree lightly.
The lush green leaves that had moments ago painted a beautiful scene drifted powerlessly to the ground. The bare branches beneath were revealed.
"We've been chasing only the surface."
Ilseon Dosa compared the two halves of the garden.
"Heavens……."
Two trees stood out starkly. The one he'd just deemed shabby.
"Amitabha."
Words Ilseon Dosa hadn't uttered since that day slipped from his lips.
"Infinite Buddha."
Mujikja echoed him.
"Less than half a shichen has passed. But……."
Ilseon Dosa finished the thought.
"It's different."
"Very."
With the leaves gone, fragile twigs that seemed ready to snap were exposed. Utterly unlike the tree Namgung Daeso had just pruned.
"It's coming alive."
"What we failed to see all this time."
"And that one looks alive but was dying."
"What we never noticed."
"Heh heh."
At this point, Ilseon Dosa couldn't hold back.
"Who the hell is this 'child'?"
"You should meet him yourself."
"Stop teasing and spill it."
"Infinite Buddha…… Namgung's youngest young master."