Guide of the Sichuan Tang Clan C22

Chapter 22

When Eunmyeong slowly lowered his hand, he found Mujin standing right in front of him.

“Oh— you startled me.”

Whether it was because of the sunlight or because of his radiant face, his eyes felt dazzled. The black martial robes suited him perfectly, as did his hair, parted and tied neatly in half. Between the strands, his long, narrow eyes were revealed.

Those eyes carried a curious atmosphere. Depending on the warmth held within his gaze, they sometimes appeared cold, and at other times gentle. Of course, Eunmyeong liked both expressions.

“You’re handsome even in the morning.”

“Spouting nonsense again?”

“Is this your first time hearing it?”

Eunmyeong replied shamelessly, blinking slowly. Still—why was this man here? He pushed himself upright.

“Isn’t it time for you to be at the training grounds?”

“I thought you’d be awake by now.”

Once seated, Eunmyeong noticed something besides Mujin’s dazzling features. His gaze shifted to Mujin’s hands.

“Huh?”

He was holding something green-tinted in both hands. A robe and a hair tie. Catching Eunmyeong’s stare, Mujin set them down on the floor and suddenly pulled him by the waist.

With a soft tug, Eunmyeong’s body was drawn backward. Mujin sat behind him and carefully placed his hand in Eunmyeong’s hair. At his touch, the long strands rustled softly.

“I thought you’d forgotten. You actually remembered?”

“I’m not stupid enough to forget what happened the day before.”

He answered calmly as his fingers gathered the hair together. When even the strands that had been brushing Eunmyeong’s neck were swept up, the sensation felt strangely unfamiliar.

‘I should’ve at least experienced someone tying my hair before.’

Before coming to this world, Eunmyeong had always kept his hair short. Long hair was bothersome, and he disliked anything brushing against his neck. If it grew even a little, he would go straight to the salon.

To Eunmyeong, this place’s long, straight hair felt foreign—almost alien. With hair reaching his waist and no idea how to manage it, he had simply tied it into a single knot. Feeling oddly embarrassed, he scratched his forehead.

“It’s coming loose, so stay still.”

A low voice sounded close by. When Eunmyeong turned his head, Mujin’s face was right there.

“When I say stay still, that includes your head.”

Mujin’s expression was focused as he gathered the side strands, his brows faintly knit out of habit.

A breeze drifted in through the window. Where the sunlight had passed, the wind settled. A single strand slipped down across Mujin’s forehead.

Eunmyeong couldn’t take his eyes off that face. Forgetting the command to stay still, his hand reached out toward him.

“……”

The hand brushing his hair came to a halt. Their eyes met, and a strange tension lingered in the air.

Eunmyeong hastily pulled his hand back and whispered,

“This is… um, I mean—”

“……”

“Well… you’re just… too handsome, Young Master.”

Mujin’s eyes narrowed slightly. Just as his lips were about to move, he turned Eunmyeong’s head back to face forward.

“You’re in the way. Be quiet.”

Despite his firm tone, his touch was gentle. With a delicacy like caressing a flower, he gathered the hair into one neat tie. Beneath it, a pale nape was revealed.

From the moment he had first received Eunmyeong’s energy, a thirst had taken root within him. It was different from the hunger that came with surging internal energy. This dryness—like a parched throat—lay coiled somewhere deep inside, only to spring forth whenever he looked at Eunmyeong.

‘Like now.’

He felt as though only by biting into that exposed neck with ravenous hunger could the thirst be quenched. Just like when he touched him—his entire body going slack, his mind numbed—he wanted to be swept away by a pleasure he had never known before.

‘It’s practically an aphrodisiac.’

Mujin moved his hand again. For now, he was suppressing his desires, but he couldn’t say how long that restraint would last.

Though he had headed to the training grounds at dawn, his mind had been filled with nothing but Eunmyeong. And the moment it seemed Eunmyeong would wake, he had rushed back to the residence, half-expecting to find him dressing just as he had the day before.

“Are you done?”

The thought that others who received Eunmyeong’s energy might behave the same way irritated him. As Clan Head, it was reassuring to know Eunmyeong could stabilize others’ waves as well—but each time he imagined it, irritation bubbled up uncontrollably.

“No. Not even close.”

Mujin suddenly undid the hair he had just finished tying, then began gathering it again.

“This will take a while. Lean back if you want.”

“Is that okay?”

“If you don’t like it, then forget it.”

As if he would dislike it. Eunmyeong happily leaned back. It’d be nice if he tied his hair every time. Feeling Mujin’s touch, Eunmyeong murmured softly.

It felt peaceful. Because Mujin usually recoiled from contact, Eunmyeong had always tensed up whenever their bodies brushed.

‘Maybe it’s gotten a little better.’

Between yesterday dressing him and now this, Mujin—slowly—seemed to be growing accustomed to contact with him. After a moment’s hesitation, Eunmyeong spoke.

“Young Master. Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“Is there really a need to shut me down that sharply?”

“You only ever ask questions that are difficult to answer.”

Even a school dog learns poetry in three years, they say. In just a few days, it seemed he could already read Eunmyeong’s thoughts. How did he know? Still, Eunmyeong had no intention of holding back.

“You’ll answer anyway.”

Eunmyeong gently rubbed his head against Mujin’s shoulder. Mujin’s hand, which had been carefully handling his hair, stopped.

Eunmyeong smelled of flowers—like blossoms blooming in an open field, soft and clear. To Mujin, who had known only the scent of the Tang Clan’s poisonous herbs, Eunmyeong’s fragrance was unfamiliar yet intoxicating.

“Why… do you dislike me releasing my energy?”

“……”

“I really can’t figure it out, no matter how much I think about it.”

Mujin’s hand moved again, gathering every strand—those slipping past his ear and brushing his neckline—into one grasp.

‘If only you were contained within this hand as well.’

An impossible wish.

His grip tightened around the hair, drawing Eunmyeong’s straight, composed face slightly to the side.

Eunmyeong resembled his own scent. The unfamiliar energy stirring his body was strange enough—but even more novel were the words through which Eunmyeong expressed his heart.

Rather than hiding or masking himself like poison, Eunmyeong revealed everything with unguarded honesty—unaware that he was stealing Mujin’s gaze.

“If one day that power disappears…”

“……”

The green knot was secured in Eunmyeong’s hair. Mujin stared at it as it swayed gently in the breeze.

Because I think I would suffer.

In the end, he could not finish the sentence.

The same knot swayed softly above Mujin’s own head.

I should probably look for that Huashan bastard soon.

Eunmyeong thought as he trimmed medicinal herbs in one corner of the training grounds. There was still time before the Demon Cult War began, but if he wanted to gather and nurture people properly, it would be better to meet them sooner rather than later.

Setting the herbs aside, Eunmyeong sat down on the ground. Surviving the Tang Clan of Sichuan was a long novel despite being a disastrous anticlimax where characters all died from qi deviation, making it difficult to organize everything in his head.

‘What was his name again… Do-seo… something…’

Do Seowon.

Remembering at last, Eunmyeong wrote the three characters boldly on the ground.

‘They said he fell into qi deviation and slaughtered his fellow disciples indiscriminately.’

If one had to choose the most tragic character in the novel, it would be this man—Do Seowon.

Originally a promising talent of the Huashan Sect, he began killing fellow disciples after his internal energy reversed. Given the countless lives he took, his expulsion was inevitable.

Had even a few first-generation disciples remained, dealing with him would have been easier. Unfortunately, few were left in Huashan, and even the Sect Leader was advanced in years. Once Do Seowon regained clarity, he immediately headed to Sichuan.

To obtain poison for suicide.

“Haa…”

Eunmyeong sighed as he jotted down the details he remembered. It was a storyline maddening for someone like him, a guide by nature.

Moreover, Do Seowon was gentle by disposition—warm and endlessly kind. There was no one in the sect who didn’t respect him. His juniors relied on him, and his seniors supported him steadfastly. In the original story, whenever Do Seowon briefly regained his senses, he was tormented by guilt.

“I have to save him… I will save him.”

If Mujin was indispensable to the Demon Cult War, then Do Seowon was someone Eunmyeong desperately wanted to save. Considering that his sanity wavered in and out, recovery might not be entirely impossible.

“If I guide him quickly enough, he might regain his senses.”

Murmuring this, Eunmyeong drew a circle around Do Seowon’s name—just as the toe of someone’s shoe stepped onto it.

“Do Seowon?”

When he looked up, Yujo was standing there. Unlike yesterday, he wore a green headband across his forehead, his hair neatly tied back. Had he come to get angry again? Eunmyeong tensed—but Yujo didn’t seem angry today.

“How do you know this person?”

“Huh?”

Yujo tapped the name with his toe.

“This man. Isn’t he the Maehwa Sword Master?”

At the words Maehwa Sword Master, Eunmyeong’s eyes lit up. Did this guy know something? Post-rampage guiding was more effective the sooner it was done. At this moment, no one was more welcome to Eunmyeong than Yujo.

“You know where he is?”

“I do.”

When Eunmyeong asked about his whereabouts, Yujo’s expression grew strange. But Yujo himself didn’t matter right now. Eunmyeong wanted to grab Do Seowon and guide him immediately—before he killed even more people.

Eunmyeong sprang to his feet and seized Yujo’s arm.

 

• Do Seowon (Maehwa Sword Master) — A former prodigy of the Huashan Sect who fell into qi deviation, massacred fellow disciples, and was expelled; a deeply tragic figure whom Eunmyeong seeks to save.