Guide of the Sichuan Tang Clan C23

Chapter 23

Yujo was at a loss.

He had come only to apologize for what had happened the day before. Even now, he could not fully understand why Eunmyeong had stepped forward then—but regardless, the fact remained that Eunmyeong had saved his younger brother.

And the Young Clan Head’s words keep bothering me, too.

The previous evening.

As Yujo was returning from the training grounds, Mujin had called out to him. It was the first time since Yujo had begun cultivating martial arts within the Tang Clan that Mujin had spoken to him privately after training.

With his head lowered, Yujo waited tensely for Mujin to speak. Yet no matter how long he waited, Mujin said nothing.

What is this?

At last, Yujo lifted his gaze from the hem of Mujin’s robes. In the darkness, Mujin stood there, looking down at him the entire time. Though not quite like Cheongwoo, Mujin was still the heir of Sichuan—the oppressive pressure that crushed one’s opponent seeped unmistakably from his gaze.

“If your head were so easily bowed,” Mujin said coolly, “why did you not bow it to the physician who saved your brother?”

“…Young Clan Head.”

“And yet you bow it to me for this long.”

Only then did Yujo recall Eunmyeong rushing toward them in panic—how he had pulled Yuseong into his arms without caring about the dirt staining his clothes.

Shame burned through him. To turn away after receiving help was a violation of principle, both as a martial artist and as a member of the Tang Clan.

“I offer my apologies.”

“You need not apologize to me.”

“But—”

“If you have learned something,” Mujin cut him off, “then bow tomorrow where you truly ought to bow.”

As though that were all he had intended to say, Mujin turned away without hesitation. Behind him, Yujo clasped his fists briefly.

“I have received your teaching.”

It was a profound lesson. Had things gone differently, he might have become a shameless man who owed a life and yet walked away untouched. That realization alone was invaluable.

Truly, he was someone worthy of respect.

Recalling the events of the previous night, Yujo had gone to seek Eunmyeong out the next morning without hesitation the moment he saw him.

And yet—

“Take me to where the Maehwa Sword Master is.”

The very person to whom he owed a debt was asking for something he could not grant. Dumbfounded, Yujo pointed at himself.

“Me?”

“Then who else? You’re the one who’s supposed to take me!”

As Eunmyeong tugged at his arm as if ready to roll across the ground, Yujo shook his head.

“I can’t go there. And going alone is even more impossible.”

“Why not?!”

Eunmyeong smacked Yujo’s arm repeatedly. If Yujo knew where the man was, then all they had to do was go together and guide Seowon. It was that simple.

This simple thing!

Eunmyeong pleaded once more.

“I really need to meet him. Please—just help me this once.”

“I told you, I can’t go there alone.”

Just imagining taking Eunmyeong there made Yujo’s blood run cold. He had been there once—only once—but he would never forget that cave.

Deep within the Sichuan Mountains, a mad Maehwa Sword Master was imprisoned there. Even with his limbs bound by manacles forged of eternal cold iron, his presence had not diminished in the slightest.

The glare that had shone from his eyes in the darkness was still vivid. It was not a human gaze—rather, it was closer to that of an ancient tiger that had long ruled the mountains. When he had sensed Yujo’s group, inhuman inner energy had poured forth from his body.

Even the Young Clan Head barely held out.

That day, they had failed to deal with the Maehwa Sword Master. All they had managed was collapsing the cave and sealing its entrance. It was only a temporary measure; he would have to be dealt with properly soon.

“I don’t know why you want to meet him,” Yujo said as he pried Eunmyeong’s fingers away, “but if the two of us go, we won’t even get our bones back.”

“Instant death?”

“Yes. He’s been gone mentally for a long time.”

If not for Mujin, Yujo himself might have lost his life there. Sweeping his gaze across the training grounds, Yujo continued,

“It would be easiest if the Clan Head handled it… but defeating the Sword Master is the Young Clan Head’s trial. Everyone is training to support him.”

With a bitter expression, Yujo followed Mujin’s figure soaring through the air.

“Only after he completes the Myriad Blossoms Falling Rain will he be able to defeat that man.”

Eunmyeong loosened his grip and began organizing what he had just heard.

That wasn’t in the original story.

That Do Seowon—the Maehwa Sword Master—had become Dang Mujin’s trial was new information. In the novel, Seowon had been killed not by the Young Clan Head, but by the Clan Head himself.

To begin with, Mount Hua’s martial arts and the Tang Clan’s poison techniques were ill-matched. Mount Hua swordsmanship was closer to close-range combat than long-range attacks—you needed distance for sword qi to reach, after all.

Poison arts, on the other hand, were fundamentally long-range. While there were techniques designed for close combat, their essence lay in assassination—killing the opponent before they could even attack.

A ranged fighter beating a skilled close-range fighter isn’t easy. And Mujin’s martial arts are inferior to Seowon’s.

Clicking his tongue, Eunmyeong folded his arms. Considering that Cheongwoo had killed Seowon in the original story, Mujin must have failed to complete Myriad Blossoms Falling Rain.

Myriad Blossoms Falling Rain—true to its name, a technique that caused poisonous weapons to rain down like falling flowers. It was the Tang Clan’s most famous martial art, renowned for its beauty as much as Mount Hua’s sword techniques. Against Do Seowon, who could not be killed by ordinary poisons, overwhelming him with countless hidden weapons was the only viable method.

“…That, then.”

Still watching Mujin blankly, Eunmyeong spoke.

If you overthink life, life becomes difficult. If you think simply, it becomes easier. Eunmyeong chose the latter.

“I’ll just complete it for him.”

He had to untangle that mass of turbulent waves anyway, and helping Mujin grow strong before the Demon Cult War was his goal to begin with.

“And while I’m at it, I’ll cultivate the others too. They’ll be useful.”

“…Huh?”

Yujo straightened at the sudden declaration. What is he even saying? Before he could ask, Eunmyeong was already smiling darkly.

Having laid out his plan in his mind, Eunmyeong extended a hand toward Yujo.

“You came to thank me for helping your brother yesterday, right?”

“H—How did you know?”

It was obvious at a glance. Otherwise, there would have been no reason for Yujo to come here so awkwardly—and to answer difficult questions so readily.

Eunmyeong’s eyes curved slyly.

“Then want to hold my hand for a bit?”

“W–Why my hand—”

Instinctively, Yujo pulled his hand back, unsettled by the strange aura emanating from Eunmyeong.

“You said you were sorry.”

“I am sorry, but still—”

“If you’re sorry, you should show it. I need to practice taking pulses.”

Like a cult recruiter preying on an innocent youth, Eunmyeong spun his words smoothly.

“What could possibly happen just from holding hands? I can’t even use martial arts.”

“Well… that’s true.”

“And if you really wanted to hurt me, I couldn’t even resist, right?”

Flattered subtly, Yujo’s hand crept forward again. Eunmyeong seized it at once.

Yujo’s condition wasn’t severe, but his waves were tangled enough. Fortunately, they would unravel with about five minutes of contact.

“You’ll be fine.”

Leading him slowly to the veranda, Eunmyeong pulled out acupuncture needles from his bag and began inserting needles longer than a finger at random visible points while releasing his energy.

Of course, the needles were merely for show.

Watching Yujo’s face soften gradually in bliss, Eunmyeong smiled gently.

After that, everything became easy.

Eunmyeong went to the training grounds daily with Mujin and officially became the resident physician there, just as he had been introduced.

He treated those who returned injured, needling them while guiding their energy—and before long, people came running to him at all hours. They came after morning training, after afternoon sparring, without pause.

It’s annoying, but the results are real.

Everyone’s complexion had improved. They looked well-rested, healthier than before. As the knots within them were loosened, their inner energy had grown.

Naturally, training grew livelier as well. The speed and number of thrown blades were incomparable to before, and their mountain training progressed faster. At last, others were able to keep pace with Mujin.

That this vitality was thanks to Eunmyeong’s guiding was a secret known only to Mujin and Eunmyeong.

The problem was that everyone wanted to stick to Eunmyeong like glue.

Yuseong came running and wrapped his arms around Eunmyeong’s back as he sat on the veranda.

“Physician!”

Tilting his head back, Eunmyeong saw the boy’s bright smile upside down. Seeing how enthusiastically Yuseong patted his shoulders, any complaint Eunmyeong had vanished.

“Can you needle me too?”

Yuseong tilted his head cutely.

“You’re so young—why do you like needles so much?”

“It feels good when you do it! Please? Just once!”

Young or not, his words were no different from the espers Eunmyeong had known before. He was asking for guiding.

Eunmyeong poked Yuseong’s cheek and shook his head.

“No.”

“Waaah, just once!”

“Tsk, stop messing around.”

Guiding itself wasn’t difficult, but needling such a small body made Eunmyeong uneasy. Namya praised his improving technique daily, yet Eunmyeong still didn’t fully trust himself.

What if he paralyzed the child by mistake?

Firmly drawing a line, Eunmyeong refused.

“Hmph.”

Yuseong pouted exaggeratedly.

“It’s because the Young Clan Head is watching, isn’t it? I know everything.”

At that, Eunmyeong looked up. Mujin stood in the training grounds, staring directly at them with blazing eyes.

If he could channel inner energy through his gaze, the place would already be in ruins. For two weeks now, Mujin had glared whenever Eunmyeong guided anyone.

Yet he never openly interfered. Though clearly irritated, he neither stopped Eunmyeong nor warned him. As the Young Clan Head, he knew he had to allow it—yet his possessiveness toward the guide clashed fiercely with that duty.

And still, Mujin himself was not receiving proper guiding. Eunmyeong tried whenever there was an opening, but brief contact guiding was nowhere near sufficient.

Watching Jeongho run over like an excited puppy, Eunmyeong muttered,

“What’s so hard about just running over like that?”

“Pardon?”

Jeongho stopped in front of him, catching his breath. With his slightly drooping eyes, he looked even more like a puppy.

At Eunmyeong’s gesture, the brown-haired head dipped down. Stroking it familiarly, Eunmyeong lowered his voice.

“I think it’s time for a special measure, Jeongho.”

“Hero?”

Eunmyeong brought his hand to Jeongho’s cheek, then slowly pulled him closer.

“Let’s touch lips for a moment.”

Let’s see how long you keep resisting.