Guide of the Sichuan Tang Clan C34

Chapter 34

Just as Eunmyeong instinctively sensed that something was wrong, the sound of rubble crumbling loose echoed from the pile of stones.

“No matter how thoroughly one has been expelled, the plum blossoms of Mount Hua engraved upon my martial arts and my sword will not simply fall away.”

A tremor rippled through the ground beneath his feet. It was no illusion—the leaves piled atop the earth visibly quivered. His legs shook, and Eunmyeong hastily lowered himself.

Birds nesting in the trees took flight, and nearby rabbits scattered in alarm. Even Eunmyeong felt stifled by the pressure of the aura seeping out of the cave.

“No matter how newly reborn I may be, there are humiliations I will not endure.”

The ground shook harder than before. Bracing both palms against the earth, Eunmyeong spoke up, trying to calm him.

“Uh—wait—!”

“How dare you doubt my very existence.”

“N-no, it’s just—what I’d heard was… very different…!”

“If not for that wretched brat, you wouldn’t even be breathing by now.”

Eunmyeong’s eyes widened as he examined the surging waves of energy. A brat? Judging from the flow of the conversation, it didn’t sound like he meant Tang Mujin.

“A brat?”

“Yes. The reason I’m still stuck in this damned cave. If it weren’t for him, I’d have smashed my way out long ago—”

“Are you… talking about Tang Mujin?”

“Tang Mujin? Hah. As if.”

He let out a derisive snort.

“As though I’d be trapped here because of some runt from the Tang Clan.”

“…You seem about the same height as that ‘runt,’ though.”

Muttering to himself, Eunmyeong stared at the wave height, which was roughly on par with Tang Mujin’s. If Tang Mujin’s a runt, what am I—some weed crawling along the ground?

In any case, it was clear that this “brat” wasn’t Tang Mujin. He racked his brain for any other character connected to Do Seowon, but nothing came to mind.

Do Seowon is supposed to die here.

Unaware that someone had rushed all this way to save him, Eunmyeong clung to the stones and struggled upright, glaring at the pulsing energy.

“So basically, you can’t come out because of that brat or whatever, right?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

The reply was curt to the end—an infuriatingly sharp tone. Eunmyeong, who had been standing still, suddenly lifted his head as if he’d made a decision.

“Ptui.”

“What the—!”

“Ptui, ptui.”

Eunmyeong spat deliberately at the pile of stones. The wet sound of saliva hitting the ground rang out unmistakably.

Even Do Seowon, trapped within the cave, hadn’t anticipated such behavior. The tremors ceased, and the earth settled back into stillness. Eunmyeong smiled in satisfaction.

“You—don’t tell me—!”

“You said you can’t come out.”

It was the combined result of a few loose screws and lingering alcohol in his system. Teasingly, Eunmyeong tapped the center of the stone pile with the back of his hand.

“What’s the big deal about spitting a little? Compared to insults, it’s nothing.”

“You dare—!”

“Oh, who was it that said I smelled first?”

There was no smell at all. Wiping his lips with his sleeve, Eunmyeong continued,

“And since when did we get close enough for you to speak to me so casually?”

As a Korean, he couldn’t tolerate someone using informal speech right from their first meeting. Granted, he usually bowed deeply before the strong—but once he knew the other party couldn’t leave the cave, there was nothing to fear.

Despite the ominous aura and earth-shaking presence, the way he flared up so easily didn’t make him seem all that formidable.

If we actually faced off, I wouldn’t stand a chance, though.

More importantly, he needed to start guiding soon. Through the tall trees, he could already see the sky brightening. On such treacherous mountain paths, even leaving now would put him behind schedule.

Today’s a bust.

Still, at least he’d found the location—that alone meant the goal was half achieved. Consoling himself with that thought, Eunmyeong began packing up his things.

“Where—where do you think you’re going!”

Hearing movement from within, Seowon urgently called out to stop him.

“You wretch—! Will you not clean that up before you leave?!”

“If I were going to clean it up, I wouldn’t have spat!”

“Y-you damn brat—what is your name?!”

Giving one’s name at a moment like this was practically an invitation to reappear in the latter half of the novel. Was he stupid? Shaking his head, Eunmyeong slung the bag containing the spit.

“At least tell me your sobriquet!”

“I’m a Tang Clan bastard who reeks, is too embarrassed to leave Sichuan, and can’t go outside—so I don’t have one…”

“Hey!”

It felt as though the ground shook again. The path was rough enough already. After a moment’s hesitation, Eunmyeong turned back and spoke.

“Well… um…”

He had only just begun living like a proper person within the Tang Clan—how could he possibly have a sobriquet? After some thought, he blurted out the words that came to mind.

“The Living Elixir of Sichuan—Tang Eunmyeong.”

“What?”

Seowon echoed back in disbelief, but there was no reply. Leaving the stunned silence behind, Eunmyeong cheerfully dashed down the mountain, carefully marking the path as he went.

Namya’s morning was refreshing.

At sunrise, his routine was to gather the herbs he’d laid out the night before and tidy up his room and veranda. It would’ve been easier to have the servants do it, but for some reason, doing it himself put him at ease.

Am I getting old?

Well, aging like this wasn’t so bad. Smiling contentedly, Namya opened the door—

“W-what are you doing here?!”

Some beggar from the Beggars’ Sect—or so it seemed—was sprawled across his veranda. His clothes were torn beyond recognition, his face and hands caked with dirt.

And his hair—completely disheveled, the very marker of one’s status ruined. Where had this vagrant come from? Narrowing his eyes, Namya looked him over.

The man, who had been staring blankly ahead, slowly turned his head. A familiar set of features came into view.

“What do you mean, who am I? I’m this house’s son.”

“I have never begotten anything like you…”

“You didn’t—Mother did…”

The cheeky retort confirmed it: unmistakably his son. Relieved in the strangest way, Namya walked over to Eunmyeong.

Up close, the state he was in was even worse. Scratches covered his cheeks, as if he’d been scraped by branches, and his eyes were hollow, betraying exhaustion.

“I knew it.”

Clicking his tongue, Namya sat down beside him.

“Knew what?”

“The Young Master abandoned you in the mountains, didn’t he?”

“……”

“Even I find you hard to handle—how much more so for the Young Master. Still, he endured longer than I expected.”

“…I’m not your biological son, am I?”

“Correct. You’re Namgung Eunmyeong.”

Repeating the name he’d heard before, Namya gazed straight ahead, where the sun was slowly rising.

The long night had ended for everyone. Eunmyeong leaned his head against the pillar beside him.

[It’s time to come back.]

Mujin’s voice echoed from somewhere. Eunmyeong sprang to his feet and looked around, but Mujin was nowhere to be seen. Only the empty courtyard greeted him.

Startled by the sudden movement, Namya stood as well.

“What is it? What are you looking for—seeing things now?”

“I swear I heard him—the Young Master’s voice.”

Even the closed doors were silent. Stepping into the courtyard, Eunmyeong called out,

“Young Master Mujin?”

[Come to my quarters. I’ll be waiting.]

The gentle voice whispered in his ear once more. Only then did Eunmyeong recall a martial art from wuxia novels.

“Voice Transmission…?”

Using such a technique just to call someone?

Staring up at the sky in disbelief, Eunmyeong sighed.

After changing clothes with a servant’s help, Eunmyeong headed straight for Mujin’s quarters.

His mind was in utter turmoil. Memories of last night’s disgraceful behavior and that kiss resurfaced one after another, his face flushing and paling in turn.

How am I supposed to face him again?

A deep sigh escaped from his dantian. Standing before the door, Eunmyeong shuffled in place.

Should I just run?

He turned as if to leave, then shook his head. Running away within Sichuan was pointless—there was nowhere Mujin’s reach didn’t extend, nowhere Eunmyeong could hide.

This is why men dating men is a bad idea.

The thought halted him.

Dating?

Was this dating?

Who had confessed?

As he stood there, flustered by the sudden notion, the door opened quietly. A dark shadow spilled across the floor.

“Aren’t you coming in? What are you doing out there?”

Lifting his head, Eunmyeong saw Mujin. He was dressed in plain white inner robes, his long hair loose—apparently he’d skipped dawn training and waited here.

When their eyes met, Mujin awkwardly looked away. An ambiguous tension hung between them.

“I’ve been waiting.”

The low voice struck like a blow to the chest. Heat rushed to Eunmyeong’s face, and he lowered his head. Without another word, Mujin pulled him inside.