Guide of the Sichuan Tang Clan C42

Chapter 42

Lying about having “done something else” pricked at his conscience. In the end, it was still the same person.

The Seowon of now would probably forgive him—but rather than ruin the first impression, Eunmyeong chose to keep his mouth shut.

“I’m sorry. My mind isn’t exactly in one piece right now.”

Seowon apologized again. Even without seeing him, Eunmyeong could tell he was bowing repeatedly.

“My mind often doesn’t return properly, so my memories are incomplete… and every time I lose my reason, I end up being discourteous.”

“……”

“It’s dangerous, as well. So it would be best if you didn’t come here again.”

“No.”

Despite hearing everything, Eunmyeong’s answer came back immediately. Seowon’s confusion was obvious.

“Physician…?”

After all the trouble it took to find this place—there was no way he could just leave. Besides, without Seowon, his retirement plan would completely fall apart.

If the Seowon he’d first met had been on the brink of a rampage, then the Seowon of now was closer to his true nature. Recalling the original story, Eunmyeong placed his hand toward where Seowon was.

“What if it can be fixed?”

“…What are you saying?”

“The internal energy in your body that’s flowing backward. The one you’re desperately holding onto.”

At Eunmyeong’s words, Seowon’s fluctuations wavered. Like heat haze, the energy curved and swelled.

“I’ll fix it for you.”

“H-How… how could you possibly fix it? If this is mockery—”

“Do you think I climbed all the way up the Sichuan mountains just to mock you? Especially on a day like this?”

Feeling wronged, Eunmyeong muttered under his breath.

“I even tumbled twice on the way up—why is it that everyone reacts like this when I say I’ll treat them?”

One guy ran away saying he didn’t want it; another accused him of making fun of him.

“At this point, I’m almost looking forward to what the next one will say. Seriously.”

The moment he finished muttering to himself, a thoom—a vibration ran through the pile of rocks. Startled, Eunmyeong focused on the fluctuations.

Is he turning into that unlucky bastard again?

Remembering the tremor from their first meeting, Eunmyeong braced himself.

“…You truly mean that you can fix my flow?”

The words came haltingly, as though they might break apart.

“Can I… regain my sanity again…?”

The low voice seeped out between the stones—painfully familiar.

It was the same voice as the Espers who had begged Eunmyeong to save them. A voice etched with desperation, pleading, resentment, and hatred toward the sins they feared committing.

Others might call him foolish, but even here, Eunmyeong couldn’t turn away from them. Saving such people was his fate.

“I can. I promise.”

“……”

“I swear it on the name of the Tang Clan.”

Slowly removing his hand from the rock pile, Eunmyeong added, as the fluctuations flowed as vividly as if Seowon stood right before him,

“But for that, there’s something you need to do.”

“Please tell me. Whatever it is, I will accept it gladly.”

“Well… um…”

Eunmyeong scratched his head awkwardly.

“We need to dig a small hole there.”

He needed somewhere to grab onto. Seeing Seowon freeze in place, Eunmyeong let out an embarrassed laugh.

What he remembered was only red.

He didn’t know where things had gone wrong. Perhaps it was the elixir the Tang Clan elder had brought back; perhaps it was pushing his martial training too far. Seowon dreamed countless times of returning to that day, but he could never pinpoint the cause.

Only the pain replayed itself.

The plum blossoms he’d learned at Mount Hua were pale pink, almost white—but the blossoms that bloomed that day were drenched in red. Like blood-drinking beasts, the petals endlessly tore at his disciples’ throats.

The sounds of bones shattering and flesh being crushed echoed everywhere. The metallic stench brushed his nose as the plum blossoms claimed more lives. Wherever Seowon passed, blood pooled like shadows.

Senior brothers. Disciples. The courtyard where they’d laughed together, the training grounds, the halls—until everything was soaked in blood, Seowon never stopped swinging his sword. His white robes had long since turned crimson.

When he finally regained his senses, Seowon met the eyes of a disciple crushed beneath his feet.

It was Seohwi, one of the disciples he cherished most. Because Seohwi’s progress had been slower than the others, Seowon had given him private lessons. And when Seohwi finally managed to bloom a plum blossom, Seowon had promised to grant him any wish.

The day they were meant to talk about that wish… was that very day.

“S-Seowon… senior brother…”

Cough. Blood spilled from the disciple’s lips. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, as if he sensed his death.

“P-Please… save me…”

Seowon pressed both hands over the wound, frantic—but it was useless. His palms burned. Too much blood poured from that small body.

The sect leader and elders, who had left for a meeting, rushed in calling the disciples’ names. Other senior brothers and disciples gathered one by one. Amid them, Seowon—soaked in blood—desperately clung to his reversing internal energy.

Save us. Please, save us.

The voices of his brothers rang in his ears. The sensation of driving his sword into their chests—the blood flowing around it—was horrifyingly vivid.

He couldn’t remain at Mount Hua any longer. Before he killed more people, Seowon fled to Sichuan. If it was poison from Sichuan, even someone at his level would die instantly.

That was how he ended up in this cave, losing and regaining consciousness over and over. Every night, whenever his mind returned, Seowon wished someone would hurry and kill him.

Didn’t you kill us?!

Was that sword meant to cut down your senior brothers?! With Mount Hua’s sword—how could you cut down Mount Hua’s own?!

It’s unjust! So bitter and tragic that we can’t rest in peace!

In the darkness, the shadows of the dead came for him. Their voices never left his head. The red plum blossoms of that day, the pools of blood everywhere—they rose before his eyes.

Each time, he slammed his head into the cave wall, but his stubborn life refused to end. It was the curse of having reached a higher realm.

When the resentful voices finally faded, the disciple Seowon loved most came to him. The small shadow stayed by his side until Seowon lost consciousness again.

You should seek forgiveness. If you die so easily, isn’t that unfair to me, senior brother?

“Seohwi…”

Die in front of my grave. At least apologize before you die!

The anguished voice echoed through the cave. Senior brother, senior brother, senior brother! The shadows called his name endlessly.

As time passed, Seowon’s periods of unconsciousness only grew longer. Exhausted, leaning back, he stared at the blocked entrance.

If only he could stop fire deviation entering the demon. If only he could escape it…

Just as my disciple wished… I want to beg forgiveness at his grave, and then die.

In fleeing to Sichuan, he had offered no apology. He hadn’t even buried his brothers properly. That regret stabbed at him again and again.

Then, like a lie, a voice came from outside.

“We need to dig a small hole there.”

It was Eunmyeong.

After a brief hesitation, Seowon placed his hand against the lower part of the rock pile. When he poured his internal energy into it, crack—a fissure split the stones.

“Huh?”

A foolish-sounding voice came from outside. The so-called Tang Clan physician was unlike the people of Sichuan Seowon had met so far.

He didn’t know how to hide things. Flaws others would have politely overlooked, he bluntly pointed out as discourtesy—and even admitted to speaking informally himself. He was oddly straightforward.

A strange man—but Seowon had nothing left to lose. He swung his fist at the cracked stone.

Boom.

The rock shattered, fragments scattering outward. Thanks to that, the opening didn’t collapse.

“Wow. To think it’d open this easily.”

Muttering to himself, the physician slid his hand through the hole. It was pale and delicate, like someone who had never trained in martial arts. If not for his voice, Seowon might have mistaken him for a woman.

“Here. Hurry—grab it.”

He extended his hand toward Seowon. Seowon stared at that hand—descending like salvation—then slowly placed his own on top of it.

In that instant, brilliant light flooded his body.