Guide of the Sichuan Tang Clan C54

Chapter 54

Just as Cheongwoo had expected, the moment Eunmyeong heard the words “you’ve become an elixir,” he immediately pieced several things together.

First—that his name would now spread far beyond Sichuan.

Second—that the number of people targeting him would increase accordingly.

And finally—that he would have to be far more careful with his own body.

Cheongwoo was likely referring to the various sects of the Central Plains, but Eunmyeong—who knew the original story—was worried about something else entirely.

The Demonic Cult will hear about this soon enough.

The movements of the Demonic Cult mentioned during the elders’ meeting might even be the opening act of the upcoming Demonic Cult War. If they learned that someone like an “elixir”—capable of suppressing qi deviation—had appeared, kidnapping him would be the obvious next step.

After all the effort he’d put into hiding himself, it was all for nothing.

Eunmyeong groaned softly, clutching his stomach, when Seowon—who had been standing guard by the door—stepped closer.

“I apologize.”

Before Eunmyeong could respond, Seowon’s hand touched his forehead. His movements were careful, his expression tense as he checked his temperature.

“You don’t seem to have a fever. Should I call the Elder again?”

“Oh, please don’t. If you call my dad, he’ll come charging in with acupuncture needles, all excited.”

Namya had already spent an absurd amount of time jabbing long needles into him. By the end, it was hard to tell whether Eunmyeong was a person or a porcupine. Only after Eunmyeong practically begged him to leave did Namya depart, clearly dissatisfied.

Before exiting, Namya glanced back at his pale-faced son and clicked his tongue.

Didn’t I tell you to use it in moderation?

Use what? I can’t even circulate qi properly.

Eunmyeong cleared his throat as if brushing it off. Watching his son’s utterly unrepentant face, Namya clutched at his own chest.

I meant treatment! Treatment! There’s no such thing as infinite output, didn’t I tell you? Hm?

It’s not the treatment, I’m just tired.

Nonsense! You saved someone who was dying—how could your own body be fine after that!

Hmph. Without waiting for an answer, Namya stormed out. For all his bluster, Eunmyeong knew his father would be back by evening.

The real problem was Seowon.

From that moment on, he refused to leave Eunmyeong’s side—hovering like a puppy that desperately needed the bathroom. If Eunmyeong so much as looked uncomfortable, Seowon rushed over to adjust his posture. At lunchtime, he wouldn’t even let Eunmyeong hold a spoon himself. Only after personally feeding him water after the meal did Seowon finally look relieved.

Eunmyeong, who had endured nothing but hardship and oppression since arriving in this world, found Seowon’s devoted care oddly comforting—but it was starting to feel like too much.

Every time Eunmyeong let out even the smallest groan, Seowon looked as though his own body were falling apart in pain.

Lowering his gaze, Seowon whispered,

“I should have died there instead. I never meant to trouble you like this, Physician…”

While Eunmyeong slept, Seowon had done nothing but curse himself. Each dawn when Eunmyeong breathed shallowly, every time his small body let out a pained sound, Seowon thought he should have died in that cave.

How many more people would he have to drag into suffering before it was enough?

His fist clenched tightly, veins bulging on the back of his hand.

“Even now, I want to slit my own throat with my own hands.”

“Sword Master.”

“It would be better if this life simply ended. I may be sane now, but who knows when I’ll turn into a monster again.”

“……”

“And each time, you would be the one to suffer.”

Kneeling, Seowon took Eunmyeong’s hand as though holding a sacred relic.

“So please, Physician. Grant me permission.”

Eunmyeong stared at him blankly, then twisted his hand free.

“After all that trouble to save you, how could I possibly allow that?”

Do you have any idea how high Sichuan Great Mountain is?! The memory of climbing it over and over again—rolling, tumbling, hauling supplies—made emotion surge up in his chest.

Eunmyeong forced his heavy body upright.

The moment he managed to sit properly, he grabbed Seowon by the collar. Seowon offered no resistance as he was yanked forward.

“Physician—!”

“Do you know how hard it was? I climbed that mountain with nothing, every single day! Later I even had to carry baggage!”

Seowon’s face filled with shock, but Eunmyeong didn’t stop. Damn it—once he started, all his pent-up misery came rushing back.

“I finally save you, and now you’re talking about this and that?!”

“……”

“You’re asking me to let you die? Are you out of your mind? Why would I ever allow that?!”

Eunmyeong tightened his grip. He didn’t even have the strength to hold Seowon properly anymore and had to use both hands. Meeting Eunmyeong’s trembling gaze, Seowon lowered his head.

“…Aren’t I a burden?”

“To whom? You?”

“If I remain, I’ll only cause trouble. Even now I owe debts I can’t repay to the Clan Head and the Young Master. The Elder even said your condition worsened because of me—”

“Then all the more reason to stay alive. I worked that hard to save you—why would I let you die?”

The Demonic Cult War hadn’t even started yet. There was no way Eunmyeong would grant such permission.

Despite his firm words, Seowon still didn’t lift his head. His hair slipped down over his forehead, shadowing eyes that looked unbearably forlorn.

What an unfair world—being handsome on top of everything else.

Clicking his tongue internally, Eunmyeong lifted Seowon’s chin.

“Look at me.”

“….”

At last, their eyes met. Holding his chin so he couldn’t look away, Eunmyeong whispered,

“I saved you. That means your life is mine now. Who gave you permission to ask about it?”

“…But—”

“I’m going to use you for a long, long time, so don’t worry. Even if you beg me to let you go, I won’t.”

At least until the Demonic Cult War is over.

The words went unsaid. After that, whether Seowon returned to Mount Hua or stayed in Sichuan, Eunmyeong planned not to care. By then, he’d be busy enjoying a peaceful retirement.

And while it was unfortunate that his guiding ability had spread through the Central Plains, it was bound to happen eventually.

Having settled his thoughts, Eunmyeong stretched both hands toward the still-confused Seowon.

“If you really feel that bad, then live as my attendant. I was lonely anyway.”

“…If you permit it, I would be grateful.”

“In that case—”

Eunmyeong suddenly grabbed Seowon’s arm. He tried to stand, but his legs shook violently and refused to straighten.

Letting out an awkward laugh, he added,

“Help me with rehab first.”

Elixir or not, at this rate his own body was going to die first.

Trembling like a newborn giraffe, Eunmyeong leaned against Seowon.

Supporting Eunmyeong, Seowon finally helped him stand. Just remaining upright left Eunmyeong breathless, cold sweat trickling down his back.

Everything’s broken, isn’t it?

He’d never broken a bone before, but he imagined this was what it must feel like. His body below the chest shook uncontrollably.

“Just one more step. You can do it.”

“No. This body is already ruined.”

“You’ve been bedridden for a week—that’s likely why. You’re not normally this weak.”

Seowon steadied him with one arm and spoke gently. Though it had taken half a day just to get from the room into the corridor, he stayed patiently by Eunmyeong’s side.

Like he once had with young disciples in his sect, Seowon coaxed him in a soft voice.

“One more step. Just one more.”

“Ugh…”

Summoning all his strength, Eunmyeong lifted his leg. The moment he put weight on it, sharp pain shot upward. He exhaled slowly and forced himself to move.

Afraid he might fall, Seowon kept a hand hovering behind him. Watching Eunmyeong struggle without stopping reminded him strongly of someone he once knew.

Seohwi. A junior disciple who would have lived past twenty, had Seowon not killed him.

At Mount Hua, Seowon had always stood behind Seohwi like this.

“What did you do at Mount Hua?” Eunmyeong asked suddenly.

Seowon halted mid-step.

“Why do you ask?”

“I figured chatting might make it hurt less. And… I’d like to know what kind of person you are.”

Taking another step, Eunmyeong continued. After a brief hesitation, Seowon answered,

“I did much the same as now. I stood behind them—watching whether the disciples walked well, whether they performed their techniques correctly.”

“You must’ve been a good teacher. You’re great at coaxing people.”

“I was resented often as well.”

Recalling how Seowon had gently told them they were almost there, that just one more step remained, Eunmyeong let out a small laugh. Seowon’s lips curved faintly as memories of Mount Hua surfaced.

“I am no longer a person of Mount Hua. The title Sword Master is excessive.”

Eunmyeong stopped walking and looked at him. Having lost his title so abruptly, Eunmyeong didn’t know how to address him.

As Eunmyeong hesitated, Seowon spoke first.

“I don’t wish to be called Hero either. I cannot accept that from you, Physician.”

“…Then what should I call you? Calling you by name feels a bit much.”

Using his name still felt too intimate. And even as a disgraced swordsman, Seowon’s standing within the Tang Clan was far from small.

Hero was out. Eunmyeong was searching through the titles he’d heard since arriving when—

“Would you call me Senior Brother?”

The words were spoken softly.

“Senior Brother?”

“…Yes. I’ll never be called that again.”

A bitter smile tugged at Seowon’s lips. Seeing his expression, Eunmyeong nodded.

“Alright.”

They resumed walking toward the end of the corridor. Had it always been this long?

Eunmyeong lifted his gaze toward the light ahead.

Then the light wavered—and multiple shadows appeared.

Before he could make them out, familiar voices rang out.

“Eunmyeong!”

“Tang Eunmyeong, you bastard!”

“Hey!”

“Ph–Physician!”

The corridor thundered as a group of men came running—martial artists who should have been training in the training grounds.

“Hero—!”

At the front, Jeongho spread his arms and charged toward Eunmyeong.

The moment he lunged forward—

A solid arm cut between them.

It was Seowon.