OGHOU C27

Chapter 27

Cheongyeon was staring intently at a tree in the inn’s backyard. On one particularly thick branch lay Dokyeong, leisurely stretched out.

In the original story, he had no talent for martial arts. His natural physique was weak, his inner energy accumulated at a sluggish pace, putting him far behind his peers, and so he was often belittled by his two older brothers, who took considerable pride in the Namgung clan’s name.

Though he seemed to be growing up as nothing more than a frail youngest son, he was in fact hiding sharp claws beneath that façade. Dokyeong had even attempted to poison the brothers who looked down on him.

Every day when he drank tea, he would smear an infinitesimal amount of poison onto Namgung Geon’s teacup. It was such a trivial amount that even the drinker himself could not notice. For Geon, whose body was hardened through martial cultivation, it was a dose so small it hardly registered. But after years of persistence, it finally accumulated enough that he fell ill and bedridden from poisoning.

The small but consistent intake of poison was already broken down in the body, making it impossible to pinpoint the root of his illness. Rumors spread like wildfire that the strong eldest son of the Namgung clan had suddenly succumbed to sickness. At that time, Somyeong happened to pass nearby by chance and was able to treat him.

Thus, the poisoning attempt ended in failure, yet Dokyeong did not give up. Time and again, he dug traps to harm his elder brothers. Even his sudden claim of love at first sight toward Somyeong and his constant following around were in fact ploys to probe whether Somyeong knew his secret about the poison.

Afterwards, he not only persistently devised schemes to kill his brothers but also hindered the protagonist Somyeong at every turn, wary of him. In the end, his extended tail of misdeeds was exposed. Unable to be absolved of his crimes, he was expelled from the Namgung clan and disappeared without a trace. That was the extent of Dokyeong’s story as drawn in the original work.

Cheongyeon had intended not to intervene if possible. Already exhausted from the business with Muho, he had no desire to get entangled in further complicated incidents. For that reason, he still served the tea as ordered, even though he knew the child would smear poison onto the cup.

Just as he had once done months earlier, when he let Jeha be kidnapped. He could have remained a bystander again like that… but perhaps because he had tasted such searing regret that night as he searched desperately for the child, Cheongyeon could not sit still this time. And so, he pushed the poisoned cup away and let it fall.

It was not simply to save the eldest son’s life. After all, even if Geon were poisoned, Somyeong would surely save him, and he would not die. Instead, it was out of some worry for Dokyeong himself—that if he continued growing up committing such evil deeds, he would one day be expelled from the clan.

No matter that inside he schemed treachery—he was still just a young child. The boy who was constantly dismissed by his brothers kept catching Cheongyeon’s eye. Perhaps it was not yet too late to change his fate.

“How meddlesome I am, really….” Cheongyeon thought.

He slowly approached the tree where the boy was lying. Though his footsteps were loud enough to be heard, Dokyeong kept his eyes closed, feigning ignorance, never once glancing his way. Cheongyeon could only laugh wryly.

“If you sleep up there, you might fall.”

Arms crossed and leaning against the tree opposite, Cheongyeon gazed up at Dokyeong. At his words, Dokyeong slowly opened his eyes and smiled.

“If I fall, will you catch me?”

For anyone else, it would appear the bright, innocent smile of a child. But Cheongyeon reminded himself again and again not to be misled by it.

“I lack the strength to do so.”

“But I’m small and fragile, you know.”

As he spoke, Dokyeong’s body leaned to one side. Startled, Cheongyeon instinctively reached out, only to quickly steel his expression.

“He’s pretending to fall, isn’t he?”

As expected, instead of tumbling, Dokyeong landed lightly upon the ground without issue. Hands clasped behind his back, he approached leisurely step by step, confidence on his face. Cheongyeon ground his teeth and said:

“You certainly have a talent for startling people.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

“……”

The boy was sharp enough to already know—the truth had been discovered by Cheongyeon. After some inner conflict, Cheongyeon opened his mouth.

“Don’t you have something to discuss with me?”

“Ah. If you mean breakfast, then let me thank you—I ate well. Your cooking is excellent, even my brothers praised it.”

“That’s not what I—”

“But since I’m still growing, I already find myself hungry again. I should head in for a snack.”

“If so, I’ll prepare something for you…”

“No need, I brought some things with me.”

Dokyeong went to pass by him, but Cheongyeon hastily caught hold of his sleeve.

“Young master.”

“……”

“The path you’re trying to walk can only end in a cliff. It would be better to change your mind now….”

“A cliff, you say? Is the road to fetch a simple snack really so dangerous?”

He did not avert his eyes from Cheongyeon, smiling with narrowed gaze.

“Have you not heard the phrase ‘one is strongest when eating’? I simply need to grow stronger.”

“When did you even—no, that’s not the point!”

“If delicious food alone could grant sixty cycles of inner energy, then what joyous news for me.”

“……”

“Then I’ll be off. I must accumulate those sixty cycles of cultivation.”

With that remark, Dokyeong walked away swiftly. Watching his retreating back, Cheongyeon let out a sigh.

“Such skill in deflecting words… and he’s only thirteen….”

Given he was only two years older than Jeha, it was astonishing indeed. Clearly, the two children must be prevented from meeting in the inn at all costs. Though Dokyeong was younger now than in the original timeline, Cheongyeon remembered how, once he began approaching Somyeong, he had deliberately provoked Jeha, driving him mad with irritation. Were they to meet, nothing good would come of it.

“This has become troublesome….” Cheongyeon thought bitterly, dragging his feet back inside the inn.

Dokyeong pulled out a small vial from his breast. He uncorked it and checked the remaining contents.

“There’s still plenty left.”

This colorless, odorless liquid was poison. Not the kind of deadly toxin to strike down even a martial grandmaster in an instant, but one effective precisely because no tolerance ever built up even with persistent use. He had heard its effects were quite decent.

If it became known that the youngest son of the greatest martial clan in the Central Plains were engaging in such acts, he would be scorned and ridiculed. Yet, being born into such a martial clan was precisely the problem.

He himself knew all too well his lack of martial talent, and none around him expected martial achievements from him either.

“You’re just a concubine’s son, and the youngest at that. With your brothers so outstanding, one idle younger brother who spends his days reciting poems and painting wouldn’t be so bad.” Those words, uttered as if they were consolation, Dokyeong always answered with a smile, pretending gratitude.

True, even as a concubine’s son, he wore fine clothes, ate good food, and never suffered the lack of wealth. He could idle away his whole life without ever starving.

But what he could not endure were those looks of contempt and ridicule. The elders of the household hardly paid him any attention; his so-called brothers were all arrogant and busy flaunting themselves. Within this, he was treated like nothing more than a pebble to be kicked aside.

Thus, he resolved. If he could not subdue them with force, then he would not hesitate to use the most cowardly stratagem. If it meant besting those brothers who lorded over him, he would want nothing more.

“But how did that man find out?”

He had been certain no one had ever seen. Yet those eyes, feigning clumsiness as the cup fell, had been filled with guarded suspicion.

“Still, what does it matter?”

The poison dosage was so imperceptible that no trace could be detected in the body. There would be no evidence. Even if the man were to shout the truth to everyone, none would believe him. Instead, they would scorn anyone blaming the weak, frail youngest son of the Namgung clan as a criminal.

Regardless, he had to confirm it. Confirm what exactly the man knew, and whether he had ties to the clan, hiding his true identity.

Dokyeong suddenly stood and left his room.

Leaning over the second-floor railing, he looked down to see the innkeeper conversing with a boy about his age.

“I told you there’s no need to clean.”

“It’s too much for you to do alone! I’ll help.”

“This meek child, really….”

“I am not meek!”

“All right, little one. You’re not meek.”

“I’m not little, either!”

“Understood, understood.”

Every glance, every gentle touch carried such kindness it was suffocating.

When Dokyeong thought of his own father, eternally strict and cold, something boiled in his chest. He had believed such warmth could never exist between father and son.

But it didn’t matter. What he had ever wanted was not some affectionate father anyway.

He muffled his footsteps as he walked down the corridor, stopping at the room at its deepest end. The innkeeper’s quarters—he had already taken note of it beforehand.

Carefully twisting the knob so it would not make a sound, he found the door unlocked, and it swung open easily.

“Truly… such careless caution.”

He slipped inside. The tidy room smelled faintly of medicinal herbs. Following the scent, he noticed a towering pile of herbs stacked in a corner.

Though his knowledge in pharmacology was not deep, he had read many miscellaneous books since childhood, and quickly recognized the herbs. At a glance, these were rare and expensive materials. Most were famed in texts for replenishing vital energy.

“Someone here is ill? Yet outwardly he appeared fine….”

Putting the herbs back, he dusted his hands. Before the innkeeper returned, he decided he should examine other corners.

Where to start?

While glancing around, his eyes were drawn to the nightstand beside the bed. More precisely, to the fan that lay upon it. Dokyeong walked over and picked it up.

What caught his eye was that one of the fan’s ribs was broken. Someone had tried to reconnect it, though their clumsy work was laughable. At this rate, the fan could scarcely be used. He could not fathom why they hadn’t simply bought a new one.

As he touched the patched joint, it snapped off easily with a crack. Clicking his tongue in disdain, Dokyeong replaced the broken fan back onto the nightstand.

He had just turned to continue searching when suddenly, behind him, there came a sensation—a sinister, indescribable aura.

Startled, he spun around. There, as ordinary as could be, stood a chest such as one would find in any room. Yet from within, that aura leaked—so fierce it prickled his skin and made his hairs stand on end.

“There’s something inside?”

Step by step, slowly, he approached. The closer he drew, the more violently the energy surged.

“Shall I open it…?”

Just as his hand pressed against the lid, footsteps echoed down the corridor, steadily approaching this room.

“The innkeeper?”

Quickly drawing back his hand, he scanned the room. His eyes found a large window set in the wall.

As the footsteps drew nearer and nearer, Dokyeong unlatched the window, leapt through, and landed gracefully outside. Then he melted into the deep shadows.

It seemed tomorrow he would have to start by approaching the man’s son.