NOVEL NEXT Chapter 4
Morning.
As guests began to trickle into the banquet hall, Sword Saint Mo Yongcheon was heading alone towards the deepest part of the family estate.
A separate building quite far from the center.
Though it was within the estate of the five great families, it looked like a quaint house taken from a happy home.
The peculiar thing was that a ‘formation’ enveloped the surroundings, making it impossible for anyone from the family to enter.
While there were many forbidden zones within the clan, anyone stepping into this small building would incur Mo Yongcheon’s wrath.
This was the place he had shared with his late wife, and every trace of her remained there.
Another noteworthy detail was that the small building was impeccably clean, as if someone came every day to tidy it up.
With soft steps, a man entered the small building, breaking through the formation.
“I’ve come, my lady.”
Mo Yongcheon, the master of the small building, stood in the yard holding a white bouquet.
“I dream every day of scolding you for visiting so often, but today, I just wanted to come.”
As he placed the bouquet at the stone grave beneath the peach tree that stretched high, Mo Yongcheon sat across from the grave in a meditative pose.
“My dear, Seol-yi, I’m cured.”
There was no answer.
He wished for a response, but that companion had long since departed.
“It was an incurable disease. The same illness that plagued you with guilt for passing it to our daughter and even made you harm yourself is now gone.”
Mo Yongcheon took a single flower from the bouquet, plucked its petal, and placed it on the grave.
“When Seol-yi first told me, ‘I’m cured,’ do you know what I thought? I felt terribly resentful towards you.”
Mo Yongcheon’s voice, usually strong, quivered like petals blown by the wind.
“You could have waited just seven more years. You wouldn’t have had to blame yourself for passing a deadly illness to our daughter. You could have held on, just a little longer, until today.”
Still, there was no answer.
“If only you had, I could have seen a healthy and beautiful Seol-yi today. I could have seen her smile, as bright as the flowers of spring, just like you used to.”
Only the shadow of the peach tree swayed gently over Mo Yongcheon.
“And regarding today’s events… As Seol-yi’s father, I would have sought your wisdom to make wise decisions.”
Mo Yongcheon bowed his head deeply.
“I don’t know what to do. If the sword could yield answers, I would swing it a thousand times over. But… how can I swing a sword?”
With trembling hands, the Sword Saint grasped the gravestone.
“She looked at him with the same eyes you looked at me in those days. To the man who saved her life, but also took our Seol-yi’s first moments away.”
His hand clenching the gravestone shook.
This man could crush stone with a slight effort, yet he trembled while holding onto the gravestone with nothing but a single human hand.
“What do you think of my son-in-law? Would you want to kill the man who took our daughter’s heart, cherishing her like she was the world, or would you rejoice, calling him a benefactor who cured her incurable illness?”
The wind blew, and the petals on the gravestone scattered into the sky.
“I know. Yes. The dead do not return. I know I shouldn’t kill my savior. How could a man kill his benefactor? So… I will only speak so frankly here, before you.”
Mo Yongcheon sighed deeply.
“The moment I saw my daughter with that man, my rage was greater than when I shared a life-or-death bond with the Heavenly Demon. I thought it was madness.”
The wind whispered.
“I believed I had reached a state of no thought, but it seems I was still human. I had never felt such anger in my life. Not even when that scumbag from the Nangong family grabbed your wrist. No, even more.”
As the leaves rustled in the wind, sunlight sparkled on Mo Yongcheon’s face.
“Yes. I must cherish him. Just as your father entrusted you to me, I shall think of him as my own son. Because that’s what you would have done.”
Mo Yongcheon extended his hands and began to sweep the earth.
Even with dirt staining his clear hands without a wrinkle, he continued to brush the grave.
“You said that if, just if, a miracle were to occur.”
He gently cleared the dirt to reveal a small wooden box that could fit in one hand.
Mo Yongcheon carefully took the wooden box with both hands, unclasped it, and opened it.
“…….”
Inside was a white jade hairpin, frozen like a branch in winter.
After gazing at the hairpin for a while, Mo Yongcheon closed the box, tidied up, and slowly stood with it cradled in his hands.
“I will return tomorrow. And perhaps, I may not be able to come often from now on.”
Looking up at the sky through the leaves catching the sunlight, the Sword Saint’s expression had solidified back to his usual self.
“All the wolves of the middle realm will dare to target Seol-yi… and him.”
* * *
Afternoon.
While Mo Yongseol was busy preparing for the banquet, I too changed my clothes and stepped out into the banquet hall.
“That person…”
“Shh. Quiet. No need to get involved with ‘losers.'”
Those who recognized me turned away.
With no time or desire to engage in conversation, I quietly took a cup and slipped into a corner of the banquet hall, leaning against the wall.
‘This is the normal gaze.’
The eyes looking at a failure.
When people die from illness, ultimately, their relatives and mourners can only direct complicated glances at the physician.
Even if it’s an incurable disease.
‘No. Hold on.’
I must not speak.
Absolutely not.
Ding, ding, ding—
The sound of music echoed.
Even in the realm of the five great families, one should not play music like this at a banquet of this scale, yet those performing were from the ‘Imperial Band.’
“My goodness. A court musician? Has the palace sent an orchestra?”
“Although a hero of the martial world, he is also a hero of the realm. I hear the emperor personally ordered their presence.”
Those holding cups whispered about the musicians playing the music.
I already knew the orchestra had come from the palace, but those who just entered the Mo Yong family today could only be astonished.
Isn’t it said ‘they are untouchable’?
Though the civil and martial factions share the same land, they do not cross boundaries, yet the Mo Yong family is an exception.
“Thanks to the Sword Saint suppressing the rebellion in the Golden Guard and preventing the massacre by the Demon Cult, I suppose it’s only natural.”
“That’s right. Despite being from the Mo Yong family, the emperor didn’t hesitate to make him his son-in-law. He even said he could choose any princess as a wife.”
“Could it be that you came here just in case a royal from the palace is to arrive?”
“Somewhat. Why do you think a beggar would dress up and come in martial attire?”
“I thought you merely wished to maintain a semblance of decorum.”
“That too.”
They knew who I was.
The head of the Wudang Sect and the beggar with a free style of dress, both of whom had come to the banquet dressed splendidly for the occasion—a ‘funeral’ banquet.
‘Indeed, there are quite a few celebrities here.’
If there were anyone dressed a bit more freely—exactly as they usually wore.
“Amitabha.”
There stood a monk from the Shaolin Temple wearing yellow monk robes, praying to the Buddha.
More than a monk, he appeared almost transcendent, as if he were living history from the martial world.
“What’s a New Ascendant doing here?”
“Shaolin owes a debt to Mo Yong. How could I not come?”
New Ascendant.
One of the top masters in the realm.
When the Demon Cult crossed into Shaanxi and Sichuan, this old monk hadn’t even come out from the main hall of Shaolin, yet now he was at the Mo Yong family banquet.
“The abbot boasted that Mo Yong could surely be cured. Although I might not be able to cure him, I can pray for his peaceful reincarnation.”
“The living Bishamon prays for peaceful reincarnation. Surely, Mo Yong will rest easy in the next life.”
The heads of Wudang and Shaolin, along with the beggar, cast aside their statuses to pray for a woman’s peace.
‘The debt of Shaolin, huh?’
I understood what it was about.
Just then, a different subject flared up from another side.
“To think that one could only resolve the death of someone with Absolute Meridians in this way. Leader, must we continue to helplessly watch the deaths of the young ones?”
“Chief, I understand your sentiment, but there are no clear solutions.”
The Martial World Alliance Leader and the Chief of the Alliance exchanged words, with the head of the Kunlun Sect and the patriarch of the Nangong family engaged in discussion.
“The Grand Return Pill from Shaolin and treatments from the greatest physician in the realm have ultimately been of no use.”
“However… then there’s the matter of the child…”
“I’m saddened by your nephew’s situation. Yet, the budget for curing the Sickness of Absolute Meridians continues to rise yearly, so all we can do is hope they find a solution.”
“Sigh. I wish that were true, but even the best physician in pharmacology couldn’t find a solution, right?”
I perked up my ears, feeling a chill run down my spine.
“The best physician’s disciple too.”
In an instant, all eyes turned towards me.
The best physician referred to my master, ‘White Face,’ and his title was what the Martial World Alliance Leader had used to prepare for the physician competition that we entered the Mo Yong family for.
“He did his best.”
The leader cast a complicated gaze my way.
He knew my background, but the leader was also aware of how earnestly I had attempted to cure Mo Yongseol.
“I only resent the heavens.”
If I wished to survive fleeing the Demon Cult, this was the only path I could take.
Or so I thought.
Up until yesterday.
‘But now it’s different.’
A path to survival opened.
No, I carved it out myself.
I never imagined that this path would lie before Mo Yongseol herself.
‘Once the banquet starts, I should slip away quietly.’
To ensure no one approaches a failed physician—
“Pardon me.”
“…Who are you?”
A tall woman with long black hair approached me.
A classic fair beauty, perhaps.
“I am So Yeonjeok, the great disciple of the Pointing Craft.”
The great disciple of the Pointing Craft.
The former disciple of the sect leader of the Pointing Craft.
At the same time, a familiar face.
-What do we do now…? Huh?
-It’ll be fine. Don’t cry. Stop it.
A child I met seven years ago in the cave where I was kidnapped.
-…Will we really survive?
-We have to struggle until the end. If you can’t bear it, just break your ankle and come here. At least, while you’re bedridden, I can take care of you.
-…I’ll try my best not to hurt.
Having joined the Pointing Craft to kill the latecomer, she has now become a key figure in its future ambitions.
Rumor has it she is now aiming for the pinnacle of the martial world.
“Nice to meet you for the first time. I am Seok Muwol.”
“I will ask directly. After the treatment, where will you go?”
“Well…”
I genuinely didn’t know.
Regardless of the fact that the other was a spy for the Demon Cult, I truly didn’t know what to do.
“In that case.”
So Yeonjeok took a breath and stepped closer.
“Would you like to come to the Pointing Craft?”
“…Excuse me?”
“What I mean is… If you were to go to the Pointing Craft…”
She bit her lower lip, trying to formulate her words.
“Mm—”
Amidst the whispers from behind, a low chuckle reached her waist.
“Just where do you think you’re taking ‘my physician’?”
Dressed in bright white, with a look that resembled a shroud for the deceased—Mo Yongseol, the main character of the banquet.