Chapter 329

When Song Ilseom’s identity was revealed, everyone was astonished.

Hyuk Mujin had admired the Murim even before becoming part of the Taiyuan Jin Family, so of course he knew the stories about him. Even Cheongpung pretended to know him, claiming that the Sword Saint had told him about Song Ilseom.

“Mmph-mmph. Grandpa said the Escort King was a good man. Gulp. That’s what he said.”

“…I know. Just swallow before you talk. Please.”

“Okay! Mmph-mmph.”

If even Cheongpung knew the story, the other two went without saying.

Ju Hwaran, the Escort King’s granddaughter, was staring at the jade hairpin with trembling eyes, while Gung Gibang was so excited that he sprayed the contents of his mouth in every direction.

“Th-the Guangdong Chen Family!”

Tududududuk!

Song Ilseom knocked away a dozen or so grains of rice with his chopsticks and replied.

“As I said, the Guangdong Chen Family ceased to exist long ago. By the way, can you do something about all that flying out of your mouth?”

“My Master also told me about the Escort King’s Ten-Thousand-Mile Escorts. But to think the child from that story was you!”

“Did you listen with your nose? That child was my father. And stop spitting everywhere. It’s disgusting.”

Swish! Tududududuk!

Wow. He knocked away every single one.

After whipping his chopsticks through the air like lightning yet again, Song Ilseom asked me, “Is this beggar really the Successor Beggar of the Beggars’ Sect?”

“He is, even if he doesn’t look like it. Why?”

“A Rain of Ten Thousand Flowers keeps pouring from his mouth. I wondered if he might be a disciple of the Sichuan Tang Clan.”

“Hmm. Probably not.”

While we were talking, Ju Hwaran finally spoke, her gaze still fixed on the jade hairpin.

“My father told me about it. He said my grandfather wondered what had become of the Guangdong Chen Family until the very end, but he was never able to find them…”

“My grandmother carried that regret with her as well. She had to flee with my father, who was still a baby, without leaving so much as a letter.”

“Why did they suddenly disappear?”

“Because it was dangerous. The Guangdong Chen Family’s martial arts were all lost when the family estate burned to the ground, but apparently no one believed it.”

“But if they were within the territory of the orthodox factions…”

“Greed does not discriminate between members of orthodox factions and practitioners of demonic, heterodox arts. Some of those seeking the Guangdong Chen Family’s Peak martial arts were people even the Escort King’s name couldn’t deter.”

A time of chaos.

Those words gave me some idea of what the mother and child must have endured back then.

In chaotic times, the rules binding people together crumble. Everyone gives in to their instincts, and morality inevitably fades.

The mother had fled to protect her child from the greed of others, without telling anyone.

“My grandmother was an ordinary woman who couldn’t have stood against even a Third Rate swordsman, but she was wiser than ten Peak masters combined.”

After a brief silence, Song Ilseom added, “Of course, even she couldn’t escape birth, aging, sickness, and death.”

“Then…”

“She died of an illness when I was ten. As she gave me this jade hairpin, she told me everything that had happened. It was an astonishing story—the first I had ever heard of it.”

Despite his blunt demeanor, Song Ilseom was surprisingly good at telling a story.

The one thing I had been curious about was what had happened to his parents. But once I heard that he had wandered the streets after his grandmother’s death, there was no need to ask.

Unfortunately, both of them had clearly died young.

As soon as one question disappeared, another took its place.

“Then how did you develop that level of skill? Didn’t you say the Guangdong Chen Family’s martial arts were lost as well?”

Song Ilseom’s answer was simple.

“On the battlefield.”

“Did you live as a wandering martial artist?”

“I had no talent for begging. More people beat me because they disliked my face and expression than tossed me an iron coin.”

Gung Gibang, who had been listening quietly, nodded with deep sympathy.

“There’s a proper way to beg. The most important thing for a beggar is a face and expression that inspire pity, but when you’re as handsome as Song Ilseom or me, even earning a few coins is difficult. I went hungry plenty of days myself.”

Song Ilseom’s expression hardened.

“Successor Beggar, I find that remark deeply offensive. I’d appreciate it if you stopped insulting me.”

“Why? Did you ever see my face when I was young? I’m telling you, without the slightest exaggeration, I was handsome enough to make Song Yu weep.”¹

“Song Yu would weep?”

Song Ilseom stared intently at Gung Gibang’s face, which looked like something out of a Picasso masterpiece.

“With that face, he might. If you run into me at night, stay far away. If I suddenly came face-to-face with you, I might cut you by mistake.”

Looking as though he was debating whether to cut him down right then and there, Song Ilseom continued his story.

“In any case, I was hopeless at begging and couldn’t find any decent work. After going hungry for more than three days, the sky started turning yellow. I decided becoming a sword boy would be better than starving to death.”

“A sword boy? The kind who carries someone’s sword?”

“That’s right.”

“Isn’t that something rich people hire? They can’t be bothered carrying their own swords, so they make someone else do it.”

“Do you think rich people would hire some beggar brat who crawled in from who knows where?”

“Fair point.”

“Surprisingly, wandering martial artists hire the most sword boys. They make them handle every odd job imaginable, then use them as meat shields when things get dangerous.”

I thought it sounded like a sweet gig, but it turned out to be a part-time job straight out of the Hell Continent.²

“It wasn’t a particularly comfortable or pleasant experience.”

Song Ilseom calmly recounted his past.

Most days, he waited on wandering martial artists while enduring constant abuse and violence. When arrows rained down, he went out to retrieve weapons.

When the wandering martial artist abandoned him and fled because he was too busy saving his own life, Song Ilseom experienced nothing short of hell.

“I hid among piles of corpses for four days. When I barely made it out alive and went looking for the wandering martial artist, the first thing he did was search for the sword he had entrusted to me.”

“Wow. What a crazy bastard.”

“Fortunately, the two swords I was carrying were unharmed. Even while fleeing, I refused to let go of them.”

“…Wow. You really are a crazy bastard.”

“I wasn’t as crazy as he was. He started spouting nonsense about how he had originally entrusted me with three swords, then told me to get the hell out of there if I didn’t want to die like a dog. Of course, he didn’t give me a single coin for the year I had worked for him.”

Song Ilseom brushed back the hair that had fallen over his forehead and muttered, “That pissed me off.”

Naturally, instead of filing a complaint with the labor authorities, he chose a faster solution.

“There happened to be two swords. I picked one up. It was heavy.”

“You won.”

“I killed him.”

Song Ilseom casually corrected me as he twirled his chopsticks.

“It wasn’t difficult. I’d watched his martial arts every day, and they were predictable. I dodged ten times and stabbed once, as if we’d rehearsed the whole exchange. Then he fell.”

Gulp.

Hyuk Mujin swallowed nervously and asked,

“How old were you then?”

“Twelve? Thirteen? I don’t remember exactly, but it was around then.”

“Th-then your opponent…”

“He was a lousy Third Rate wandering martial artist. If he’d been First Rate, do you think I’d have been crazy enough to take him on?”

No, I think a kid who hadn’t even graduated from elementary school attacking a martial artist was already insane.

What was I doing at that age?

Who knew? I was probably running around picking my nose or something.

This guy’s a gifted bastard too.

Countless martial sects and families existed throughout the world.

If the Nine Sects and One Gang and the Five Great Families were the first tier, there naturally had to be a second tier.

According to something Jeok Cheongang had mentioned in passing, the Guangdong Chen Family had belonged to that second tier.

Blood will tell, huh?

To reach that level without any of his family’s secret martial arts…

Just as I was marveling at the thought that Song Ilseom really was something special, Gung Gibang, who had been silent for a while, suddenly stared at him in shock.

“Could you be the Soul-Chasing Guest?”

“That’s what they called me ten years ago. By the way, is your mouth a bottomless jar? How the hell are you still spitting out rice after all this time?”

“Hah. I never imagined the famous Soul-Chasing Guest would be a young man around my age.”

The Soul-Chasing Guest. That was apparently Song Ilseom’s former epithet.

He must have been almost as famous as he was skilled, because Ju Hwaran’s eyes widened as well.

“You’re the Soul-Chasing Guest who won a hundred life-and-death duels?”

“One hundred and two, to be exact. It’s all hollow fame, so there’s no need to make a fuss. There are already two people here younger and more impressive than me.”

Cheongpung, who had somehow finished off most of the food, grinned.

“No, you’re still amazing, Young Hero Song.”

I nodded.

“Yeah, he’s strong. Weaker than me, though.”

“…Are you two making fun of me?”

Cheongpung slurped down something that looked like cinnamon punch and answered, “No teasin’ you!”

“He says he isn’t teasing you.”

At my helpful translation, Song Ilseom’s gaze shifted toward me.

“What about you?”

“I am teasing you.”

“…Got any booze? I feel like having a drink for the first time in a while.”

The meal, which had begun in the early evening, didn’t end until close to midnight.

Ignoring the fine liquor, Song Ilseom had downed cup after cup of strong liquor and now had his head planted on the table. Ju Hwaran, who had been sipping hers, had flushed cheeks as well.

And then…

It really is time to go.

When I rose, Gung Gibang used his internal energy to purge the alcohol from his body, while Hyuk Mujin hoisted Cheongpung onto his back. Cheongpung was already completely wasted and snoring softly.

“We’ve imposed on you, Young Lady Ju.”

“You’re leaving already?”

“I’d like to stay longer, but I don’t think I can this time.”

“Is that so?”

Her drunken eyes curved like half-moons.

Her steps were light, almost as if she were dancing, and deep dimples showed in her cheeks. Apparently, drinking made her laugh.

“Would you like to take a walk?”

“Pardon?”

“Let’s go for a walk. The flowers in the garden have just bloomed.”

“Oh. Congratulations. They must be pretty.”

She burst out laughing.

Before I could ask what was so funny, Ju Hwaran giggled and stepped outside.

I followed her without thinking, then stopped short and turned around.

“You two aren’t coming?”

“…Is he even human?”

“Lower than a beggar. Beggarly bastard. Worse than a beggar.”

“What the hell? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s how I feel.”

“That’s how I feel.”

“Come on. Young Lady Ju said the flowers have bloomed in the garden. We can look around together and leave right afterward. The timing will be perfect—”

The sighs of Gung Gibang and Hyuk Mujin cut me off.

The two men shook their heads with expressions of utter horror, then spoke in turn.

“I need to take a dump. Where’s the latrine?”

“Me too. We’ll take turns going back and forth, so take your time looking around.”

“…Uh. Sure.”

What’s wrong with those two? Do their stomachs hurt that badly? Their faces look downright demonic today.

I must be imagining the contempt and fury in their eyes.

I hurried outside and began walking through the garden beside Ju Hwaran, who was waiting for me.

“Great Hero Jin is… how should I put it? You’re a very interesting person.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. You can be a little exasperating sometimes, but… well, in a way, that’s one of your strengths too.”

“…?”

What is this? Is she insulting me indirectly?

At my bewildered expression, the smile on Ju Hwaran’s lips deepened.

“I don’t remember the last time I laughed out loud. It must have been more than half a year ago.”

“Hmm? Didn’t you laugh last time too? When we passed Black Stone Mountain?”

“Oh. Did I?”

“Maybe you just don’t remember. That makes twice in three days.”

“I wonder. Is that really it?”

Ju Hwaran murmured dreamily, then suddenly pointed at the sky.

“Great Hero Jin, do you see that?”

“Of course. It’s a full moon.”

“The moon is especially bright tonight.”

“Did you know why the moon is bright, Young Lady Ju? It’s because it reflects light from the sun.”

“Pardon?”

“No, I’m serious. It’s not some ridiculous story. It’s a famous result of scientific research… No, I heard it from a scholar. Where was it? That’s right, somewhere around the imperial palace.”

Another quiet laugh slipped from her lips.

“No, it really is true…”

“All right. I’ll believe you. By the way, Great Hero Jin.”

“Yes?”

“This.”

To me, still feeling wronged, Ju Hwaran suddenly held something out.

A solid, elongated wooden case. One I had already seen at the teahouse.

“Could this be…?”

“That’s right. Hundred-Year-Old Snow Ginseng.”

“…”

“It’s a small gift compared to what you’ve done for us, but would you accept it? It would put my heart at ease, at least a little.”

I silently looked back and forth between Ju Hwaran and the wooden case.

Should I refuse? Should I accept it? Should I refuse…

After several rounds of agonizing, I finally nodded.

“I’ll accept it gratefully. Thank you.”

Ju Hwaran beamed.

Her smile was brighter than the moon hanging in the sky.

We walked for about fifteen minutes, chatting about nothing in particular, until the flowers lining both sides of the path gradually began to thin.

Ju Hwaran’s steps slowed as well.

“Great Hero Jin.”

“Yes, Young Lady Ju?”

“Do you think I can do well?”

Her sudden voice sounded raw and desolate.

Perhaps this was why she had drunk.

But there were days like that. Days when nothing could hold your emotions back. Moments when everything you had struggled to suppress finally surged over the brim.

“Do you really think I can do well?”

I spoke.

“It’s okay if you can’t.”

“…”

It’s okay. I understand how you feel. Stay strong.

Sometimes, every word of comfort sounded hollow. Of course she wasn’t okay. Someone standing a step removed could never fully understand what the person suffering was going through, and being told to stay strong didn’t suddenly give you strength.

I didn’t offer Ju Hwaran some clumsy consolation today because she was already suffering enough.

“You’re only human too, Young Lady Ju. It’s okay if you don’t do well. You don’t have to force yourself to be strong.”

She only had to keep going as she had, following the current wherever it carried her.

One step at a time, at her own pace rather than someone else’s.

“Wouldn’t that be enough?”

Ju Hwaran looked up at me, tears clinging to her eyes.

Then they curved like half-moons.

Thump!

I kicked off the ground.

The scenery receded, and the earth blurred past beneath me.

The voices of Ju Hwaran and the people of the Yongbong Escort Bureau gradually faded before cutting off entirely.

Only then did the two guys who had been watching me warily speak.

“Young Lady Ju’s eyes looked swollen earlier…”

“Do you think she cried? No. No way. She couldn’t have.”

They noticed that carefully even in the dark.

When I didn’t answer, Hyuk Mujin pointed at the bulge beneath my clothes.

“But what’s that?”

“Oh, this?”

I forgot to put it in my Inventory.

I let out a quiet laugh as someone’s lie came to mind.

“Thousand-Year Snow Ginseng.”

“Whaaat?”

“Huh?”