Longevity - Chapter 15

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 15: The One Who Escaped
“You’re certain you didn’t miscount?”

Jin Ipchu drew a breath. The wound that slashed across his chest made his voice rasp at the edges.
Jang Saeng shook his head.

“I counted twice. Twenty-seven is correct.”

Most of the torches had fallen to the ground. Flames guttered above the wet earth and blood, and along the creek lay the bodies of the Mabang members, stacked upon one another. The corpses Lee Jung-yong had verified just moments before numbered twenty-six.
Jin Ipchu turned to look toward the Western Forest.

“Your night vision isn’t sharp enough. How could you see so far?”
“I couldn’t see his face.”

Jang Saeng pressed his shoulder. Blood oozed between his fingers again.

“But that person was carrying a torch too. He went behind the great Willow Tree to the west and loosened his belt. Even with his body hidden behind the trunk, I saw his hands move.”

Jin Ipchu’s eyes hardened.

“Are you certain?”
“I watched him twist the belt loose. I recounted because I thought I might have miscounted, and it was still twenty-seven.”

No one spoke at once.
Jin Ipchu struck his forehead with a blood-stained hand.

“Why didn’t you say so sooner?”
“I…”

Jang Saeng opened his mouth, then stopped. By that moment, blades had been pressing in from all sides, and he himself had already taken an arrow through the shoulder.

“It’s my fault.”

Jeon Jin-gung gripped the spear tighter. The veins on the back of his hand rose like cords.

“If I’d completed the Five-Element Formation in time, not one of them would have escaped.”

Lee Jung-yong picked up his long sword.

“You said to the west?”

Jang Saeng nodded, and Lee Jung-yong turned toward the forest at once.

“Wait.”
“There may be footprints.”

Na Yangja spoke with his eyes closed.

“Let it go. It’s already too late.”

Lee Jung-yong’s steps did not slow.

“I won’t know if it’s too late until I look.”

Jeon Jin-gung planted his spear and followed behind him.

“I’m going too.”

The footsteps of the two men faded into the Western Forest. Na Yangja did not stop them. He merely rested both hands on his knees and steadied his breathing.
Baturou’s fist drove into the wet earth. He had swallowed the antidote, but strength had not yet returned to his legs. He clenched his teeth and tried to push himself up, then sank back down again.

“Elder brother, don’t move.”

Jin Ipchu pressed down on his shoulder.
Baturou shook his hand away.

“If I hadn’t been fool enough to swallow that poison…….”
“Stop.”

Na Yangja opened his eyes.

“In the Martial World, there are losses even when one gives everything.”

Baturou raised his fist again.

“It’s still my fault.”
“If you smash that tree to splinters with your fists now, will the one who fled come back?”

Baturou’s arm went rigid.
Na Yangja closed his eyes once more. Holes from the Feather Needles punctured his robe. Jang Saeng sat by the creek, gazing westward. The forest was dark, and no sound emerged from within.

An hour passed, then another.
As dusk approached, footsteps were heard. The first to emerge was Lee Jung-yong. His Long Sword was sheathed, and dried seed pods clung thickly to his robe. Jeon Jin-gung followed behind, but could not lift his head.
There was no need to ask the outcome.
Lee Jung-yong stopped before Na Yangja.

“We lost him.”

Jeon Jin-gung planted the end of his Spear in the ground.

“The tracks disappeared halfway through.”

Baturou had by then regained strength in his legs. He rose unsteadily and looked at Na Yangja, Jin Ipchu, and Jang Saeng in turn. All three were soaked with blood.
He struck the Willow Tree with his fist. The rough bark cracked, and blood welled from his knuckles.

“If only I hadn’t put that cursed grass in my mouth—the Master, Ipchu, Jang Saeng—none of them would’ve ended up like this.”
“Elder brother.”

Lee Jung-yong seized his wrist.
Baturou tried to wrench his arm free, but Lee Jung-yong held firm.

“The battle is finished.”
“Finished? Like hell it is!”

Baturou glared at the Western Forest.

“One of them got away.”

Na Yangja rose slowly. As his body wavered, Jin Ipchu extended his arm, but Na Yangja raised his hand to wave him off.

“If one has fled, we prepare for what comes next.”

He looked around.

“Search the bodies. Take any silver and valuable goods.”

Lee Jung-yong and Jin Ipchu turned to look at Na Yangja at the same moment. Jeon Jin-gung lifted his head as well.
Only Baturou furrowed his brows.

“Master, are you asking us to strip the dead?”
“If word spreads, it will be difficult to earn travel money by fortune-telling and making offerings on the roadside anymore.”

Na Yangja pushed the curved blade at his feet away.

“What they possessed was wealth taken from others through violence. Reclaiming ill-gotten gains harms no virtue. To survive, one must use the tools at hand.”

Lee Jung-yong turned first.

“Understood.”

Jin Ipchu and Jeon Jin-gung walked toward the bodies. Baturou stood for a moment, wiping the blood from his hands onto his clothes, then followed.
Jang Saeng picked up a torch. His left arm had no strength, and when he lifted the fire with his right hand, his body tilted to one side.
He stopped before the corpse of the man who had fired the crossbow. A quiver hung at the man’s ribs. Jang Saeng untied the cord and fastened it around his own waist. The arrowheads inside clattered softly.
For Jang Saeng, who possessed no martial arts, the crossbow and arrows were the means of survival.
The corpse’s face was horrific, but Jang Saeng did not look away. He had seen dead men many times on the main road after droughts.
More terrifying than that was the one who had escaped alive.
Around the third watch, the group finished their preparations and left the creek. Baturou carried the two wooden trunks again on his shoulders. His legs had not fully recovered, but he would not hand them to anyone else.
Na Yangja chose the main road over the mountain path.

“The main road draws attention.”

Lee Jung-yong said, keeping watch ahead.

“Ipchu and Jang Saeng are injured. By the mountain path, we won’t reach the city by dawn.”

Jang Saeng could not answer. The ground beneath his feet seemed to give way, and he heard nothing but the pulse in his ears.
Before they had gone even a few li, his knees buckled.
Lee Jung-yong reached out and caught Jang Saeng.

“Jang Saeng.”
“I can walk.”

Jang Saeng pulled himself upright. After two steps, darkness crept into his vision.
Lee Jung-yong asked nothing more. He handed his long sword to Jeon Jin-gung and turned his back to Jang Saeng.

“Get on.”
“You’re exhausted too.”
“If you have breath to speak, use it to hold on.”

While Jang Saeng hesitated, Lee Jung-yong grasped his thigh and hoisted him onto his back. The wound shifted, and Jang Saeng gritted his teeth.

“You’re bleeding again.”

Jeon Jin-gung came forward and tightened the cloth at the shoulder once more.

“Just a little longer. Once we reach the city, we’ll find a physician first thing.”

Jang Saeng wrapped his right arm around Lee Jung-yong’s neck. With each unsteady step, the wound throbbed.
As dawn broke, the city walls came into view. They were far larger and higher than those of Mopyeong County. On the gate plaque was written: Jeuk-muk.
The group chose a quiet inn in the eastern quarter of the city. Na Yangja gathered everyone in one room the moment he secured lodging.
Two wooden trunks were placed in the center of the room. Na Yangja placed his hand on the one containing the Secret Martial Arts Manual.

“Since one escaped alive, it is only a matter of time before word spreads. Still, we have several days’ grace.”
“I will go out. I will return in three days, no more than five at the latest. There are eighteen copies of the Secret Martial Arts Manual and Bamboo Slips inside. Divide them among yourselves and memorize them. Once each of you has mastered one complete copy, we burn it.”

Jin Ipchu straightened from the wall he had been leaning against.

“Where are you going?”

Na Yangja did not answer. Baturou bent toward the trunk.

“You’ll burn all of it?”
“Words may vanish, but if people remember them, the teaching never truly dies.”

Na Yangja opened the chest. Beyond the worn books and bamboo slips, blood stains and bandages across the room came into view.

“I cannot sever the martial arts our ancestors left behind. But as long as it remains on paper, it will call for more blood.”

Jin Ipchu took a step forward, then pressed his ribs. Blood seeped through his clothes again.

“Your wounds haven’t healed. Take one of us with you, at least.”

Na Yangja’s gaze shifted from Jin Ipchu’s hand to Jang Saeng’s left arm.

“No one follows.”

He closed the chest and rose to his feet.

“Don’t leave the inn. Don’t separate from one another. Lock the door and stay quiet.”

When Na Yangja turned at the threshold, no one moved to follow him.

“No need to see me off.”

After Na Yangja descended, the five remained by the doorway. Soon his voice rose from the courtyard below.

“Where in this area can one buy a fast horse?”

When a servant pointed down the western alley, Na Yangja crossed the courtyard at once.
Jeon Jin-gung’s grip tightened on the door frame. Na Yangja, who normally preferred to travel on foot, was now seeking a swift mount.

“Where do you think he’s going?” Jang Saeng asked.

Lee Jung-yong answered by closing the door and sliding the bolt home.

“We’ll know when he returns.”

The five divided themselves between two rooms, gathering in one place only to memorize the Secret Martial Arts Manual.
By afternoon, Lee Jung-yong opened the wooden chest. The smell of old paper and earth rose from the aged books and bamboo slips.
Among eighteen volumes, Baturou claimed none. He forgot the opening sections before he could turn more than a few pages.

“You keep watch at the door,” Lee Jung-yong said to Baturou.

He stacked four books before himself, not before Baturou.

“That’s the more important task.”

Baturou pouted but, as the remaining books were divided, he moved silently to take position by the door.
Lee Jung-yong and Jin Ipchu each took four volumes. Jang Saeng and Jeon Jin-gung each took five. The two rarely forgot a sentence once they had read it.
Jang Saeng, his left arm immobilized, turned pages with his right hand. Even when he didn’t grasp every meaning, he etched the sequence of characters and the placement of diagrams into his mind.
The sun set and lamp wicks grew short, yet no one closed their books.
On the first night, Lee Jung-yong cast one of his memorized volumes into the brazier. Only when Baturou heard him recite it flawlessly from first page to last did he set down the poker.
On the second day, two bundles of bamboo slips burned. On the third, six volumes vanished. By the fourth night, only one book remained in Jang Saeng’s hands.
Jeon Jin-gung sat across from him and asked.

“Have you memorized it all?”

Jang Saeng recited from the opening verse to the end. When Jeon Jin-gung pointed at random passages, he continued without pause, speaking what came before and after. Soon the final book became ash in the brazier.
The wooden chest stood empty, yet none felt relief. Those pursuing them would never believe the Secret Martial Arts Manual had disappeared.
At noon on the fifth day, the sound of a horse’s neigh came from below.
Jang Saeng reached the window first. Na Yangja stood in the inn’s courtyard. He wore the same clothes as when he’d left, but dried earth clung to the cuffs of his sleeves.

“Master!”

Baturou burst through the door and rushed out.
His expression gave nothing away. Jin Ipchu noticed the dried earth on his sleeve cuffs and couldn’t help but ask.

“Where have you been, sir? Did the matter succeed?”

Na Yangja didn’t answer and simply entered the room. Only after Jeon Jin-gung had scanned the corridor one last time and closed the door did he finally speak.

“The very thing I feared has come to pass.”

Baturou swallowed hard. Lee Jung-yong’s gaze fixed on the empty wooden chest.

“That night, one of the Mabang members escaped alive. He’s already spread word of the Secret Martial Arts Manual. There are many who would seek it out.”

Jeon Jin-gung also turned to look at the empty chest. Na Yangja followed his gaze and continued.

“The higher the Martial Arts, the longer it takes to master. What you’ve memorized won’t become strength you can wield overnight.”

Jin Ipchu’s brow furrowed.

“Then what must we do?”
“For now, we must rely on external tools.”
“External tools, you mean…?”
“Weapons.”

Na Yangja looked down at the empty wooden chest.

“Before Martial Arts reach their apex, a weapon suited to your hand is essential. I’m leaving now. I must go prepare swords and blades that fit each of you.”

Baturou rose to his feet, and Jeon Jin-gung and Lee Jung-yong exchanged a brief glance.
Only Jang Saeng didn’t immediately grasp the meaning.
Then it came to him—the party had once frequented several old tombs. It seemed they meant to retrieve the weapons they’d left behind in those places.
Na Yangja suddenly turned his head.

“Cough.”

He gave a sharp cough and covered his mouth with his hand. The coughing didn’t stop with just one.

“Cough, cough.”

Jeon Jin-gung poured water and held out the cup with both hands.

“Sir.”

Na Yangja took a sip of water and set down the cup.

“Gather your things. We’ll buy another horse and cart at the market. We need two to pull the cart to make better time.”

Baturou, Lee Jung-yong, and Jin Ipchu immediately headed for the adjacent room.
Jeon Jin-gung waited for Na Yangja’s coughing to subside.

“Has a pursuit force caught up with us?”
“There is no pursuit.”

Na Yangja shook his head slowly. Outside the window, the inn’s horse was scraping the ground with its foreleg.
He pushed away the water cup and stood.

“Yet Heaven mocks mankind, and so Time Waits for No One

…….”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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