Longevity - Chapter 27

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

Episode 27: A Night of Rain
Yi Jung-yong turned his horse around only after Yun-ju’s military encampment had completely vanished from sight.

“Ba Tu-ru, stop for a moment.”

Ba Tu-ru immediately pulled the reins taut. As the carriage halted in a grassy field beside Gwan-do, Yi Jung-yong and Jin Ip-chu dismounted nearly in unison.
Neither man could straighten his body properly. Yi Jung-yong pressed against his side, while Jin Ip-chu held his chest and breathed in shallow gasps.
Yet it was these two who had been the first to climb into the carriage.
Na Yang-ja sat propped against the wall. His face had gone past pale—a faint dark aura hung about it—and his coughing came without pause.

“Master, how is your condition?”

Yi Jung-yong knelt and asked.
Na Yang-ja answered with a long cough instead. Black blood seeped onto the cloth pressed against his mouth.
He folded the cloth to hide the blood and looked toward Jin Ip-chu.

“Feng Hong-shou’s Tong Pei Quan truly lives up to its name. Ip-chu, circulate your Yun Gi first and open the channels—clear away the stagnant blood. You may look fine on the surface, but trauma remains inside.”

Jin Ip-chu’s face hardened.

“My injuries can wait. You must attend to yourself first, Master.”
“I can hold on still.”

Na Yang-ja forced the corners of his mouth upward.

“If we linger here too long, the Gae Bang will catch up with us again. Once your bodies have recovered, we leave at once.”

When the master’s voice rang out no different from usual, the shoulders of Yi Jung-yong and Jin Ip-chu relaxed slightly. The two did not press further and stepped outside.
Once the others had moved away from the carriage, Yi Jung-yong called out to Jang Saeng.

“Jang Saeng.”

He lowered his voice.

“Watch over the Master carefully. If his condition changes even slightly, you must tell me at once.”
“Yes, Jung-yong.”

Jang Saeng answered, but his heart would not settle.
When Na Yang-ja said he was well and when he actually was well were two different things. The blood that had smeared his palm moments before was not bright red—it was black as ink.
When the brief rest ended, the party turned northward once more.
They could not take comfort that the Gae Bang had been shaken off. Yi Jung-yong and Jin Ip-chu were wounded, and Jeon Jin-gung had scarcely slept properly for nearly two days.
Should they meet the enemy again, only Ba Tu-ru and Jeon Jin-gung could hold the line.
Jang Saeng kept watch inside the carriage even before being asked. Na Yang-ja’s cough cut through clearly between the sound of hoofbeats and turning wheels.
Sometimes a wet, liquid sound followed the coughing—as though something were being expelled.
Jang Saeng could bear it no longer and stepped inside.
The cloth in Na Yang-ja’s hand was already soaked with black blood. That was not enough—he had unfolded a bundle beside him to wipe it clean, and half the fabric had turned dark.

“Master, what can we do?”

Jang Saeng’s voice trembled.

“There is no cause for alarm.”

Na Yang-ja waved his hand.

“I am coughing up the stagnant blood that was blocked. Once it all comes out, my breathing will ease considerably.”

He closed his eyes and straightened his back.

“Now I need to circulate my Yun Gi. Go outside and stay there. Don’t make a fuss in here.”

Jang Saeng couldn’t ask further. He climbed out of the carriage and sat beside Ba Tu-ru, but worry never left his face.
Ba Tu-ru glanced sideways at him.

“Don’t scrunch your face like you’re at a funeral.”
“Master keeps coughing blood.”
“Master said he’s fine.”

Ba Tu-ru spoke without hesitation.

“If Master says he’s fine, then he’s fine. The road’s clear, and we’ll reach Yongju in two days.”

Jang Saeng answered in a small voice.

“Yes.”

A worried face changed nothing. It only made someone else’s heart heavier.
He forced himself to relax the tension in his lips and looked ahead at the road.
At the large relay stations within Yi Geuk-yong’s sphere of influence, the Dong Pae Yeong Jeon still held sway. Each time the party found fresh horses, they swapped out their exhausted mounts.
The garrison soldiers didn’t ask questions when they saw the blood-soaked Yi Jung-yong and Jin Ip-chu. A messenger from the battlefield bearing wounds seemed almost natural.
As the sun began to set, Na Yang-ja’s cough subsided.
Only then did Jang Saeng’s chest ease a little. No trace of Gae Bang appeared, and beyond the city gates they’d passed through, ragged-clothed people were scarce.
Whether the rumor they’d spread had actually tied Gae Bang down, he couldn’t know. Still, at least for now, no one blocked their path.
As evening fell, the party entered the mountains. Ahead stretched over a hundred li of paths winding through peaks and valleys.
Not long after entering the mountain road, a massive tree lay sprawled across Gwan-do.
Yi Jung-yong’s eyes narrowed.

“It was felled deliberately. There are people in the forest.”

Ba Tu-ru handed the reins to Jeon Jin-gung.

“Stay here. I’ll scout ahead.”

He picked up the Bin Cheol Gon and walked toward the road’s edge.
Before he’d finished surveying the area around the tree, forty or fifty figures burst from both sides of the forest. Their clothes differed from Gae Bang’s, and lacked the uniformity of Mun Pa.
They were bandits, wielding swords and spears as they pleased.
The man at the front raised his blade and shouted.

“I opened this road, and this tree was—”

Before he could finish, Ba Tu-ru charged.
Bang!
The Bin Cheol Gon fell from overhead. The man’s body crumpled, and red splattered wide across the earth.

“Opened? What opening! You blind fools are wasting my time!”

Ba Tu-ru didn’t stop. He swept the Bin Cheol Gon across the waist of the swordsman beside him, then drove the staff’s tip into the back of a fleeing man.
When their leader couldn’t survive even a single exchange, the bandits lost their will to fight. Only a handful who fled too late fell; the rest scattered into the forest.
Ba Tu-ru lifted the fallen tree in both arms and shoved it to the side of the road.

“These dogs got the horses cold.”

He grumbled as he returned to the carriage and took up the reins again.
The deeper they pressed into the mountains, the narrower the strip of sky visible above. When night fell, even starlight was swallowed by the trees and cliffs.
Around the hour of Tiger, a wind suddenly rose.
Branches thrashed and distant thunder rumbled low. Clouds gathered swiftly, devouring both stars and moon.
Jang Saeng jolted upright in his seat.

“Third brother, would you trade places with me? I’ll take the horse.”

Jin Ip-chu turned, his hand pressed against his chest.

“What are you talking about? My wound is fine enough for riding.”
“I need to learn horsemanship. Now would be a good time to switch.”

Jang Saeng pressed the matter with unusual urgency.
The moment Jin Ip-chu’s expression turned skeptical, Na Yang-ja’s voice drifted from inside the cart.

“Youngest, stay in the cart. The mountain road is dark.”
“Master, but…”

Jang Saeng fell silent. He couldn’t speak the truth—that he feared another Heavenly Thunder would strike because of him.

“This one is just an ordinary storm.”

Na Yang-ja added quietly.

“There’s no need to worry.”

Jang Saeng felt relief wash over him, then stopped short. The words “this one is ordinary” meant Na Yang-ja knew the earlier Heavenly Thunder was no coincidence—that it was connected to him.
Questions formed in his mind, but this was not the moment to ask them.

“Yes, Master.”

Not long after, thick raindrops began to fall. Thunder rolled across the mountains, and lightning split the ravines with brief, stark brightness.
True to Na Yang-ja’s word, no lightning struck near the cart. Jang Saeng finally loosened his rigid shoulders.
Then lightning tore open the night sky.
In that flash of white light illuminating Gwan-do, two figures stood motionless in the middle of the road.

“Ba Tu-ru…”

Jang Saeng didn’t finish. The cart had already passed them.
He grabbed the cart’s rail and twisted around to look back.

“What is it?”

Ba Tu-ru wiped rain from his face.

“There were two people standing in the road just now. You didn’t see them?”
“Two people? In a mountain this deep? Impossible.”

Ba Tu-ru shook his head.

“If they were real, the cart would have jolted when the wheels rolled over them.”

Jang Saeng squinted into the darkness.
Lightning flashed again.
The two figures still stood on the road. Before, they’d been facing south; now they had turned, watching the cart recede into the distance.
Rain obscured their faces, but their robes were stark and unmistakable.
One wore black; the other wore white.
The Messengers of Darkness and Light.

A childhood tale surfaced in Jang Saeng’s mind—the underworld attendants who came to collect the souls of the dying.
He tried to cry out, but clamped his teeth shut.
Na Yang-ja was poisoned, death looming. If he spoke their names aloud, he felt certain they would truly come to claim his master.
From inside the cart, Na Yang-ja asked something.

“Jang Saeng, what did those two people look like?”

Jang Saeng pressed down the wild hammering of his heart and answered.

“They looked like children, sir.”

It was the first lie he had ever told.

“Why would there be children in the mountains?”

Ba Tu-ru spoke.

“A rabbit just crossed the path. I must have mistaken it for something else.”

Jang Saeng had no reply. His fingers clenched so hard against the cart railing that his nails left marks. The rain never ceased. It was only as they emerged from the mountains near dusk that the downpour began to ease. The party pressed on, water streaming from their clothes and hair.
The rain never ceased.
It was only as they emerged from the mountains near dusk that the downpour began to ease. The party pressed on, water streaming from their clothes and hair.
Close to noon, they spotted the boundary stone marking Yongju.
But their destination, Dongguan County,

lay deeper within Yongju. They would need another full day’s ride to reach it.
While they changed horses and rested briefly, Yi Jung-yong and Jin Ip-chu called for Jang Saeng.

“How is Master?”
“The cough has stopped, sir.”

Jang Saeng, reading the concern in their faces, hastened to add more.

“He hasn’t brought up black blood again. But it’s been two days since he’s eaten or drunk anything.”

Yi Jung-yong and Jin Ip-chu exchanged glances—their faces a mixture of relief and dread.
Jin Ip-chu asked:

“Do you know who Master is searching for in Dongguan County?”
“I don’t.”

Yi Jung-yong shook his head.

“In all my years with Master, I never heard him mention having been to Dongguan. But since Ba Tu-ru knows the way, it’s likely they came together long ago.”

He called to Ba Tu-ru, who was watering the horses.

“Did you ever come to Dongguan County with Master before?”
“Yes.”

Ba Tu-ru answered matter-of-factly.

“Does Master know someone here?”
“Master is from the south—why would he know anyone here? We came to find a grave.”

Yi Jung-yong and Jin Ip-chu’s expressions hardened at once.

“Did you find it?”
“Whose grave was it?”

Their questions overlapped.

“Found it, yes. But I don’t know whose.”

Ba Tu-ru scratched his head.

“Master said we mustn’t touch that grave.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.”

Jin Ip-chu leaned forward, his frustration evident.

“Think harder, please.”

Ba Tu-ru furrowed his brow for a long moment.

“He said something about losing years of life if we disturbed it.”
“Everyone loses lifespan when they rob a grave. That’s not much of a clue.”
“He also said that person lived to be a hundred and twenty.”

Ba Tu-ru groped through his memory.

“Master said he was such a good person—like an immortal reborn into the world.”

Jin Ip-chu’s expression shifted.

One hundred and twenty years is Shuang Jia—the extreme limit of lifespan granted to humanity.”

Yi Jung-yong lifted his head as if remembering something.

“I think I know who it is.”

Jin Ip-chu asked quietly.

Is it the Medicine King, Sun Zhen-ren?”

Yi Jung-yong nodded slowly.

“Dongguan County is Sun Zhen-ren’s birthplace.”

Ba Tu-ru paid no attention to the hard expressions on both their faces.

“If you’re done asking questions, I’m going to feed the horses.”

After he left, Yi Jung-yong and Jin Ip-chu fell silent for a long time. Jang Saeng ventured a cautious question.

“Wouldn’t we be able to find medicine if we opened Sun Zhen-ren’s grave?”

Jin Ip-chu shook his head.

“The Medicine King, Sun Zhen-ren, was a senior of Do Mun who saved countless lives while he lived. We cannot desecrate his grave.”
“But now Master’s life is…….”
“It’s not a matter of righteousness or honor.”

Jin Ip-chu cut off Jang Saeng’s words.

“Sun Zhen-ren is said to have been a man who descended to this world bearing Heaven’s will. There is a saying that to desecrate the tomb of such a being is to invite Heavenly Punishment.”

Jang Saeng recalled the thunder from the night before.
Yi Jung-yong added quietly,

“To suffer Heavenly Punishment means your Life Force is severed in an instant. Open that tomb today, and tomorrow is no longer yours to claim.”

Jang Saeng’s face hardened.

“Then why do you go there, Master?”

Neither man answered at once.
After a long silence, Yi Jung-yong turned his gaze toward the northwestern path that led to Dongguan County.

“Perhaps my master does not seek to save his own life.”

Jin Ip-chu pressed his lips into a thin line.
Yi Jung-yong’s next words fell colder than rain.

“He may be willing to spend what life remains in pursuit of his greatest wish—the one that has haunted him all his years.”

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