Longevity - Chapter 28

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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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Chapter 28: Medicine King’s Tomb
“Master Yi, what is your teacher’s greatest wish?”

Jangseong pressed Yi Jung-yong on the matter, asking again. He’d posed the same question to Jin Ip-chu, but Jin Ip-chu had offered only a conjecture—that Na Yang-ja wandered for the sake of some woman.
Yi Jung-yong gazed toward the northwest road for a long moment.

“I’ve never heard him speak of it directly. But having been at his side for so long, I’ve come to suspect something.”
“What is it?”
​”Our teacher has been searching for a Life-Extension Pill—

one that would lengthen his lifespan.”

Jangseong’s eyes widened. But Yi Jung-yong quickly added to his words.

“It’s likely he doesn’t intend to take it himself. Rather, it must be for a woman with whom he shares an old bond.”
“Why do you think so?”

Yi Jung-yong shook his head slowly.

“It’s only conjecture. But what else could explain why our teacher would endure the world’s condemnation, be cast out from his Sect, and whittle away his own lifespan? I can find no other answer.”

Jangseong did not truly understand the feelings between man and woman. Yi Jung-yong’s words seemed plausible, yet something about them troubled him.

“You said our teacher left the Sect ten years ago. If this were about saving someone, wouldn’t ten years be far too long?”
“If it were an urgent illness, he wouldn’t have endured ten years in the first place.”

Yi Jung-yong spoke after a moment’s reflection.

“It would be different if it were a chronic ailment. Our teacher may have sought medicine from many places and sent it to sustain that person’s life all this while.”

Jin Ip-chu, his hand pressed to his chest, nodded in agreement.

“That does make sense.”

Jangseong asked again.

“Has our teacher ever returned to visit that person?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”

As Yi Jung-yong answered, Jin Ip-chu opened his mouth.

“I’ve seen him send something through the relay stations. Not letters—it looked like a small object. I never saw what it was.”

Jangseong found it all the more incomprehensible.

“To stake his own life for someone whose face he hasn’t seen in ten years? If that person had any conscience at all, wouldn’t they refuse to let your teacher die?”

Jin Ip-chu clicked his tongue.

“As the saying goes, a summer insect cannot speak of ice.

How would one like you, barely grown, understand such matters?”

Just as Jangseong bristled at this, Yi Jung-yong spoke first.

“We don’t truly know ourselves. Stop speculating without warrant.”

He looked directly at Jangseong.

“And when we meet our teacher shortly, act as though you know nothing. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”

The three finished their conversation and returned to the carriage. Ba Tu-ru had already watered the horses and was checking the yokes and reins when the group set out again immediately.
Rain had fallen on Ongju as well; the road was thick with mud. Each time the wheels sank deep, their speed dropped.
By sunset, the carriage climbed onto a dry official road. After changing horses once more at a relay station, the group rode through the night toward Donggwan County.
That night, neither soldiers nor bandits appeared. For them now, nothing happening was the best possible outcome.
If the road became blocked again, there would be no way to escape with Yi Jung-yong and Jin Ip-chu both seriously wounded.
At dawn the next day, the walls of Donggwan County finally came into view. Jangseong’s eyes burned and his head felt heavy from keeping watch all night with eyes open, but the moment the city walls appeared, the drowsiness vanished.
Jangseong had believed that if they could only reach their destination, he would be able to save Na Yang-ja. But the story he’d heard yesterday had shaken that faith.
Na Yang-ja had eaten nothing since the previous day. He had drunk no water, and had not even gotten down from the carriage to relieve himself.
His face had grown paler with each passing hour. By now it looked less like living flesh than paper.
As they entered the city, Na Yang-ja himself began to point out the way. The carriage passed through the center of the city and headed north.
Ba Tu-ru spoke.

“Master, please rest. I remember the way to that tomb.”

Yi Jung-yong and Jin Ip-chu’s expressions hardened simultaneously.
So Na Yang-ja truly intended to disturb the Medicine King’s Tomb

of Son Jin-in. For the two men, it was no different from leaping into fire.
They looked around inside the carriage several times. They opened their mouths to speak, then closed them again repeatedly, but in the end said nothing.
By the Hour of the Sheep, the carriage had left Hyeondo and turned onto a smaller path. By the Hour of the Monkey, they were on a dirt track between villages.
Around the Hour of the Rooster, the carriage came to a halt at the base of a mountain.

“Master, we have arrived.”

Ba Tu-ru jumped down and straightened his stiff back. The others dismounted as well.
As Na Yang-ja drew back the curtain, Jangseong quickly offered his arm. The hand was ice-cold.
Not a drop of blood seemed to remain in his face.
Na Yang-ja leaned on Jangseong’s shoulder as he stepped to the ground. After surveying the surroundings slowly, he walked north.

“I will verify the direction. You unload the baggage.”
“Master.”

Yi Jung-yong finally called out to him. Na Yang-ja turned around.

“Do you intend to excavate the tomb?”

It was a question asked while already knowing the answer. Na Yang-ja gave a short nod.

“Can you tell us whose tomb this is?”

Na Yang-ja did not answer.

“Unload the baggage first.”

He turned his body and walked away. Yi Jung-yong tried to follow a step behind, but Jin Ip-chu caught his sleeve.
Ba Tu-ru looked between the two men alternately.

“What’s wrong with you two? We rode ourselves to death to get here—why do you all look like you’re attending a funeral?”

Jeon Jin-gung did not know the circumstances, but did not ask. Instead, she quietly surveyed the direction where Na Yang-ja had disappeared and the surrounding forest.
Yi Jung-yong and Jin Ip-chu examined the terrain without speaking.
Some ten li to the east, a village was visible. Ruined walls and house foundations remained at the base of the mountain, suggesting that a small settlement had once existed here as well.
Spreading widely from the north was a Bamboo Forest, rare to see in the north. Though lower and thinner than bamboo in the south, it grew densely across several li, covering the ground.
Withered bamboo that had endured autumn and winter was tangled overhead like a roof. Each time the wind blew, dry leaves scraped against each other with a crackling sound, and below, one could scarcely see more than a few paces ahead.
It was a forest that seemed it would swallow a person without a trace once they entered.
Jangseong asked Ba Tu-ru, who was removing the horse’s yoke.

“Do you remember where the tomb is located?”
“I never knew in the first place.”

Ba Tu-ru shook his head.

“When I was here before, there weren’t nearly this many bamboo. My master only said the tomb was somewhere in the forest.”

Jin Ip-chu pointed toward the western sky.

“Finding the location isn’t difficult. Wherever the last rays of sunlight touch before the sun sets—that’s the spot where wind gathers and qi accumulates.”

“We’ve arrived at a fortunate hour, then.”

As Jangseong spoke, Jin Ip-chu shook his head.

“You can find it at other times too. In the morning, look for where the mist lingers longest. At midday, search for the spot where only grass grows without trees.”

Jangseong had no interest in geomancy. The last light of day mattered far less than whether Na Yang-ja might stumble somewhere in the bamboo thicket.
His gaze remained fixed on the entrance where Na Yang-ja had vanished, watching the swaying dry bamboo for any sign of his return.
The party tied their horses to trees and gave them long leads, loosening the reins so they could browse the dried grass. Then they began unloading the wooden chests from the carriage.
The large chest held the iron shovel, pickaxe, rope, and other tools needed for grave excavation.
As Jangseong shifted baggage beside the chest, he discovered a small red medicine bottle—the one taken from Jong A-gyeong’s corpse.
He remembered Na Yang-ja counting out the red medicine inside, eating one capsule at a time.
Five days ago, there had been five pills. If he’d taken one every day without fail, the bottle should have been empty by now.
Yet when Jangseong lifted the bottle, something small rattled inside. He paused and brought it close to his ear.
Click.
The tiny sound came again. He uncorked it and tilted it over his palm, and two red pills rolled out.
After five days of not missing a single dose, those two pills should not have remained. The moment Jangseong stared down at his open hand, Jin Ip-chu sensed something was wrong.

“What is it?”
“Five days ago there were five pills. Since then, I watched my master take one every day without fail.”

Jangseong held out the two pills.

“Five days have passed. Why are two still here?”

Jin Ip-chu accepted the pills. His brows drew together sharply.
At that moment, Jeon Jin-gung gazed toward the western forest.

“I think I saw a weapon glinting in the forest to the west. I’ll go check.”
“Don’t go alone.”

Yi Jung-yong drew his sword.

“I’m coming too.”

Ba Tu-ru lifted his iron rod and followed the two of them.
After the three had moved out of sight, Jin Ip-chu placed the red pills back in the bottle and recorked it.

“Jangseong.”

Jangseong studied his face.
Jin Ip-chu exhaled heavily.

“He hasn’t coughed for the past two days, has he?”
“No, not since we passed through the valley.”

Jangseong asked as if grasping for hope.

“Doesn’t it mean he’s improving a bit, if the coughing has stopped?”

Jin Ip-chu did not answer. He leaned against a tree with his eyes closed, his fingers wrapped around the medicine bottle curling slowly inward.
He was the sort who usually turned the mood light with jokes and laughter. Jangseong had rarely seen him wear such a heavy expression.
Jangseong grew uneasy and asked again.

“Does opening this tomb really shorten one’s lifespan?”

Jin Ip-chu nodded without opening his eyes.

“Is there an antidote inside, or a Life-Extension Pill?”
“The likelihood is strong.”

Jin Ip-chu answered weakly.

“Son Jin-in was known as the Medicine King. If he crafted these pills himself, he would have left behind at least one of each kind.”
“Why exactly one of each?”

Before Jangseong could finish his question, Jin Ip-chu spoke.

“Those who compose essays leave writings for posterity, and those who forge swords leave swords behind. It is to ensure that future generations know clearly the founder and the source.”

Jangseong did not fully grasp the meaning, but he could understand what mattered: if the Medicine King had sought to prove to posterity the pills he crafted in life, then there was a real possibility that this tomb held pills that could not be obtained anywhere else.

“You’ve known for a long time that there might be medicine here that you need, haven’t you, Master?”
“Surely so.”
“And you haven’t opened it until now because it was truly your last resort.”

Jin Ip-chu nodded slowly.
He raised his hand and rubbed the corner of his eye, pretending to brush away sleep, but beneath his fingers there was a faint glimmer of moisture.
When Jangseong looked on, Jin Ip-chu deliberately turned his head and studied only the western forest.
Jangseong thought that, with Na Yang-ja in such dire straits, Jin Ip-chu too felt sorrow.

“I am still young and have many years ahead of me.”

Jin Ip-chu lowered his hand and looked at Jangseong.

“Let me do the excavation. Once we find the tomb’s location, I will take the Iron Shovel and make sure you do not lift a hand.”

Jin Ip-chu was silent for a moment.
Then he smiled bitterly and patted Jangseong on the shoulder.

“It seems neither my master nor I have misjudged people.”
“Then let me—”
“Your intention alone is enough.”

Jin Ip-chu shook his head.

“My master will not let us do it.”

Jangseong could not understand.

“Master is already in grave danger. He has gone without medicine for two days and hasn’t drunk water either. If he opens the tomb himself, won’t that truly mean his death?”
“There is a strong likelihood of it.”
“Then we must stop him.”

Jangseong’s voice rose.

“We cannot use medicine that Master has won at the cost of his own life to save someone else first. If there is an antidote inside, Master must take it first.”

Jin Ip-chu did not answer.
Jangseong stepped forward.

“You don’t think the same, don’t you?”

Jin Ip-chu turned his face away. The sun caught the ridge of the mountain, casting half his cheek in crimson light.

“Say no more.”

His voice was lower than usual.

“Leave me alone for a while.”

Jangseong could not ask further.
In the western forest, Yi Jung-yong, Ba Tu-ru, and Jeon Jin-gung had yet to return. In the bamboo thicket to the north, Na Yang-ja was nowhere to be seen.
All that remained in his hand were two Red Medicine pills. Whether those two pills were proof that Na Yang-ja had gone without medicine for two days, or proof that he no longer needed it—Jangseong could not say.
But one thing was certain. The moment they opened this tomb, someone would have to forfeit their life.

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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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