Longevity - Chapter 3

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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 3: A Place That Will Not Come Again
Wang Jeongwi swallowed hard.
The broad-shouldered man had called him his master. The village headman had tried to straighten his chest, but when his eyes met the White-haired Daoist’s gaze, he bent at the waist awkwardly instead.

“I am Wang Jeongwi, serving as headman of this village.”

The White-haired Daoist nodded lightly. Then, still supporting Jangseong’s weight, he gestured toward the fallen Nohwang.

“Headman Wang. What has befallen that boy and the ox?”

Before Wang Jeongwi could answer, the villagers erupted in overlapping shouts.

“That ox was the village’s from the start!”
“Old Man Wang only raised it!”
“That cripple claimed it as his own after Old Man Wang died!”
“We didn’t covet the meat. We only meant to take in an ox that had no master!”

Voices poured out at once. The White-haired Daoist listened all the way through, Buljin still cradled in his arm.
When the noise subsided, he turned to Jangseong.

“Child. Tell me what you know to be true.”

Jangseong did not loosen his arm from around Nohwang’s neck.

“Grandfather Wang bought the ox for two silver taels. Since the day I was abandoned on the road, Nohwang has been the one feeding me.”

The taste of blood rose in his throat. Jangseong licked his lips and continued.

“Today I plowed the village fields with all my strength, and those people came with blades and containers. They tried to take Nohwang while he was still alive.”
“You’re lying!”

Wang Daewoo cut in urgently.

“We only came to see if the ox had died.”

The broad-shouldered man brought his Copper Cudgel down against the earth.
Bang!

“Don’t lie. When I arrived, you were beating this boy and the ox.”

The young man sitting on the wooden chest pulled a grass stem from his mouth.

“Why does Big Brother always speak only truth? It embarrasses these people.”

The broad-shouldered man glared at him.

“Why is speaking truth embarrassing?”
“That’s why you’re Big Brother.”

The young man laughed softly. None of the villagers laughed with him.
The White-haired Daoist crouched before Jangseong.

“I believe your words.”

Jangseong’s hand stilled upon Nohwang’s fur.
The Daoist lowered his voice.

“But if the truth comes to light, it may become difficult for you to live in this village. People often hate those who create hardship for them more than they hate the crimes themselves.”

Jangseong looked at the faces beyond the torchlight.
When he collapsed from hunger, no one opened their door to him. When lightning struck, they drove him out. Today, Nohwang had tilled the fields and they wanted to seize him for trampling the crops.
There was nothing left to hold onto.

“I need to leave.”

The White-haired Daoist’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s not an easy matter.”
“I know.”

Jangseong ran his hand across Nohwang’s neck once.

“Still, I can’t stay here.”

The Daoist rose from his seat when Jangseong did not avert his gaze.

“If that is your resolve, then I shall establish the proper order of things.”

He turned toward Wang Jeongwi.

“The question of who owns the ox is a matter to settle later. But slaughtering a farm ox without authority is a violation of the law, regardless of the circumstances.”

Wang Jeongwi’s eyes twitched.

“Slaughter? The ox was already old and had collapsed.”
“We witnessed all of you rushing forward with farm tools and blades in hand, right before our eyes.”

The White-haired Daoist’s tone remained gentle.

“Privately slaughtering a farm ox carries twenty strokes of the cane and a year of imprisonment. Should the boy report this to the Government Office, all five of us will testify as witnesses.”

A hoe clattered to the ground.

“I only came because the village headman summoned me!”
“That’s right! It was Wang Daewoo who suggested draining the blood!”
“He brought the blade in the first place!”

Wang Daewoo gripped the hilt of his knife with both hands.

“What are you saying? When the ox dies, who called for someone to butcher it?”

Everyone’s eyes fixed on Wang Jeongwi.
Wang Jeongwi thrashed his arms about in desperation.

“When did I tell you to seize it? You all came rushing over on your own!”

The young man sitting on the wooden chest rolled a blade of grass between his fingers.

“The headman did not order this?”
“He did not!”
“Then it seems all of you here brought knives and basins of your own volition, intending to slaughter the farm ox.”

The young man slowly surveyed the gathered men.

“Is that what you’ll tell the Government Office?”

No one could answer.
Wang Daewoo clenched the hilt of his blade, and Wang Jeongwi avoided the eyes of the villagers.
Wang Daewoo pointed to Nohwang’s heaving belly.

“He’s still alive!”
“Look—he’s breathing, isn’t he? I haven’t killed a living ox. What crime is there in that?”

The Plump Young Man’s eyes narrowed as he smiled.

“As long as there’s still breath in him, if you withdraw now, there’s no need to face imprisonment.”

Wang Daewoo’s hand fell away from the blade.
One by one, the hoe and cudgel dropped to the dirt.
The White-haired Daoist stepped toward Wang Jeongwi and whispered something in his ear.
Wang Jeongwi’s expression hardened further.

“That’s too much…….”

The Daoist regarded him quietly.
Wang Jeongwi swept his gaze across the villagers once, then nodded wearily.

“Everyone, go home. I’ll handle this matter.”

The people gathered their baskets and buckets. Yet as they looked at Nohwang, disappointment lingered in their eyes.
The White-haired Daoist called to the young man who had been sitting on the wooden chest.

“Ipchu.”

“Yes, Master.”
“That ox seems beyond saving. Take a few grams of the Sovereign of All Medicines in the chest—the Reaper’s Powder—and send it peacefully on its way.”

Those about to leave stopped in their tracks.

“Reaper’s Powder?”
“Even the name sounds ominous…….”

The young man pulled a small cloth pouch from the wooden chest and approached Jangseong.
Jangseong draped his body over Nohwang again.

“No! Don’t do it!”
“Hush.”

Ipchu crouched before him, his back to the villagers, and spoke in barely a whisper.

“It’s not poison. It’s millet flour.”

Jangseong blinked.

“The Master does this so that after we leave, these people won’t carve up Nohwang’s body and share it among themselves.”

When Ipchu opened the pouch, a sweet, grainy smell wafted out.

“If you understand, play frightened and back away.”

Jangseong looked toward the White-haired Daoist without releasing Nohwang’s neck.
The Daoist nodded once, saying nothing.
Jangseong slowly withdrew.
Ipchu deliberately raised his voice.

“Stay back! Reaper’s Powder kills on contact with skin, and there is no antidote!”

He covered his nose and mouth with the handkerchief and scattered white powder across Nohwang’s back and ribs.
The villagers recoiled, their faces twisted in disgust.

“The meat’s spoiled.”
“Tsk. That great ox…….”
“Don’t go near it. If anyone asks, we’re in real trouble.”

Those carrying the bucket and basin turned away from Nohwang and descended the mountain path.
Jangseong stood watching until they vanished from sight.
The White-haired Daoist called to Ipchu.

“Come with me to the village. There’s finishing work to be done.”

Ipchu closed the wooden chest and rose to his feet.
The Daoist spoke to Geogoo.

“You stay behind and bury the ox deep. We can’t have the villagers poisoned by it.”
“Understood.”

Geogoo slung the Copper Cudgel across his shoulder.
The White-haired Daoist and Ipchu led Wang Jeongwi down toward the village.
As the torches receded, the grassland fell dark again.
Jangseong sat down beside Nohwang at once.

“They’re all gone.”

Nohwang’s eyelids trembled slightly.

“No one can touch you now.”

A ragged breath left him in a long exhale. The next breath was slow in coming.
Jangseong placed his palm near the ox’s nostrils.

“Nohwang?”

A faint warmth brushed between his fingers.

“I’m here. So breathe slowly, all right?”

Nohwang’s eyes turned toward Jangseong.
The stubbornness of morning was gone, the strength that had once hurled him at men—all gone. His gaze lingered on Jangseong’s face.
Jangseong tried to smile.

“You did well. The field’s all plowed today, and I protected you too, didn’t I?”

His voice cracked.

“So let’s go home now. Rest a little…… and we’ll go together.”

Nohwang exhaled a long, long breath.
His belly sank.
No breath came after.

“Nohwang.”

Jangseong waited.

“Nohwang, breathe.”

He pressed his palm closer to the ox’s nostrils. Nothing met his skin.

“Don’t joke with me.”

Jangseong touched Nohwang’s eyelids, but they would not open again.
He wrapped his arms around the ox’s neck.
It was still warm. His body refused to accept that Nohwang, who had licked him and plowed the fields just moments before, would never rise again.

“Wake up……”

His breath trembled between his lips.

“Don’t leave me alone.”

Everything he’d been holding back crumbled at once.
Jangseong buried his face in Nohwang’s neck and wept. He had endured even after Old Man Wang died because there was family left to hear him breathe in the same room. Now that last family was gone.
Someone patted Jangseong’s shoulder carefully.
When he lifted his head, a small figure in a gray robe stood before him. In the firelight, he could see she was a young woman, her face still soft with youth.
She held out a clean handkerchief.

“Wipe away your tears.”

Jangseong wiped his face with his sleeve.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

The woman stood for a moment, unable to withdraw the handkerchief, then quietly stepped back.
Geogoo spoke only after a long silence.

“Weeping won’t bring him back.”

Jangseong’s shoulders went rigid.
Geogoo scratched the back of his head, realizing he’d chosen his words poorly.

“What I mean is…… we should bury him before dawn. I’ll help—bring me a spade and a hoe.”

Jangseong closed Nohwang’s eyes with his hand.
He had to bury Nohwang before the sun rose.

“I’m grateful.”
“Enough of that. Just show us the way.”

Geogoo started to lead the way when the Plump Young Man followed after him. The woman hesitated briefly, then walked behind Jangseong.
Jangseong turned to look back every few steps.
Nohwang lay motionless in the sunny grass.

“I’ll be back soon. Really soon.”

The same words he’d spoken when he left the house last night.
Then, Nohwang’s ear had twitched once.
This time, only the wind answered, rustling the dry grass.
When the three of them reached the house, the yard was dark.
Inside the door, an earth-packed bed, a cooking stove, a water container, and a feeding trough all stood in the same room.
It was not a house where people and cattle lived separately.
Geogoo fell silent.
Jangseong rolled up his quilt and placed it, along with two worn shirts, a small blade, and a fire starter, into a bundle cloth.

“Why are you packing?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Don’t tell us you mean to come with us.”

Geogoo spoke with blunt honesty.

“You limp. The master won’t accept you.”

Jangseong pulled the knot of the bundle cloth tight.

“I know. I won’t follow him.”
“Then where will you go?”
“Anywhere but here.”

Jangseong brought out the spade and the hoe, then began working the hinges of the small gate loose.
The woman looked up in alarm.

“Why are you taking down the door?”
“I can’t just lay Nohwang in the earth like this.”

There was no money for a coffin, and no timber to use instead.
Geogoo silently lifted both door panels clear.
Just then, hurried breathing came from beyond the courtyard.

“Jangseong!”

The neighbor child came running through the darkness, clutching a corn cake gone stiff and cold in one small fist.

“What are you doing out here?”
“You didn’t come all day…….”

The child saw Jangseong’s bruised face and stopped short.

“Who hit you?”
“I fell.”
“That’s a lie.”

The child’s eyes glistened with tears as they held out the corn cake.

“I hid it this morning. It’s for you.”

Jangseong couldn’t bring himself to take it.
Only this child in the entire village had set aside their own portion to wait for him.
Jangseong untied the last coin purse that Old Man Wang had left behind.

“Open your palm.”
“Why?”
“Just do.”

The child spread their fingers, and Jangseong emptied every coin into the small hand, then gently curled their fingers shut.

“Your mother will scold you if she sees this.”
“Hide it, and spend it only when you truly need to.”
“What about your corn cake?”
“I’m not hungry.”

The child’s gaze drifted to the rolled quilt and the torn door panels.

“Where are you going?”

Jangseong had no answer.

“You’ll come back, won’t you?”

Beyond the courtyard lay the field that Nohwang had turned over with his final strength. Come spring, people would scatter seeds across it and forget him.
Just moments before, he had promised the dead man that he would return.
But he could make no such promise to the child.
Jangseong stroked the child’s head once.

“The night road is dangerous. Go on inside.”
“Jangseong.”
“Go.”

The child cradled the coins and corn cake to his chest, glancing back several times before disappearing beyond the wall.
Jangseong gazed at the empty house.
All that remained were the spade and hoe for burying Nohwang, and two door panels to serve as a coffin.
He slung the bundle cloth across his back and stepped over the threshold.
He had no intention of returning to this house.

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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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