Longevity - Chapter 31

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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 31: Gihwang Bojeon
As Na Yang-ja approached the burial mound, the four disciples stepped aside to the left and right.
From the spot where the tombstone was exposed, a slanting passage had been dug downward toward the north. Jangseong had no spiritual energy and could not see clearly into the darkness, but moonlight faintly reached a short way past the entrance.
The end of the passage was not visible. It seemed as though a black hole stretched deep into the earth.
Yi Jung-yong spoke in a low voice.

“Master, the depth is nine ja. This tomb was built according to the Daoist funeral rites.”

Jangseong did not know how a Taoist adept’s burial differed from that of ordinary folk. He had only heard from Jeon Jin-gung that the burial chamber of a commoner was dug three ja nine chi to four ja seven chi deep, depending on how many children the family had.
The tomb before them was nearly twice as deep as that.
Jin Ib-chu pressed a finger against the earthen mound.

“The soil is firm, and there are no signs of collapse. I see no traces of grave robbing. The ground beneath is dry as well, so it seems water has never pooled in here.”

Na Yang-ja nodded and turned toward the passage.

“You all wait outside.”

Yi Jung-yong and Jin Ib-chu could only bow their heads without a word. For Na Yang-ja, who was already dead, there was no lifespan left to be cut short.
There was no longer any reason to quarrel over who would go into the tomb first.

“Master, there may be mechanisms inside.”

Jangseong said anxiously.
Na Yang-ja raised a hand briefly, then bent at the waist and stepped into the underground passage. The hem of his white robe was swallowed by the darkness, and even the sound of his footsteps faded away.
Jangseong could not take his eyes off the entrance.
Yi Jung-yong noticed his unease and spoke.

“Don’t put too much faith in the rumors going around the market. Not every old tomb has mechanisms and traps.”

Jin Ib-chu picked up the thread beside him.

“Underground places are damp. Devices made of wood or iron rot or rust with the passing years. It’s wiser to bury someone frugally or conceal the location than to install intricate mechanisms.”

Jangseong felt a little reassured, but another question rose in his mind.

“This tomb must be more than two hundred years old. Why has no one dug it up until now?”

Batulu spoke as though he had been waiting for the question.

“Whoever tried died when their lifespan ran out, I suppose. Why do you ask that?”

Yi Jung-yong raised a hand to stop him.

“That isn’t what Jangseong meant.”

He gazed at the mound as he explained.

“Son Jin-in treated countless people while he was alive, and he never did anything that would earn him enemies. There would have been no one who wanted to desecrate his grave for revenge.”

Yi Jung-yong shifted his gaze to the bamboo grove around them.

“He was a Daoist, so he didn’t have much wealth, and even after death he was buried frugally. For a grave robber after money, there would have been no reason to risk themselves on a tomb like this.”
“The bamboo must have guarded the tomb as well.”

Jin Ib-chu pointed at the low bamboo.

“The northern bamboo doesn’t grow tall, but it spreads quickly. Its tangled stalks hide what lies within, and its roots grip the soil so the earth won’t easily give way even when the rain falls.”

The moment he finished speaking, something shifted.
Thud!
A dull, heavy impact rose from below the ground. The dirt beneath their feet trembled, just barely.
Jangseong ducked low in a hurry.

“What was that noise?”
“Master has broken the tombstone.”

Jin Ib-chu answered him.
Batulu pressed himself flat against the ground and shouted into the passage.

“Master, shall I come in and help you?”

No answer came. When Batulu drew breath to shout again, Yi Jung-yong caught hold of his shoulder.

“Enough. He has already gone into the burial chamber.”
“How would you know that?”
“Can’t you smell the medicinal fragrance?”

Batulu flared his nostrils and drew several deep breaths.

“Now that you mention it, there is a medicinal smell.”

Jangseong caught the scent a moment later. He couldn’t tell which herbs they were, but a rich, bitter fragrance was seeping out of the passage, much like the air that spills from a long-shuttered apothecary when its door is finally opened.
He let out a little of the breath he’d been holding in his chest. At the very least, the odds that the thing Na Yang-ja was searching for lay inside had grown considerably.
The fragrance thickened steadily, pushing back even the scent of earth from the bamboo grove. It didn’t smell like something left to age for years but like a decoction that had just come off the fire, sharp and immediate. Whenever the wind died down, a warm breath seemed to rise from within the passage.
Jangseong wondered whether Hoecheon Geumdan might be mixed into that fragrance. If the medicine Son Jin-in had left behind could truly bring a person’s life back, then perhaps even the fact that Na Yang-ja was already dead could be undone. The lingering attachment stirred again inside him.
Everyone else kept their eyes fixed on the passage, but Jeon Jin-gung was different. With her back to the entrance, she alternated her gaze between the bamboo grove and the mountain slope.
After a while, Jeon Jin-gung spoke in a low voice.

“There’s someone on the western mountain. I think there’s someone on the northern mountain too.”

Batulu instinctively started to turn his head. Yi Jung-yong immediately pressed down on his arm.

“Don’t look. Master will have noticed them too. If they’re hiding, then we must pretend we don’t see them.”

Batulu rolled his eyes around, then couldn’t hold back and asked.

“What in the world are those bastards waiting for?”
“Probably for the moment when we serve wine to Senior Brother Batulu.”

Jin Ib-chu said it as casually as anything.
Batulu brushed off the mockery.

“If they’re coming, they ought to come at us. Why keep skulking about?”
“They may be waiting until we bring out whatever is inside the tomb.”

When Yi Jung-yong said this, Jin Ib-chu shook his head.

“They don’t know what’s inside. They most likely came after the martial arts manual from the start.”
“Then shouldn’t they be rushing us all the faster?”
“Perhaps that’s because they aren’t a single group.”

Jin Ib-chu didn’t look directly toward the west or the north. He simply lowered his voice.

“If one of them moves first and gets caught fighting us, the others could snatch the manual and run. They’re all watching one another.”

Batulu caught on belatedly and nodded.

“Then when we leave, won’t they all block our way?”
“Master has likely already thought of a way.”

Batulu felt a little relieved at Yi Jung-yong’s words. He carried the remaining Huaso in the basket and headed south.
Jin Ib-chu narrowed his eyes.

“If you’re feeding the horse, why are you taking the Huaso with you?”

Batulu turned around at once.

“A horse needs good feed to run far. If it eats all of this, it’ll gallop five hundred li without stopping.”

Jin Ib-chu didn’t argue. He turned to Jangseong instead.

“Youngest, does a horse eat Huaso?”
“It will. The old ox at my family’s home loved rice cakes made from vegetable scraps.”
“Is a horse the same as an ox?”

When Jangseong couldn’t find an answer, Yi Jung-yong cut in.

“Senior Brother Batulu, don’t go far.”
“Fine.”

Batulu hugged the basket and vanished beyond the bamboo grove.
Nearly half an incense stick had passed since Na Yang-ja went inside. Jangseong could wait no longer and looked at Yi Jung-yong.

“Senior Brother Yi, let me go in and check.”
“Absolutely not.”

Yi Jung-yong shook his head at once.
Jeon Jin-gung pressed one ear to the ground and held her breath. After a moment she rose and brushed the dirt from her clothes.

“He’s reciting sutras inside. I don’t think it’s dangerous.”

Only then did Jangseong step back from the passage.
The moment everyone looked at him, Batulu scowled.

“What are you staring at? I didn’t eat a single one. I gave every last piece to the horse.”

No one had asked, yet he raised his voice as though he’d been wronged.

“Is the Master still not out?”

The moment he finished, footsteps sounded from within the passage.
Na Yang-ja emerged, bent at the waist, his arms loaded with several objects.

“Master.”

The disciples rushed toward him, but Na Yang-ja didn’t stop. He went straight to one of the two wooden chests and lifted its lid.

“There are people watching us from a distance. Block their view on all sides.”

The five of them closed in around him at once. They used their bodies and sleeves to shield his hands from anyone outside.
Na Yang-ja had brought five things in all.
One was a black wooden case, about half a ja long, five chi wide, and roughly three fingers thick. The other four were old, yellowed volumes.
Na Yang-ja pushed the black case into Jangseong’s robes.

“Give the Hoecheon Geumdan inside to Na Sunja. The rest is ordinary salve. Keep it on you and use it when you need it.”

Before Jangseong could open his mouth, Na Yang-ja handed one of the four old volumes each to Batulu, Yi Jung-yong, Jin Ib-chu, and Jeon Jin-gung.

“The Cheongeum Yobang and the Qianjin Yifang are the Gihwang Bojeon that Son Jin-in gathered from a lifetime of medical learning. I’ve split the two books in half. Each of you takes one, but trade them and read the other.”

Na Yang-ja’s voice grew sterner.

“First tend to your own body, and only after you have learned do you save others. Paper and ink do not last long, so commit these to memory as quickly as you can.”

The four disciples tucked the old books inside their robes and answered in low voices.

“Yes, Master.”

Jangseong looked at the four volumes one after another. With their yellowed pages and worn bindings, they hardly looked like treasures. Yet the senior brothers fastened them inside their clothes more carefully than they had ever handled swords or secret manuals.
Martial arts that kill reveal their power in an instant, but medical arts only become useful once they are memorized, practiced, and put into action with one’s own hands. Na Yang-ja was not dividing wealth among the four of them; he was dividing the work they would have to do.
Na Yang-ja closed the lid of the wooden chest and spoke to Batulu.

“Refill the earth you dug out. Afterward, I will light incense and hold a memorial rite.”

Batulu wore a puzzled expression. With enemies lurking on every side, refilling the grave mound and holding a rite would only cost them precious time.
Still, no one disobeyed the order.
When Batulu picked up a spade, Yi Jung-yong and Jin Ib-chu moved with him. Jangseong and Jeon Jin-gung picked bamboo roots and stones out of the soil, slowly restoring the shape of the mound.
While they worked, Na Yang-ja spoke in a low voice.

“Before we arrived, there was already a group on the western mountain. After we got here, two more groups came, and while I was inside the burial chamber, another group joined from the east.”

Jangseong’s hands stopped moving.

“Four groups?”
“That is right.”
“As long as they’re watching one another, they won’t make the first move. But the moment we leave, they’ll have no choice but to block our path.”

Na Yang-ja looked over his five disciples.

“I will hold off the enemy’s strongest fighters and buy you enough time to reach the horses. When the thunder sounds, don’t look back. Mount up immediately and break through.”

Jangseong asked, urgency creeping into his voice.

“And what will Master do?”

Na Yang-ja did not answer. Instead, he fixed his gaze squarely on Jangseong.

“A man’s word carries weight. Don’t forget the promise you made to me.”

Jangseong held the black wooden box against his chest and nodded firmly.

“I will keep it without fail.”

With so many hands pressing the earth down, the mound quickly returned to its original shape. Na Yang-ja took incense and candles from the wooden chest and lit them.
He planted the incense before the mound and chanted sutras for a long while. The disciples knelt behind him and bowed their heads.
When the rite was over, Na Yang-ja rose to his feet.

“Pick up the cargo. We’re going back.”

Batulu and Yi Jung-yong lifted the wooden chest. Jin Ib-chu and Jeon Jin-gung watched both sides, while Jangseong wrapped his arms around the black box so it would not shake.
They had not yet made it out of the bamboo grove.
A thunderous shout erupted from the western mountain.

“Na Yang-ja, halt! I never believed the rumors that you dig up graves to gather treasure, but now that I see it with my own eyes, there is no more vicious villain under heaven!”

With the cry, a man came flying across the western slope. His long robes spread out beneath the moonlight.
Soon, a high, mocking laugh rang out from the north as well.

“Ho-ho-ho. It seems the Manor Master means to deliver heaven’s punishment himself. Shall I lend a hand as well?”

A nun in a red cassock came down, stepping along the tips of the treetops.
From the northeast, a lean old man skimmed across the blades of grass as if he were sliding over ice.

“Na Yang-ja! You killed a man of our Gaebang and dragged its name through the mud. Today, you will pay for it in blood!”

Finally, the southern forest rustled.
A plump man carrying a large abacus stepped out from between the trees. A broad smile spread across his face as he waved both hands.

“Taepyeong Gaekjan only does business and stays out of trouble. We were simply passing through. Truly, just passing through.”

All four directions were blocked.
Only then did Jangseong understand why Na Yang-ja had told him to wait for the thunder.

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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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