Longevity - Chapter 57

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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 57: Saving a Life with Poison
Chuanwu didn’t require a distant search.
Jangseong knelt on the mountainside as if his legs had simply given way, and seized the grass before him with both fists. Thick roots gripped the soil stubbornly. When he twisted and pulled with both hands, an acrid smell surged up suddenly.
Chuanwu

.
Without even brushing the earth from his hands, he grasped the next root. The sail of Guanxian, visible between the trees, had grown noticeably smaller than moments before.
Creating poison itself was not difficult. For Jangseong, who had memorized the Qianjin Yifang in its entirety, reversing a life-saving formula was little different from reciting it backwards.
But the ship did not carry only those who deserved to die.
The oarsmen and captured passengers would breathe the same fumes. If he produced the poison without considering its strength, they might fall before the Gaebang disciples.
Jangseong pushed aside the chuanwu he’d already gathered and surveyed the surroundings. Beneath a rock, several thick vines twisted around one another. Leigongteng

.
He severed the vines and roughly bound them with the chuanwu. One bundle, then another. Both hands were full.
Guanxian would not wait.
Jangseong descended the mountainside at a run, the bundled herbs in both hands. Each step on the wet stones sent his feet sliding sideways. Vines tore at his shins, and the herb bundles caught on branches, jerking his body backward several times.
After racing down dozens of paces, a blue flower flashed at the edge of his vision.
Jangseong continued past it, then stopped after only two more steps.
It was not bellflower. It was Xueshang Yizhihao

—five stalks of grass more toxic than chuanwu itself, gathered in one place.
He did not hesitate. Better to succeed with potency than fail from weakness. He would find a way to spare the innocent as he ran.
He tucked the blue flowers between the bundles and rose again.
Guanxian traced the water northward in a straight line. Jangseong had to loop far around the southern slope. Though he ran in the same direction, the distance to the sail barely narrowed.
He fell and rose several times. His knees split open and blood seeped from his elbows, yet each time he looked up, the sail between the trees had drifted further away.
Only after running thirty li did the gap close to perhaps two li.
Jangseong grasped a tree and bent at the waist. His breath scraped his throat, and the taste of blood coated his tongue. His fingers, soaked in chuanwu juice, had lost all sensation.
Yet he had not found the herb he sought.
Burned together, chuanwu, leigongteng, and xueshang yizhihao would compound in toxicity. The Gaebang disciples were martial cultivators who had refined their Spiritual Qi—they would endure longer than ordinary people. If he made the poison weak, they would survive unharmed. If he used it at full strength, the captives would fall first.
Even an antidote would be useless. If dozens fell to poisoning at once, Jangseong alone could not administer it to all of them.
He set down the herbs from his back. He could not kill them.
He needed to paralyze them—nothing more.
Only then did the remedy crystallize in his mind. Weilingxian

and Jiujiefeng

would dull the chuanwu’s toxicity while preserving its numbing effect.
But no matter how carefully he searched, he found neither.
Instead, below the slope, Xienmao stretched its long leaves. Beside it, Youjincao grew tangled and thick.

Jangseong slid down at once.
Two herbs alone would not suffice. But with the snake venom he’d gathered earlier added to the mixture, it could produce an effect similar to jiujiefeng.
He pulled both xienmao and youjincao up by the roots and divided them among the bundles. He also cut away cloth soaked in snake venom and poison-soaked cloth, wrapping it inside the chuanwu.
Finally, he plucked a few of the xueshang yizhihao’s blue flowers and tucked them in his robe. Toxic as they were, they could counteract other poisons.
Jangseong gazed at the receding sail. The poison was made.
Now he only had to board the ship.
* * *
Behind Guanxian, the small boats brought by the Gaebang were tethered in a line. Jangseong ran alongside Guanxian, following the forest along the southern tributary.
Through the branches, he could see captives gathered on the three-tiered deck. Below them, Gaebang disciples moved back and forth.
Martial cultivators with Spiritual Qi possessed keen eyes and ears. If he entered the water too early, even the sound of a splash would give him away.
Jangseong hid himself behind a thick tree trunk. Only after the stern passed before him and the last small boat ahead had breasted the churning wake did he slip into the water.
As the herbs bound to his back drank in the current, his body sank. Jangseong worked his arms through gritted teeth. When his hand finally found the gunwale of the last boat, he had almost no strength left to close his fingers.
He hooked his elbow over the edge and dragged himself up.
He lay face-down on the small boat’s deck, swallowing harsh breaths. One sound here and the Guanxian above would hear it.
After steadying his breathing, he retied the herbs to his back. He grasped the rope tethering this boat to the Guanxian’s stern and inched upward, pushing against the hull with his feet. Each time his wet hands slipped, the black water below drew closer.
After nearly falling several times, he finally pulled himself over the rail.
The stern was empty.
Jangseong approached the rope binding the smaller boats together. He drew his bishu and cut through each one, strand by strand. With every severed line, the little vessels drifted backward into the current.
He left only the last one untouched.
He couldn’t destroy the only way back.
He laid the bundled herbs beneath the railing and moved toward the cabin door. The middle level of this ship held supplies stacked high; at the rear stood the galley. To find fire and oil to replace the huodiezi he’d lost, he had to go in.
As he pushed the door open, the hinges sang low.
Creak.
Jangseong froze. Blood stench rolled out from within.
He held his breath and widened the gap in the doorway.
Bodies lay scattered across the passage. Most were rowers—crew who’d hauled the oars. In the galley lay the elderly women who’d worked there, collapsed against walls and floor. Even the old men, those who’d never held a weapon, bore blade wounds.
Jangseong’s hand clenched the doorframe hard.
But Guanxian continued to move beneath him. He gritted his teeth and crouched low beside the corpses. Fire first. He had to find fire first.
Then footsteps sounded from the middle cabin.
Thud. Thud.
Jangseong squeezed himself into the narrow space where vegetables were stored—a place without even a door. He pulled the herb bundles forward to hide himself, but his shoulders and knees remained exposed.
Two figures drew closer, counting through the supplies.
Jangseong breathed shallow. Just then a wet chuanwu root slipped free from the bundle.
Tap. The root’s end grazed a ceramic dish on the floor.
The footsteps stopped.

“Did you hear that sound just now?”

One of them took two steps toward the galley.
Jangseong gripped the bishu. His hand wouldn’t steady. If he was found, he couldn’t take even one of them.

“Rats, probably. The count’s off here. Come look again.”

A brief silence passed. The footsteps that had turned toward the galley reversed course instead.

“You did count up front, didn’t you?”
“You must’ve missed something.”

The two men grumbled as they moved toward the bow.

“All the rice on this ship is premium grade. They’re really taking all of it to Zhu Quanzhong?”

“Going into someone’s service empty-handed? We have to bring at least this much to make them take us seriously.”
“Even so, this haul’s too big. Won’t there be trouble afterward?”
“As long as we leave no witnesses.”

The answer carried no hesitation. The man continued at once.

“Whether we go to court or not, that grain was always going to fall to Li Keyong. He’s Zhu Quanzhong’s enemy. If we intercept it in the middle, why would he complain?”

“Still, we’ve killed too many people. If word spreads, won’t the Gangho come down on us?”
“And who treats us like people now?”

The man laughed bitterly.

“Li Keyong already branded us traitors to the court. Hunters are already being sent from above. If we don’t find a way to survive first, we’re all dead.”
“Damn. It sits wrong with me.”
“Stop worrying and count what’s up front.”

Their voices faded into distance.
Jangseong exhaled only long afterward. His palms were slick with cold sweat; the bishu threatened to slip from his grip. If that man had taken just one more step closer, it would have been over.
He crawled into the galley. He felt through the dead woman’s clothes and found the huodiezi; beneath the stove he dragged out a wooden barrel half-full of oil.
He picked up the herbs and the oil barrel and entered the middle cabin.
Burlap sacks of provisions lay stacked near the ceiling. Jangseong moved between them, scattering oil—not in one place, but along every passage that led to the doors and stairs, soaking the way thoroughly.
He opened the chuanwu, leigongteng, and xueshang yizhihao, wedging them between the sacks. He scattered xienmao and youjincao in measured amounts, then pushed the poison-soaked cloth and snake-venom-coated rags deep into the furthest crevices.
If fire broke out, the Gaebang disciples would rush down to guard the grain stores. It was better to make them inhale the smoke up close than to expose even the prisoners to the poison.
Jangseong blew the Huodiezi. A soft whoosh.
He held the glowing ember against an oil-soaked sack.
The flames erupted in a violent surge.
Only then did Jangseong’s face harden. He hadn’t chosen a place to hide.

“Damn.”

Soon people would come running. If he fled toward the stern, he’d be spotted immediately.
Jangseong bolted into the galley corridor and rolled among the corpses. He smeared blood across his clothes and face, then sprawled flat on the floor.
In that moment, two large water jars in the galley caught his eye.
If they hauled that water to douse the flames, the fire might be extinguished too quickly.
Jangseong got up and pushed at one jar. He’d tilted it halfway when he stopped. If he knocked it over now, the crash would echo through the entire cabin. They’d discover him before the fire even spread.
He carefully righted the jar and made his way back to the vegetable storage. He heaped herbal waste in front of it, then pressed his blood-stained face to the floor.
Crackle! Crackle!
The fire grew in the middle cabin.

“Fire!”
“It’s caught in the middle section!”
“Get water! Quickly!”

Footsteps thundered from all directions. Doors slammed against walls and buckets scraped across the floor.

“Who set this blaze!”
“We only just saw it ourselves!”
“Shut your mouth and fetch water!”

Thwack!
The screams of the remaining crew tangled with the curses of the Gaebang disciples.
Jangseong didn’t move. Playing dead, he couldn’t turn his head or cough. Smoke creeping across the floor seeped into his nostrils.
The Haedok-dan’s antidote still lingered in his system, so he didn’t collapse outright. Even so, his eyes and throat burned quickly. With each breath, the inside of his chest felt ablaze.
The flames gradually diminished. But the wet hemp cloth and herbal matter didn’t extinguish completely, continuing to emit thick smoke.

“Bring more water!”
“My legs…….”

Thud!
Someone collapsed heavily.

“Stop malingering! Get up!”

Soon bodies were hitting the floor elsewhere as well.
Thump. Crash. Clang!

“Wait. Something’s wrong with this smoke.”
“What is it?”
“Poison! Get outside!”

The realization came too late.
The footsteps rushing toward the stairs lasted only a few steps. Swords clattered to the floor, bodies crashed against walls and cargo. Shouts became groans, and finally only the sound of fingernails scraping the floor remained.
Soon the cabin fell silent.
Jangseong didn’t get up at once. He counted slowly in his mind, then started from the beginning again. No more curses. No more footsteps.
Only then did he rise.
In the middle cabin’s corridor, Gaebang disciples and crew members lay tangled together. The fire was nearly out, black smoke rising thinly from the grain sacks. Some still had their eyes open, but couldn’t move a single finger.
Jangseong kept his back against the wall and picked his way between them. Someone might be feigning paralysis, waiting. With each step, he checked the weapons and hands on the floor.
No one stirred. If even one skilled Gaebang master had remained hidden, he’d have to trust to luck.
Jangseong bounded up the stairs.
As he reached the third deck, the prisoners turned to him as one. Being higher up, they’d inhaled less of the poisoned smoke. Only a few of the old and frail remained seated; the rest were still standing.
Jangseong raised his blood-smeared face and shouted.

“The Gaebang men have fallen! We must flee!”
​
No one moved.
A boy covered in blood had just appeared and shouted that he’d struck people down with poison, and it seemed no one could quite grasp what was happening.
Jangseong had no time to convince them. He moved through the captives and found Jo Nangja supporting Jo Buuin, her face hard as she watched him approach.
Jangseong ran straight toward them.
​
“Jo Nangja, come with me at once.”

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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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