Longevity - Chapter 9

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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 9: Observation and Trial
Baturu and the others genuinely rejoiced that Jang Saeng had formally become a disciple.
They had witnessed everything Jang Saeng had done for No Hwang. A boy who would not abandon an old ox even when his own life hung by a thread—they were certain he would not betray their fellowship, however long the road ahead.
After the evening meal, everyone cleared the dishes and chopsticks. Jang Saeng rose with a stack of empty plates when Na Yang-ja called out to him.

“Jang Saeng, stay a moment. I have something to ask you.”

Jang Saeng quickly set down the dishes and turned back. One by one, the others filed out of the room. When the door closed, only master and disciple remained.
Na Yang-ja did not speak at once.
Beyond the lamplight, he studied Jang Saeng, opening his mouth several times before stopping.
After a long silence, Na Yang-ja finally spoke.

“How did your leg come to be that way?”

Jang Saeng froze at the unexpected question.
Could it be connected to his failure to complete the third bow? But unable to guess the reason, he answered with what he knew.

“When lightning struck long ago, a stone fragment hit me and broke my leg. I couldn’t reset the bone immediately, and so I came to walk with this limp.”

Na Yang-ja nodded slowly. His gaze seemed to search for something beyond the boy’s injured leg—something hidden within the words he had just heard.

“I see.”

He asked nothing more.

“Now go and rest.”

Jang Saeng bowed and left the room. Even after closing the door, the doubt in his heart would not settle.
If his master only wished to know why his leg was injured, there would have been no reason to hesitate so long. And after hearing the answer, he did not ask further about the wound itself.
Lying on his bed, Jang Saeng stared into the darkness at the beams above.
What had his master truly meant to ask?
Na Yang-ja had wanted to know something else entirely, and it seemed he had found his answer even as Jang Saeng spoke of the injury.
But what that answer was, Jang Saeng could not fathom.
The next day, before dawn, the party departed from the Inn.
The city still slept, and only the cold morning wind swept through the empty streets.
Baturu slung two large wooden boxes on either end of his long Copper Staff and carried them across his shoulders without effort, though the load was enough for two men. The rest shouldered their own bundles.
Jang Saeng had little to carry. Instead, he hoisted the sack containing provisions and pickled vegetables purchased the day before onto his back first.
The party headed southwest. At this early hour, the Official Road bore few travelers. Jang Saeng kept his back straight, careful not to let the sack’s weight tip his body to the left as he walked.
As dawn broke and the road began to fill with passersby, Na Yang-ja took the lead and turned into a side path.
Dry grass brushed against his knees and stone roots caught at his feet. Jang Saeng, putting weight on his uneven legs, asked why they had chosen this path.
Na Yang-ja answered without slowing his pace.

“Some of the tombs we open have been sealed for centuries. Yet even so, one cannot be certain all the descendants are gone. We do not collapse them or steal the burial goods, but the mere fact of having opened the ground can kindle a family’s resentment.”

Jin Ib-chu, walking ahead, spoke over his shoulder.

“And if anyone discovers us, they may give chase—a nuisance we need not invite.”

Na Yang-ja continued.

“I have been seeking such things for a long time now. The world is full of walls that cannot keep secrets—there are always loose tongues. Some know we have recovered ancient books and martial arts from many tombs; others merely suspect it.”

Jang Saeng’s eyes followed the wooden boxes swaying from either end of Baturu’s staff.
Whatever lay within them, to a man blinded by greed, truth and falsehood would matter not at all.

“Even the innocent man who carries jade draws calamity,” Na Yang-ja said. “There are many who would track us down and seize what we possess.”

Jang Saeng gripped the sack’s cord tighter. The resentment and greed of others were following at their heels.
The side path gradually deepened into the Wilderness Mountain. Human voices faded, leaving only the sound of branches stirred by the wind.
Baturu set down the wooden boxes and gripped the Copper Staff in both hands. The thick pole carved through the air in broad arcs.
With a whoosh, dry leaves scattered in all directions.
Jang Saeng stopped walking without thinking.

“This is precisely why we chose the remote road,” Na Yang-ja said. “Away from prying eyes, we can train our martial arts freely.”

Baturu swung the Copper Staff several times before shouldering the Wooden Box again. The others resumed walking, steadying their breathing or surveying the mountain terrain around them.
Only then did Jang Saeng understand that this path was no mere route of escape. It was a way to evade watchful eyes, to shake off pursuers, to hone the strength that would keep them alive. The Official Road was smooth and swift, but it left traces visible to anyone who passed. This rough byway, by contrast, offered discomfort as the price of concealment and the time to train.
As evening approached, Na Yang-ja suggested they rest at a flat clearing by the Waterside.
Until now, Jin Ib-chu and Jeon Jin-gung had taken turns preparing meals. Jin Ib-chu handled the pot and Jeon Jin-gung started the fire, but Jeon Jin-gung lacked skill in cooking compared to his proficiency with sleight of hand and Hidden Weapons.

Jang Saeng watched for a moment, then stepped forward. He had managed his own meals for the past several years, and feeding six people presented no difficulty.

“Elder Jin, from today onward, I’ll handle the cooking.”

Jin Ib-chu’s hand, still holding the Ladle, froze.

“You?”
“Yes. I’m accustomed to kindling fires and preparing rice and side dishes.”
“Walking all day must exhaust you.”

Though he said this, when Jang Saeng reached out again, Jin Ib-chu promptly handed over the Ladle.

“Since you insist, I won’t stop you.”

Jeon Jin-gung wanted to stay nearby.

“I’ll gather more firewood for you.”
“It’s fine. Please rest as well. I can manage gathering wood and tending the fire alone.”

Jang Saeng arranged stones to support the pot and added rice. In another pot, he brought Pickled Vegetables and Braised Meat to a boil.
Jin Ib-chu and Jeon Jin-gung lingered nearby at first, unconvinced. But as steam rose and the aroma of rice filled the air, they gradually retreated beneath a tree. Jeon Jin-gung observed the deft movements of Jang Saeng’s hands tending the flames for a time, then offered no further help. That silence felt to Jang Saeng like a clearer mark of approval than any words of delegation.
Jang Saeng portioned the rice into bowls and arranged the side dishes atop. On the road, it was better to combine everything in one bowl.
Baturu was the first to accept a bowl.

“The youngest disciple cooks well enough.”

Baturu promptly held out his empty bowl. Yi Jung-yong finished his without a word, and Jin Ib-chu joked that he would never venture near a cooking pot again.
Jeon Jin-gung had set aside a separate bowl for Jang Saeng. Only after Jang Saeng had seen to everyone else’s portion did he hand it over.

“Don’t forget your own share.”

Jang Saeng took the bowl. His place within this group had become a little clearer.
After finishing his meal, Jang Saeng stacked the empty bowls. He was heading toward the Stream to wash them when Na Yang-ja called to him.

“Jang Saeng, do you wish to learn Martial Arts?”

The question was far too sudden. Jang Saeng could only stare at Na Yang-ja, bowls still in hand.
Jeon Jin-gung took the bowls from his grasp.

“Your teacher is asking you.”

Only then did Jang Saeng come to his senses.

“I wish to learn. But my legs—”

Na Yang-ja raised his hand to silence him.

“Do not dwell on that always. In the Gangho, there are masters with only one arm, and masters who cannot use one leg. There are those who have achieved greatness while deaf or blind. If you possess the natural foundation and practice with steadiness, there is no reason you cannot attain mastery.”

Jang Saeng couldn’t tell if it was truth or comfort, but Na Yang-ja’s face bore no trace of false sentiment.

“There is a path suited to each person when learning Martial Art.”

Na Yang-ja pointed to Baturu, who sat with his back against a tree.

“Baturu excels in build and strength, but his understanding comes slowly. That is why he chose External Martial Art, which trains the body.”

Next, he gestured toward Yi Jung-yong and Jin Ib-chu, who were about to sit in meditation.

“Those two grasp concepts quickly but lack the kind of physical power Baturu possesses. So they chose Internal Martial Art to cultivate their Qi and mental method.”

His gaze then fell upon Jeon Jin-gung, who was heading toward the Stream with a bowl in hand.

“Jeon Jin-gung’s eyes and mind are faster than his bodily strength. So he studies the Five Elements Concealment Technique and Hidden Weapons.”

Jang Saeng nodded. He’d heard more detailed explanations from Jin Ib-chu the day before, but Na Yang-ja seemed concerned not with the names of these arts, but with the reasons they were chosen.

“I don’t understand well. Please teach me what you see fit, Master.”

Na Yang-ja smiled but shook his head.

“That is not a choice I can make for you. They too selected what they wished to learn of their own will.”

He picked up a dry branch that had fallen to the ground.

“There is a difference between martial arts that strike and subdue a man, and those that end his life. The arts used to cut down enemies on a battlefield differ from those that defend an Escort Service and repel bandits. You must know what purpose your Martial Art will serve before you can choose the path to learn it.”

Jang Saeng could not answer readily.

“I have never thought about what I will do in the future.”

Na Yang-ja slowly rotated the dry branch between his fingers. After a moment, he asked:

“Suppose we had not found you that day. If the villagers had killed No Hwang and divided his meat among themselves, how would you treat them once you had mastered Martial Art?”

Jang Saeng’s fingers pressed hard against the rim of the empty bowl. The villagers’ curses and the sound of No Hwang’s ragged breathing flooded back to him. He had an answer, but speaking it aloud would make his master see him as a ruthless man.

Na Yang-ja did not press him and asked again:

“Would you beat them, or kill them?”

Jang Saeng kept his mouth closed and lowered his head.

“If you killed them, would you regret it later?”

No answer came.

“If you did not kill them, would you regret it later?”

He could not confidently say no to either. Na Yang-ja did not rebuke his anger or urge forgiveness. It seemed he was asking what burden Jang Saeng could bear.

“Are you asking whether I should learn the Martial Art of striking a man, or the Martial Art of killing him, Master?”

Na Yang-ja nodded.

“Are the two arts so very different?”
“They differ greatly.”

It was a brief answer.
Jang Saeng pondered for a long moment. He had never fought a real fight, and he had no idea what it meant to take a life. If he chose one path now, he would simply be pretending to understand what he did not.

“I am not built like you, with great size and strength. And with my legs as they are, learning External Martial Art first would be difficult.”

Jang Saeng chose his words with care.

“I have not yet decided where to apply my martial skills. First, would it not be better to learn the Internal Martial Art Mental Method

as Jin Ib-chu and the others have?”

Na Yang-ja did not answer at once. He studied Jang Saeng for a moment, as if weighing whether the young man was evading the question or truly had not yet made up his mind. Then he nodded.

“That is acceptable.”

Jang Saeng exhaled without thinking. There had been purpose in Na Yang-ja’s question—an attempt to read his heart.
Before teaching, a master must see what kind of person his student is.
Perhaps this was the first lesson a master gave.
Jang Saeng picked up the unwashed iron cauldron and made his way to the stream. Jeon Jin-gung was already washing dishes at the water’s edge. As Jang Saeng set the cauldron down at the waterside, he noticed a small pool in the downstream area.
The water ran deep and slow. At the bottom, scattered stones and water plants suggested that fish might be hiding there.

“Would you take the cauldron with you? I’d like to see if there are fish here.”

Jeon Jin-gung took the cauldron and glanced at the frayed rope tied around Jang Saeng’s waist.

“You know how to fish?”
“A little.”

Jang Saeng dug through the soil and found an earthworm. In early spring, a multi-hook fishing line—several hooks tied to a single cord—was ideal. It sank to the bottom without a float, a tool for catching fish from below.
He had not learned fishing for love of it. During the years he had lived alone, waiting by the water for a fish to bite was the only way to have even a morsel to eat.
Jang Saeng threaded an earthworm onto each hook and cast the line into the deepest part of the pool. He tied the cord’s end to a stone and sat behind a boulder where the wind did not reach.
Ripples caught the sunlight, shimmering faintly. Jang Saeng gazed absently at the water’s surface, turning over Na Yang-ja’s question in his mind.
Then something moved at the edge of the western forest.
Jang Saeng lifted his head.
A dark shadow passed between the sparsely-leafed trees. The mass was too large to be a branch swaying in the wind. Jang Saeng released his grip on the fishing line and fixed his gaze on that direction.

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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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