Surviving as the Sacheon Dang Clan’s Servant - Chapter 13

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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 13
The Guest Hall, where visitors to the Namgung Clan stayed, lay in the opposite direction from Dang Jung’s quarters.
It was distant enough to make one wonder what business Namgung Hui could possibly have had that would bring him all the way to Dang Jung’s residence.
I pressed my lips together and fixed my gaze on the tea cup before me. My legs, folded beneath me, had gone numb, yet I dared not shift my weight.
The atmosphere that the Namgung Clan’s patriarch had brought with him was suffocating.
My face, reflected in the lukewarm tea gone cold, looked as pathetic as a terrified rabbit.
I look absolutely wretched. Better not raise my head.
“Lift your head.”
“Yes.”
Scratch that. Never mind.
At the glacial tone of his voice, I lifted my head with startling speed. The patriarch’s eyes had narrowed to slits as he studied me.
The moment I cast my gaze downward again, he sighed.
“So what you’re saying is…you want to bring this child back to the Namgung Clan.”
“Yes, Father.”
At Namgung Hui’s unwavering reply, the patriarch rubbed his temples with a weary expression.
“What possessed you to think such a thing?”
“She is clever. I wish to keep her by my side.”
“You haven’t done anything that would require keeping her by your side, have you?”
“Pardon? Require keeping her by my side?”
As Namgung Hui blinked in confusion, the middle-aged man’s gaze suddenly fixed on me. I shook my head vigorously.
Whatever he’s imagining, nothing happened. What would a thirteen-year-old even know? You’re quite the suspicious one.
Only then did the patriarch’s expression soften.
“No, no. This old fool was thinking foolish thoughts. The tea will be cold soon. Drink first.”
He even laughed heartily, gesturing for me to drink up with a lighter mood.
As I hesitated, fingers fidgeting nervously, the patriarch urged me again.
“Go on, drink.”
At your insistence, wouldn’t the tea end up spilled all over me? I was exasperated, but I had no right to refuse.
I lifted the tea cup with difficulty. I couldn’t even tell whether the tea was entering my nose or my mouth.
Unlike me, my spirit apparently departed, the patriarch sipped his tea with grace, savoring the aroma of the leaves, before he opened his mouth again.
“Hui, let me ask you first. Did you inquire about this child’s wishes?”
“Not yet. But she will be pleased.”
“And what makes you so certain?”
“Because Anhui is a good place.”
What in the world is he saying?
At Namgung Hui’s response, a dull ache spread across the back of my skull. Because *he* found it pleasant, naturally *I* would too—it was the thinking of a young master for whom the world revolved entirely around himself.
The patriarch seemed caught off guard by this answer as well, awkwardly rubbing his nose.
Regarding me with troubled eyes, the patriarch asked:
“What is your name?”
“Sohye.”
“You have no family name.”
“I do not.”
“And your parents?”
“I am an orphan.”
It was a courteous inquiry, yet I could not help my irritation.
It sounded to me like: “Dad, I want to keep that puppy. Very well—what breed is it?” That sort of tone.
And I was the puppy in question. Ha, ha.
“I see. And what do *you* think?”
“Pardon?”
“If you were asked to go to the Namgung Clan, would you be willing?”
I forced my lips upward into something resembling a smile. It felt like the same deja vu I’d experienced when Dang Jung told me to learn martial arts.
That particular sense of dread—that one wrong word might cost me my head.
I swallowed hard and opened my mouth.
“I humbly beg your pardon, but…”
“What? Aha, ha! There is no need to speak so formally. I am not of the imperial household. You need only use such language when addressing the Emperor or a prince.”
Ah. That wasn’t it?
At his hearty laughter, heat flooded my face. I quickly corrected myself.
“Yes. Though I am sorry to say it, I am a student receiving instruction from the great Dang Jung. It is not a matter I am able to decide for myself.”
Sir. I’m passing this to you.
The moment I mentioned Dang Jung’s name, there was an immediate reaction. The patriarch’s expression clouded over.
“…Dang Jung, you say?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
His complexion darkened, and he scratched his cheek as he tried to dissuade Namgung Hui.
“Hui, this cannot be done.”
“Why not?”
“Did you not hear? This child is receiving instruction from Lord Dang Jung. If you step forward to take this child into the Namgung Clan, the Dang Clan will sever her meridians and cripple her martial arts.”
“What?”
The shock did not burst from Namgung Hui’s lips, but from mine.
What did he just say? Sever what? My meridians? My arms and legs?
At my reaction, Namgung Sang merely shrugged his shoulders and did not reproach me for my rudeness. Rather, he looked at me with sympathetic eyes.
“Did you not know? When a martial artist leaves his Master’s School, that is what it means. And this is the Dang Clan, no less. If you leave the Dang Clan, you will be left in a state worse than death.”
I had no idea. No, sir—he said he’d give me plenty of meat to eat, but he never mentioned anything like this.
Gooseflesh rippled across my entire body. I had worried about poison poisoning, but I had never imagined being left unable to use my arms and legs.
Namgung Hui’s face had gone pale, and he opened his mouth heavily.
“I fail to understand. It is not as if she knows the Secret Techniques transmitted only to the Direct Lineage.”
“The Dang Clan is different from the Namgung. We in the Branch Lineage can still use the Namgung name to become Martial Officials. The Dang Clan does not. It is the principle that all martial knowledge of the Dang Clan exists only within the Dang Clan. It cannot leak to the outside.”
“But this child has no Dantian, and has only learned a little External Martial Art—!”
“Enough, Hui. What cannot be done, cannot be done. This is a matter of another school.”
At his dissuasion, Namgung Hui clenched his fist. He seemed deeply aggrieved that he could not take me with him.
But the one who was truly aggrieved was me.
I had become Dang Jung’s disciple without understanding what it meant to learn the martial arts of the Dang Clan.
I had anticipated a bitter entanglement with the Dang Clan in my future. But I never imagined it would be so bitter that I would have to bury my bones there.
Sir, this is fraudulent contract.
I wanted to kick down that damned Dang Clan signboard.
* * *
I gripped the Tea Cup with my mouth agape. It felt as if I needed to swallow something to calm myself.
As I gulped down the tea in one shot, my mind snapped clear. I remembered a conversation I’d once had with the Bureau Chief.
‘The Duan Gen Can Mai, you see, is a punishment worse than death. It means severing a martial artist’s life at its root.’
‘Isn’t that too cruel? Do you really need to sever the tendons of their hands and feet while banishing them?’
‘It is the punishment given when expelling a disciple who has committed a grave crime. They must set down everything they received from their Master’s School, and the only way to set down martial knowledge that has been inscribed into their body is to cripple their martial arts, is it not?’
‘Then what happens to that disciple? They would not be able to walk—where would they go?’
‘Usually they crawl about until they die, or the Demonic Sect picks them up.’
‘…If that is the case, it would be better to kill them painlessly. If it were me, I would bite my tongue and die rather than crawl about for a lifetime.’
Sir, you said it was a punishment for grave crimes. These madmen sever your meridians just for leaving the clan.
Look, let us call everything that has happened so far a dream. Send me home.
I rubbed my aching nose and spent a moment reflecting on how my hapless life had become so twisted.
But more importantly, how do I get out of here?
I was watching for an opening to slip away discreetly when someone suddenly vaulted over the wall of the Guest Hall.
The movement was as light and graceful as a flying squirrel, and all eyes in the Guest Hall turned toward him.
A smile broke from my face unbidden at the sight of the familiar figure.
It was Dang Jung.
“It has been a while. Sang—or rather, Clan Head.”
He waved his hand lightly, as if he and Namgung Sang were acquainted. So the Clan Head’s name was Sang.
The moment Namgung Sang saw Dang Jung, he rose from his seat and clasped his fist in salute.
“Lord Dang Jung, is it not? It has been far too long since we last met.”
“There is no need for such formality. Now that you are Clan Head, I too must observe what propriety demands.”
“Your words honor me. But what brings you to visit us here?”
“I heard that a child under my care was here. There she is. Sohye.”
“Yes.”
“I am not sure how she came to be in this place, but we have incurred a debt. Would it be acceptable for me to take her with me?”
“Of course.”
“Much obliged. Sohye, come here.”
At Dang Jung’s call, I tried to spring to my feet. I would have, if my legs had not cramped.
As I stretched out legs that had been without circulation for so long, electricity shot through them and tears pricked my eyes.
As I stood frozen in an awkward posture, Dang Jung tilted his head in confusion.
“What is wrong?”
“Sir, my legs have gone numb.”
Pointing to my unmoving legs with a pitiful expression, Dang Jung let out a dry chuckle.
“So now you are using me as a palanquin.”
“Oh, sir.”
As I coaxed him with a wheedling voice, he approached with an expressionless face. Dang Jung sighed and hoisted me onto his shoulders.
A cry escaped me at the touch of his clumsy hands.
“Ah! Ah! Wait, please! Elder! My leg, my leg! Ow!”
“Stop your whining. I was certain I told you not to leave the Hall, yet here you are, causing trouble already.”
“But the thing is—ow! That stings!”
“Dramatics.”
It really does sting. My leg is popping like candy, each nerve firing.
I thrashed upright and found Namgung Sang staring at us both with utter bewilderment—startled, it seemed, to see me and Dang Jung on such intimate terms.
“Then I’ll take my leave. Or rather, I shall.”
“Please do look after yourself, Elder.”
Namgung Sang smoothed his expression quickly and offered Dang Jung a bow. I, still clinging to Dang Jung’s shoulder, ducked my head in acknowledgment.
The moment Dang Jung turned to go, Namgung Hui’s voice rang out loud and clear.
“Sohye! Over here!”
“What—I mean, yes?”
I looked toward him. His face was flushed crimson, his sleeves bunched tightly in his fists.
“The money I spent at the market. I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”
No, don’t bother. Just don’t come.
I shook my head to refuse, but Namgung Hui took it as agreement and broke into a broad grin.
“I’ll give you double. See you tomorrow.”
Why would you come? I said it’s fine.
At his bright, cheerful tone, Dang Jung’s brows knitted together.
“You lent money to a Namgung child?”
“No, Elder. Please, don’t look back—just go quickly. I’m begging you.”
“So now you think I’m someone to be trifled with?”
My urging pushed him to vault over the wall with a grumble.

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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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