Surviving as the Sacheon Dang Clan’s Servant - Chapter 38

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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 38
Adapting to a sudden change in circumstances was not easy.
Of course, that was only what the mind felt. My body was thoroughly enjoying the comforts of a rise in status.
Bathing in water brought by others, eating meals prepared by others, sleeping on bedding laid out by others — what a life it was!
Buried in soft quilts and rolling about, all the sorrows I’d accumulated seemed to melt away.
Yet there was one thing that hadn’t changed.
“Miss. Wake up.”
“Mm. I don’t want to.”
“Come now. The Master said to wake you up early and send you to him.”
Song Ji slapped my back as I rolled about on the bed — smack, smack.
Ouch. Song Ji. Surely I’m still your mistress — is this how you treat me?
I pouted and sat up on the bed, and Song Ji brought me a brass basin of wash water.
“Wash your face first, then change your clothes quickly.”
Her voice was bright and cheerful.
On my first day at the Separate Quarters, she’d been awkward and unsure, but now my new position seemed to suit her.
‘Miss. Did you… cough…?’
‘Song Ji. Please, be like you were before.’
‘But how could I possibly dare….’
‘Please. Please! I’m getting goosebumps. We’re not that kind of people to each other.’
‘Really… is that okay?’
Despite various complications along the way, I was grateful she’d adapted so quickly.
Gyeong A also emerged from the side, hesitantly holding something out.
“Ah, Miss… after you wash… you’ll need to… put this on….”
“What is this?”
“It’s a Martial Robe. The Master said to have you put it on as soon as you wake and send you to his quarters.”
“Hmm? As soon as I wake? Without breakfast?”
“Yes. Go see him right away. The escort is waiting outside.”
Song Ji’s answer gave me an uneasy premonition.
Why have me wear a Martial Robe? Is he planning to work me on the practice grounds at the crack of dawn?
After dressing hastily, I saw Deok Ju waiting for me in an upright posture.
He looked like a fresh recruit with rigorous military bearing.
“Deok Ju. You can relax a bit, you know.”
“It’s fine.”
“All right. I’m going to Grandfather’s quarters. Want to come with me?”
“There’s no need to tell me where you’re going. I’ll simply follow wherever you lead.”
“…Ah, I see. Then let’s go.”
I dodged the question and walked forward awkwardly.
Master. This fellow is too much pressure.
* * *
The far edge of the dim sky was beginning to stain red. Cool morning air filled my lungs completely.
This was the first time I’d visited Dang Jung’s quarters at such an early hour.
He must be awake by now?
I lingered before the main gate and knocked softly.
“Grandfather. May I come in?”
“Yes, come in.”
At his ready reply, I opened the door and found Dang Jung feeding carp in the pond.
He glanced at me and let out a quiet chuckle.
“You can just come in. What wind blew in to make you stand on ceremony?”
The way you say it makes me sound like someone who normally barges in without any manners.
…Did I not announce myself? No, I did announce myself.
As I searched my memory and rolled my eyes, Dang Jung poured the remaining feed into the pond and approached me.
“How do you like the pond Geun Myeong dug? Seamless, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s seamless. It looks like it was always there.”
“I thought so. That fellow has quite the handiwork.”
Wouldn’t it be because the Master keeps finding things for him to do? You used him like a Swiss Army knife.
As I thought of Geun Myeong, who handled every task without hesitation, I found myself wondering what his monthly wages were.
If he was truly talented enough to handle escort duty, personal service, household management, and civil engineering all at once, shouldn’t his wages be enormous?
“Lost in thought again, I see.”
Dang Jung clicked his tongue and wrapped me in his arms. I draped myself over his shoulder like limp dough.
“I have something to show you today.”
“You’ll show me?”
“Yes. It’s the root of our main house.”
He spoke with evident pride.
Dang Jung led me to a small shrine that housed the ancestral tablets of the Dang Clan.
The building bore a plaque reading “Ancestral Shrine,” and it exhaled a mysterious fragrance—the mingled scent of aged wood and incense.
Enchanted by the solemn atmosphere, I glanced about curiously until Dang Jung cautioned me.
“Show reverence. Our ancestors rest here.”
With clasped hands, he moved to the center of the shrine and lit fresh incense.
Thin wisps of smoke curled upward into the emptiness.
After placing the incense in the holder, Dang Jung gazed solemnly at the faded ancestral portrait hanging at the center.
Within the pale portrait was rendered a middle-aged man with sharp, piercing eyes.
Was this the founder of the Dang Clan?
They say blood runs thicker than water, and indeed, the sharp, angular features common to all Dang Clan members seemed to bear the imprint of this man’s line.
“Offer three prostrations to the Patriarch Ancestor of our house.”
“Three prostrations?”
“It means to bow deeply three times.”
Greetings, Ancestor.
Following his instruction, I made three deep bows toward the faded portrait, and Dang Jung then pointed to a weathered tablet in the corner.
“Pay the same respects to your Master’s Master. He was my teacher.”
I started in surprise and ventured a question.
“You mean… you had a master too, Grandfather?”
“Of course I did. Is there a man anywhere who had no teacher?”
You give the impression of having thrown poisoned darts from the moment you were born.
It was difficult to imagine that Dang Jung had ever been immature or young.
He gazed at the worn tablet with a distant expression and caressed it gently.
“He was half-mad with poison. When I claimed I wouldn’t eat any, he beat me and soaked me in a jar of poison for the night. I’ll remember that day until I’m laid in my coffin.”
……Half-mad sounds like full-mad to me. People die from things like that.
Pretending not to have heard, I completed my bow and straightened. Dang Jung smiled and asked.
“Do you know why you’re bowing?”
“Not really.”
“You’re performing the Ritual of Formal Discipleship. You’re observing proper ceremony to take this old man as your master.”
Now that he mentioned it, I recalled scenes from wuxia novels where disciples and masters formed their bond through prostration.
“After you bow three times to your grandfather, you will become my disciple in truth and in name. Everyone will regard you as the successor to this Poison King.”
At his grave tone, I swallowed hard.
Though Dang Jung had claimed to take me as his disciple, until now few had known the true nature of our relationship.
But once it became known that I had performed the Ritual of Formal Discipleship and began receiving his instruction in earnest, opposition would surely follow.
“Grandfather, am I… your only disciple?”
“The others are all dead, so yes, you’re the only one.”
“…Oh.”
I’d asked another tactless question.
Embarrassed, I scratched my head, and Dang Jung flicked my forehead.
“Do you think this old man accepts just anyone as a disciple? I’m a stubborn fool—since the Former Patriarch died, I’ve taken no other students.”
“The Former Patriarch?”
“Yes. When he was young, his skill with the Feather Needle was decent, so I taught him. That was… seventy years ago, perhaps.”
So that’s why one doesn’t treat the Clan Leader lightly. Before anything else, he had been a disciple—a son of the Dao.
The shock of this unexpected history passed quickly, and fear crept in.
The disciple of an absolute master who had raised the Clan Leader himself—the position was less burdensome than terrifying.
Seeing my expression darken, Dang Jung let out a dry laugh.
“Whether you will it or not, you cannot refuse. Haven’t I already gone to the Council of Elders and declared my intention to take you as my disciple? Stop your fretting and finish your bows.”
“Um…”
“What ‘um’? Your tantrums are growing tiresome.”
With a faint smile, he tilted his chin, urging me to bow.
Dang Jung was right. It was too late to back away now. There’s a saying: if you cannot escape, embrace it.
Since matters had come to this point, it was best to close my eyes and squeeze every advantage I could from being his disciple.
I took a deep breath and bent my body until my forehead touched the floor.
Though I knew it to be mere formality, my heart raced nonetheless.
First bow.
Second bow.
Third bow.
As I slowly raised my head, Dang Jung extended his hand with a pleased expression, and I grasped it to rise.
“Do you remember what grandfather told you?”
“You said to stand out in people’s eyes?”
“That’s right. What else did I say?”
“The more interest others take in me, the safer I become.”
“Exactly. So make a spectacle of yourself. You’re the Poison King’s only disciple, after all.”
Dang Jung grinned with confidence, baring his teeth.
I laughed along and nodded, and he added:
“But remember—a martial artist speaks through martial prowess. If you’re going to be called the Poison King’s disciple, you must have the strength to match it. I won’t have any student of mine getting knocked around out there.”
“That means…”
“Let’s go train.”
“…Yes.”
Dang Jung declared this and swept me up into his arms. I went limp, surrendering my weight to him.
* * *
At that same hour, Dang Gak, the Former Patriarch of the Dang Clan, was in a foul mood.
It had only been recently that he’d lost sleep over his humiliation in the Council of Elders, and now having to listen to the grievances of some commoner was grating on him.
“Hwa Yeop has already reached manhood, and Ju Yeop has completed the coming-of-age ceremony. Yet you won’t grant either of them a single Vice Commander’s post. What makes Young Ho so superior to our sons that you would discriminate against them?”
Jo Lady’s shrill voice dragged fatigue down upon him.
There were limits to greed, after all. Did the woman not understand what kind of position the Vice Commander’s seat was, speaking so recklessly of it?
Dang Gak felt the urge to wring her neck.
But he had to restrain himself. He kept her close precisely because she was a fool.
Was this not what they called killing by a borrowed knife?
The woman was his tool—a means to dirty no hands of his own while tidying up those around him.
If he exploited the foolish mother’s excessive ambition to systematically prune away the Patriarch’s heirs, his grandson would seize control of the clan with ease.
For now, there was nothing but to endure.
Composing himself, Dang Gak forced a genial smile.
“Hah, the Patriarch must have his reasons. That boy Young Ho falls short—everyone knows as much. Soon enough he’ll acknowledge Hwa Yeop’s superiority, I’m sure.”
“Falls short? He’s a disgrace to the family name. Why does the Patriarch favor such a worthless wretch?”
“He’s the eldest son, so the Patriarch indulges him. But he’ll soon come to recognize Hwa Yeop’s merit. Don’t let your anger fester.”
At Dang Gak’s soothing words, Jo Lady’s agitation subsided from its bitter trembling.
“Yes. The Patriarch will soon understand that Hwa Yeop alone has the makings to carry the Dang Clan forward.”
A silent scoff nearly escaped him, but Dang Gak forced a mask of composure.
“What matters more is this matter of the bastard who was just accepted as a disciple. They say she possesses the Poisonless Body of Ten Thousand Toxins?”
“So it seems. The Poison King himself says he’ll teach her.”
“Impossible. The old man has never taught any of the Patriarch’s legitimate children, yet now he comes forward to instruct a bastard? It makes no sense.”
Jo Lady gnawed her lips with bitter malice.
“That child must be dealt with before she becomes a threat.”
“I agree entirely. If the Poison King makes her his successor, things will grow complicated. We must watch for an opportune moment.”
Dang Gak nodded, his smile turning cold and bloodstained.

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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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