Surviving as the Sacheon Dang Clan’s Servant - Chapter 40

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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 40
When I pestered him, Dang Un laughed and asked, “Are you enjoying this?”
“I am!”
“How about this—I’ll tell you the rest of the story once So Hye finishes reading the Zhouyi she’s studying today?”
……
There he goes again. Teaching really is his calling. Ha.
“And what about the other four masters?”
“I suppose I’ll have to save those stories for after So Hye completes the Shennong Bencao Jing.”
……
“Shall we continue the lesson?”
I quietly picked up the Zhouyi. This teacher of mine was no ordinary man.
* * *
The next morning, Dang Jung arrived at the crack of dawn and thrust a large bowl at me without preamble.
“Here. Drink it straight down.”
Inside the bowl he offered sat a black liquid of indeterminate origin.
The reek of fish so pungent it jolted me awake. I wrinkled my nose and asked, “What is this?”
“Crucian carp, simmered.”
Actual crucian carp? It’s not poison, is it?
As I eyed the medicinal broth with suspicion, Deok Ju offered a hint.
“It is Muk Hyeol Hwa Ri Tang. The elder went to considerable effort capturing a rare Spirit Creature for you.”
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
Dang Jung rebuked Deok Ju with a gruff expression, though he seemed to anticipate my reaction.
I clapped my hands in exaggerated delight.
“You caught a Spirit Creature for me? Grandfather, I’m touched.”
“Hmph. Touched nothing. Drink it while it’s warm.”
“Thank you for the meal!”
Gulping down the Muk Hyeol Hwa Ri Tang without a second thought, I watched as Dang Jung’s lips curled up ever so slightly.
The smell was vile, but if it was good for my body, I could endure it.
Yet the moment the broth entered my stomach, a scorching energy began to roil in my lower abdomen.
I glanced up at Dang Jung in surprise, and he tapped the floor rhythmically.
“Now that you’ve finished, sit here. I’ll guide the energy for you.”
“Yes, sir.”
I settled obediently on the floor, and Dang Jung placed his hand on my back. The heat that had been churning around my navel suddenly surged upward into my chest.
“What—what is this?”
“Don’t speak. You’ll injure yourself.”
With my mouth sealed, he breathed a thread of True Qi into my body.
In that instant, the energy of the Muk Hyeol Hwa Ri Tang began to move in rhythm with his True Qi. No—”move” was insufficient to describe it.
The scorching Spiritual Energy surged toward his deep-blue True Qi like a predator chasing prey.
My vision went white as the raging energy tore through my body at will.
It was nothing like the time Dang Jung had examined my meridians before. It felt as though a massive fireball was burning through my veins.
“Stay conscious. Breathe.”
Dang Jung’s sharp voice pierced through the haze. I gasped, my mouth wide open, struggling to draw breath. My muscles trembled and cold sweat beaded on my skin.
Dang Jung’s True Qi regulated its speed as it threaded through the Spiritual Energy of the Muk Hyeol Hwa Ri Tang, barely touching, and swept through all my Meridian Channels.
As the deep-blue True Qi carved a path, the scorching Spiritual Energy rushed eagerly in its wake.
From my lower abdomen to my spine, from my spine to my head, from my head back down to my chest, from my chest down to my lower abdomen.
Each time the two forces circulated through my meridians, I felt the passages—narrower than the eye of a needle—gradually widen.
By the time the blazing Spiritual Energy cooled to a lukewarm sensation, Dang Jung slowly withdrew his True Qi.
I breathed in ragged gasps. I had merely sat still, yet my entire body was drenched in sweat.
“Remember this feeling. You must be able to circulate your Qi like this on your own.”
“Did I just practice Yunggong?”
“Yes. Since you need to absorb the Spiritual Energy, grandfather moved it for you instead. Do you understand how it works?”
“No. Not at all.”
……At least try to think before you answer.
Oh. I got too serious.
I turned away, chuckling sheepishly, and Dang Jung let out a soft laugh before poking my shoulder repeatedly.
“These meridian points that run from the Huiyin up to the Baihui—that is the Governing Vessel. The points that descend from the Baihui back down to the Dantian—those are the Conception Vessel. When you complete one full circle through both the Governing and Conception Vessels, that is the Xiao Zhoutian.”
“I see.”
I still had no idea what he was talking about.

Dang Jung let out a long sigh, evidently seeing I’d grasped none of it.
“Never mind. I’ll explain it again later. The important thing is you understand such things exist.”
“Yes.”
“Now let’s go climb the Cliff.”
“……Understood.”
* * *
Dang Jung’s regimen of medicinal tonics continued unabated.
Even seven weeks later.
“Come now, try some clam meat.”
“I’ve spent the morning scraping the flesh from the Thousand-Year Clam. This is what remained after making the Spirit Pill, but the yin essence will still be quite potent. You must consume it slowly.”
And again, seven weeks after that.
“Here, eat this too. I steamed it well, so it’s best you consume the root as well.”
“It’s Thousand-Year Fo-Ti. The master worried it might taste too bitter for a young lady, so he steamed it together with licorice.”
Dang Jung brought me something new each time, insisting I eat it.
Since I was too old to undergo the Initiation Ceremony, he said he aimed to achieve similar effects through Spiritual Medicine, carefully calibrating the potency to only what my body could accept.
Apparently consuming a powerful Spiritual Medicine all at once could lead to Zhuhuaruma.
“Greed only invites calamity. Once your Dantian is properly established and you can perform Yunggong on your own, then I’ll give you the Spirit Pill I’ve prepared.”
I had no knowledge of such matters, so I simply trusted his words were sound.
Unlike my tranquil acceptance, Deok Ju seemed taken aback.
“The Poison King truly cherishes the young lady.”
“Hmm?”
“No one else absorbs Spiritual Medicine in such a manner. To have an absolute master personally perform Doin to guide Spiritual Energy to you—even Shaolin’s senior disciples have never enjoyed such extravagance.”
“Really? This counts as extravagance?”
“Assisting another’s Yunggong is difficult work from the start. It consumes an enormous amount of mental strength, and the slightest error puts both parties at risk of Zhuhuaruma. Even between master and disciple, it’s something to be avoided.”
“Truly? It was that dangerous?”
In novels, masters always do it for their disciples, don’t they? Was it because I’m the protagonist?
In any case, Dang Jung’s arrangement proved remarkably effective.
My body responded instantly to each byproduct of the Spiritual Medicine he fed me.
With each passing day, my vitality improved, and faintly—ever so faintly—I began to sense Internal Power stirring within.
A month in, my body, which had once managed barely half the height of the Cliff, could now scramble all the way to the summit…….
“Ahhhhhhh!”
Scramble? Hardly.
The moment I relaxed, confident I was nearly there, a fierce gust struck, and my balance shattered.
I screamed and drove my fingers into the stone, but the rock crumbled to powder, unable to bear my weight.
“Young lady!”
Deok Ju, startled, stretched out an arm to reach me, but his fingertips fell short.
I plummeted down the face of the Cliff.
“Aaaahhhhh!”
Each thrash of my limbs met razor-sharp wind that clawed at my face.
This is insane! I’ve never even bungee jumped before—what is this?!
As the ground rushed up toward me unbearably fast, I squeezed my eyes shut, but a firm hand suddenly caught me at the waist.
“A warrior must never close their eyes, no matter the circumstance. Would you shut your eyes if someone swung a sword at you? Watch until the end. Cowardice alone accomplishes nothing.”
Dang Jung, dispensing this rebuke, set me down at the base of the Cliff.
Oh, so I should keep my eyes wide open and watch my skull get smashed in instead?
I collapsed onto the ground, and through my trembling rage, I glared at Dang Jung.
My legs had gone weak; standing upright felt impossible.
Even faced with my resentful stare, he remained unmoved.
“Once you’ve gathered yourself, climb again.”
“What?”
“Hurry and finish so we can get inside before dinner.”
No, you nearly just let me die.
The casual way he brushed past what had happened left me speechless.
Scraped hands and knotted muscles—those I could endure.
Building the body comes first when learning martial arts. It’s a necessary ordeal, and I knew that.
But what I’d just experienced was different.
A body that had felt death’s grip would not obey my will.
My pupils had dilated until my vision swam; my heart thrashed like a fish tossed onto shore.
Yet he granted no respite, commanding me to crawl back up that towering expanse.
Swallowing down the sorrow welling in my chest, I tried to pull myself to my feet, but my muscles trembled so violently I couldn’t rise.
As my knees buckled weakly beneath me, I felt something break, and I cried out.
“Grandfather!”
“What’s wrong?”
“The training is so hard!”
“What else would it be? Training is always difficult. You simply persist.”
Dang Jung replied as though he’d stated the obvious, and the absurdity of his answer made my voice rise on its own.
“Isn’t this too much? I nearly fell to my death just now—how can you tell me to climb back up?”
Unable to contain my frustration, I cried out, and both Dang Jung and Deok Ju’s eyes went wide with surprise.
In that instant, tears came pouring down. I clamped my lips shut and rubbed at my eyes. Dang Jung, startled, lowered himself to meet my gaze.
“Child, child?”
“……Ugh.”
I was as flustered as he was.
What’s this? Why is my voice like this?
I’d only meant to voice my sorrow, but my throat closed up of its own accord.
Amused by my hiccupping, Dang Jung jiggled his cheeks to soothe me.
“There, there. This old man’s made you grieve and now you’re cross with me, is that it? Grandfather was wrong. You’re a good child—stop now.”
“It’s not that I’m cross—I really did, hiccup, nearly die—waaah!”
I wanted to argue back with sound logic, but all that came from my mouth was a whimper tangled with tears.
Unable to help himself, Dang Jung burst into laughter.
“Aha! Yes, yes, I understand. If the training grows too heavy, you must tell me. I thought you were following so well that you could bear it. Come now—sniff. Go on, sniff.”
But I did tell you, and you treated it like pretense every time!
I glared up at him with tear-streaked eyes. His face was brimming with amusement as he wrapped his sleeve around my nose.
“Come, now—sniff.”
……This old rascal is enjoying my tears. The anger is so sharp it actually dries them.
Once he’d cleaned up my ruined face, Dang Jung carefully lifted me onto his lap and sat me there. He patted my trembling body gently and spoke softly.
“I was planning to teach you the Simbeop soon anyway. It’s time you learned to build your Dantian.”
“Really?”
“Of course—I never lie. Isn’t it funny how your tears dried up the moment I mentioned the Secret Art?”
As long as I don’t climb the Cliff, there’s nothing I can’t do.
Dang Jung gave my cheek a light pinch, then drew a clean cloth and a small bottle from his sleeve.
“What is that?”
“Mulberry Ash Water. Ash steeped from mulberry wood.”
“Ouch, it stings! It stings!”
“Bear it. Disinfection must be done.”
Despite his firm tone, he carefully and thoroughly cleaned my raw, scraped hands.
It would heal quickly once I applied the Doin anyway.
I felt embarrassed for making such a fuss, yet Dang Jung simply stroked my head in silence.
“This old man was too hasty. Rice must be allowed to simmer before eating, and yet in my eagerness I had you chewing raw grain.”
His words carried a quiet note of self-reproach. Even Dang Jung seemed to think the training had been excessive.
“But in times of war, even raw grain is a blessing. Better to chew it than starve to death.”
So that’s it.
“Now that you’ve cried your fill, it’s time to do what must be done. Come, rise.”
“Yes.”
I wiped my nose quickly and got down from Dang Jung’s lap.

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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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