Surviving as the Sacheon Dang Clan’s Servant - Chapter 90

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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 90
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“Gyeong A. How much longer on the greens? Oh, never mind—you’re done. Can you prep this too?”
Gyeong A nodded and accepted the vegetables, trimming the skins with practiced efficiency.
“How much longer on the steamed fish?”
“Bean sprouts! Where are the bean sprouts!”
The kitchen had been chaos since early morning. An unexpected guest had arrived.
Everyone was hurrying to prepare food for this visitor, who had come at the behest of someone of considerable standing.
Ordinarily, the head cook would have simply assigned Gyeong A dishwashing duties; the fact that they’d called on her to prep ingredients showed just how frantic things had become.
And little wonder—the visitor was Ak Jibak, the Spear King, one of the Ten Masters of the Martial World and a Peak Master herself.
Dang Un smiled softly, his eyes blinking.
His world was nothing but darkness, yet even the blackness that had stolen his sight could not veil a master’s presence.
A vast flame-like aura rippled before him.
Dang Un set down his teacup slowly and spoke.
“Does the tea suit your taste?”
“It does. You’ve still got a fine hand with brewing. Little one.”
“I’m glad it pleases you.”
“Even when you were this small, you brewed a good cup. I thought you’d excel at anything you put your mind to.”
Ak Jibak spoke with one knee raised, her chin resting on her hand.
It was not a posture of perfect courtesy, yet neither Dang Un nor Ak Jibak seemed to mind. Indeed, their ease with each other as they shared tea looked like long familiarity.
She was a towering figure, as impressive as the Geochang blade strapped to her back.
Her frame, easily over six feet, dominated any ordinary man’s presence, and her voice carried a ragged timbre.
Ak Jibak tapped her heel against the floor and asked, “Your eyes. Can you see nothing at all?”
“No, not at all.”
“Tch, tch. If I’d known sooner, I’d have brought a physician from the Alliance. My apologies, little one.”
Ak Jibak’s tongue clicked with regret as she regarded Dang Un with sorrowful eyes.
“Your concern alone brings me comfort.”
“No empty words. When I return, I’ll send you a proper physician.”
“Haha, yes. Thank you.”
“A dull fellow, aren’t you.”
Ak Jibak sighed and drained the last of her tea in one gulp.
“Enough pleasantries. The reason I’ve made the journey to Sichuan is to verify whether the Dang Clan has truly been colluding with the Demonic Cult.”
“Wouldn’t it have been faster to seek out the Family Head?”
“I’ll meet with him too. But I came to see you first. Your father and I—we don’t speak the same language.”
Ak Jibak’s brow furrowed as if the very thought of the Family Head left a bad taste.
“Besides, it’s better to ask you. You don’t lie. You simply don’t answer.”
“But I am a blood relative of the Dang Clan. I may not be able to give you the answers you seek.”
Dang Un laughed lightly and swept his long hair back. He folded his pale hands on the table before him and asked, “Where did this information originate—that the main house is colluding with the Demonic Cult? It’s an unpleasant rumor.”
“The Alliance, of course. Here, little one. First, confirm whether this belongs to you.”
Ak Jibak answered flatly and produced a poison needle from her pocket.
As Dang Un’s fingertips traced the object she offered, his expression emptied of all warmth.
He raised his eyes—though sightless—toward where he sensed her presence.
“A Soul-Chasing Poison Needle. The forging was done in the Dang Clan’s iron workshop. The design is somewhat unusual, though…”
Dang Un’s voice trailed away. He had recognized who had made this needle.
The intricate, winding patterns carved into it—designed to hold poison—were the work of Dang Cho Hui.
For a needle crafted by Dang Cho Hui, who rarely left the Dang household, let alone Sichuan, to find its way into Ak Jibak’s hands could mean only one thing.
Dang Sohye. His youngest sister had become entangled in the Alliance’s affairs.
A line of cold sweat traced down his spine.
Could it be that Sohye had…?
“That needle was found near a corpse that had melted on Hwa Gol Mountain. If it’s yours, then one of the Dang Clan’s martial cultivators was involved.”
At these words, Dang Un felt relief wash over him. If she had used the mountain—if she had killed there—then she had escaped alive.
His sister who had run had safely made her way out of Sichuan.
“Little one. You know something, don’t you? Do you know who was there?”
Ak Jibak, who had been watching Dang Un intently, tapped the table as she spoke. Instead of answering, Dang Un smiled sweetly.
“I’m afraid you’ll need to hear the details from the Family Head himself.”
* * *
Dang Geun Myeong entered the Chwi Ui Cheong with a rigid expression.
He’d thought that while Dang Jung was away, he might finally find a moment’s peace—but calamities kept erupting in succession, leaving his head throbbing.

When Chwi Ui Cheong made the decision to expel the child whom the Poison King cherished, Dang Geun Myeong believed it was all a temporary storm that would pass.
He thought the Family Head would feign casting out Dang Sohye to appease the You Zhou Trading House, and that once things settled with time, they would quietly call her back.
Not only Dang Geun Myeong, but most of the family members shared this belief.
She was his daughter and a disciple he had taken for the first time in seventy years—the very embodiment of the clan’s authority.
Surely the Family Head wouldn’t let Dang Sohye perish, the family members reasoned.
So Dang Geun Myeong sent her off to Zhongyuan without protest.
Taking a boat from Zhong Jing would naturally lead to Wuhan, and his plan was to quietly cross over later and bring her back.
Wuhan was a city where the Martial Alliance’s headquarters stood, so there was little chance Dang Sohye would encounter danger.
Though young, she had been trained directly by the Poison King in the Ten-Thousand Poisons Unpierceable Body and would hold her own.
But when a handful of elders—men who regarded their heads as mere ornaments sitting above their necks—carelessly prepared to hand over Dang Sohye’s Portrait Record to the You Zhou Trading House, Dang Geun Myeong realized he had been gravely mistaken.
“Wait, wait! Elder. If you hand over the Portrait Record as is, what will happen?”
“What’s the harm? He’s lost his son and must be grieving deeply—the least we can do is provide this.”
“That won’t do. Commission a different Portrait Record to send instead. The Poison King himself ensured that child’s likeness could never be drawn.”
“Is it necessary? Well, if the Seventh Elder says so, then so be it.”
These fools didn’t even understand what the problem was.
Handing over the Portrait Record was as good as telling the You Zhou Trading House they wouldn’t care if they captured and killed her.
“Did they mention anything else?”
“I’m not certain. Someone mentioned something about a Black Civet being kept—was it the Eighth Elder?”
This was infuriating.
Dang Geun Myeong wanted nothing more than to drive his fist into the elder’s carelessly wagging mouth.
How many black civets tame enough for human handling could exist across all of Zhongyuan?
Now, even without knowing Dang Sohye’s appearance, anyone who saw the Black Civet could identify who she was.
Dang Geun Myeong suddenly understood why his master’s temper had grown increasingly volatile.
Watching such a fool sit in an elder’s seat for over a century would drive anyone to the brink of losing their composure.
The situation deteriorated rapidly.
Dang Sohye’s trail, which they naturally expected would follow the waterways, went cold in Nang Jung.
Though Dang Geun Myeong brought silver by the chest to Gae Bang and made inquiries everywhere, she seemed to have vanished into some remote mountain valley beyond the network’s reach.
He wanted to cross into Nang Jung immediately and search, but Dang Geun Myeong was in no position to act recklessly.
If he defied the Family Head’s orders and faced expulsion, he would lose all the martial techniques he had cultivated within the clan.
What use was a martial artist stripped of his techniques? He could only help Dang Sohye from within the family.
Around the time anxiety had stolen his sleep night after night, Chwi Ui Cheong summoned the elders to assemble.
Sitting with indifference, prepared only to keep his seat and leave, Dang Geun Myeong nearly cried out when he heard why Ak Jibak had come to Sichuan.
The Crimson King Ak Jibak had arrived to investigate the Dang Clan on orders of the Martial Alliance’s deputy leader—all because of Dang Sohye.
“So the expelled child caused trouble, is what you’re saying?”
“Consorting with the Demonic Cult, no less. How could such a thing…. Tsk, tsk.”
“There’s no evidence she actually consorted with the Cult. She was simply standing nearby. Bad luck, like a crow flying past and a pear falling—that’s all it was.”
“Must we take responsibility? She’s no longer a member of the Dang Clan, is she?”
“But she carries the Family Head’s blood. When accountability is questioned, the main house cannot escape the arrows of blame.”
“Why don’t we find the girl and bring her back ourselves? Those stiff-necked folk at the Martial Alliance irritate me with their sanctimonious interference in our clan’s blood relations.”
“We’ll have difficulty bringing her back. The Family Head has already surrendered the child’s fate to the Martial Alliance. They’ll dispatch search teams and conduct investigations under the guise of questioning.”
One elder, who had been staring silently into empty space, scratched his cheek with a troubled expression.
“Oh dear…. If the Poison King learns of this, he won’t simply sit idle.”
At that, all the elders exhaled in unison as if bound by oath.
“Phew.”
“This tastes like death. Must we be grabbed by the collar and beaten at this age?”
“The Supreme Elders themselves have been kicked and thrown about—what can we possibly do?”
“Why would the Family Head make such a choice? The very thought of when he emerges from seclusion terrifies me. He’ll be furious, and that child whom he held so dearly, carried so tenderly….”
“Pray it comes to nothing serious.”
Dang Geun Myeong, who had been listening quietly, wrapped his head in his hands and pulled a face.
This girl sure knows how to cause a spectacle when she does!
That Dang Sohye was alive and well was good news, but news of her causing trouble brought no joy whatsoever.
What in the world had she been doing to become entangled with cultists and draw the pursuit of the Martial Alliance?
Dang Geun Myeong pressed his throbbing temples firmly.
He had a headache trying to figure out how to save his master’s wild and reckless disciple.

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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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