The Fortunate Sword God of the Zhuge Clan - Chapter 18

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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 18.
The appearance of the youths was strange from the very first moment.
The instant Ryeong, whose Ki Sense was most developed, felt their movement, he brought the carriage to a halt.
Dok Go Hyeon soon sensed their approach as well and stepped down from the carriage.
“At last we’ll meet those Nok Lim bastards.”
Moo Hun let out a soft chuckle at Dok Go Hyeon’s words.
“Anyone listening would think the Lone Sword is one of them, the way you speak. You sound almost nostalgic.”
“Heh, nostalgic? Honestly, I can’t say it’s a wrong description.”
Moo Hun’s party had spent nearly all seven weeks of nights in the carriage.
At first they’d stop at roadside inns to sleep, but as they drew closer to the mountains, inns became scarce, and for the last four days they’d slept outdoors.
Dok Go Hyeon tried not to show it, but he found the journey rather tedious.
The reason was restlessness.
Ryeong was a man of few words by nature.
He wouldn’t utter a single word until someone spoke to him first.
Even then, when Moo Hun addressed him, he’d give somewhat longer answers, but to Dok Go Hyeon’s questions he replied in monosyllables.
He was simply the type who didn’t speak more than necessary.
As an escort, he possessed all the qualities required—yet somehow his demeanor unsettled Dok Go Hyeon.
When Moo Hun had asked Ryeong to help train Dok Go Hyeon, the man’s refusal only deepened that unease.
-I have no experience with martial contests. Therefore, I’m afraid I cannot fulfill your request.
Those who knew of his origins as a Salsu operative would have found that reply heavy with meaning.
But how could Dok Go Hyeon have understood?
Out of sheer boredom, he’d even been rejected when suggesting he could practice his swordsmanship or hunt for provisions.
-While you are employed as an escort, you came fundamentally as a guest of this young master. I cannot impose such tasks upon you.
The refusal was so polite that Dok Go Hyeon couldn’t protest, forced to swallow his frustration in silence.
Had Moo Hun, with his greater talkativeness, not spoken to him frequently, Dok Go Hyeon would have aged a year in those seven weeks.
Moo Hun’s stories were engaging.
For Dok Go Hyeon, lacking knowledge of the Murim, listening to Moo Hun—who understood it better than anyone—was like hearing the old tales his master had told in childhood.
Yet when Moo Hun fell into contemplation, gazing out the window, Dok Go Hyeon was left alone to ponder the Lone Sword or to chase sleep that wouldn’t come.
Of course, Dok Go Hyeon was not so thoughtless as to ignore that he was in a position of receiving aid.
But it was hard to hide his eager desire to practice the Pa Gi Shik, of which he’d barely grasped the fundamentals, just a little more.
An opportunity had come at last to ease the restlessness born from seven weeks of patience—the chance to release that anxious pressure.
“Finally I can stretch my limbs.”
“I don’t know. As I said, it’s unlikely to come to that.”
Moo Hun’s party had intended to pay the toll quietly and pass through without incident.
But Dok Go Hyeon let out a soft laugh instead.
“I don’t think so. They’re rushing straight at us. Those fellows.”
“What? Rushing at us?”
At Moo Hun’s question, Ryeong let out a brief sound.
“Mm.”
Then, placing a hand on his sword hilt, Ryeong continued.
“Young master, if you would please remain inside the carriage for a moment.”
“…All right.”
It seemed something was unfolding that would be difficult for Moo Hun, unable to sense Ki, to perceive.
“Very well, then. I ask this of you. Ah—Lone Sword. If the resistance from our opponents is not severe, please refrain from excessive force.”
“Why?”
“As I mentioned, Nok Lim maintains means of communication among each stronghold. If they simply retreat in defeat, there’s no issue, but if anyone were to lose their life, they might pursue us for revenge.”
“I thought heterodox sects had no regard for loyalty?”
“It’s hard to say for individuals, but if such an incident occurs within their own territory, they won’t remain idle. They’ll likely pursue us until they feel it’s truly hopeless.”
Dok Go Hyeon clicked his tongue lightly and nodded.
“I wasn’t planning to go that far anyway. And from the look of how they’re rushing at us, it shouldn’t be difficult.”
At Dok Go Hyeon’s response, Moo Hun nodded and entered the carriage.
Yet a quarter of an hour passed without a sound from outside.
Wasn’t it normal to hear at least the clash of light contact, whether the opponent was strong or weak?
Just as Moo Hun was beginning to wonder about this, Dok Go Hyeon abruptly opened the carriage door and stepped back inside.
On Dok Go Hyeon’s unmarred face lay a tinge of frustration.
“How did it go? Surely the other side couldn’t withstand your prowess and fled in panic.”
At Moo Hun’s jest, Dok Go Hyeon let out a shallow sigh.
“That’s… not quite. You should come out and see.”
“Hmm?”
“It seems to be a matter you’ll need to decide on.”
At Dok Go Hyeon’s words, Moo Hun descended from the carriage with a puzzled expression.
And there before him knelt five youths.
“…Younger bandits than I expected. Were they the ones who attacked us?”
Dok Go Hyeon shook his head at Moo Hun’s question.
“No. The moment they appeared, they threw themselves down and began spouting the same plea.”
Moo Hun’s eyes widened.
“You mean they prostrated themselves and asked us to help the Stronghold Master?”
“Yes. I don’t even understand what’s happening here.”
When Dok Go Hyeon glanced at Ryeong, she nodded as though equally bewildered.
Moo Hun turned to survey the youths, his expression thick with suspicion. “Who are you?”
“Who might you be?”
At Moo Hun’s question, a youth who appeared to be their leader lifted his head slightly.
“Is… is the young master here the leader of your group?”
The question suited the boy’s innocent gaze so well that Moo Hun found himself smiling despite himself.
“Leader, you say? I wouldn’t claim that title, though I do have the right to determine our path. So if you wish to ask for our aid, might you first explain what troubles you?”
At Moo Hun’s reply, the youth hesitated for a moment before nodding and opening his mouth.
“First, I must apologize for approaching you so abruptly. I’m truly sorry.”
At this unexpected apology, Moo Hun nodded as though finding it curious.
“Since you didn’t attack us, there seems little reason for me to accept an apology.”
The youth bobbed his head gratefully and continued.
“My name is Han Cho, and I belong to the Suhyeop-chae, which guards the entrance to this region. These friends and I serve as the newest members of our mountain stronghold.”
Suhyeop-chae.
He had never heard the name before.
As the military commander of the Jeongsa Alliance, Moo Hun knew virtually every mountain stronghold, especially those in the strategically vital Daepa Mountain Range of Sichuan.
If this was a name he’d never heard, it meant the stronghold had already vanished in those days.
“Suhyeop… does that mean hunting animals?”
“No, no! It means protecting tender young leaves!”
“Protecting tender young leaves?”
The youth who had introduced himself as Han Cho lifted his head slightly and answered.
“Our stronghold was never originally a stronghold. It was a small village near the mountain entrance.”
Something flickered in Moo Hun’s eyes.
“A village? How did it become a mountain stronghold?”
“Because the village was so small, the other strongholds in the Daepa Mountain Range were extorting us under the guise of protection fees.”
Han Cho’s expression darkened.
“Angered by this, all the young people in the village left to seek lives elsewhere in the mountains. So our already tiny village was left with nothing but the old and the children.”
“Mm.”
At this common and lamentable tale of a mountain village’s decline, Moo Hun let out a small murmur.
“But then the Stronghold Master came, and everything changed for us.”
Han Cho’s expression brightened in an instant.
“He declared this place his stronghold, gave it the name Suhyeop-chae, refused to collect protection fees, and shielded us from the other strongholds.”
In Han Cho’s eyes as he spoke of the Stronghold Master, clear admiration was evident.
“He and these friends have strived since childhood to become members of Suhyeop-chae out of respect for the Stronghold Master. And finally, this very year, we were recognized for the first time as the youngest members of the stronghold. But then….”
“Something has befallen the Stronghold Master.”
At Moo Hun’s words, a youth who had been lying prostrate behind Han Cho suddenly sprang up.
“Call him the Stronghold Master! He doesn’t even look much older than us!”
“Beom!”
Before Dok Go Hyeon and Ryeong could speak, Han Cho cut him off.
“Be quiet! I’ll handle this!”
At Han Cho’s words, the youth called Beom huffed and lay back down.
Han Cho bowed again and apologized to Moo Hun.
“I’m sorry. Our manners are still rough….”
“I see. I think I understand what the Stronghold Master means to you all.”
And Moo Hun could clearly discern the role that this youth named Han Cho held within this group of five.
Moo Hun smiled lightly and continued.
“But that alone doesn’t explain why you would kneel before us and beg for aid. Will you explain this matter?”
At Moo Hun’s words, Han Cho’s expression grew dark once more.
It was a youth’s swift, sudden change of mood.
“A fortnight ago, our Stronghold Master was poisoned and collapsed.”
Moo Hun listened carefully without showing much reaction.
“At first, we all thought he had eaten a snake or poisonous plant. There are many such things in the Daepa Mountain Range. So no one was worried.”
At this, Moo Hun raised one eyebrow.
“The poisons from the Daepa Mountain Range are potent enough that even the Dang Clan favors them, so surely most would be quite formidable—yet no one worried?”
“Our Stronghold Master was bitten by the mountain’s most venomous serpent and rose within a day. He’s hardly troubled by ordinary toxins.”
Moo Hun let out a small exclamation at the reply.
“Remarkable Dragon Power indeed.”
“Yes, but this time… even after several days had passed, he could not rise. Only then did we truly begin to worry. If he were not to recover….”
A tremor of emotion crept into Han Cho’s voice.
Moo Hun waited patiently for Han Cho to gather himself.
‘Perhaps in my past life, he lost his life to this very poison.’
At first glance, the Mountain Strongholds of Nok Lim appeared to respect one another’s territories within the range, but the truth was far different.
Wider territories meant greater profit and increased prestige, so they constantly watched for opportunities to seize each other’s lands.
Yet despite such dispositions, the reason territories remained stable was simple: the strength of the Stronghold Master who held them.
Most Stronghold Masters possessed comparable skill, and the loss from open conflict outweighed any gain, so peace was maintained through cold calculation.
But if Suhyeop-chae’s Stronghold Master—already despised by the other strongholds for protecting the village—were to die?
What would follow was all too predictable.
By the time Moo Hun understood why he’d never heard Suhyeop-chae’s name in his past life, Han Cho had regained his composure and spoke again.
“Worried about this, my elder brothers have searched everywhere for a solution, asking the travelers who pass through here.”
“Yet it came to nothing?”
“Yes. We described the poison’s symptoms to the merchants who visit the entrance of this place, but none knew anything.”
“And fetching a physician from another village?”
“We tried, but the physicians in small villages had no idea what poison this was. As for the renowned physicians in great cities like Sichuan….”
Han Cho ground his teeth, speaking with frustration.
“They refused us because we are Nok Lim.”
Moo Hun nodded calmly.
‘There is no reason the Dang Clan would allow a renowned Sichuan physician to be brought to a Nok Lim stronghold.’
Over a decade had passed without dispute between the two groups, yet they remained wary of interfering in each other’s domain.
Since Seo Ryong became the Alliance Lord and Moo Hun the Chief Strategist, they had worked toward greater exchange, but at this point in time, such efforts remained limited.
Under such circumstances, bringing a Sichuan physician to Nok Lim would be, from Suhyeop-chae’s perspective, lamentable—but the Dang Clan could never have accepted it.
“I see. Your reason for asking us is clear. But why are you the ones handling this matter?”
“…Sir?”
Han Cho looked puzzled by the question.
“I mean no disrespect, but this style of kneeling and pleading is not the way of Nok Lim. However desperate, you would not resort to such methods merely to ask questions.”
“…Ah, is that so?”
“It is. So I believe you are doing this for the first time, yes?”
Han Cho hesitated for a moment before nodding, embarrassed.
“Y-yes, that’s correct.”
“I don’t believe your elder brothers ordered this. Had they, they would have taught you the proper approach. I suspect they are absent for some reason, and you chose to do this yourselves.”
Han Cho opened his mouth, impressed by the accuracy of Moo Hun’s words.
“…You’re right. Y-you’re truly remarkable.”
“It’s nothing. Then what are they doing? Your elder brothers?”
Han Cho’s expression grew troubled at the question.
“Actually… we’re not sure how word leaked out, but it seems the other strongholds have noticed that our Stronghold Master is poisoned.”
Moo Hun’s brow furrowed slightly.
“If that’s true, the other strongholds will move to attack Suhyeop-chae soon.”
“…Yes. They don’t seem certain yet, but my brothers, thinking it only a matter of time, have spread throughout the mountains to watch for their movements.”
“I see.”
Moo Hun nodded slowly.
“It is a regrettable situation, but all we can offer is to listen to the poison’s symptoms and tell you whether it is known to us or unknown.”
Han Cho’s expression brightened somewhat.
“O-of course! We hoped for nothing more. How could we presume to ask more of outsiders….”
Han Cho, it seemed, lacked the talent for Nok Lim’s ways.
The strength Moo Hun had observed in those of Nok Lim lay in their ruthless efficiency in extracting desired results.
Though such methods were typically brutal, Han Cho did not appear to be such a man.
Moo Hun did not voice the thought aloud, but asked instead.
“Then tell me of the poison’s symptoms. I will answer as best I can.”
Han Cho nodded vigorously and began to speak.
“Yes, yes! Thank you! At first, the poison our Stronghold Master contracted caused only a slight fever and excessive sweating. No one thought much of it….”
As Han Cho continued his account, Moo Hun’s expression hardened.
“But then his body grew so pale it seemed almost transparent, and he became cold—as if he’d stood outside on a winter day for hours. Though he never felt the cold before, he began to shiver uncontrollably and could not rise. And then…”
“…A strong floral scent began emanating from his body?”
Han Cho’s expression darkened with alarm at Moo Hun’s words.
“Yes, that’s right! Do you know anything about this poison? An antidote? Ah, if you know anything at all, it doesn’t matter what! Please, I beg you to tell me!”
Moo Hun fell silent for a long moment, as though Han Cho’s earnest plea hadn’t reached his ears.
It wasn’t that he meant to ignore him—it was simply that he recognized the poison.
The memories it stirred had rendered him momentarily absent.
‘How can Cheonhyang-gorak exist at this moment in time?’
Withered and fallen beneath the fragrance of heaven.
That romantic name had cursed him with an ability he could never forget, no matter how desperately he wished to.
Cheonhyang-gorak.
In his past life, it was the Ultimate Poison of Hwang Palace—the weapon that had annihilated countless martial sects.

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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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