The Time-Limited Elixir of the Ruined Clan - Chapter 41

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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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The Withering of a Fallen Great House — Episode 41

As though air were filling his lungs with glacial slowness, Geum Jeokgyeol gradually released the hand that had been gripping Ryeon’s collar.
Yet no light returned to his pallid face. He stood as though lost in some terrible nightmare, unable to wake.
Tae Heo Jingin cleared his throat and stepped between them, though he did not neglect to catch the eyes of those gathered round.
The retainers of both houses stirred to attention and swiftly began ushering away the onlookers.
The only difference lay in their bearing: the Danmok Clan people held themselves with barely concealed satisfaction, while the Geum Clan members struggled to mask their dejection.
“Ahem. Ryeon, are you unwell? If you’re feeling poorly, we should call a physician at once—”
“No, no, no! I’m fine! My concentration broke and my nerves went slack, that’s all. I’ve never been in a Martial Match like that before!”
Ryeon threw up his arms and cried out. His vigorous assertion of health drew a smile from Tae Heo Jingin.
“Then all is well. Both of you displayed an excellent Martial Match. Surely we ought to offer you both a reward, would you not agree, sir?”
Yet despite his effort to lighten the air, the representatives of both houses remained silent. Ryeon stole a glance to one side.
The face of the Geum Clan patriarch struck him as far more wounded than his own. And so too did the face of Wi Jicheong as she gazed upon him.
In Wi Jicheong’s eyes there was no hostility toward Geum Jeokgyeol—rather, something like the shared sorrow of one who has lost the same precious thing, looking upon another in similar circumstances.
“Ngh—!”
Just then, Geum Jonghae beside him let out a stifled cry and staggered. The exertion of the match had seized his leg with a sudden cramp.
“Jonghae!”
“Young Master!”
Ryeon, closest to him, instinctively moved to steady him. Geum Jonghae’s limbs trembled violently.
Those watching murmured among themselves.

* * *

Geum Jonghae found it deeply shameful that his leg had cramped when Ryeon stood without any such difficulty. He lay upon the bed unable even to turn his face toward her.
“Heh heh, it’s nothing but a passing cramp—no cause for concern.”
The summoned physician chuckled, administered acupuncture, and gathered his things without delay.
Ryeon had hoped the physician would simmer medicinal broth and apply moxibustion to Geum Jonghae’s limbs at length, but he departed with not a shred of reluctance.
The moment he left the inner chamber, an oppressive silence settled over those who remained.
There was the Geum father and son, lips pressed firmly shut; Wi Jicheong, whose expression had grown quiet and subdued for reasons unclear; Danmok Hyeonwoo, who kept darting anxious glances at Geum Jeokgyeol before turning a worried gaze to Ryeon; and Danmok Cheongi, who stood in thoughtful silence, watching them all with furrowed brow.
Beyond these, Tae Heo Jingin—caught up as an outsider in a family matter—had attempted to excuse himself, but the desperate look in Ryeon’s eyes compelled him to remain.
Yet Ryeon soon regretted this.
“Well… in any case, now that a constructive Martial Match has concluded and the young master’s injuries are not severe, would it not be wise to review the match?”
“……”
“……”
The atmosphere grew twice as frigid.
As Geum Jonghae’s face flushed with indignation, Ryeon pressed his forehead hard. Tae Heo Jingin looked about in bewilderment.
‘Oh, Master…’
Perhaps in the Tao Sect’s martial lineage, one could laugh and exchange a Match Review even after crossing swords with a companion—for those gathered there had come to pursue the path of the Immortal!
But here, in the very heart of the secular world, no such custom held. Even Yeop Un had not accepted defeat immediately after their bout. What good would a Match Review do in this moment, where everyone’s ears had turned to stone?
“…Hmm, the Immortal Sage speaks wisely.”
“Pardon?”
“Pardon?”
“Father, surely not!”
Yet it was Geum Jeokgyeol who gave his assent. As Geum Jonghae turned to his father with a look of betrayal, it was now Danmok Cheongi who raised his voice.
“Bring the Brush, Paper, and Ink. Since the young master has seized his arm, Ryeon, you shall transcribe what we discuss.”
There was no escaping it—Ryeon would be trapped between the two houses’ elders, documenting a review of how they had battered each other.
Ryeon’s mind spun faster than it had during the match itself.
“That… then I’ll do it with just the young master!”
“What?”
The scar creeping across Danmok Cheongi’s brow twitched. Ryeon spoke with quiet firmness.
“Martial artists don’t carelessly divulge details of their techniques to others.”
“Your techniques flow from me, and the young master’s from the Geum patriarch—yet you speak thus?”
“You and my revered elders have shaped my outer form; my inner self I shall build alone.”
At Ryeon’s measured words, Geum Jeokgyeol released a sound that was neither laughter nor sigh. Danmok Cheongi shook his head and, taking the elders with him, withdrew.
Only the household guards, attendants of comparable age, and Yeop Un remained—for it seemed fitting that those of similar years who had observed the match should discuss it together.
Yeon realized that Tae Heo Jingin, a master from the Tao Sect, had been left behind to prevent any accidents, but she said nothing and simply nodded.

* * *

A boy and a girl sat across from each other at opposite ends of a large table in the Inner Courtyard.
“Is this all right?”
Hwaryun, standing beside Yeon, turned an Ink stick over in her hands while glancing toward Geum Jonghae.
Clever as she was, Hwaryun seemed to have discerned the true nature of the relationship between the Geum Clan and the Danmok Clan—namely, how Yeon’s father had come to die.
Geum Jonghae was too flushed with anger to hear what Hwaryun said; he was muttering something to his servant. Yeon answered in a low voice.
“It would be embarrassing to do this with all the adults watching.”
“I see.”
That wasn’t what she meant at all…….
But Hwaryun said no more. She took the Ink stick from Yeon’s hand and ground it smoothly. When Yeon reached for it again, meaning to grind it herself, Hwaryun dodged with an almost stern expression.
Hwaryun’s hands moved only a few times before the Ink was ground to a soft consistency.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Mm.”
Meanwhile, Geum Jonghae’s face was a study as he contemplated a Martial Match Review against a child a full head shorter than himself—a child he had lost to.
His expression flickered from one thought to another: wonder, then forced solemnity, then indignation as if he’d been wronged, shifting constantly. One could have believed his jaw was clenched, not just his fists. He looked thoroughly defeated.
“To be honest, I was just careless and let you win. If I’d taken it seriously from the start, I could’ve won!”
Geum Jonghae burst out suddenly. Yeon narrowed her eyes and looked at him, when a small laugh reached her ears.
It was Yeop Un, sitting upright beside her.
“Why? Why are you laughing?”
At that laugh, Geum Jonghae’s face flushed crimson, and his servant shifted uncomfortably.
“Well…… I just heard you say you could’ve won.”
Geum Jonghae saw in Yeop Un’s expression the composure and subtle superiority of someone who had tasted defeat before; he avoided the man’s gaze and spoke in a somewhat deflated voice.
“Unless—unless Danmok Yeon used some kind of trick!”
“What trick?”
Geum Jonghae’s mind raced furiously.
“Like, I don’t know, you received instructions through Telepathic Transmission from the adults on how to respond…….”
Even if his build was sturdy, he was barely ten years old, and there were limits to the tricks a child could devise.
“Does that even make sense?”
Receiving coaching via Telepathic Transmission during a Martial Match and executing it—that was honestly something even a seasoned master would struggle to do. Yet Geum Jonghae shook his head vehemently, plainly unable to accept the situation at all.
“That’s it! That has to be it! No wonder you dodged so fast! You always criticize our father, and now you resort to such cowardly tricks in a Match?!”
“Young master…….”
While his servant fidgeted, Yeon tilted her head.
“Want to go again?”
“What?”
“Let’s fight again. There are no adults here now.”
“That……!”
“Unless you’re scared.”
With that, Yeon took up her brush. Geum Jonghae sprang to his feet.
“Bring it on!”
At the fierce tone of Geum Jonghae’s voice, Yeop Un grew visibly more flustered and whispered to Yeon.
“Miss Yeon, don’t be too harsh…….”
He seemed to feel sympathy for Geum Jonghae—perhaps the sympathy of one who’d stood in the same position. Yeon pursed her lips and looked at Yeop Un.
“Whose friend are you, Yeop Un?”
“Why, yours, of course, Miss Yeon. Shall I lend you my sword?”
“Hey! Stop whispering! Are you coaching him again?! Get out here now!”

* * *

Geum Jonghae sat quietly across from Yeon, his eyes puffy and streaked with tears. His hair was disheveled, and his face was smudged with dried mud and dust.
“Should we do a Match Review?”
…….
“Or do you want to spar again?”
“N-no! Let’s…… let’s do a review…….”
Geum Jonghae spoke hastily, startled.
“So, in the third exchange…….”
As Geum Jonghae was saying this, he quietly closed his mouth and watched Yeon’s expression.
“In the second exchange?”
“Hmm.”
“Surely not from the very first one…….”
“Tell me from the beginning?”
“No…… well…… yes…… okay…….”

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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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