The World’s Greatest Junior Martial Brother - Chapter 24

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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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Heavenly Cheonha Jeil Sajae (24)
Come out.
Rustle.
After seeing off the Woomun Family people and returning to the infirmary, Jin Muok waited for night to fall. Once the hour passed the Hour of the Ox, he quietly rose to his feet.
Pitter-patter.
When the physicians who had tended the patients all night began to doze off in their chairs, Jin Muok stepped toward the window and sent a brief Voice Transmission.
―Now.
Fwump―!
At his signal, the blanket bulged. He had certainly left the bed, so why had the mound swelled up again?
‘Flawless.’
Of course, the thing standing in for Jin Muok was a puppet operated by Byeok Eunsa.
He had made two requests of Byeok Eunsa.
The first was for a puppet to take his place.
Fwump―!
Once more the blanket stirred. Not Jin Muok beneath it, but the puppet.
It was only a puppet moving, yet it looked so much like a man turning over in his sleep that Jin Muok found himself admiring Byeok Eunsa’s skill. Then he melted into the darkness, careful not to let any ears or eyes that might be watching, the Imok, catch on.
He had been keeping a close watch on the eyes and ears surrounding the Tang Clan. That was why he was moving with such caution.
Because the demonic Qi of the Tang Clan had not changed.
Swish―.
After several real-world engagements, he had regained the movements he once had. So Jin Muok could hop from one patch of darkness to the next, like stepping stones across a stream.
Moreover, his smaller body gave him greater room to maneuver.
‘Senior Brother’s safety has no choice but to rest entirely with the Tang Clan.’
There was nothing else to be done for it. Baekri Unhak had sunk into the world of the Bukcheon Yeonhon Daebeop, and until he woke again, they had no choice but to rely on the Tang Clan’s systematic medical arts.
‘Dang Junkyu may be a clever hawk, but he is no treacherous villain. So he won’t toy with a patient’s life.’
Soothing himself as he moved, Jin Muok reached his destination.
That place was.
Aegi Bawi, near Dang Cheon’s Jipmujeon.
‘No one knows of this place. Not even his son or daughter-in-law, so they say?’
Each year he brewed liquor from wild grapes, hardy kiwi berries, and all manner of other fruit.
But when the Tang Clan’s family members, worried about the old man’s failing health, showered him with affectionate nagging, Dang Cheon hid his fruit liquors here, in the cellar beneath Aegi Bawi.
Where no one could find them.
Ah, though, he had told Jin Muok back in the days when he was the Northern Storm Gale, so “no one” would not quite be accurate.
‘Who would have thought this place would come to this use.’
That was the second request Jin Muok had made of Byeok Eunsa: to deliver a secret note to Dang Cheon.
Meet me at the cellar at the Zi Hour [Cellar meeting, Zi Hour].
‘Back then, too, I slipped in quietly, just like this.’
Recalling his last drinking session with Dang Cheon, Jin Muok slipped into the cellar beneath Aegi Bawi.
An underground space where the musty chill of earthen walls coexisted with a cool dampness. Cool even in midsummer and steady at a proper temperature in deep winter, it was the perfect place to store liquor.
As he stepped in, savoring the natural chill against his skin, Jin Muok spotted an old man checking the rows of earthenware jars lining the edge of the cellar.
“Muok was just as much a lover of drink as I am.”
The old man, eyes closed as he savored the aroma, muttered without even turning to look at Jin Muok.
“We all enjoyed baijiu, but our tastes split when it came to fruit liquor. Ah, this one.”
When the old man unsealed a small jug, a sharp, tingling scent of liquor spread through the tiny cellar.
“Sit.”
“Then I will.”
Without hesitation, Jin Muok took a seat across from the old man. But the old man shut the jar he had opened and frowned.
“Not this one.”
He went on opening jar after jar, until at last he found what he was looking for and ladled it out with a gourd dipper.
“Here.”
Only then did the old man turn around. Looking at his calm, dignified bearing, one would hardly believe he showed signs of delirium, yet he was unmistakably Dang Cheon.
“This is the plum blossom liquor Muok used to enjoy.”
Jin Muok accepted the gourd dipper and gazed at it for a moment before lightly touching it to his lips.
“Ugh!”
Bitter. Plum blossom liquor was milder than most spirits, yet this was bitter all the same.
Ten years ago, he would have downed the whole jar.
Jin Muok flinched and drew his body back, and Dang Cheon, who had been watching him closely, settled himself down in front of him.
“Was it you?”
The atmosphere shifted in an instant!
With a single word, Dang Cheon seized Jin Muok by the throat!
Shedding his gentle air all at once, Dang Cheon pressed down on him with the overbearing aura of a tyrant, and Jin Muok found himself nodding before he could stop himself.
Sure enough, it’s Dang. The claim that he was the lord of Sichuan was no empty boast. Or perhaps he’d grown even stronger than he was ten years ago.
“Was it you who invited me to this place?”
“So the old man isn’t senile after all.”
Jin Muok didn’t answer the question. Instead, he rattled off some nonsense. His insolent attitude made Dang’s face harden, but Jin Muok carried on in the same easy tone.
He even wore an expression of genuine admiration.
“The Tang Clan is one of the Three Great Medical Houses, and yet you fooled all those physicians and medical schools by playing the part of a senile old man. That’s truly impressive.”
“You little rascal…”
“Am I impressive?”
Jin Muok shot back playfully, but he couldn’t smooth out the lines on Dang’s face.
Had he sensed the old man’s displeasure?
Jin Muok pulled a bundle wrapped in oiled paper from his robes.
Rustle… rustle…
As he unwrapped the paper, a savory aroma filled the cave.
“Cheer up and have a bite of this…”
“Li Dai Tao Jiang.”
Dang cut him off mid-sentence.
“The Blood Phoenix is a hidden weapon that wields unrivaled power at close range. That’s why it kills ten times out of ten. Yet you claimed you had a way to overcome it.”
“If you can’t avoid it, take the least damage possible. Then counterattack immediately and seize the advantage.”
Jin Muok stared straight into Dang’s eyes.
“This is the strategy of sacrificing the plum tree to save the peach tree, and it’s the only way to face the Blood Phoenix, the king of close-range combat.”
“You really are something!”
“Aren’t I impressive?”
Once again, Jin Muok answered with a joke.
Yet seemingly judging that this was no matter for jokes, he gave a serious look and opened his mouth.
“Actually, I’m…”
Stretching out the end of his words like taffy, Jin Muok then mumbled quickly.
“…Jin Muok.”
Thud!
“But I’m not the Jin Muok you knew, Old Man.”
It was wordplay. Yet since it was also the truth, it might not have been wordplay at all. That was why sincerity lingered in Jin Muok’s voice.
Dang, who had been staring hard at Jin Muok, ladled wine from a jar beside the plum wine.
“A strange fellow spouting strange tales. I can’t very well refuse a drink, can I?”
Dang was partial to grape wine. That was why he and Jin Muok, who loved plum wine, often bickered.
As he savored the grape wine slowly, Dang murmured with apparent indifference.
“When Muok first brought up Li Dai Tao Jiang, I scoffed at it, to be honest.”
Dang went on, looking back on those days.
“The Li Dai Tao Jiang he spoke of might be possible in theory, but it was a strategy no one could even attempt without meeting several conditions.”
First, the nerve not to fear incoming hidden weapons. Second, the sharp eye to dodge a fatal strike in an instant. Third, the constitution to counterattack even after being struck by the Blood Phoenix.
“And now someone who could do all of this has appeared after ten years. What’s more, that child holds all of Muok’s memories intact.”
Dang drew in a breath and slowly turned his head toward Jin Muok.
“Your Li Dai Tao Jiang was so brilliantly executed that I was counterattacked with no defense at all. Yet you never reached out a hand.”
Turning the cup of grape wine between his fingers, Dang suddenly asked.
“Why was that?”
“My bones would break, you know.”
Jin Muok laced his fingers behind his head, leaning back against the wall.
“At your age, once bones snap they hardly ever heal properly. So it’s better that I, the younger one by a good deal, take the beating, don’t you think?”
His answer was offhand. Dang narrowed his eyes at the tone and manner, which were impossible to believe from a boy of that age.
“Let me ask again. Who are you?”
“I’ve told you, I’m Jin Muok.”
“Why, you little—!”
“But I’m not the Jin Muok you knew, Old Man.”
“Hmph.”
Jin Muok kept parroting the same words, and at last Dang pressed a hand to his forehead.
“Come, come, stop getting worked up and eat something.”
What came out of the oiled paper was a roasted duck.
Roast duck was a common sight in the Market, so why did regret ripple across Dang’s eyes as he looked at the food Jin Muok had unwrapped?
“Surely this isn’t…?”
“You’d be right to think so.”
Tearing off one duck leg in a single pull and handing it to Dang, Jin Muok grinned.
“This is duck from Paldae-jeong.”
Paldae-jeong is not a restaurant but a teahouse. Strangely, though, its roast duck is even more famous than its tea.
“Didn’t the proprietor and his wife roast a duck for dinner? The aroma was so savory that you asked them for a bite, I heard?”
“The moment I took a mouthful of the duck the couple offered, I realized that all the roast duck I’d eaten until then didn’t even deserve to be called fodder.”
Dang Cheon praised the couple’s duck without reserve, and from that day on, Paldae-jeong became known more for its duck than for its tea.
As one might expect, the place that had once served customers from two tables set out on the roadside moved to the best spot in the market.
That was fifteen years ago.
Jin Muok glanced sideways at Dang Cheon, who had grown wistful recalling those days, and moved his lips.
“Now it’s my turn to ask.”
Far more at ease now, Jin Muok looked around the cave and then blurted it out.
“Who is it?”
A question with no preamble, cutting straight to the point.
It was a question so vague in meaning that it would be hard to grasp, yet a sharp glint of insight flickered in Dang Cheon’s eyes.
“Your symptoms are neither Maebyeong nor delirium, are they?”
“……!”
When Jin Muok pressed in so sharply, Dang Cheon, who had been bringing a duck leg to his mouth, froze.
“Utterly absorbed in martial study, reason abandoned, only instinct left. In a word, not Mua Ilche, Oneness with Things, but Mua Ilche (Martial), Oneness of Martial Self.”
Setting down the duck wing, Jin Muok met Dang Cheon’s gaze head-on.
“Would you call it another form of Simjungan, the inner-heart eye?”
Simjungan, he had said. It refers to the state in which one, immersed in a particular martial art, forgets oneself and clings to it, a perilous condition that, if handled carelessly, slides into Qi Deviation.
“An ordinary Simjungan makes a person lose themselves in martial study, but it’s rare for someone to act purely on instinct the way you have. That’s why I was fooled too.”
Besides, hadn’t Dang Cheon even shed tears?
“But after lying still in the infirmary and thinking it over, everything seemed strange to me.”
Dang Cheon no longer touched the duck. He merely studied Jin Muok with a calm, unwavering stare.
The cave, where only two men were present and where dozens of liquor jars seemed to lose their meaning, had once been a warm and peaceful place. Now it had grown oppressively bleak.
“Could Tang Clan really have rotted so thoroughly that they’d record every move of an elder suffering from Maebyeong? Even if they were obsessed with martial study, could they truly go that far?”
Whoosh―.
A cold draft slipped in through a hole in one corner of the cave. Jin Muok drew it deep into his chest before continuing.
“And decisively, could kin do such a thing to one another? As far as I know, Head Dang Junkyu may be a clever hero, but he isn’t a treacherous one. He would hardly reduce his own father to a machine for producing techniques. So who on earth imprisoned you…?”
“I did.”
Thud!
“The confinement was my own doing. And when I entered the state of self-forgetting, I ordered the children to record every movement I made.”
Blue-white flames ignited in Dang Cheon’s eyes.
“I judged that to complete a technique that was once my first love and a romantic dream, but has since become both my karmic burden and my atonement, it was impossible without reaching the realm of Mua Ilche (Martial).”
He must mean Manchun Hwau. Still, I can understand “first love and a romantic dream,” but what could “karmic burden and atonement” mean?
“Then.”
Rustle.
Jin Muok drew a single sheet of paper from his robes and unfolded it.
“Your tears, Elder, were shed naturally while you yearned for the technique called Manchun Hwau…”
“Wait!”
Cutting off Jin Muok once more, Dang Cheon snatched the paper from his hand.
“Why did you bring only this one?”
The drawings Dang Cheon had produced in his state of Mua Ilche (Martial) numbered exactly three hundred and twenty-eight sheets. Made of countless combinations of squares and triangles, they looked identical at a glance, yet Jin Muok had chosen just one.
“Because this one comes closest to Manchun Hwau.”
Thwack!
The moment Jin Muok finished speaking, Dang Cheon seized the back of his collar and burst up through the roof of the cave into the sky.
Faster than a lightning flash. Brilliant as a shooting star.
The guards of Tang Clan were no pushovers, but none of them had the skill to detect a single gust of wind slicing through the night.
Kkureung!
Reaching Jiuzhaigou, a place made up of countless waterfalls and pools, Dang Cheon flung Jin Muok down as if discarding him.
“So you have the discernment to pick out even this, do you?”
Pouring streams of spirit-fire from his two eyes, Dang Cheon turned his head.
“Come out.”

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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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