The Youngest Son of the Nanyang Jin Family - Chapter 123

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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 Youngest Son of the Nakhyang Jin Family — Chapter 123

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Another fortnight had slipped away.
During that time, I had continued refining the martial techniques I had newly created, and while there remained a certain sense of incompleteness, I had managed to elevate them to a respectable standard.
Though some movements still felt unfamiliar to my hands, the fact that I had reached a level suitable for practical application felt like the fruit of blood-soaked effort.
Or perhaps, the contribution of those who had been beaten bloody in the process.
I turned my head and surveyed my surroundings.
Familiar figures lay sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath.
Lacking even the strength to twitch a single finger, they trembled violently and let out groans—a sight that drew a bitter smile from me.
“That concludes today’s session. You may return and rest.”
“R-really?!”
“Indeed, Uncle.”
The one who sprang to his feet at those words was none other than Baek Ja-hyeon. Despite holding the position of Guard Commander for the Sega with all its attendant duties and prestige, being beaten daily in my training hall must have weighed heavily on his spirit.
Yang Jachun, equally disheveled, rose from his place alongside Baek Ja-hyeon and hastily bolted away, apparently fearing I might call him back.
“Let’s not see each other’s faces for a while, you wretch!”
“I shall be quite occupied going forward!”
Hearing their departing voices, laughter escaped me unbidden.
For them, these two weeks must have felt like hell itself—I understood that well enough.
Yet there was no reason to harbor ill will.
After all, they had gained experience and improved their martial prowess.
As the two men hastily departed, I turned my head to observe Jang Chuchyeong and Namgung Yeon, both still heaving for breath.
Unlike the pair who had fled in haste, their eyes burned with ferocity.
Their upturned gazes resembled those consumed by malice—and it was no mere illusion.
The light in their eyes as they glanced at each other carried an edge.
What had begun as the simple regard of fellow trainees had gradually transformed into a battle of pride.
Namgung Yeon—a prodigy who had single-handedly mastered the Namgung Family’s swordsmanship and achieved his current prowess—and Jang Chuchyeong, whose talent and martial foundation were well-matched, yet whose strength had been elevated by the fortune of finding an excellent master.
Moreover, both served as my guards.
It was only natural that competitive spirit would kindle between them—who would fall first, who would take fewer blows, who could mount a counterattack? Each sought to demonstrate their superiority over the other, and so they had gritted their teeth and thrown themselves into training with greater intensity than anyone else.
Each strove to prove themselves superior to their rival.
“I won this time as well.”
“What are you talking about? We fell almost simultaneously!”
“Your back touched the ground first.”
“Your backside hit first!”
Once again, the childish bickering that had begun at some point erupted between them.
Their voices, ringing out harshly, continued to rise in volume as if whoever spoke louder held the advantage.
I furrowed my brow at the sound.
Without someone to intervene, this would continue indefinitely.
It wasn’t merely a continuation of their rivalry.
“Want to try again?!”
“Do you want to get thrown down again?”
And so it came to this.
They glared at each other with bared teeth, as if ready to clash at any moment.
It was more than mere posturing—if I left them unchecked, they would surely grit their teeth and unleash fists and blades upon one another.
“Enough.”
“Hmph!”
“Hmph!”
Watching them snort dismissively at each other before turning away, I pressed my palm to my forehead and exhaled deeply.
Yet I couldn’t say it was entirely unwelcome.
Having a rival so close at hand was no different than laying the foundation for even swifter growth.
Jang Chuchyeong clenched his fists, clearly displeased with each defeat, his fighting spirit blazing anew, while Namgung Yeon seemed firmly resolved never to be overtaken by someone like Jang Chuchyeong.
“Stop brawling and go rest. We’ll be departing soon, so pack your belongings carefully. It’s a long journey—you’ll need thorough preparation.”
“Ah, are we really going there?”
“There? Isn’t it only natural to visit your sect master’s home at least once?”
“Still… it’s really far, isn’t it?”
Jang Chuchyeong’s face fell, his shoulders drooping.
I understood his sentiment well enough.
Having traveled to so many places recently, he had come to appreciate just how arduous and exhausting such journeys could be.
Moreover, Namman was incomparable to any journey we had undertaken thus far.
It was not a distance one could cover in merely a few months.
“Do you not wish to go?”
I looked between Jang Chuchyeong and Namgung Yeon as I asked.
Both remained silent.
It seemed they were remarkably well-matched in such matters.
From Namgung Yeon’s perspective, he would have no desire to go, even unto death.
After all, we would have to pass through the territory of the Demon Sect.
“What are you all doing standing there? Why aren’t you preparing?”
At that moment, Chaeseoha’s voice came from somewhere.
At the sudden sound, I naturally turned my gaze toward it, and there stood Chaeseoha with her hands full of medicinal herbs and decoction ingredients, apparently making preparations.
“What are you doing?”
“You said we’re going to Namman, didn’t you? Of course I have to go too. I keep wondering what medicinal herbs might be found there, so I can’t sit still for a moment.”
Chaeseoha beamed with unbridled excitement. I had heard the name before, but Namman was a place she could never reach alone, not even if her life depended on it.
She seemed to harbor great anticipation at the prospect of being able to go there.
Chaeseoha smiled brightly as she looked at Namgung Yeon and Jang Chuchyeong.
“You need to prepare too! You’re not planning to skip this, are you?”
“Ah, no, we’re going.”
“Yes! We must go. That’s right. Since sister is going, we should… we must go. That way we can protect you.”
“Thank you both. It’s truly reassuring.”
In truth, the guards were meaningless to me—it was more accurate to think of them as Chaeseoha’s protection.
If the weakest among us, Chaeseoha, were to go, someone would need to protect her, and that role would fall to none other than Jang Chuchyeong and Namgung Yeon.
Moreover, Chaeseoha enjoyed the greatest trust from Father and the elders of Sega, so they would have to give their utmost effort and stake their lives on protecting her.
I turned away with a quiet chuckle.
“Then keep that in mind and prepare your things. Let the elders know as well.”
As I spoke and turned my gaze away, I caught sight of someone hurrying across the threshold of the Annex toward me.
It was the Gatekeeper who guarded the main entrance of Sega.
He came to a stop before me, bowed respectfully, and then leaned in close to whisper something in my ear.
“Anyway, it’s good that things are being handled so quickly.”
I nodded and smiled.
I had business that required a visit to Baek Jin-hwa’s Inn.

* * *

At the Yunlong Inn, in the highest chamber, the lavishly arranged food and wine were dazzling to behold.
I sat there at leisure and raised a cup to my lips.
Each time the cup emptied, I refilled it, and before long, I had drained an entire bottle with ease.
Just as I reached for the stopper of a second bottle beside me.
The door suddenly opened and Baek Jin-hwa entered.
Her elaborate palace dress and still-heavy makeup.
Her fragrance wafted in sharply, stimulating my senses.
Baek Jin-hwa stepped inside with measured, unhurried grace, offered me a bright smile with proper courtesy, and took her seat.
“This place is always wonderful, isn’t it?”
“When entertaining an important guest, there’s no finer place than this. Both host and guest leave satisfied.”
“Hwaseon Guesthouse is nice too.”
“True, I know. But the atmosphere here is unmatched. There’s a reason those ostentatious old men keep coming here.”
“Hehe—I see.”
Baek Jin-hwa smiled and slowly filled the empty cup. After taking a sip, her eyes widened in surprise at a taste incomparably superior to what she had drunk before.
“What kind of wine is this, exactly…?”
“It’s my trade secret—I can’t reveal it.”
“Hmph! If I wanted to find out, I could. I simply choose not to.”
“You can’t, not won’t. If you so much as touch the Nakhyang Jin Family’s suppliers, the consequences would be crystal clear.”
At my words, Baek Jin-hwa’s brow furrowed.
She refilled her empty cup and downed it in one gulp, then set it down roughly as if to express her displeasure.
She then produced a bundle of papers she had been keeping in her bosom.
“Here, Young Master. This is the information you requested. It was quite difficult to obtain, I assure you.”
“Is this all?”
“Yes, that priest or whoever—there’s nothing on him. Rather, we didn’t touch that matter.”
“Well done.”
I nodded and quickly scanned through the information she had brought.

His name was Mu Heo.
The man who had come closest to being called the greatest swordsman under heaven, known as Geomcheon.
No one knew where he came from. He had suddenly appeared in the Central Plains, systematically defeated those called the Ten Emperors one by one, and earned the title of Cheon.

Information I already knew was listed out in sequence.
I skimmed past the irrelevant details.
“Most of it is probably what you already know. Honestly, no matter how deep I dug, there was nothing new, so I almost gave up.”
“Is that so?”
“I had considerable information about Mu Heo, but I’d never investigated him thoroughly before. So I decided to dig deeper this time, but it’s as if someone deliberately erased all traces of him. There’s simply nothing to find.”
I nodded in understanding at those words.
The ruler of Sineui had killed Mu Heo, or so the story went.
Naturally, they would never leave traces behind. The sect’s people must have systematically erased every scrap of evidence.
That’s why the Hao Gate, no matter how hard they searched, found nothing.
What truly intrigued me wasn’t whether he was dead or alive, but rather why the man called “the Divine” had to kill his own elder brother, and why this Mu Heo—or rather, this Gwanbaek—hadn’t remained within Sineui but instead revealed himself in the Central Plains, seized control of the Ten Emperors, and made his existence known.
Even a scrap of information would have allowed me to form some hypothesis, but despite reading through the substantial amount of material Hao Gate had brought, I couldn’t grasp anything.
What was written were merely the deeds that any martial artist in the world would have heard of.
As I frowned and turned another page, Baek Jin-hwa, noticing my focused gaze and silence, cleared her throat softly and spoke.
“…Should I return your money?”
Baek Jin-hwa was well aware of how worthless this information truly was. These were things one could hear in the marketplace or from any gossip-monger.
To have received substantial payment for such common knowledge—she was apologizing for that.
I said nothing and returned my attention to the information before me.
Then it happened.
Information different from everything before caught my eye.
‘Six feet tall, his body so lean one would never believe him to be a martial artist.’
‘Deep ink-colored eyes were distinctive, and an old sword scar ran from his left forehead to his right cheek.’
‘He possessed a mysterious talent, as if he were a fortune-teller reading the heavens, capable of piercing through a person’s inner self and spirit.’
The moment I read those words, my grip tightened without my realizing it.
Thump—
I felt my heart racing wildly, pounding like it had gone mad.

“Hehehehe. You there, you’re crossing a river made of blood. The dead are desperate to drag you down.”

Unaware that my final hour was drawing near, I walked through the streets alongside Jang Chuchyeong.
I remember an elderly man passing by who looked at me and spoke those very words.
Eyes dark as ink, a long scar stretching from his left temple across to his right cheek.
He spoke like a fortune teller.
If there was one difference from what is written now.
Geomcheon’s martial power was so faint it was hard to believe, and he was so withered that “Mok Nae-i” suited him better than “emaciated.”
Even taking a single step, moving his hand—everything seemed to strain him.
A mere touch could have ended his life on the spot.
Yet such a man approached me and spoke.
A smile impossibly deep etched upon his lips, those ink-dark eyes drawing me in like a vortex as he gazed upon me.

“Your final hour, young one, shall soon breathe life back into us both. Kehehehehehe—!”

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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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