The Youngest Son of the Nanyang Jin Family - Chapter 151

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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 Jin Family of Luoyang – Chapter 212

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Even as morning arrived the next day, the weather remained unchanged.
The torrential downpour that fell as if the heavens themselves had split open showed no signs of abating, and the fierce wind that swept across seemed ready to uproot even the deepest tree roots.
Clatter, clatter—
The windows rattled so violently that I didn’t dare attempt to open them.
While I waited at the inn for the rain to cease, it was only in the afternoon that the relentless downpour finally paused, as if catching its breath.
I seized that moment without hesitation and set the caravan in motion.
With no way of knowing when another deluge might strike, everyone was eager to press forward.
There was a village half a day’s journey from here.
If we could reach it quickly, we would have shelter even if the rain returned, so there was no need for excessive worry.
Thus, our procession moved with greater speed than the day before.
Even the porters pulling the supply carts and the Imperial Guards quickened their pace.
Everyone understood that today would require considerable effort.
As I led the procession from the front, Jang Chuchyeong and Chaeseoha gradually caught up to me.
I regarded them both with a puzzled expression.
“Is something the matter?”
“Well, it’s not so much a matter as…”
“Are you truly planning to leave it as is?”
“You mean the Demon Flower Sect or whatever it was?”
Chaeseoha nodded at my question.
She was referring to the chaos wrought by those who had escaped from Doyuanhyang.
While it was something I had orchestrated to rescue her, Chaeseoha seemed unable to help but feel concerned about it.
After all, none of this would have happened had she not been captured in the first place.
Her expression was grave, as if she were bearing some sense of guilt.
I had heard that quite a number of people had suffered harm.
“The Crimson Dragon Unit has already been deployed, hasn’t it? I thought that would be sufficient.”
“No, we’re faster than they are. Besides… well, I bear some responsibility for this too.”
Jang Chuchyeong furrowed his brow and sighed.
While he had merely followed his master’s instructions, he had ultimately become the catalyst for the turmoil within Doyuanhyang, and thanks to that, many people had been able to escape.
He seemed to feel an even greater sense of responsibility than Chaeseoha did.
At the sight of this, I exhaled and shook my head.
“The fact that the Crimson Dragon Unit has been deployed means the Martial Arts Alliance is treating this matter seriously. And before entrusting the task to them, they would have gathered sufficient information.”
“…What does that have to do with anything?”
“It means the judgment was made that the Crimson Dragon Unit’s capabilities would be sufficient.”
Typically, when such incidents occur, the Martial Arts Alliance mobilizes to gather information, and based on that intelligence, they select those to send.
The fact that the Crimson Dragon Unit—not one of the many squads that usually handle such tasks—has been dispatched means the enemy’s strength is not particularly formidable.
“If they’ve already taken on the task to resolve it, and we finish it before them, what becomes of the Crimson Dragon Unit’s reputation?”
“Ah—.”
“So leave it be. With Moryeong Hyeok there, there’s nothing to worry about.”
At the mention of Moryeong Hyeok, Chu Hyeongi’s brow furrowed.
There had been times when the mere name of Moryeong Hyeok, the leader of the Changryong Sect, brought reassurance, but now it seemed to be received with a different sentiment.
As if his reputation had been considerably diminished.
Of course, the lowered public opinion was unavoidable, but that didn’t mean Moryeong Hyeok’s actual strength had declined as drastically as his reputation.
He remained the finest warrior of the Changryong Sect.
The strongest among those in the late stages of the Jeongdo realm.
That much hadn’t changed.
With such a man present, they wouldn’t fall easily.
With that thought concluded, I crossed the ridge and continued onward for quite some time.
As I began to feel the day growing dark, the procession’s pace quickened steadily, and soon the silhouette of the village that could be called our destination came into view.
But in that instant.
I brought the procession to a halt.
“Why do you stop, sir?”
“The smell of blood.”
As I answered Namgung Baek’s question while narrowing my brow, Chu Hyeongi and Namgung Yeon beside me hurried forward toward the village.
I too followed in their wake, entering the village, where the stench of blood grew increasingly thick and gruesome sights came into view everywhere.
Corpses of the dead scattered about.
Torn flesh.
As if a war had erupted in this small village, the thick miasma of death and blood hung heavy in the air where all the people lay lifeless.
I furrowed my brow and confirmed it.
From the retching sounds heard everywhere, one could gauge just how gruesome this sight was.
“This… what in the world….”
Even Chu Hyeongi and Namgung Yeon were staring at the situation with trembling eyes.
I turned my gaze to look at one place.
“S-save… save me….”
Someone was rushing toward us.
I wondered if it was a villager, but it wasn’t.
The clothes he wore were unmistakably those of the Changryong Sect.
Yet the appearance of the one rushing toward us was truly grotesque.
His clothes were drenched in blood, and his cheeks bore no flesh, as if someone had torn it away, exposing bone.
His eyes, running weakly forward, had pupils so dilated that death seemed imminent, yet he approached as if possessed by something, collapsing where he stood.
“Physician!”
At this sight, Namgung Yeon cried out in alarm, calling for Chaeseoha.
She rushed over and quickly examined the man, but soon closed her mouth and shook her head.
He had already stopped breathing.
At this, Namgung Baek managed to open his mouth with difficulty.
“…It’s Changmuhan.”
“From the Changryong Sect?”
“Yes….”
Dismounting from my horse, I approached Changmuhan’s corpse.
His torn cheek looked as though someone had gnawed at it.
That wasn’t all—his body was riddled with holes from finger strikes, yet the wounds showed deliberate precision, targeting non-lethal points despite having ample opportunity to kill.
As if it were all a game.
I furrowed my brow and examined other areas.
His fingers.
All ten of Changmuhan’s fingers were missing.
As though they had been deliberately severed.
The moment I confirmed this, a memory I had buried deep in my mind surfaced.
“Sip Murang….”
“What?!”
“…You mean that Sip Murang?”
At someone’s startled question, I nodded.
He existed in Doyuanhyang.
A being without ten fingers.
His alias was Sip Murang.
Whether born from inferiority about his own missing ten fingers, he was a vicious martial arts criminal who severed and collected his victims’ fingers.
Without realizing it, I narrowed my eyes.
“This is troublesome….”
Patter, patter, patter—
Rain began falling once more.

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“Damn it! The scattered members are nowhere to be seen, and the rain just keeps pouring!”
Paeng Dohan furrowed his brow and surveyed his surroundings.
The torrential downpour had reduced visibility to almost nothing.
The fierce, driving rain made the situation even worse.
The faint presences felt everywhere—whether they were people, wind sounds, or rustling trees—were impossible to distinguish.
It was nothing short of catastrophic.
He desperately wished the rain and wind would cease within the hour, but the problem was that it showed no signs of letting up anytime soon.
And what made matters even worse was something else entirely.
Every single member of the Changrong Unit had been scattered.
“Moryeong Hyeok! Hwangbo Yun!”
He called out their names desperately, but his loud voice was swallowed by the sound of rain and wind, unable to carry far.
All he could do was furrow his brow in frustration.
“Haa, haa… Let’s at least find some shelter from the rain.”
At the voice that finally reached him, Paeng Dohan turned his head.
There stood Eon Garyeo.
With wounds across her abdomen and shoulder, she had sealed the bleeding through pressure points and torn her garment to bind the injuries, but her pallid complexion alone revealed her dire condition.
“Are you alright?”
“Haa… for now.”
Eon Garyeo, swaying unsteadily, spoke with difficulty as she leaned her body against Paeng Dohan’s shoulder.
In that moment, Paeng Dohan realized something.
She was burning with fever.
Her breathing grew increasingly ragged, and though hidden by the rain, she seemed to be pouring cold sweat.
Alarmed, he quickly lifted Eon Garyeo into his arms.
“Let me find a cave or some shelter.”
The usual composure that characterized Paeng Dohan was nowhere to be found.
The situation had become that dire.
Carrying Eon Garyeo, he dashed forward, biting his lip as he scanned the area in all directions. If he could find just one place to escape this rain, even if they couldn’t leave this location, it would be more than enough.
Fortunately, no enemies were visible nearby, but unfortunately, he had not been able to locate any of the scattered Changrong Unit members.
The one thing he could be grateful for was that he had found a small cave where they could take shelter not long after.
Paeng Dohan moved cautiously toward it.
Suddenly.
“Hehehehe— How many fingers do you have, boy?”
A chilling voice reached his ears.
Startled, he looked toward the cave entrance and saw an old man with a sinister grin, wiggling his fingers.
The moment he saw that, Paeng Dohan’s face went deathly pale.
He carefully set Eon Garyeo down and gripped his blade.
“Sip Murang!”
“Address me as elder. You disrespectful brat.”
Sip Murang laughed as he moved his hand.
Paeng Dohan watched.
A single ring adorned one of his fingers.
It belonged to Changmuhan.
“You… surely not?”
“Hehe— talking about this? A magnificent finger, isn’t it?”
Paeng Dohan clenched his fist around the blade, grinding his teeth.
For Sip Murang to possess a finger meant the owner was dead. He must have played with it until the man perished, so the rage welling up was only natural.
“You bastard—!”
“Ehehehe! Such disrespect from a child toward an elder. Children like that need punishment. But… hm? Ah, that child! There he is. Such delicate and pretty fingers!”
Sip Murang’s gaze turned toward the fallen Eon Garyeo.
His eyes gleamed with greed and a sinister smile played across his lips, clearly coveting those fingers.
Paeng Dohan ground his teeth at the sight.
If he retreated now, he would lose not only his chance for revenge against Changmuhan, but Eon Garyeo as well.
As a man, that was unthinkable.
He leveled his blade and unleashed his momentum.
In an instant.
Whoosh—!
“Gack?!”
A wind blade shot through his shoulder.
It was far too fast for his level to even perceive.
He had known of Sip Murang’s prowess beforehand, but this exceeded what he had heard.
He forced his body to remain standing despite the urge to collapse, keeping his gaze fixed on Sip Murang without wavering.
Ready to strike him down at any moment.
Then.
Between the pouring rain, the figure standing motionless vanished.
Simultaneously, Paeng Dohan’s widened eyes darted, and he swung his blade.
Crash crash crash—boom!
“Oho! The swordsmanship of the Paeng clan!”
Sip Murang, who had instantly grasped his martial technique, leaped back.
He understood that if he met it head-on, even he would not escape unscathed.
Then, with practiced movements, he approached and extended his hand.
Those were not even his own fingers—merely severed digits stitched together with thread and needle—yet he manipulated them freely using his inner energy.
To any observer, they moved as if they were his own fingers.
In the moment Paeng Dohan was bewildered by those dazzling hand movements.
Thrust thrust thrust thrust—!
“Ugh—!”
In an instant, his shoulder, chest, abdomen, and flank were pierced through.
Mere fingers tearing through flesh as easily as if puncturing tofu.
Moreover, every vital acupoint was skillfully avoided.
As if he were toying with an ant held before his eyes, one he could crush whenever he wished.
“Hehe— how about it? Shall we play a game?”
“Gack!”
“There’s a village that way. If you run with all your strength, I’ll let you go. Of course, that means taking this woman with you.”
But I was far from unscathed, having just been wounded.
With a body in such a state, even if I tried to flee while carrying Eon Garyeo, it was obvious I wouldn’t get far before being caught.
That’s why Paeng Dohan refused his proposal.
I simply forced myself to my feet, gripped my blade, and stared at Sip Murang.
“Madness!”
Paeng Dohan clenched his teeth and steadied his breathing.
The aura I was radiating remained unbroken, still spreading outward.
As if I had no intention whatsoever of playing along with his tasteless game.
Was that the reason?
Sip Murang’s expression turned sour as he flicked his finger.
“Hmm—I suppose there’s no choice then. In that case… I’ll start by severing this woman’s fingers!”
“…!?”
Sip Murang launched himself forward in an instant.
At the same time, I swung my blade to intercept him, but I couldn’t keep pace with his nimble movements and uselessly slashed through empty rain.
With eyes wide in alarm, I turned my head to try to seize Sip Murang, but my outstretched hand couldn’t even grasp the hem of his garment.
“Go!”
The moment my cry rang out powerfully.
Sip Murang’s hand moved like a blade, flying toward Eon Garyeo’s fingers.
But it never reached her fingers.
Thud—
Instead, Sip Murang’s own fingers were severed and fell away by something.
“…!”
Unable to fully comprehend the sudden turn of events, my eyes widened as a desolate voice pierced through the downpour.
“That vile hobby of yours persists, I see. Wouldn’t it be fitting to cultivate more refined tastes as you age?”

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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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