The Youngest Son of the Nanyang Jin Family - Chapter 302

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

The Youngest Son of the Jin Family of Luoyang – Chapter 302

The gaze and expression in Mu-jin’s eyes as he looked at me.
He appeared to be certain of something.
Though I could not immediately discern the reason, it seemed undeniable that he could not deny this truth.
I nodded with an impassive expression.
“We met during the Gongdongpa’s travels.”
“Heh heh—yes, that’s right. I’ve heard the tales as well. You witnessed a martial contest together?”
“That is correct.”
Mu-jin nodded, as if confirming something.
As though verifying a particular matter.
Rather than suspicion directed at me, it seemed he harbored doubts about whether something suspicious had occurred within that encounter.
“How did Jang Munin appear to you?”
“Ordinary.”
“Was there nothing else? No mention of where he intended to go or whom he meant to meet?”
His quiet eyes remained fixed upon me without wavering, and his expression showed no intention of changing its desperate search for answers.
This was madness.
Like witnessing the Sword Emperor consumed by obsession with Gok Ok.
The shocking incident of the Martial Artist sect’s Jang Munin being murdered—a matter still unresolved—seemed to weigh heavily upon Mu-jin.
The reputation he had built and the name of the Martial Artist sect.
Did he sense these things trembling in an instant?
Or perhaps he was simply anxious.
After obtaining the title of Tae-hwang and elevating the Martial Artist sect’s name once more, an unprecedented tragedy had occurred with Jang Munin’s murder, and even now the culprit remained uncaught.
Yet Mu-jin was not merely frustrated by his failure to apprehend the murderer. Rather, it was that Jang Munin, the sect leader of the Martial Artists—the pillar among the Nine Great Sects and One Alliance that had protected the martial realm for countless ages—had been ‘murdered.’
For as long as the Martial Artist sect’s long history would continue, this shameful affair would remain upon people’s lips.
Knowing this better than anyone, he seemed to be wracking his mind for any possible way to resolve this crisis.
I offered a bitter smile.
“We did converse several times, but there is nothing of note to report.”
As I shook my head and spoke words he did not wish to hear, the eyes gazing upon me slowly dimmed.
Simultaneously, the intensity that had graced his expression began to fade, as though the air were escaping from the hollow cavity within Mu-jin’s heart.
“Heh heh—an unnecessary question it was.”
I offered no response, merely a bitter smile.
Mu-jin, now settled into quietude, had regained his composure, yet unable to fill the breach that had opened within him, a sense of emptiness pervaded the air.
He then turned his back and began walking, and as if to shift the atmosphere, a gentle voice reached my ears once more.
“Tell me, what is your impression of the Ja-so Palace?”
“It is excellent. I can feel the vital essence of the Martial Artist sect alive within it.”
“Heh heh—yes, that’s right. All who see it for the first time speak thus. I too have reached this point through the essence I gained in this place.”
Mu-jin, surveying every corner of the Ja-so Palace, gazed upon all things with eyes that seemed to behold the past itself.
Whether those glistening eyes reflected longing for an irreversible past or the guilt of having tarnished the Martial Artist sect’s name during his tenure, I could not discern.
Soon, a soft sigh escaped, and his gaze turned toward me.
Did I realize that my eyes, which had been observing the surrounding landscape, were now fixed upon the firmly closed door?
A faint smile played at the corners of Mu-jin’s lips.
“Shall we venture inside?”
“Is that permissible?”
“Heh, I seem to have startled my esteemed guest… and there is something I wish to show you.”
Before I could voice my confusion, Mu-jin naturally guided me forward.
As the door opened, the scent of aged wood brushed against my nostrils.
It was far more than merely the fragrance of timber.
Layered beneath the weight of years, the traces of time had soaked deeply into every corner.
Moreover, though it had been long since Jang Munin’s chambers fell vacant, the room remained spotless, unmarred by a single speck of dust.
As if someone cleaned it daily, ensuring the master could return at any moment.
As I surveyed such a place, Mu-jin came to a halt before another door.
He opened the firmly sealed entrance while murmuring softly.
“This is where Jang Munin dwelled.”
“Am I truly permitted to witness such a place?”
“A disciple of Geomcheon has come to call—he would surely be delighted.”
I found myself suppressing a wry smile.
Would Hoyeon, languishing in that infernal place, truly rejoice?
No matter how I contemplated it, chaos seemed inevitable.
Unaware of such thoughts, Mu-jin simply smiled and stepped inside.
Following him through the threshold, a scene far more modest than expected greeted my eyes.
A chamber devoid of precious ornaments.
Instead, only those possessions that had endured the years of a martial artist’s life remained.
It was as though the shadows of all past masters lingered here, woven into every corner.
Then, one section of the wall seized my attention.
Dozens of landscape paintings.
From works of antiquity to recent creations, each depicted the martial sect through all four seasons.
Spring’s verdant mountains, rain-drenched courtyards, snow-crowned peaks…
The brushwork possessed such vitality that merely gazing upon them unfolded a magnificent vista.
“The handiwork of Jang Munin.”
As I turned my gaze toward Mu-jin’s voice, a subtle bitter smile bloomed across his features.
“From childhood, he delighted in wielding the brush. Heh… in my eyes, he surpassed even renowned painters.”
I nodded in acknowledgment.
“His skill is truly remarkable.”
“You perceive it as well. Had Geomcheon witnessed these, he would have been overjoyed. He too cherished painting.”
Trembling wove through his final words—a mingling of ancient longing and lingering regret.
Without answering, I turned my gaze back to the paintings.
The brushstrokes were sometimes as violent as lightning, sometimes as delicate as a woman’s touch. Each stroke revealed the concentrated spirit poured into it, as if the paintings themselves breathed with living essence.
Mu-jin extended his hand and carefully caressed one of the paintings.
“First, Geomcheon is no longer with us, and even Jang Munin is gone. So… I wished to show you instead.”
Unlike Mu-jin’s melancholy emotion, I found myself smiling faintly the moment I heard those words.
He had wanted to introduce Hoyeon alongside the painting to Geomcheon?
The weary expression on Hoyeon’s face as he stood before Mu Heo came to mind.
“I’m certain he would have appreciated it as well.”
“Heh heh… hearing you say that puts my mind at ease. I’ve managed to fulfill one small wish of mine. Thank you.”
“Not at all. Rather, I feel honored to have seen such a painting.”
As I responded with a small smile, Mu-jin’s expression showed satisfaction.
Then, as if answering his own heart, I gazed at the painting for a long while, committing it to memory, before naturally turning my gaze to examine another wall.
“It seems he was quite fond of books.”
“As you can see, he was a child with many interests. Heh heh heh— had such circumstances not occurred, he would likely still be reading and painting now.”
I nodded in agreement with Mu-jin’s words.
The paintings were remarkable, and the collection of books was substantial.
Unless the Martial Artist Jang Munin had been idle and lazy, he could never have seen so many paintings and books—evidence itself that he had not been working.
Mu-jin could not possibly be unaware of this.
I could tell from the bitter smile reflected in his eyes alone.
He was surely regretting having chosen Jang Munin poorly.
“Thanks to you, Elder, I’ve had the privilege of seeing something magnificent. I’m grateful.”
“Heh heh— I’m the one who should be grateful. Thanks to you, the atmosphere among my disciples has improved considerably.”
“You’re too kind.”
“Heh heh heh— shall you be going then? If you don’t leave soon, you’ll end up eating cold rice.”
At Mu-jin’s jest, laughter escaped me unbidden.

* * *

“….”
“Seriously….”
“This is too much. What is this?”
The group sitting in the modest restaurant all turned their gazes toward me, their eyes revealing clear dissatisfaction.
Lowering my eyes to the table, I confirmed that Mu-jin’s words were no exaggeration—cold rice and side dishes were spread across the surface.
Because the disciples had consumed all the freshly cooked rice, what was served to us were the leftovers from dinner.
The reason this situation had arisen was because of me.
Those who had not received proper information from Cheongdam had wasted time searching for me in various directions, and by the time we finally met and entered the restaurant, nothing remained.
I picked up my chopsticks and glanced to the side.
So this was what it meant to eat rice without discrimination between cold and hot?
Namgung Yeon seemed accustomed to such circumstances, moving his chopsticks with practiced ease, while Chaeseoha beside him appeared content simply to have something to eat.
Her chopsticks moved without pause, quite busily.
As I watched absently, I noticed the side dishes disappearing rapidly one by one.
“Ah, eat a bit slower! What’s gotten into you, why are you always like this!”
“You’re the one eating fast.”
“Can a man not handle chopsticks properly?”
Finally, Jang Chuchyeong voiced his complaint, but instead received sighs and ridicule from the two women.
Momentarily rendered speechless, Jang Chuchyeong closed his mouth, then, as if having made a decision, began stuffing rice and side dishes into his mouth greedily.
The rice and side dishes began disappearing in an instant.
I found myself smiling as I moved my chopsticks.
After filling our bellies and about an hour passing, Jang Chuchyeong glanced around the interior, and upon realizing no one else was present besides us, cautiously posed a question.
“But Young Master, what do we do now?”
“The Emperor’s task, you mean?”
“Yes, we can only return once we’ve completed the work. If we go back empty-handed, there’s no telling what might happen.”
“That’s true. The Current Emperor is said to be even more severe than the Iron-Blooded Emperor. I worry this could become a serious matter.”
Jang Chuchyeong and Namgung Yeon’s brows furrowed.
It was clear we had to complete the task the Emperor had given us, yet no matter how much I thought, no solution came to mind.
What good was entering the Martial Artist sect?
There were no clues.
Moreover, we couldn’t search about recklessly to find such things, so no matter how much I considered it, we were in a situation with no answers.
I chuckled lightly upon hearing such talk.
“I even visited Jang Munin’s chamber, but there was nothing of note.”
“What?! You went to such a place? Isn’t that normally somewhere you can’t enter?”
“I was fortunate. But as I said, I gained nothing. It was just filled with paintings and books.”
Instantly, disappointment appeared on Jang Chuchyeong’s face.
It seemed he had been hoping to find at least some small clue in the chamber, given that we were searching for Jang Munin’s secret.
Was Namgung Yeon experiencing the same thing?
Her questioning gaze turned toward me.
“Could…the paintings not serve as clues?”
“I’m already considering that.”
The countless paintings I had seen in Hoyeon’s residence.
Whether they were the work of a painter or a Martial Artist master, most of those numerous paintings depicted some corner of Wudang Mountain.
If Hoyeon had left some clue there, then his secret must be hidden somewhere within those painted landscapes.
But how could I pinpoint one specific painting among so many?
As I furrowed my brow, tracing through each image that surfaced in my mind, I recalled something I had not particularly paid attention to before.
Did it show on my face?
Namgung Yeon’s eyes gleamed with interest.
“Have you thought of something?”
“Yes, I’m not certain, but it seems the most likely possibility.”
The number of paintings Hoyeon had created was beyond counting.
However, there were quite a few paintings drawn from the same location. Of course, they carried entirely different atmospheres due to different weather and seasons, but the fact that one particular place appeared so frequently caught my attention.
“Shall we verify it?”
There were no real clues anyway.
Whether this way or that, I would have to search blindly, so if even one question lingered in my mind, I had to investigate it.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————