The Youngest Son of the Nanyang Jin Family - Chapter 306

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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 306

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“In a place like this….”
Taehwang Mujin’s pupils trembled deeply.
To think such a secret chamber lay hidden in what was practically the front courtyard of a Martial Artist’s residence.
The moment I stepped forward, a frigid energy swept across my entire body.
The jagged rock walls were natural formations, yet the energy dwelling within them and the installations were unmistakably traces of human artifice.
As I confirmed this and turned my gaze, I sensed something approaching.
Whoooosh—!
Mujin thrust his hand through the empty air.
Energy flowed forth like sword wind, spreading in all directions, and the Guhonsa creatures crawling from the darkness were severed in unison, their bodies scattering pathetically across the ground.
“…Wow.”
Cheongdam beside me stood slack-jawed.
Even the sword technique displayed by Jin Cheon-u had been astonishing, but the power of Taehwang, one of the Ten Sovereigns, operated on an entirely different level.
In the blink of an eye, the deadly venomous monster that had threatened their lives crumbled like a sandcastle, leaving nothing but admiration in its wake.
Mujin gazed down at the scattered remains of the Guhonsa and stroked his beard.
“A first encounter with such things.”
“Yes, I was surprised as well.”
Hearing Cheongdam’s words, I advanced slowly forward.
Since Jin Cheon-u had already dismantled all the traps, the danger had passed. What remained were merely the surviving Guhonsa, yet even they were nothing but dust before Mujin.
After walking deep into the cave for some time, the innermost chamber revealed itself.
“Here it is!”
Cheongdam cried out in a loud voice.
A massive cavern opening.
Sunlight filtered through a gap in the ceiling, gently dispelling the darkness.
The light spread across the stone walls like brushstrokes on canvas, and wind flowed through the opening as well, adding a subtle warmth.
Within the cave dominated by dampness, that warmth seeped in like a strange vitality.
Upon witnessing this, Mujin’s heart suddenly sank.
The landscape felt strangely familiar.

“Master, look at this painting! It’s incredibly beautiful, isn’t it?”

A child barely ten years old.
Hoyeon, who had abandoned martial arts and lived with nothing but a brush in hand, had once thrust a single sheet of paper toward me with an excited face.
Crude lines, clumsy brushwork.
Yet the landscape was unmistakable.
The landscape drawn on that paper back then now overlapped with this place before my eyes.
My vision wavered.
What had I done back then?
I had scolded Hoyeon severely for being the Martial Artist’s disciple yet spending his days only drawing pictures. Every day I compared him to his senior brothers and pressed him to master martial arts.
I had burdened those small shoulders with the name of the Martial Artist.
“Ah… karma, it is karma.”
I muttered to myself, closing and opening my eyes, shaking my head bitterly.
Hoyeon had ultimately changed.
At some point, he revealed talent in martial arts, defeated all his senior brothers, and imprinted his existence upon the Martial Artist.
I had believed that was the fruit I had created.
I had comforted myself, thinking of it as a flower that bloomed from harsh pressure.
Yet this cave was proving otherwise.
All of it was not the teaching of the Martial Artist, but the result of being tainted by something else.
“Is this… what you learned?”
My gaze fixed upon the walls and floor, unable to look away.
Sword marks etched across the entire wall surface.
On the floor, the traces of footwork techniques carved deep were unmistakable.
Things that could not be attributed to the Martial Artist.
It was clear these were things that could not be seen in any sect, family, heterodox school, or demonic cult.
What this meant was simple—Hoyeon had betrayed the Martial Artist.
Deep despair flashed across my eyes.
And soon, that despair transformed into fury.
As if severing the faint lingering attachment that had bound me, my pupils sank heavily.
There was only one question dwelling in my eyes.
Who were these people who had made Hoyeon this way, who had defiled the roots of the Martial Artist?
“Just what kind of bastards are they…”
My low voice echoed through the stone walls.
Flames burned fiercely within my pupils.
Taehwang Mujin’s fury spread throughout the cave.
Then my gaze turned toward Cheongdam.
“Is this everything that was in this place?”
“Yes—everything except for one thing.”
“One thing?”
“A book was taken by Jin Daehaep. I was unable to stop him…”
A book?
I furrowed my brow and turned away.
Everything in this place might become a clue to capture those who have tarnished the Martial Artist’s name.
Moreover, even if that were not the case, it would be absolutely unthinkable for an outsider to possess the belongings of Hoyeon, who was once the Martial Artist’s master.
“You will gather the items and return.”
“Yes….”
At my words, which carried a biting chill, Cheongdam swallowed hard and nodded.

* * *

Upon returning to the Martial Artist’s residence, I entered my quarters quietly and sat upon the bed.
The sharp voices of Jang Chuchyeong and Namgung Yeon echoing from beyond the door pierced through the walls and struck my ears, yet I cast them aside and embraced silence.
Only then did I withdraw a single book from within my garments and place it upon my lap.
An aged, faded tome.
The paper had yellowed to such a degree that one could not fathom how many years had passed—it seemed ready to crumble at any moment—yet strangely, the characters remained vivid.
As if even time itself could not overcome the momentum of the brush that had written them.
I stared at it intently, my brow furrowing.
“A book written by Uiseon…?”
Chaeseoha’s words echoed in my ears like a ringing sound.
None other than Uiseon.
One who possessed medical arts capable of reviving even the dead.
If this truly were written by her, as Chaeseoha had said, then its value upon being revealed to the Central Plains would surely be beyond imagination.
I steadied my breath and opened the book.
The beginning contained records of patients.
A starving child who drew his last breath after ten days, the nameless traces of a woman who had collapsed from illness.
Within these pages dwelt lamentation and sighs.
As I turned through several pages, the atmosphere of the writing suddenly shifted.
Sighs transformed into experiments, experiments into records, records into a bloodstained obsession.

Death is an illusion.
Merely a false shadow cast by disease.
If one could break the illness, humanity could refuse death itself.

Ink spread thick and dark.
She did not save patients—she ground people down to conquer death itself.
Whenever a new method came to mind, she attempted it at once, and when it failed, she recorded it as it was.

“The liver rotted and turned black, yet the breath continued through the night.”
“The arm fell apart and poured forth pus, yet the pulse still beat.”
“The eyes burst open, yet the spirit did not scatter.”

To him, the patient was no longer a person.
Merely material for the next experiment.
I must save them. I must save them.
Before the blood congeals, before the soul escapes.
Whether flesh burns or screams tear forth—it mattered not.

Drip—
Cold sweat cascaded down my spine merely from reading.
This was no longer a physician’s record.
Neither medicine nor oath.
Madness.

Even the dead could be resurrected.
There exists a method to seize the soul before it scatters.

He wielded the needle as though he had appointed himself Divine.
And then the final page.
A single image seized my vision.
The frantically scrawled drawing was unmistakably the Gok Ok.
Uiseon had written as though he knew its identity, as though he had been searching for it all along, yet his desperation blazed across the page—for he could not possess it.

If only it could be found, rotted flesh would bloom crimson again.
With it alone, severed meridians would pulse anew.
If only it could be grasped, death would cease to be an ending.

The words scrawled without restraint sent shivers through me.
Though I knew not how he had learned of the Gok Ok, he believed that through it, he could sever the shackles of death eternally.
Yet could he not obtain it?
With a single final phrase, his record concluded.

How futile.

Was it futile because I ultimately failed to obtain Gok Ok?
Or did the cries of countless lives that crumbled away drag him down into that emptiness?
I closed the book and caught my breath.
What emanated from within was not knowledge.
It was obsession tainted with the stench of blood, madness, and ruin.
The revolting contents swirled endlessly in my mind.
As I unconsciously furrowed my brow, trying to erase what refused to fade, the door opened with a faint presence.
Creak—
Chaeseoha.
Tension and anticipation crossed her eyes.
As if she wanted to confirm how I had received the truth of the book she had given me.
“Did you read it?”
“Yes, I just finished. Though I’m not certain it truly belongs to Uiseon.”
“It’s real, I’m telling you. The medical insights written there—no one but him could have written such things.”
Chaeseoha’s eyes sparkled as she drew closer.
It was no illusion that she seemed elated, having discovered records left by her ancestor.
I smiled despite myself.
“Have you read all of it?”
“…No.”
“Then it’s fortunate. This is not Uiseon’s work.”
“What? That doesn’t make sense…?”
Judging by the contents written, only a physician of Uiseon’s caliber could have produced such work.
Moreover, the accounts of wandering the world treating patients aligned perfectly with Uiseon, so by her logic, this was indeed directly written by him.
“Such things exist. Anyway, go back now.”
“What—why are you like this? And give that back to me. I haven’t finished reading it yet.”
Chaeseoha pouted and tried to snatch the book away.
As if she desperately needed to absorb all the knowledge Uiseon possessed, determined to cram every word into her mind.
I chuckled and stepped back.
“This must go to the Emperor. I’m sorry, but I cannot give it to you.”
“But it’s from our family!”
“That’s merely your speculation. There’s no proof.”
“But still…”
Chaeseoha looked at me as if she might burst into tears at any moment, but this was not content fit to show her.
I gently extended my hand to block her approach.
Then I spoke with a sharp gaze and firm tone.
“Give up.”
“Ugh?!”
In that instant, despair settled across Chaeseoha’s face.
Knowing that if I took this stance, she could never obtain it, she held back her welling tears and glared at me.
“It really is ours!”
“Even if I were to believe that, it wouldn’t change anything. Now leave.”
Chaeseoha clenched her fists, her brow furrowing even deeper.
She stared at me intently for a long moment, as if staging a protest, before finally deciding it was hopeless and turning on her heel, moving roughly toward the door.
Thump-thump-thump-!
As she walked toward the door with heavy, angry footsteps, I watched her for a moment, then the instant the door opened, I threw a question her way.
“Speaking of which, have you ever heard anything about Gok Ok?”
“Gok Ok? That ornament?”
“…You’ve never even heard it mentioned by your father?”
“I don’t know what that is, so unless you’re giving it back, don’t ask me about it!”
Slam-!
Chaeseoha, thoroughly incensed, shut the door roughly behind her as she left.
Her movements and tone were rough enough that anyone could see she was furious, yet true to her nature, she had answered my question before departing.
Not knowing meant she had never heard of it.
I found myself wearing a bitter smile as I gazed at the book.
“Uiseon…”
With a sigh, I tucked the book into my robes and rose from the bed.
This was no time to lose myself in thought.
I sensed another presence rapidly approaching this place.
Composed yet intense in its aura.
Each footstep carried weight, and the spreading presence seemed to naturally compress my body.
“It seems… someone’s quite angry.”
I turned my gaze away with an unconscious small smile.
Creak-!
The door opened and an elderly man entered.
Taehwang Mujin.
His eyes blazed with fury like molten lava.
His benevolent expression was nowhere to be found; instead, a sharp aura dominated the room and pressed down on me forcefully.
“Welcome.”
I offered a light bow of respect.
Yet Mujin did not answer, simply staring directly at me. Then his voice resonated heavily, striking my eardrums.
“Did you… perhaps take the object that was in Bidong?”
As expected, he wouldn’t let this go easily.
A bitter smile formed at the corners of my mouth.

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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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