People on the Cliff
When he heard that the swordsmanship was of the Wudang Sect, Tang Mujin began to observe the situation more carefully.
The three Greenwoods bandits were between forty and fifty years of age.
Their appearance wasn't much different from that of other Greenwoods men—leather clothes tanned from animal hides, unkempt, dirty hair and beards.
But their way of fighting was a completely different story.
Among the seven Greenwoods bandits, more than half used strange and vicious weapons, as was often the case.
One wielded a saw-toothed broadsword, another a scythe-like blade that looked like an oversized sickle, another a heavy iron club, and yet another used clawed blades shaped like talons protruding from the hands.
It was because they lacked confidence in their martial arts and swordsmanship, so they relied on unfamiliar weapons to catch their opponents off guard.
This was a common tactic among the Greenwoods men, and indeed, it often worked quite well.
In contrast, the three who wielded Wudang swordsmanship held only plain swords. Ordinary, unadorned swords with nothing that could be called special about them.
Their martial arts, too, were strikingly different. The seven fought with crude, domineering ferocity, revealing a clear intent to seize any chance to pierce their enemy's throat.
But the three fought with a defensive, flowing sword style, neutralizing every attack. Their blades carried no killing intent at all.
"This is strange. It feels like they're not fighting with their swords, but pushing with shoulders and palms instead."
"Their martial level… probably first-class, wouldn't you say?"
"Seems like it."
By contrast, the seven who fought against them were at best second or third-rate.
And yet, somehow, three men in defensive stances were driving seven attackers back. Odd as it sounded, there was no better way to describe the scene.
The ones who most clearly felt the difference in skill were not Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong, but the seven Greenwoods men themselves.
Yet their expressions were not of fear or dread, but of sheer irritation.
"Damn it… enough! Enough! We surrender!"
The bandit with the saw-toothed blade shouted, and as if on cue, the fight ceased. He seemed to be the leader of the seven.
The three swordsmen using Wudang techniques folded their arms and looked down at them. The seven, as though this were nothing new, lowered their weapons and put their hands behind their heads.
The three then wandered among them, collecting spoils. Nothing much—some snacks, a bit of coin.
They also tapped at the clothes and furs the seven wore, and the defeated bandits obediently stripped off what was asked.
Lastly, they seized a thick iron staff—one of the weapons wielded earlier.
The staff's owner grumbled:
"Elder Masters of Nogun's Three Swords… weren't you supposed to leave our weapons?"
"If it were an ordinary weapon, sure. But this one looks like it'll come in handy."
Judging from the scene, it wasn't the first time these so-called Nogun Three Swords had plundered other Greenwoods men.
After making sure nothing else was worth taking, they patted the seven on the back and added a final remark:
"If you want it back, you know what to do."
The seven gave a single nod, wearing expressions like they'd stepped in dung, and trudged away.
It was a bizarre scene in many ways.
Bandits using Wudang swordsmanship.
The few defeating the many.
A defensive style pushing back a brutal assault.
Bandits plundering bandits.
And not a single injury—plus, the implication that the spoils could even be returned.
Tang Mujin muttered:
"I can't even guess what's going on here."
"Maybe it's a traditional pastime of Nogun Mountain?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"I was joking."
Just then, the Nogun Three Swords, having gathered their spoils, looked around. Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong instantly hid their presence, as if by instinct.
Whatever was going on, it would do them no good to be noticed. If these men robbed their own kind, there was no reason to think they wouldn't come after Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong's packs as well.
Fortunately, the Three Swords failed to sense them.
Namgung Myeong's concealment technique had clearly reached a high level, and Tang Mujin, by traveling with him, had gained some insight as well.
The trio packed up and left.
Only when they were gone did Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong rise and resume walking.
***
They knew the general direction to take.
But the path lay through sheer cliffs, towering peaks, and precarious mountain trails.
Finding the way was difficult, and more than once they had to turn back when the trail vanished.
Tang Mujin, however, had no complaints. In fact, he was almost happy.
"Wait—that looks like Atractylodes. Hold on a moment."
"Again?"
"I've never seen it grow this tall. Normally it barely reaches the knee, but that one's past the waist!"
Atractylodes bore small white flowers. Its leaves and stems were edible, but its true value lay in the root—known as Baekchul, Cheonchul, Seonchul. It helped with urination and relieved bloating in the abdomen.
Tang Mujin dug up a thick root and returned, earning only a click of the tongue from Namgung Myeong.
"I don't know much about medicine, but I do know that Atractylodes roots aren't exactly expensive."
"Ordinary ones, sure. But I've never seen one this fine."
"You make good money. Can't you just buy what you need?"
"Even with money, something this good is hard to find."
Namgung Myeong sighed. His own pack, as well as Tang Mujin's, was bulging at the seams.
"This is too much. We don't even have space left. We'll have to throw something away."
"I know, I know. This was the last one, I promise."
But not even a moment later—
"Wait—is that… ginseng?"
"…Ginseng?"
Rushing over, they dug it up and sure enough, it was a small but potent root. Its sharp, bitter fragrance spread at once.
Namgung Myeong brushed off the dirt and grinned.
"No space left, so I guess we'll just have to eat it here. You want it?"
Tang Mujin shook his head. Without hesitation, Namgung Myeong popped it into his mouth.
Perhaps the legends of Shennong, who was said to have settled these mountains, were not false. Nogun Mountain was filled with medicinal herbs—some that were too much for mere medicine, yet not quite worthy of being called elixirs.
And it wasn't only herbs.
"Ah!"
Tang Mujin turned to see Namgung Myeong clutching his ankle. Something long and black slithered away into the brush—a snake.
Smiling, Tang Mujin pressed his hand to the wound. The venom creeping into Namgung Myeong's body was drawn into his palm and absorbed by his Poison Core.
Nogun Mountain also teemed with poisonous creatures: snakes, insects, butterflies, toxic plants.
Most would recoil in horror, but to Tang Mujin, they were treasures.
"It'd be great to stay here awhile. Months… no, even a year."
"Before talking about a year, maybe we should first find a village to sleep in."
Grumbling, Namgung Myeong rose, and the two resumed searching for a path with renewed energy.
But a stronger resolve didn't make hidden roads appear. It only meant wandering more enthusiastically.
Once again, the trail ended abruptly.
It was maddening—knowing the direction, but finding no way forward.
"East should lead us to a village."
After a long silence, Namgung Myeong finally spoke, as if making a bold decision.
"Then let's just head east directly."
"I want to too. But there's no path."
"We could climb down the cliff."
Tang Mujin peered over the edge. At least a few dozen jang high. But compared to cliffs hundreds of jang tall that they'd seen, this one almost seemed doable. The slope was a little gentler, too.
'No… taking a cliff just because the trail is hard to find is foolish.'
Surely Namgung Myeong was just voicing his frustration, not serious. Tang Mujin was about to refuse when Namgung Myeong added:
"Well, I suppose it would be scary for you."
And that one remark… was the real problem.
A man's pride has the peculiar nature of starting from the strangest of places and stretching uncontrollably into the most reckless extremes.
To make matters worse, Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong were far too young—an age overflowing with reckless daring and baseless confidence. Tang Mujin's pride soared as if it knew no bounds.
"Scared? What's there to be scared of? I was just checking how to get down—seeing where I could grab and where I could step."
"Ha! I knew it."
"Of course. Now, follow me down."
"Follow you? Forget it. I'll go first. Just put your hands and feet where I step, got it?"
"Don't try to take the lead. Just get out of the way."
"Tch. Don't be so stubborn."
After a brief squabble, Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong began climbing down the cliff together—neither first nor last.
Bravely.
"..."
But most of the time, courage doesn't solve the problem. The cliff that looked manageable from above was completely different once they were actually climbing down.
Halfway down, both of them froze. There were no handholds or footholds left.
They couldn't descend further, nor was climbing back up any easier.
Trying to pull themselves back up by clinging to small protruding rocks was the same as gambling with their lives. If one of those rocks gave way, that would be the end.
The two of them carefully shifted sideways until they found a small ledge jutting out from the cliff. Stable enough, perhaps, but barely large enough for the two to crouch—sitting, let alone lying down, was out of the question.
"...What now?"
Namgung Myeong asked, and Tang Mujin avoided answering.
At least both of them realized now that they'd been fools. There was no room for pride between them anymore.
"Baa-aah."
From the opposite cliff came the cry of a mountain goat. It moved along a far steeper cliff face than theirs, where there seemed to be no footholds at all.
Yet the goat walked as if on flat ground, even pausing to chew something as it stared directly at Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong. The look almost felt like mockery.
Namgung Myeong suddenly spoke, as if struck by inspiration.
"I've got an idea."
"What?"
"We'll invent a lightfoot technique modeled after that goat's gait. That way, we can escape this cliff."
A ridiculous suggestion—but oddly tempting.
After all, weren't there always stories in the martial world? Tales of masters who created new techniques in times of crisis to overcome the impossible.
As the two silently watched the goat, an eagle swooped down and jabbed at it. The goat stumbled, twisted, and with a sorrowful bleat, tumbled off the cliff.
"Baa-a-a-a-ah—!"
Its cry faded into the distance. At that moment, they realized inventing a new lightfoot skill might not be such a brilliant idea after all.
Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong racked their brains. How could they possibly survive this?
Then, from above, came the faint sound of movement.
"You heard that?"
"A voice, right?"
Neither waited for the other—they both shouted upward at once.
"Help us!"
"There are people down here!"
After shouting for what felt like ages, a head finally poked out over the cliff. The face was oddly familiar—it was one of those forest bandits calling themselves the Nogunsamgeom (Three Old Swords).
The round-faced one called down to them.
"Who are you, hanging there like that?"
"...We got lost!"
"Lost? Quite the peculiar place to lose your way. Do you need a hand?"
The words they'd been desperate to hear. Abandoning their pride, Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong nodded furiously.
"Yes! Could you please pull us up?"
"Of course—provided there's fair compensation."
"Compensation?"
"You two look like you're carrying plenty of baggage. Promise to hand it all over, and we'll haul you up."
There was no room to argue. Namgung Myeong quickly agreed.
"We'll give it to you!"
"Then let's start with your packs. I'll throw down a rope—tie them on."
A rope uncoiled down the cliff. But Tang Mujin hesitated, unwilling to tie his belongings so easily. If they gave up everything of value, what guarantee was there the bandits wouldn't just run off?
He unfastened his pack and raised his purse high, showing the glint of gold coins taken from the Jo family estate.
"See this gold? I'll hand it over once I'm safely up there!"
"Fine! Just tie your packs for now!"
The lack of resistance in the reply gave him some reassurance.
So Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong tied their loads to the rope. The Nogunsamgeom hauled the baggage up.
"We'll check these first. Wait a moment!"
They had no choice but to comply.
"Yes! Please hurry!"
The two clung anxiously to the ledge, straining their ears to catch the conversation above.
"Heavy enough... how many herbs did they gather?"
"Not all valuable ones. Looks like they picked at random. Not professional gatherers."
"No, some of these are decent quality. They could be."
"Maybe... But look here—two night-prowler outfits in this pack. Suspicious, isn't it?"
"Wait, what's this?"
"What is it?"
"Herbs—but not from here. They've been processed. What do you call it..."
"Prepared medicine?"
"Right, that's it. There are prepared herbs in here."
There was a pause, then the round-faced one leaned over the edge again.
"Hey, you! The one with the processed herbs in your pack!"
"Yes!" Tang Mujin instantly replied.
"You're no simple herb-gatherer. Why bring prepared medicine here?"
"I'm no gatherer—I'm a physician!"
"A physician? What's a physician doing here?"
"What else? Treating patients, of course!"
When Tang Mujin shouted back, the Nogunsamgeom exchanged uneasy looks before one spoke again.
"The deal's changed! We don't want your money or goods anymore. Instead, treat our sick!"
"Bandits, are they?"
"No. They've never so much as touched a weapon in their lives!"
At once, both Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong understood. The "people" they spoke of had to be the villagers that Haryeong had begged them to save.
"Of course I'll treat them!"
"You'll heal them without caring who they are?"
"Exactly! A patient is a patient. Their status doesn't matter!"
Tang Mujin answered again and again, but the Nogunsamgeom still seemed doubtful.
Finally, the round-faced one asked something unexpected.
"Even if they're rebels, you'll treat them?"
READ MORE CHAPTERS HERE: https://payhip.com/pokemon1920