Deep in the Night
Everyone began their own training.
The martial artists of Mount Emei who had been staying at the Yu Family Manor had nothing in particular to do until they reached Luoyang, and they also needed time to digest the experience of facing the Three-Eyed Buddha.
Namgung Myeong devoted himself to manipulating his prosthetic arm and practicing object manipulation through the air. Hong Geolgae polished the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms, while also refining the martial techniques he had learned from Daepunggae. The Mount Emei disciples, too, immersed themselves in sparring and training.
Dan Seolyeong shut herself in the workshop. Her goals: to organize the improvements needed for making a new prosthetic arm for Namgung Myeong, and to create a weapon powerful enough to even affect the Three-Eyed Buddha.
But while the first might be possible, the second was essentially impossible. Not even Dan Seolyeong could do everything.
Tang Mujin, meanwhile, reflected deeply on the battle with the Three-Eyed Buddha.
"Sword and poison."
In his hand was no longer the Single-Soul Sword, but only a dagger and a few poison needles.
"In the end, the path lies in poison."
During the fight, the Three-Eyed Buddha had expelled the poison Tang Mujin had infused into him after only a few breaths.
When Tang Mujin saw that, his disappointment had been immeasurable. If an enemy could simply expel a massive dose of poison in one go, then what meaning did all his poison arts hold?
But as time passed, his perspective shifted completely. Looking back, he realized—he had been the only one to land an effective blow against the Three-Eyed Buddha.
Namgung Myeong, with his brilliance second to none. Yu Jingwang and Wi Hwan, who had long mastered the Four-Seasons Sword Art and the Splitting-Light Thirty-Six Swords.
All of them were renowned experts, yet none could threaten the Three-Eyed Buddha.
And yet, after swallowing Tang Mujin's poison, the Buddha's demeanor had clearly changed. He ignored every other attack, expelled the poison first, and then immediately charged straight at Tang Mujin. That alone proved how dangerous the poison had been.
"What all the peerless masters combined could not achieve, I—just a first-class nobody—"
Tang Mujin broke off his thought, grimacing.
"No, what do I mean nobody? At my age, being first-class is already impressive."
Still, the truth remained. In the eyes of a supreme master, Tang Mujin had been the most threatening figure in that moment. His poison arts had shown enormous potential. His heart pounded fiercely.
"Elegant sword forms? People's scornful looks? None of that matters. In the end, what matters is practicality. Just as the old master taught me through the Heart-Sword of Self."
Once he began thinking positively about poison, the strengths of poison arts became clear.
Poison was powerful in itself. It could be employed alongside other techniques. No matter how outstanding Namgung Myeong's talent was, poison arts could never be stolen and mastered.
"I don't need to cling to swordsmanship. The path truly lies in poison."
Though he was only now consciously acknowledging it, Tang Mujin had always known, deep down, the power of poison. That was why he had relied on it against the Three-Eyed Buddha, rather than charging in with his sword.
But poison arts always depended on the potency of the poison itself.
"A venom so virulent that even a supreme master would collapse before resisting… could such a poison exist?"
The world was vast. Somewhere, surely, such a poison existed.
Tang Mujin resolved to visit Nogunsan soon. It hadn't been long since he parted from the people there, but Nogunsan was overflowing with venomous creatures, and by now the collection of toxins must have grown substantial. If luck favored him, perhaps one of those substances contained a venom that could topple even the greatest under heaven.
Cross-legged, he began circulating his energy calmly. Qi entered through his nose, coursed through his body, flushed away impurities clogging his meridians, and gathered in his dantian.
But today, the dantian that always felt full felt strangely hollow. He had spent the entirety of the poison pill's venom and never replenished it.
It was the first time his dantian had been emptied like this.
"…No. It should be empty. But why—?"
Unexpectedly, he sensed a faint trace of venom lingering inside. It was so slight he might have missed it if he hadn't looked closely, yet it was unmistakably there.
This wasn't leftover poison or some unnoticed remnant. Poison had the nature of clumping together if left unchecked. He had meticulously gathered every last bit, so by rights his dantian should be clean.
What's more, this venom wasn't of any type he had ever absorbed before. Not particularly strong, but unfamiliar and alien.
"Where did this come from?"
He puzzled over it for a long while before realizing—the internal energy flowing through his meridians carried this faint venom.
Focusing again, he noticed: the qi he breathed in was pure, but as it circulated through his meridians and settled in his dantian, it acquired a faintly poisonous quality.
A story he had once heard resurfaced. Some insects and animals are born without venom, but by dwelling near poison and feeding on venomous things, they naturally become poisonous themselves.
Clearly, he too had fallen into that condition.
"I've lived with poison in my body all this time, so it's not strange."
He stopped mulling over it. The venom in his qi didn't feel harmful, and brooding over it wouldn't yield more answers.
Still, he wished there were someone he could ask about this.
For the first time in a long while, he thought of Goiyi the Freak. A hollow ache rose in his chest.
***
Days Later
Some of the Mount Emei disciples who had been in Jiangxi arrived in Luoyang.
Others were still away on escort missions, but within five days, all Mount Emei members would be gathered there.
They repeatedly asked the same question:
"The debt has really been paid off?"
"Yes. How many more times are you going to ask?"
"It's just… hard to believe."
In the end, Wi Hwan opened a sack and showed everyone the gold that Steward Xu had delivered. Undeniable proof that the debt had been cleared.
The disciples stared blankly at the gold, then laughed like fools, rejoiced, and soon began making plans for the future.
But all of their plans shared one thing in common: everything would begin only after they returned to Mount Emei.
They flocked to Yu Jingwang and asked:
"Senior Brother Yu, when will you depart for Yunnan?"
But Yu Jingwang's response was strangely lukewarm.
"Hmm… I'll have to go back, of course."
"It almost sounds like you don't want to."
"Not quite. Just… I feel like I should return a bit more slowly. Alone."
"You mean you'll go back separately?"
"Yes. I think I'll take my time returning."
"…Do you have a reason?"
Yu Jingwang's expression remained as calm as ever as he replied:
"Since I've come all this way, shouldn't I take a look around? If I go back to Yunnan now, who knows how long it'll be before I can return to Luoyang?"
"Well, that's true."
The Mount Emei disciples nodded, but Yu Jingwang's true thoughts were different.
He had no intention of ever returning to Mount Emei.
In the past few days, Yu Jingwang had visited the Thousand-Gold Hall Master twice. Each time, he had asked bluntly—why did you deliberately lose at gambling?
But the hall master never gave a clear answer. He had certainly lost for a reason, yet seemed uncertain of his own decision.
Thus, his replies were vague, like grasping at clouds.
"Well… I don't know if this was truly the best choice."
"Then what do you want from me?"
"Nothing. I expect nothing of you."
"Then was it simply to erase Mount Emei's debt?"
At this, the hall master chuckled softly.
"Debt? Mount Emei was already indebted to me even before I lost. The form of the debt has merely changed."
"Then what is it, really?"
"What I seek lies not with you or the Mount Emei Sect, but with Yu Gwanil."
To say he had business with the father who had lost a wager and fled—it was an incomprehensible statement.
Yu Jingwang pressed the Thousand-Gold Hall Master for further explanation again and again, but the hall master would say no more.
The only thing certain was this: the hall master expected nothing of Yu Jingwang. And that was precisely the problem. Yu Jingwang had no way to repay this debt.
Once broken and bent, there was no way for him to recover the upright form he once had.
No one else had noticed, but he had become a snapped arrow.
And a snapped arrow should never be returned to the quiver—not for one's own sake, nor for the sake of others.
That was why Yu Jingwang had decided to leave Mount Emei.
He looked at the fellow disciples, excited at the thought of returning to their sect.
He felt nothing but heaviness.
***
The same could be said for Tang Mujin's party—their plans had gone awry.
Though gambling and the appearance of the Three-Eyed Buddha had pushed things down the priority list, their true goal was to wipe out the Salmak while sheltered within the walls of Mount Emei, and then return to their homeland.
Yet nothing had been resolved. Though repelled once, the Salmak still remained.
In fact, the situation had grown even worse. For it seemed they might lose the dependable refuge of Mount Emei altogether.
"…Should we follow them to Mount Emei?"
It was not a good plan. Mount Emei was too far, too remote. Staying there would mean safety, but no way to fight the Salmak.
Then—was there anywhere else they could entrust themselves?
Two places immediately came to mind: Shaolin Temple, and the Namgung Clan.
Shaolin was the safest place under heaven. Not even the Salmak—or the Three-Eyed Buddha himself—would dare to encroach upon it.
It was also close. They could arrive in two or three days.
But there was one enormous problem: Shaolin would never admit Dan Seolyeong into its gates. The Disciplinary Abbot and the Ten Precept Monks would stubbornly uphold the rules.
"Then what about the Namgung Clan?"
That was just as safe. The Namgung Clan was a foremost martial family, and with Namgung Jincheon, a supreme master, even the Three-Eyed Buddha could be stopped.
But this too had a problem—Namgung Myeong.
Tang Mujin nudged Namgung Myeong, who was fiddling with his prosthetic arm.
"Hey."
"What?"
"What if we went to the Namgung Clan?"
At Tang Mujin's bold suggestion, Namgung Myeong looked appalled.
"What on earth for?"
"It's safe. And we could get help, in many ways."
"You heard what I told my father, didn't you?"
"Just beg with a repentant face. Say the pain in your left arm made you speak nonsense. A father wouldn't cruelly cast out his own son."
Namgung Myeong shot him a glare filled with contempt.
"What nonsense are you spouting? Has the poison finally seeped into your brain?"
Unlike his usual easygoing manner, Namgung Myeong now stood firm, unwilling to yield an inch.
Since Tang Mujin had asked half in jest, he wasn't particularly disappointed. Pressing further would only have been rude to Namgung Myeong.
Still, Tang Mujin's worries did not end easily. He went to bed without settling on any plan for what lay ahead.
***
Tang Mujin tossed and turned for a long time before finally dozing off late into the night.
He didn't know how much time had passed.
Half-asleep, he felt a strange dissonance.
A faint prickling on his senses—as though someone were near.
Probably nothing. That was what he thought, ready to sink deeper into sleep again—when a small sound stirred right by his bedside. A sharp wave of danger thudded against the back of his skull.
One thought came belatedly:
"There's no way Namgung Myeong would be in the room at this hour."
They were in an inn, having rented three small rooms: one for Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong, one for Hong Geolgae and Chu Sam, and one for Dan Seolyeong alone.
And Namgung Myeong certainly wouldn't be here in the dead of night. Since their arrival in Luoyang, he had been roaming the streets with even more vigor after dark.
"Then who—?"
His heart sank. Slowly, Tang Mujin opened his eyes.
A towering shadow blocked the moonlight, crouching by his bedside.
The face was hidden, but the pale moonlight revealed skin crisscrossed with countless scars. Even in the darkness, two eyes gleamed.
And then, most dreadful of all—the great scar carved across the man's forehead, like a third eye glaring down at him.
Tang Mujin tried to leap up, but a massive hand clamped over his face.
"A pleasure to meet you."
The Three-Eyed Buddha grinned, baring white teeth.
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