Demonic religion
At the same time, in Chengdu, Sichuan.
Dan Seol-yeong, Namgung Myeong, and Hong Geol-gae were deep in worry.
There had been no issue blending in with Mount Emei's martial artists returning to Sichuan after their trip to Yunnan.
The problem arose when they asked for help rescuing Tang Mujin. The responses they received were anything but satisfying.
First, from Mount Emei Sect.
"Hm. Tang Siju, you say? Understood. I'll pass on the message."
But in truth, Mount Emei owed Tang Mujin nothing.
Most of the nuns there didn't even know him, and those who did regarded him only as "that young man acquainted with Hwayeon Shinni."
In fact, the only impression Tang Mujin had left on Mount Emei was causing a commotion involving Hwayeon Shinni. The fact that they didn't voice outright displeasure was a mercy in itself.
Next, the three visited Elder Huang Ryeongja of the Chengdu branch of the Qingcheng Sect.
"I'll immediately send word to the main sect. But I cannot say what their response will be."
Huang Ryeongja was more forthcoming, but to the main Qingcheng Sect, Tang Mujin was just a young physician.
Admittedly, a very talented blacksmith as well—but that was it.
To oppose Sam Anbul, and by extension the entire Demonic Cult, for the sake of saving him would be too much to expect.
As they walked back, Hong Geol-gae muttered,
"Maybe we should have gone to Shaolin instead."
"Not sure that would help either."
Shaolin did, indeed, hold Tang Mujin in good regard.
But would they leap into this mess? That was another matter. Like Mount Emei, Shaolin was cautious about external affairs. The monks were focused on biding their time and gathering strength for the coming calamity.
Both Hong Geol-gae and Dan Seol-yeong looked at Namgung Myeong, but he immediately shook his head.
"My father won't get involved."
His blunt reply made Dan Seol-yeong grumble.
"Don't you think you're giving up too easily just because you don't get along with him?"
"It's not about that. It's about his priorities. For my father, everything is weighed against the family's profit and loss. He knows there's nothing to gain from clashing with the Demonic Cult. But… he might send my uncle, or a few retainers."
For the moment, they had no clear path forward. Dan Seol-yeong was frustrated to the point of bursting.
She had seen Tang Mujin being taken. She knew who had taken him. She even had a good idea where he was. And yet there was no way to bring him back. How could this make any sense?
Namgung Myeong tried to reassure her.
"Don't worry too much. If Sam Anbul wanted to kill Tang Mujin, he would've done it right there on the spot."
"But Sam Anbul has tried to kill Mujin before."
"Circumstances must have changed. He must need him for something."
Hong Geol-gae chimed in.
"Come to think of it, isn't there word that the Demonic Doctor is dead? Maybe they took Mujin as his replacement."
Namgung Myeong and Dan Seol-yeong both found that the most convincing explanation. Otherwise, why abduct only Tang Mujin?
"If not that, they probably want him as the Cult's blacksmith. Either way, he won't be killed. He's far too talented."
But Dan Seol-yeong's unease only deepened.
"Even if his life isn't in danger, I have a bad feeling. This is the Demonic Cult. Surely there are practitioners of things like Absorbing Yin to Nourish Yang or Yin-Yang Dual Cultivation. What if someone like that targets Mujin?"
Even ordinary people knew about those forbidden arts. Dan Seol-yeong was no exception.
"If that was their goal, they wouldn't have taken Mujin. They'd have taken some burly, full-blooded man brimming with yang energy."
"What, are you belittling Mujin now?"
"That's not what I meant. I'm just saying, don't panic too much."
Dan Seol-yeong sighed heavily. Her troubled expression made it impossible for the others to drop the matter.
"For now, let's gather information about the Demonic Cult. If worst comes to worst, we may have to sneak in ourselves."
With that, Namgung Myeong left to seek out informants.
But Dan Seol-yeong could not shake her foreboding.
***
Meanwhile, the Demonic Doctor's disciple was staring at Tang Mujin, then abruptly turned away and returned to her work. Tang Mujin felt a bit wrong-footed.
'At least a word of thanks would've been nice.'
Apparently, his smug tone earlier hadn't helped.
He sat down again, watching her carefully. Judging by her fiddling with medicines and poisons, she seemed to be trying to find a way to neutralize the Zim Bird's poison.
But the more closely he observed, the more flaws he noticed. He began to needle her with sarcastic remarks.
"You're using a bowl that held another poison without even cleaning it? I suppose if you're trying to brew some random 'poison stew,' that could work. Heh, who knows—you might even stumble onto something great."
"You're rinsing porcelain with plain water? What if it contained an oil-soluble poison? You need to scrub it with an oil-soaked cloth. Unless you've invented some new cleaning method?"
"That chopped herb there—isn't that Chinese Angelica root? And you're storing it next to Notopterygium? Once they mix, good luck separating them again. Well, if you've got time to waste, maybe it'll keep you busy sorting them out."
Every so often he cut in with barbed comments. The disciple would glare back briefly before turning away again, silently insisting she didn't need his interference.
Yet whenever Tang Mujin's attention seemed to waver, she quietly corrected the mistakes he had pointed out—scrubbing bowls with oiled cloths, separating confusing herbs into different jars.
Of course, none of it escaped Tang Mujin's notice.
Her work felt oddly clumsy. She seemed trained, yet somehow inexperienced.
After clattering around for a while, she retrieved a square wooden box filled with dark brown pellets—Bigu Pills.
'Bigu Pills? She's not on a closed-door retreat, nor a Daoist avoiding fire energy. Why would she live on those?'
She set aside three pills for herself, then, remembering her manners, offered the box to Tang Mujin. At least she had the courtesy not to let a guest go hungry.
Tang Mujin took only two. His appetite waned at the sight.
He bit into one. Dry, tasteless, like chewing on clay left out for two days.
As the uncomfortable meal drew to an end, Tang Mujin broke the silence. They'd be living together for a while; he wasn't about to let things stay this frosty.
"What's your name?"
"Mok Wana. And you?"
The answer came quickly, followed by her own question. Clearly, she'd been curious about him.
"Tang Mujin."
A short silence, then Mok Wana asked,
"Did you… form a Poison Core (Dokdan)?"
When Tang Mujin nodded, she pressed further.
"I heard it takes high-grade elixirs to form one."
"Elixirs? You just have to eat them."
By sheer number, there were countless people who had consumed more elixirs than Tang Mujin.
But in terms of quality, few in the world could compare. Not only had he consumed Black Peony, but also the Great Hwan Pill, coveted even by Shaolin's abbot.
Mok Wana frowned.
"I'm the disciple of one of the Three Great Physicians under Heaven, but I've never had the chance to take such elixirs."
Tang Mujin almost remarked, "I guess Old Monster Goiyi was more generous than the Demonic Doctor," but caught himself. Considering the circumstances, it was almost certain that Goiyi was the one who had killed the Demonic Doctor. To speak of him in front of the latter's disciple would be foolish.
"Well, there's no shortage of elixirs in the world. If fate allows, you take them."
He dodged the issue with a vague answer, but Mok Wana frowned.
"Just eating elixirs isn't enough. To form a Poison Core (Dokdan), you need someone to guide you. The more I look at you, the more suspicious you seem."
"What's so suspicious about me?"
"You're too young to have a Poison Core, yet you know a surprising amount about herbs and poisons. My master said that even across the whole world, those who can handle both medicine and poison are rare. Aside from my master and Goiyi, the rest are all pretenders. Don't tell me you have some connection with Goiyi?"
A sharp observation. But if Tang Mujin had planned to admit the truth here, he wouldn't have bothered lying in the first place.
"Goiyi? Nonsense. You and your master have been holed up in Mount Cheonsan too long, that's why your horizons are so narrow. Have you ever even been outside the Demonic Cult?"
Mok Wana flinched. He had only been speaking idly, but it turned out to be true.
"My horizons aren't narrow! After I finish this job, I'll go outside."
She had admitted she'd never left before, while still claiming she wasn't narrow-minded. Her words contradicted themselves.
Tang Mujin grew more certain. Unlike the sharp, quick-witted Dan Seol-yeong, Mok Wana was naïve—easier to handle.
She pressed again.
"Anyway, if it wasn't Goiyi, then who taught you poison arts?"
Tang Mujin decided to bluff. If he couldn't tell the truth, the best strategy was to say whatever came to mind without hesitation.
"I learned it from my family."
"Your family?"
"Yes. In Sichuan, there's a clan well-versed in both medicine and poison. It's called the Sichuan Tang Clan (Sichuan Dangmun). People interested in medicine and poison gathered around the Tang family, forming a great house."
Tang Mujin let his imagination run wild, spinning out the story as it came. Once he left the Demonic Cult, he'd never meet these people again, so why worry about consequences?
Naturally, Mok Wana was not convinced.
"The Sichuan Tang Clan? Never heard of it."
"I can show you proof… ah, this will do."
Tang Mujin pulled a needle from his robes. Since Mok Wana practiced medicine and poison as well, she would surely recognize how rare such a fine, slender needle was.
As expected, her jaw dropped.
"The Sichuan Tang Clan isn't only skilled in poison arts; they also excel at hidden weapons. They even have a forge dedicated solely to producing them."
"It's a fine needle, but that's not really a hidden weapon."
"A needle can be an excellent hidden weapon. But if this isn't enough, I can show you something else."
He produced the Celestial King's Needle Case (Cheonwang Chimtong), opening it to reveal small iron slips and needles inside.
When Mok Wana instinctively reached out, Tang Mujin slapped her hand away.
"Don't touch recklessly. One wrong move and you'll end up full of holes."
"Is it really that dangerous?"
"Of course. More than a few people have gone to their graves after underestimating this Celestial King's Needle Case."
After putting it away, Mok Wana asked again,
"Where do you get your poisons? My master said collecting them outside the Demonic Cult is no easy task."
"Go northeast from the Tang Clan's seat in Sichuan and you'll find Mount Nogun. Ever heard of it?"
"Yes. The mountain where Emperor Shennong is said to have resided."
Her reply was so smooth—and perhaps influenced by the sight of the needle case—that the suspicion faded from her voice, replaced with curiosity.
"Exactly. Our clan's people roam Mount Nogun solely for the Tang Clan's sake, collecting venomous creatures and herbs."
Lies are hardest at the start, but once told, they tend to spiral out on their own.
For the first time, Tang Mujin realized he had a talent for lying. With a bit of truth sprinkled in, the fabrications sounded surprisingly convincing.
"Does everyone in the Sichuan Tang Clan have a Poison Core?"
"Of course not. Only someone of my caliber can form one."
"So you must hold quite some authority in your clan?"
"Naturally. My father, Tang Jeseon, is the clan head."
Tang Mujin thought of his father—a man who had never once handled poison in his entire life.
Mok Wana's surprise was plain.
"Then… you're the heir to the clan?"
"Of course. There's not a single person who could challenge me for the position."
Tang Mujin nodded confidently. This time, it was pure truth.
Who in the world would dare take over the Tang family's physician's post in his place?
A clear flash of admiration crossed Mok Wana's eyes.
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