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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: The Cost of Survival
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It felt like my body was floating in the air.
I couldn't tell if I was dead or alive.
Beyond my drifting consciousness, something extremely noisy was buzzing.
"Moyong Taese!"
It was hazy in my blurred vision, barely visible.
My body was burning up from the boiling heat.
"If we're not on your side, you'll eliminate anyone, you beasts worse than animals! Aren't you afraid of heaven's wrath!"
My head felt numb.
I couldn't grasp the situation.
Why was I lying down?
I still…
Right.
I had to go to work today.
I needed to survive this winter too.
I had to buy rice in advance, firewood, and since my shoes were worn out, new ones too.
Oh, right.
Though I'd been too busy surviving to think about it much, I was a martial artist of sorts, so I needed oil for sharpening my sword.
Rice, firewood, shoes, oil…
What little money I had wasn't nearly enough.
Lately, work had been scarce.
Then, it suddenly hit me.
When could I live without these worries, free and at ease?
"Gam Seoin! Over here!"
Someone was helping me sit up.
My whole body ached like it was shattering apart.
"He's still alive! Hurry and carry him!"
I'd always struggled desperately to survive, working as hard as I could.
I wanted to ask my mother.
I lived hard, didn't I?
Even if my life seemed worthless to others.
Would she nod, smile like she did when I was a child, and stroke my head?
So…
That's why…
-Flash.
I opened my eyes.
"...."
Silence surrounded me.
The room was endlessly quiet, as if the clamor that had filled my ears moments ago was all a hallucination.
A pure white ceiling came into view.
"It hurts."
My entire body felt like it was breaking apart.
Every sip of water brought the pain of my peeling esophagus burning away, laced with the taste of iron.
-Clang.
My trembling hands couldn't even hold a porcelain bowl properly and dropped it.
It felt like every nerve in my body was severed, wriggling like separate earthworms.
"Why does it hurt so much?"
[Because you came back from the dead.]
I recognized this voice.
I tried to greet it by name, joyfully.
"...."
[Host?]
My mouth just opened and closed like a mute's.
I definitely knew this voice's name.
What was it?
The name.
I knew the name.
'My memories.'
Only after a long while did I finally recall the voice's name and call it.
"Moomyeong."
[....]
Memories slowly resurfaced one by one.
It was like pulling out shattered porcelain pieces thrown into the trash and painstakingly piecing them back together.
"Ugh."
I survived.
The assassin in the red mask.
I escaped the Grim Reaper's grasp twice.
"…What's the state of my body right now?"
[You paid the price, that's all.]
"Price?"
Moomyeong said something out of left field.
[Do you know what dementia is?]
"How could I not? What kind of nonsense is this all of a sudden…"
I stopped mid-sentence.
I hadn't known it long, but one thing I was sure of: it never spoke without reason.
A chill settled in my chest.
[The Heavenly Demon's ability to copy martial arts translates the flow of qi through meridians, the dantian's function, muscle connections and coordination—all the learning and experience accumulated through the five senses over vast amounts of time—into knowledge, interpreting and imprinting it directly into your mind. It's no different from standing under a waterfall with your mouth open to catch every drop.]
"...."
[The more you overuse the ability, the more your brain will break down. Keep that in mind.]
So that's what it was.
I'd forgotten something.
A childhood memory, but I couldn't recall it.
Something… like the smell of burning fallen leaves, happily laughing and playing.
That scent lingered faintly in a corner of my mind, but I couldn't grasp what it was.
"...."
That fact instilled a deeper terror than any insult or death threat I'd ever heard in my life.
I can't remember.
I'm losing myself.
This simple truth brought a chill worse than death.
"I wonder if my lifespan is okay."
[What do you mean?]
"I did that insane thing of using innate true qi instead of internal energy."
[So you know it was insane.]
I gritted my teeth.
"I had no choice. You think I wanted to?"
[I agree.]
I'd copied the Red Mask's techniques, but I lacked the internal energy to wield them.
So, I'd burned my innate true qi—the primal energy everyone possesses—as fuel to clumsily execute those moves.
Not just a little.
I'd shoveled it in like dry firewood into roaring flames, so it wouldn't be an exaggeration if half my lifespan was gone.
[Your lifespan barely shortened. And you've gained a bit of internal energy too, I'd guess. It was such a premium elixir, after all. Even if it's less than a handful.]
I sat there blankly for a long time.
Whirr.
A fly crossed the ceiling.
One lap, two laps, three laps.
After circling the ceiling, the fly brushed past my nose—
"What the hell is that bullshit?"
[…What are you talking about?]
I was so shocked, a curse slipped out.
"That's not the point, so…"
[….]
Only after a long while did I get the explanation.
"That guy fed me a Soul-Rescuing Golden Pill?"
[Yes.]
I blinked.
"Why the hell? Is he crazy? No, that doesn't make any sense…"
[I don't know the reason. The conclusion is: since the Soul-Rescuing Golden Pill primarily replenishes innate true qi rather than boosting internal energy, you got a slight increase in internal energy with almost no loss to your lifespan.]
Even hearing the explanation left me dumbfounded.
There's a limit to giving poison and then the antidote.
"What is this, a cat toying with a mouse?"
He'd revived me fully, probably just to chop off my limbs again later while I was still kicking.
[Host, one piece of advice.]
"Yeah."
[There's no such thing as a free gift in this world. Absolutely none.]
Hearing the same idea in Moomyeong's cold voice made it truly sink in.
"Then."
Actually, this was what I should've asked first.
But I'd hesitated, fearing the answer I didn't want to hear.
"By any chance, do you know how Moyong Taese is doing?"
[I don't know. No reason to.]
Moomyeong spoke without the slightest hesitation.
"…I didn't expect much, but you always say it straight, no blood or tears."
[As long as you don't die, I don't care who does. I'm only ever interested in my own survival.]
Crunch.
My teeth ground together.
"That's probably because you'd die too, not for my sake?"
[Of course. To me, my survival is more important than anything in this world. What answer are you hoping for from me?]
I fell silent for a moment.
"I don't think we'll ever even be false friends."
[That's not my concern.]
My heart grew turbid, like ink seeping into white hanji paper.
[Someone's approaching. Be cautious.]
Moomyeong's senses had detected the previous assassins from dozens of jang away, far surpassing human limits.
[Host.]
"Got it."
I pulled the blanket over me and lay back down.
"You're awake."
The one who entered was Yaowang Tang Leader Gam Seoin.
Honestly, I'd expected a Moyong Family servant.
I jolted in surprise at the unexpected visitor.
"Gam Seoin!"
"You've awakened."
Gam Seoin politely bowed toward me as I shot up, kicking off the blanket.
"And Moyong Taese?"
"Fortunately, he's passed the critical point. He's focusing on recovery now, so he won't see you in person."
My strength left me, and I slumped back down.
I was surprised at my own genuine relief.
It was undeniable that he'd tried to kill me. But even so, he was the first in the family to acknowledge my existence and call my name.
Given how parched I'd been, it was inevitable that his presence now carried a weight in my heart, different even slightly from a complete stranger.
"Young Master, I'm sorry while your body is still unwell."
The odd feeling I'd had since earlier was Gam Seoin's speech.
His tone had changed.
He addressed me with "Young Master" in every reference, treating me politely, as if I were a true family member.
"Moyong Taese asked me to relay a message on his behalf."
"Moyong Taese did?"
He knelt before me as I questioned him. Startled, I bolted upright.
"You must leave immediately. There's no time."
"No time? What do you mean?"
Gam Seoin seemed somehow anxious.
"By now, the client who dispatched the assassins will have heard of your failed assassination."
Those words carried every implication.
Seeing my face stiffen, Gam Seoin nodded.
"I don't know what change of heart the assassin had, but since it failed, they'll move to their second plan right away. This is your last chance. If you don't seize it and seek refuge at Cheonsubakryeonsa, you'll be in danger, Young Master."
A chill gripped my chest at his curt words.
Gam Seoin held up two fingers.
"Among the Moyong Family's three young masters, excluding the second known for his womanizing, the first and third are not to be underestimated. Slyer than foxes, bolder than tigers."
I looked at him.
Gam Seoin swallowed hard.
"If they're who I think they are, they'll come charging to crush you before you, still a tender sprout, can harden."
"...."
"Do you want to avoid them? But they won't leave you be. In the end, you and they are fated to meet on a single log bridge."
It was a reality I couldn't ignore, no matter how much I wanted to.
"Moyong Taese worried about that too. Of course, Cheonsubakryeonsa isn't absolutely safe. Any place run by people has holes, and in today's murim, no faction is untainted. Still, becoming a disciple there is a hundred times better than being a rootless wanderer like now, where no one would care if you died."
Even objectively, Gam Seoin was right.
My greatest vulnerability now was lacking any formal affiliation.
There's a famous saying in murim: a lone individual can't beat vengeance.
Even a neighborhood stray dog has its protectors—its own pack.
I had no outstanding martial prowess, nor guardians to rage or shield me from threats.
Claiming my bloodline as the Moyong Family's bastard son now and demanding official inclusion was absurd.
For now, the quickest, most stable status I could claim in this murim was as a Cheonsubakryeonsa disciple.
"Bring it."
At Gam Seoin's gesture, maids entered in unison, setting down bundles and provisions.
"These are provisions for the road and necessary items."
I could sense the urgency.
No matter what, Gam Seoin was trying to protect me somehow.
"Understood. I'll depart at once. Gam Seoin."
"And."
Gam Seoin spoke.
"There's something else to convey, separately."
"Yes?"
Gam Seoin straightened into a reverent posture.
I looked at him.
It was a gaze filled with resolve.
"Seeing them draw blades without hesitation even against family from the same sega, I've made my decision. As candidates for family head, they're unqualified."
"Yes?"
His tone was calm as he intoned the words, but his eyes quietly burned with fury over this incident.
"The Moyong Family Eighth Elder faction will lead the official recognition and support of the fourth young master's existence upon your completion of training as a Cheonsubakryeonsa disciple and departure."
"Yes?"
"However, for our faction to act, something must precede it."
Gam Seoin spoke calmly in a low voice.
"It could be seen as a gamble. But Moyong Taese said you possess potential rare even in the Central Plains."
"A gamble?"
Gam Seoin looked at me.
"To be cold about it, as a bastard son, you have no fame or support base. Even if you have no desire for the family head position, to survive—at minimum—and truly receive our faction's aid, you need proven fame that shows you're worth trusting and following."
"…Proven fame? Like some kind of certification?"
"Cheonsubakryeonsa isn't just a righteous faction's training institution. It's closer to an organization that grades martial artists' levels in murim and officially certifies ranks. You train for six years across the four halls—Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter—and pass exams to advance. The name of the hall you reach in your sixth year of graduation becomes your lifelong status and identity."
"...."
"Moyong Taese said that you'll surely return having passed all gates of Cheonsubakryeonsa—something not even one from the Five Great Families has done. I guarantee it. If—if you succeed."
Gam Seoin looked straight at me and said,
"The day you leave Cheonsubakryeonsa, murim's gaze on you, a bastard-born young master, will be worlds apart from now."