Part 47 - Grandfather and Grandson
"Everyone, leave the room."
At Jeong-a's command, the twins hurriedly filed out.
Even after they left, silence lingered in the room for a long while.
"...Sang-hyeon."
When the old man called his name again, Yeon Sang-hyeon let out a deep sigh.
"An old man with sharp eyes, aren't you. I wrapped it up tight and hid it, but you still noticed?"
To be honest, even for Yeon Sang-hyeon, this situation hadn't been intentional.
Inadvertently, he'd proven once again that the title Medicine King was no empty boast.
"...What happened to your body that you hid it so thoroughly I can't even feel the breath of the upper dantian that starts from acupoint?"
In the end, the very act of hiding everything to conceal The Ruler Of Darkness's demonic energy had only made it stand out.
"An old man's nose for trouble is a hundred levels deep. No wonder people say once you're old you ought to die."
From his words, Jeong-a could feel Yeon Sang-hyeon's desperate wish—not to wound his master's heart, not until the very end.
"...Sang-hyeon. Give me your wrist."
Unable to meet the old man's eyes, he closed his own instead.
Without a word, Jeong-a lightly rested a hand on her master's shoulder.
After a deep exhale, Yeon Sang-hyeon held out his hand.
"...Try not to faint. There's no one here to clean up an old man's piss and shit."
It was a warning—brace yourself.
But the old man didn't care in the slightest, and began taking his pulse without hesitation.
Who would dare stop a grandfather worried for a child who was, for all intents and purposes, his grandson?
"...This."
A fine tremor ran across the Medicine King's face.
"The Conception Vessel and the Governing Vessel are twisted. No—it's not just that. All the Eight Extraordinary Meridians have been reversed…!"
Cold sweat poured down his brow without pause.
Jeong-a quietly wiped it away.
"This is impossible. This is impossible. This isn't the vitality of a living person…!"
The old man's eyes snapped wide.
"This is demonic energy…! But it's nothing like the demon sect's."
His eyes rolled back, and his whole body convulsed violently.
"I—I…! Such a horrific demonic energy…! I've never heard of it, never seen it in my life…!"
Yeon Sang-hyeon forcibly yanked his wrist away.
Beyond this point, it might not just hurt the old man's heart—it could destroy his mind and body.
"..."
The old man, trembling, covered his face with both hands.
He was drowning in dreadful despair.
There was nothing he could do.
No—if he was honest, even grasping what it was had nearly shattered his sanity into pieces.
And that was despite the fact that Yeon Sang-hyeon had sealed that unknown demonic energy tightly away with some strange method.
A long time passed.
The old man lifted a face that looked as if it had aged several years in that span, and stared at Yeon Sang-hyeon.
"...You are no longer human."
Yeon Sang-hyeon could only nod silently.
***
A heavy silence ruled the room.
The old man held a short tobacco pipe between his lips and quietly sank into memory.
[She had a child. A healthy baby boy.]
When Pan So-yu sent word through an acquaintance, announcing she'd given birth, the old man had been deep in important research in Cheonchuk for years.
But if the disciple he cherished—like a daughter of his own—had given birth, what did research matter?
He raced to Luoyang in a single breath.
[This child's name is Sang-hyeon.]
Pan So-yu, as always, greeted the master who hadn't even washed or slept properly with a warm smile.
From within the wrapping cloth, she offered him the new life that made tiny breathing sounds.
But he couldn't bring himself to take the baby.
How could he touch a child he'd never once held, with hands so filthy they hadn't been washed in months?
He could neither step away nor draw close—he only gazed at the baby with wistful eyes.
With a smile like spring sunlight, Pan So-yu whispered softly to the child.
[This is your maternal grandfather.]
As if I could be…
He had spent his life with medicine and earned the name Medicine King, yet he had never gained descendants of his own.
That gentle introduction from his warm-hearted disciple was enough to make moisture gather at the corners of his eyes.
So he lowered his head to hide it, and only stared at the baby endlessly.
The child, wriggling and staring back at him with dark eyes, looked kinder and more noble than any child he had ever seen.
[Our Sang-hyeon. Isn't he adorable?]
She had lived a life that was never smooth.
Her fame soared high enough for everyone to know her name, yet almost no one knew what hardships she had endured.
Before the dazzling figure of his disciple, the old man couldn't bring himself to say anything.
He could only look—at the picture-perfect beauty of mother and child.
He realized far too late that his disciple had protected her child at the cost of her own lifespan.
[Master, please… sometimes, come by Luoyang and check on our Sang-hyeon.]
The letter in his hand trembled.
It was her last will.
The page overflowed with line after line of gratitude and stories.
But there was only one request.
She returned to nature at an age far too beautiful.
For months, every night, he held rites facing the direction where her body lay, praying for her rebirth in paradise.
It was also he who sent a letter to the Central Plains Nation's imperial court—so threatening it bordered on blackmail—demanding shrines be built across the country to honor her.
[You've come.]
His first visit was two years after Pan So-yu's departure.
Sang-hyeon greeted him with a composed dignity that didn't fit his age.
He was so bright and gifted that the old man wanted to take him as a disciple.
But seeing Sang-hyeon's face was agony.
Each time he saw traces of Pan So-yu—in Sang-hyeon's face, his expressions, his mannerisms—emotions piled up and piled up until they became unbearable.
Was this how a father felt after losing a daughter first?
He finally understood why people called it an incomparable unfilial tragedy when a child left before their parents.
He left behind a book containing all of his secret teachings.
As he tried to slip away quietly, Sang-hyeon—somehow sensing his intent—walked him out on a night when the moon was bright.
[See you again, Grandfather.]
After that, he began visiting the Sword Clan from time to time, spending time with Sang-hyeon.
At some point, they became like friends.
They traded insults. They belittled each other's skills.
Then one day—
His grandson was called Swordless, and had become the disgrace of the clan.
Like everyone else, the old man tried to persuade him again and again, but Sang-hyeon only smiled gently—the very same smile as his mother's.
[I only wish to live in contentment with poverty. The rumors of the world will fade someday.]
And even if the rumors never faded, it was fine.
He said he wanted to live quietly, without greed, and then leave.
He said perhaps keeping one's feet out of the muddy human world was also a way of living.
The old man beat his chest and lamented.
He was too gentle.
Too soft.
Too much like his mother.
He resembled a small, beautiful wildflower utterly unsuited to a cruel world.
The child, so clever, had grown disappointed in the world too early.
He had aged before his time.
There was no chance to learn what had happened.
His grandson simply stopped involving himself in the affairs of the world.
***
And now that child—his grandson—had lost his existence as a human being.
There wasn't a trace of vitality in his body.
He carried within him demonic energy so horrific the old man couldn't even imagine it.
[...I only want to take responsibility.]
Responsibility for what?
What had this great clan done so wrong, how warped had the world become, that this child had abandoned being human to take responsibility?
His grandson was so kind and gentle that he never even raised his voice at servants who looked down on him.
A child who only wanted to live quietly his whole life, and then leave.
Even after being poisoned, he had treated himself in silence because he didn't want to stir up trouble for the clan.
He had been poisoned so many times that he'd reached a higher realm of detoxification than even the grandfather known as the Medicine King.
How painful it must have been.
How bitter it must have been.
If it were him, he wouldn't have endured even for a moment.
"This lunatic clan…!"
The bowl the old man hurled shattered against the wall.
"A clan full of nothing but garbage…!"
His roar rang out, booming through the room.
It rang out in grief.
"You cursed bastards! Bastards who know nothing but power and nothing but money!"
He collapsed and wept right there.
He wept bitterly.
He sobbed.
Tears and snot streamed down, making the old man's already unsightly face look even uglier.
But no one dared laugh.
He had sent his daughter away first.
And now, it was as if he had sent his grandson away first as well.
***
"So now what—are you going to stir the whole thing up?"
"Just stir it up?"
Only the two of them were in the room.
Jeong-a had left long ago, mindful of the old man's dignity.
Yeon Sang-hyeon bared his teeth in a smile.
"If it's necessary, I'll empty it all out and fill it anew."
It was a chilling thing to say.
The old man clapped his hands in delight.
"Good! If you're going to do it, isn't it only natural to do it properly?!"
He burst into hearty laughter.
"They'll learn exactly who they've laid hands on!"
The grandfather and grandson clinked their cups in celebration.
"Is there anything more I can do for you?"
"Could you stay in Luoyang for a while?"
The old man nodded.
"I came in the first place because of a prescription I might hear about from your father."
He ground his teeth.
"While I'm at it, I should bleed this money-obsessed clan's assets dry."
Yeon Sang-hyeon chuckled.
Watching him, the old man spoke cautiously.
"Before I came to see you, I stopped by that brat Bi first. I needed poison from the secret traditions of the Sichuan Tang Clan. I got the poison, but…"
Bi was the Third Young Master's name.
"Did that brat nag again?"
At Yeon Sang-hyeon's words, the old man scratched his head.
"Same as always. He likes you an awful lot. But you're holed up and won't even see him, so…"
Yeon Sang-hyeon nodded readily.
"Understood. I was planning to visit him once anyway."
The old man's face brightened.
"Good. Then…"
Just then, Jeong-a's voice came from outside.
Anyone could hear the awkwardness in it.
"Master. A guest has arrived."
A guest at this hour?
"Who is it?"
The answer didn't come from Jeong-a, but from the "guest" himself.
"First Young Master. This steward has come under Elder Yeom's orders to escort the Medicine King."
The Medicine King's eyebrow twitched.
"These insane bastards…"
He was about to spring to his feet, but Yeon Sang-hyeon had already kicked the door panel open.