Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang Novel - Chapter 216

Chapter 216
As I gazed in blank surprise at the artificial Neidan that had once again appeared before me, the leader of Gunryong studied me and repeated his question.
“Is this the object you described to us earlier?”
I had previously told Gunryong about the activities of the Five Venoms Sect, detailing how the Wind Cavern had been devouring people and forming artificial Neidans inside their bodies.
This inquiry was clearly about whether that was the very item I had spoken of.
“Allow me to inspect it again.”
I needed to be completely sure, so I looked the Neidan over carefully.
It was unlikely I was wrong, but absolute certainty was necessary.
Though I had first identified it in poor light, and my memory might not be perfect, I vividly remembered it being a large orb, roughly the size of a palm.
Its color was unusual for a Neidan—clouded and somewhat opaque.
—Chorurung!
The moment I extended my hand, Hyang emitted a warning cry.
Cho and Bini instantly moved to block my reach.
From Hyang’s reaction and the behavior of Cho and Bini, it was clear.
For whatever reason, Hyang had taken an instant dislike to it.
“Yes, Leader. I am certain this is the one.”
I gave a nod to the leader of Gunryong, then inquired how it had come into their possession.
Previously, the Wind Cavern had been surrendered to the Five Venoms Sect after its tendons were severed.
Or perhaps it was more accurate to say it was returned to its original owners?
“How did Gunryong come by this? This is unmistakably…”
“Ah, it was recovered from the intruders’ remains. Since you were the one who defeated them, it seemed only right that it should go to you.”
“I see…”
“Indeed, the spoils belong to the victor.”
It appeared the Murim world operated on a principle where whoever subdued an enemy claimed their possessions.
Regarding how Gunryong had acquired it—the assassin had been carrying it on his person.
When the assassin perished, his face flared up like a match, his entire body hissing and emitting an acrid smell.
I had been so taken aback by the sight that I stepped away, never noticing he possessed this.
Gunryong must have found it while disposing of the body.
Since the event occurred on the roadway near the Nine-Tiered Gates, they likely had little choice but to handle the cleanup.
‘I made a mess right outside someone’s gate again… and even had them take care of the remains.’
Feeling a twinge of embarrassment, I examined the Neidan more closely.
“Hm? What’s this?”
A faint line was visible across the surface of the cloudy core.
Leaning in for a better look, I spotted a crack that I was sure hadn’t been there previously.
—Chorurung.
Hyang issued another warning as I tried to investigate.
However, since it hadn’t reacted when I touched it last time, I sent a calming thought and lightly tapped it with my fingertip.
—Clatter. Crack.
In that instant, the Neidan fractured into two pieces.
“Ah!”
My eyes widened in alarm, worried I had broken it, but upon reflection, I knew it wasn’t my doing.
Just as this relief settled over me, the leader of Gunryong offered a gentle smile and an explanation.
“An expert examination would provide fuller confirmation, but as you stated, this is indeed a mystical beast’s Neidan. It contains a significant amount of tainted energy, rendering it unfit for direct use by a person.
Ah, regarding the break—whether due to fire exposure or another cause, my disciples discovered it already in two pieces when they retrieved it from the corpse.”
‘So it wasn’t me? In my previous life, I had a knack for breaking things, so I assumed it was my fault again…’
Back then, aside from “Spicy,” I’d also earned the nickname “Destroyer of Civilization.”
Not for harming nature, but because anything man-made tended to shatter at my touch.
Living things would inexplicably mutate or act strange, and precious items would fracture from the slightest contact.
So I naturally thought I’d caused the Neidan to split.
But it seemed it had already been damaged inside a dead body for some time.
“Thank you for delivering this to me personally.”
I offered a slight bow of gratitude to the leader of Gunryong.
He could have easily disregarded it or kept it for himself, but he had retrieved it for me, honoring the custom that the victor claims the spoils.
Expressing thanks was the least I could do.
The leader of Gunryong simply smiled, as if it were nothing.
“It is of no consequence. It was rightfully yours. But you are pushing yourself while still unwell. You should rest. Recover here at your leisure. There is no need for concern.”
“Thank you, Leader.”
“Straight into training after leaving your sickbed, I see.”
At the elder’s comment, I could only scratch my head and offer an awkward laugh.
Their business concluded, the leader of Gunryong rose to his feet.
I felt a wave of relief.
Not for any other reason—but simply because I could finally get some proper rest!
It was a relief well-deserved, given my state of total exhaustion.
“I am completely spent.”
The moment Taeheo and the elders departed, I dropped onto the bed.
I felt Bini, Hyang, and Cho squirming their way into my embrace, and then my sight faded into darkness, like ink dissolving in water.
My last glimpses were of Hwa-eun pressing her lips together as if to speak, and the faint, fading cries of the little ones.
—Chorururur.
—Kisak!
—Pii!
Mental training truly was the most effective sleep aid.
***
—Clack.
A faint sound.
A subtle, disagreeable sensation abruptly gripped Hyang.
—Choru!?
Jolted by this peculiar feeling, Hyang swiftly raised its antennae in the dark and surveyed the room.
Even while everyone else slept, it was Hyang’s responsibility to guard its father.
—Chorururu 『?』
Its first inspection was the room’s corner.
That was where Hwayang slept, the noisiest of them all.
Turning its gaze toward the wall, it saw, as anticipated, Hwayang fastened to the bedside, deep in slumber.
Yet her brow was slightly furrowed.
Another bad dream?
She seemed to have them so frequently…
Hyang shook its head and looked elsewhere.
Since it didn’t consume food like the others, it couldn’t grasp their fixation on eating, and it was doubtful Hwayang had caused the sound this time.
Not a single stir came from her.
Next, it looked to the table by the window, where Seol, Bing, and Dong were knotted together in sleep.
They appeared to be slumbering deeply.
None seemed to be the source of the noise.
They were perfectly still.
Looking down, Hyang noticed Moji and Soji coiled inside a bamboo basket under the table.
As neither ever made a sound, they were certainly not responsible.
Thinking the origin might be closer, Hyang turned its attention to the bed.
At the head of the bed, its father was sound asleep.
Near his head, Yeondu was curled up, her expression troubled as if trapped in a nightmare.
Feeling sympathy for Yeondu, Hyang gently wound around its father’s hair and tugged Yeondu’s tail free from under him.
Yeondu’s face softened into tranquility at once.
Scanning the area one more time, it observed that on either side of the bed, Cho and Bini had merely laid their heads upon it, sleeping peacefully.
Seeing them like this, Hyang shuddered its antennae, thankful they hadn’t gotten any bigger.
A final look around revealed nothing out of order, nothing that could have produced a sound.
—Choru. 『Did I imagine it?』
Hyang scrutinized its environment carefully but failed to locate the source of the disquiet.
It persuaded itself the noise was a mistake, and the odd energy was merely residual irritation from its father spending excessive time fussing over the older siblings instead of it.
Just as it prepared to burrow back into its father’s warmth—
A piercing sensation and a wave of unpleasant energy struck the moment its head made contact.
Startled by the pressure against its head, Hyang nudged aside its father’s clothing and discovered a small wooden box resting there—the same one its father had received from the visitor earlier.
It was slightly open.
This had to be the origin of the sound.
A sinister energy was leaking from the box, seeping into the air.
This disagreeable feeling was undoubtedly emanating from the contents.
—Chorururu.
Concerned the box’s sharp edge might jab its father’s chest or the strange energy might affect him, Hyang gingerly took the box in its jaws and extracted it.
Carrying the box in its mouth, it retreated and cautiously set it down on a nearby table.
—Clatter.
Though placed on the table, the box was likely tilted, as it slid slightly and opened a bit more.
The peculiar energy continued to escape through the gap.
Hyang thought about righting the box, but since nothing inside seemed spillable, it hesitated.
Tendrils of baleful energy hovered near the box rather than dispersing.
Unwilling to risk waking its father with unnecessary motion, Hyang resolved to leave the box be for now.
Just as it turned to crawl back to its father—
A faint noise reached its senses.
—Scratch. Scratch.
It wasn’t the same clatter as before, but to Hyang’s ears, it was distinct and clear.
Half-tucked under its father’s clothes, Hyang raised its antennae rigidly.
It rapidly scoured the room.
Only one thing was different.
Moji and Soji, who had been motionless in the bamboo basket, were now squirming.
All the others remained unchanged, but these two—who typically never strayed—were on the move.
Slowly, they inched along the rim of the basket’s lid, aiming for one side.
Witnessing this, Hyang’s antennae shot upward in alarm.
Before it could even think, its body lunged forward.
—Chorut!
The two squirming beings had almost reached the basket’s edge and were on the verge of toppling to the floor.
‘Even if we look different, we’re all family, so we have to listen to Mom and Dad and take care of our younger siblings.’
Its father’s words resonated in Hyang’s mind.
Even if their forms differed, those its father brought home were family and needed protection.
In that split second—
Hyang’s lengthy form stretched past Cho’s head and reached the bamboo basket.
Precisely as its fangs closed on the lid’s edge—
—Tap. Tap.
A double tap landed on its head.
Moji and Soji had jumped onto its head.
It had caught them just in time.
Understanding how narrow the escape was, Hyang’s antennae stood rigid before gradually relaxing.
Its body, extended over Cho’s head, finally slumped to the floor.
Cho, lost in profound sleep, only twitched an antenna and remained undisturbed.
—Chorurur!
Hyang issued a soft admonishment to Moji and Soji.
They had nearly fallen.
But whether they comprehended or not, they just continued their crawl across its body.
Anger was pointless—they displayed no reaction.
And since leaving them alone was clearly unsafe, Hyang coiled its body.
—Chorut?
Where could they possibly be trying to go in the dead of night?
At that moment, the small yellow antennae on their heads quivered, orienting toward the table.
—Chorurut?
Hyang inquired again, verifying if that was truly their goal.
In reply, the two creatures dipped their heads up and down.
It had no notion why they wished to go there now, but Hyang decided it was best to assist them.
Left to themselves, they might attempt the climb and fall again.
And so, with both perched on its head, Hyang journeyed to the table.
After setting them down gently, it asked,
—Chut. 『Are you content?』
The two waggled their antennae and nodded.
As if expressing gratitude, they shook their tiny antennae.
Satisfied with its duty, Hyang turned back toward its father’s bed.
It was time to reclaim its spot.
But the moment it turned away, a peculiar prickling traveled through its antennae.
Before it knew it, its antennae shifted independently—toward Moji and Soji.
—Chorururu…
Ultimately, its concern for the two wouldn’t allow departure.
It didn’t understand their desire to be on the table, but something felt amiss.
Abandoning the return, Hyang clung to the table’s edge, observing them intently.
As it watched their small, wriggling bodies, its vision caught on something brown beneath them.
In that moment, Hyang identified both the source of its anxiety and the goal of their crawl.
It was the very box it had removed from its father’s chest.
To confirm, Hyang nudged the box aside.
Sure enough, Moji and Soji corrected their path, continuing toward it.
—Clatter.
Just as Hyang pushed the box once more, something tumbled out.
A bead.
And the instant it struck the surface, it cleaved neatly in two.
The moment this occurred, the two small creatures’ yellow antennae glimmered.
With fresh resolve, they crawled with increased urgency toward the divided bead.
—Churut?
Hyang’s gaze darted between Moji and Soji, the disquieting energy flowing from the bead’s halves, and the strange sensation tingling in its antennae.
Something was terribly amiss.