Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang Novel - Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The day after the Tang Clan’s authority had been grandly “reinstated,” I was once more practicing in the rear training ground of the Four Harmony Pavilion, an area designated solely for the family’s direct descendants.

“Once more! Poisoned or not, what is your target?”
“The center of the body.”
“And why the center?”
“Aiming for the head or shoulders gives the enemy an easy chance to evade. Striking the center guarantees at least a hit, even if only a glancing one.”
“Correct. The chest and abdomen are the prime targets. Now, again.”

I stood on the wide training ground, dominated by an ancient, long-dead tree, concentrating on hurling knives at a human-shaped straw dummy. I drew my arm back, tense as a drawn bow, and was about to release the blade when my sister rushed into the area, her face full of alarm.

“Soryong! It’s awful!”

*Thunk!*

Her sudden cry broke my focus. The throwing knife veered off course, missing the dummy entirely and sinking into a hollow of the old tree.

Mandok Shingun, observing from nearby, frowned deeply.
“Did I not instruct you to maintain your concentration? In a real battle, your opponent’s weapon would already be piercing your neck!”
“M-my apologies!”

I flinched at his scolding, though I privately felt it was unjust given the interruption. I looked at my sister; her normally large eyes were wide with shock.

“What is it, milady?” I asked carefully.

Her answer was bewildering.
“O-our children! Something has happened to our children!”
“What? Children? What are you talking about?!” Grandfather’s eyes shot open in astonishment.

For an unmarried granddaughter to suddenly claim to have children was naturally shocking. Realizing her mistake, my sister’s face flushed a deep red, living up to her nickname, Rose Laurel (Wol-gye).
“No, not that! I mean the O-gong! Something is wrong with the O-gong!”

I barely suppressed a laugh at her error, but my amusement faded as I understood her real concern for the five centipedes in her care.
“The O-gong? What’s happened?”

My eyes scanned her person, searching for them. I had been leaving them with her during my physical training sessions, as their presence on my body restricted my movement. They usually clung to her, granting me a temporary reprieve. It had always worked perfectly.

But now, they were gone.

“Are they hiding in your clothes?” I murmured, instinctively reaching toward her collar. She jumped back, clutching her neckline protectively.
“They’re not there! They’ve all dropped off!”
“Dropped off?!”
“Yes! And… they look strange. I don’t know how to explain it…”

Sensing genuine trouble, I rushed toward the pavilion where she had been resting. Mandok Shingun followed right behind me.

We found the O-gong lying completely still in the center of the pavilion.
“What’s the matter with you all? Hey, wake up!”

I jumped onto the pavilion floor and examined them closely. Their appearance was unusual—somewhat see-through, as if each was encased in a thin, filmy layer. It looked like a transparent membrane, and I immediately recognized what was occurring.

“Oh, I see. They’re molting.”
The first molt.
“Molting?” my sister asked.
“Yes. Creatures with hard outer shells, like centipedes, shed them to grow larger. They’re shedding theirs now.”

As I spoke, my sister’s startled voice cut in.
“Look! Over there! Its head!”

I turned to where she pointed. One of the O-gong’s heads was swelling at the rear.

*Rip!*

The back of the head split open, and a yellow neck began pushing through. Soon, the entire head slid free of the old shell, and the rest of its body followed, writhing out like a spirit leaving its earthly vessel.

Once fully free, the centipede stretched its new form. It had been as thick as a sausage but was now the width of my forearm. Its previous golden-yellow color had softened to a luminous white sheen, and its new exoskeleton appeared sharper and more defined.

“This is amazing!” my sister exclaimed.
“It’s doubled in size!”

As we watched in awe, the second O-gong began to molt, then the third. They unfurled their bodies, adjusting to their new shells, while my sister asked,
“What are their names?”
“Names?”

I realized I had never given them any. Scratching my head, I suggested,
“O-il, O-i, and O-sam?”

She looked at me with utter disbelief.
“What? If they become dragons after a thousand years, will you call them O-il, O-i, and O-sam? These beings are destined to protect the Tang Clan for generations! Their names should carry the dignity and majesty of dragons!”
“Sister, O-gong don’t actually turn into dragons, even after a thousand years…”

Despite my logical objection, she appealed to Mandok Shingun for support.
“Grandfather, O-gong become dragons after a thousand years, don’t they?”

Mandok Shingun nodded with grave seriousness, humoring her.
“Yes, of course. A millennial O-gong transforms into a celestial dragon. That is why they are also known as Heavenly Dragons (Cheon-ryong).”

‘What is the point of explaining reality to these two?’ I wondered.

Accepting the hopelessness of debating biology, I listened as they discussed potential names.
“What about Golden Queen (Geumhu), Golden Emperor (Geumje), and Golden Prime (Geumsang)?”

The centipedes themselves seemed to object, pausing their grooming to look up at her. I sighed and intervened.
“Sister, they are all female.”
“All three of them?!”
“Yes.”
“Well, in that case…”

Before she could propose another round of ill-fitting names, I took control.
“They will be Cho (初), Hyang (香), and Bin (彬).”
“Cho, Hyang, and Bin?”
“Yes. The one with the long antennae is Cho, for ‘first.’ The one that constantly moves its antennae is Hyang, for ‘fragrance.’ The shiniest one is Bin, for ‘elegant.’”

After a moment’s thought, she nodded in approval.
“Very well. A father should be the one to name his children, after all.”
“…I beg your pardon?”

Mandok Shingun shot her a look of pure disbelief as I stood there, utterly speechless.
***
Centipedes usually eat their shed exoskeletons after molting, but the O-gong showed no interest in theirs. Even when I offered the shells to them, they turned away, completely indifferent. It seemed they grew by absorbing energy and spirit, not through physical nutrition.

Left behind were three molted shells, slightly yellow and translucent, lying on the pavilion floor like discarded, crumpled socks. I considered carefully stretching and preserving them, almost like a taxidermist would, when a sharp *clang* of metal striking something hard interrupted my thoughts.

“This… what is this?”
“It is a precious material (guimul),” Mandok Shingun observed.

Grandfather had picked up one of the shells and tapped it casually with a dagger. It produced a strange sound, like metal clashing against metal.
“The shell from the one we captured on Hainan Island was tough, but this is something else entirely. Normal weapons will not even scratch this,” he said.

I hadn’t noticed it while handling the flexible bodies of the O-gong, but their discarded shells held an incredible secret. I picked one up, turning it over in my hands, amazed by its properties.

Grandfather examined the shell thoughtfully. Without a word, he brought it over and started pressing it against my arm, as if measuring me for custom-fit armor.

He nodded to himself and declared, “This will make excellent gauntlets (gwongap) for you, Soryong. If we connect the leg sections and bind them together, we can craft a magnificent pair.”
“Gauntlets?!”
“Yes. The length is perfect to protect your forearm from elbow to knuckles. If we position the head piece over your hand, we can even coat the fangs with poison for striking. It will be exceptional,” he explained with clear enthusiasm.

“A gauntlet made from a centipede shell, with fangs on the hand? That’s practically ‘Centipede-Man!’” I thought, stunned by the absurdly cool concept he was describing. Grandfather wasn’t just any elder; he understood the dreams that stir a man’s soul.

“Is such a thing really possible?” I asked, hardly daring to hope.

My sister smiled, radiating pride in our family’s prowess. “The Tang Clan’s blacksmiths are masters of their craft. They can forge flying needles thin as a hair and countless other hidden weapons. Creating gauntlets from these shells will be well within their capabilities.”

I gasped aloud.
I had always thought of the Tang Clan as a legendary family of assassins, but this—this was a family that understood ambition, fantasy, and dreams.

As I imagined crafting two gauntlets and keeping one shell as a memento, Grandfather spoke again.
“We will use one of the remaining shells to make gloves (sutu) for Hwa-eun. The interior is soft, while the exterior is hard. They will be perfect for protecting her hands from hidden weapons.”

The idea surprised me. I had been planning to keep one shell intact for posterity. And he wanted to use it for my sister’s gloves!

I stared at him, wide-eyed, as he chuckled. “What? Are you reluctant to give it up?”

Before I could answer, my sister fixed me with a look that said, *Don’t you dare.*
Quickly, I shook my head. “Of course not. Why would I be?”

Though I denied it aloud, the truth was… I felt a twinge of reluctance.
***
A full day later, the O-gong began crawling back onto my body. Their new exoskeletons did not seem fully hardened, but they were clearly mobile.

The most significant change after their first molt was that the O-gong now resembled fully mature centipedes. While centipedes are born with all their segments, their initial form is often more rounded and soft. Now, their bodies were flatter, their legs were sharper, and their exoskeletons were far tougher.

They were complete centipedes now, and their increased weight was noticeable.

“Wow, you’ve all gotten heavier.”
*Tsrrr.*

At my comment, the O-gong emitted warning sounds as if to scold me. *How dare you call us heavy? We are ladies!* Their sharper, flattened bodies no longer clung to their old spots on my torso. They sought new positions.

Two wrapped themselves around my arms, while the third coiled snugly around my waist.

With their sharper legs pricking my skin and their new weight requiring me to adjust my balance, I walked toward Gajujeon. As I neared its entrance, I noticed two burly men leaving the building, looking exceedingly pleased with themselves.

“Heh! What did I tell you?”
“Exactly. This is why the Sichuan Tang Clan has no equal. Let’s go celebrate at the gisaeng house tonight!”

The two men, their coin pouches jingling, strode off toward the base of the mountain. Their demeanor seemed out of place for members of a prestigious assassination clan. Before I could ponder their presence, a familiar voice called out from inside Gajujeon.

“Bring Soryong here.”

It was my master, Mandok Shingun, summoning me.
I wondered what he could want this time as I made my way inside.