Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang Novel - Chapter 403

Chapter 403
Cordyceps.
The name translates to “winter insect, summer grass.”
It’s known as a strange creature that exists as a bug in the colder months and transforms into a plant when it’s warm—but in reality, it isn’t a plant at all.
Biologically, it’s a kind of ascomycete fungus, more closely related to mushrooms than to any form of vegetation.
Cordyceps was originally identified in the East and has been part of medicinal practice for hundreds of years. In my past life, it was famous for its ability to slow aging and was occasionally called a potion for eternal life.
“By weight, it cost more than gold.”
And how did I come to know all this?
Because it’s a parasitic fiend that preys on the insects I adore.
So where does the lyrical name come from?
Cordyceps was first documented in the East, more precisely, right here in the Himalayas. This is the home of the unique species that gave rise to the name—one that thrives only in the high elevations of these mountains.
In the West, it goes by Cordyceps, and roughly 750 varieties are known worldwide. Among those, about 200 display a rather disturbing behavior:
They invade and consume insects—exactly what lay before me now, with shoots sprouting from the bodies of grasshoppers.
The type native to the Himalayas usually infects the larvae of ghost moths.
These grubs aren’t much to look at—fairly similar to silkworms.
They dig into the earth to wait out the winter, and if spores infect them, the fungus develops within until the host perishes.
Then, when spring arrives, a stalk emerges from the head—breaking through the dirt like a young plant.
Hence, “Winter-Insect, Summer-Grass.”
Tsssst.
『Father?』
Cho’s voice brought me back to the present.
I had been so absorbed by the understanding that each of these Cordyceps was growing from a buried grasshopper that I’d lost myself in thought.
“That’s right, Cho. Do you see this small stem coming out of the locust’s head? It resembles grass, but it’s actually a fungus. In winter, it remains an insect—then in spring, it sprouts like vegetation. That’s the meaning behind Cordyceps.”
Tssrr.
『I understand.』
Shaaa.
『What a remarkable fungus.』
The children nodded, clearly fascinated.
I then turned to Cho.
“Can you go bring your mother? I believe we should have everyone come here.”
Now that we knew part of the locust swarm we’d been following had perished and become Cordyceps, it was important to inform the rest of the group.
Tssrr.
『Alright, Father.』
With a flap of her wings, Cho disappeared beyond the ridge.
While waiting for their return, I knelt again by the field of Cordyceps.
I had to examine more samples to be certain every one was indeed a grasshopper—and if I could, learn the exact species. That knowledge would help trace their source, path of migration, and the full size of the swarm.
Snap. Crack.
I drew my throwing knife and gently excavated several more stalks.
After wiping away the soil, I found the same distinct grasshopper heads—each with a fungal stem rising like a peculiar little spire.
Without question, a huge quantity of grasshoppers lay interred beneath this field.
Hold on… isn’t this the wrong elevation and time of year for Cordyceps?
It normally grows between 3,000 and 5,000 meters above sea level and tends to sprout near May. Yet this spot wasn’t that high up—and it was already late autumn.
Which meant, under regular conditions, this fungus shouldn’t be here at all.
I’d been so captivated by the find that I overlooked how improbable it was.
“Wait… could this be a new type of Cordyceps?”
If the environment and season were wrong, it might be a changed or unknown variant. But first, I needed to verify what insect was hosting it.
Tap tap.
I cleaned one sample carefully—uncovering a yellow body dotted with black.
The legs had come off during excavation, but the patterns were enough.
“…A desert locust?”
To be specific, the Desert Locust, Schistocerca gregaria.
These originate from North-East Africa, Arabia, and Southwest Asia. They form enormous swarms and are infamous for creating the most severe plagues on the planet.
Some locust species can cover 150 kilometers in a day—and this is one of them.
“Perfect. The absolute worst kind.”
Of all the types that could appear, it had to be the most devastating.
For some unexplained cause, this group had died here, and as I waited for Cho to return with the others, I chose to explore a bit further.
Makgok had told us that multiple swarms had been spotted here, one after another. Based on the growth of the Cordyceps, these had been in the ground for months.
That suggested newer swarms might still be close by.
“Yeondu, let’s survey the area again.”
Shaaa. 『Yes, So-ryong.』
Mounting Yeondu, I flew over the nearby skies. Soon, I noticed another patch of Cordyceps not far ahead.
“There, Yeondu!”
Shaaa! 『I see it!』
“…Well. These haven’t grown out completely yet.”
The stems here were smaller—only about a finger’s length—and many were still breaking through the earth.
This meant these locusts had died more recently than the ones in the first field.
Same species. Same place. Less developed.
“…Still desert locusts.”
Why had they all died together? It made no sense.
As I stood looking down, Yeondu cocked her head and inquired with curiosity:
Shaaa. 『So-ryong… do grasshoppers dig into the soil when they’re about to die?』
She was wondering if they bury themselves at the end—a question so guileless that I had to give her head a pat.
“Hm? No, they don’t. When they die, they simply fall. What insect would dig its own grave?”
Shaaa? 『Then… isn’t this very unusual?』
She pointed with her tail toward the Cordyceps growth.
And in that instant, it struck me.
I’d been so distracted by the excitement of uncovering precious Cordyceps that I missed the most glaring oddity—the fact that all these locusts were underground.
Grasshoppers don’t tunnel into the ground to die. And unlike ghost moth larvae that stay underground through winter, locusts migrate. They travel by air—they don’t dig.
Something was very much amiss.
“This isn’t right. Truly not right.”
Shaaa. 『So I was correct? It’s not supposed to be like this?』
“You clever thing. You’re brilliant, Yeondu.”
Shaaaa… 『So-ryong… please… don’t…』
I drew her into a firm embrace and fondly messed up her hair. She was flushing deeply.
Just then, Hwa-eun’s voice reached my mind through communication art:
『So-ryong, where are you? We’re at the spot Cho directed us to, but we can’t find you.』
“I’m coming back.”
It seemed her party had made it to the first site while we were investigating.
I signaled to Yeondu.
“Let’s head back. Cho led them to the field.”
Shaaa. 『Yes, So-ryong.』
By the time Yeondu and I returned to the original location—
They were in the middle of a celebration.
The children had likely gone to search for me, leaving only the adults: Hwa-eun, Lady Seol, Hu-gae, the guide, Brother Kwon-ryong, Ji-ryong, and a few more.
And the men?
They were eagerly gathering Cordyceps.
They must have found the patch I uncovered and recognized the treasure hidden below—fungal gold.
“Ah, what fortune is this? Is it truly fine for us to take some? You were the one who found it, young master, weren’t you?”
“Indeed, but I am certain So-ryong would want it shared.”
“Ha! You see? You truly can’t believe every rumor in the Murim world. I had never before met the renowned Lady Hwa-eun—they said she was lovely yet fearsome. Pah! Those scoundrels who spread such lies… I’ll have them regret it. From today, we of the Beggars’ Union will declare her as gracious as she is fair!”
Hu-gae was enthusiastically praising Hwa-eun. It appeared she had already distributed some Cordyceps—likely thinking it insignificant given the abundance.
It was reasonable. We had been together for some time now. It would have seemed odd to keep it to ourselves.
The two beggars were simply fortunate to be present at this moment. A lucky chance for them.
“I’ve never seen it sprout from a locust before… Do you think it will work as medicine?”
“Didn’t Lady Hwa-eun mention it isn’t toxic?”
“Haha. I’ll save some for my wife’s father.”
The women stayed back, somewhat unsettled by the notion of a fungus feeding on a locust’s remains. They observed the men digging from a distance.
“Why are they so thrilled about this?”
“Oh, Cordyceps is known to enhance stamina, Gungbong.”
“Stamina?”
“Yes. Stamina.”
“…Is that truly worth such excitement?”
Gungbong appeared genuinely puzzled.
Lady Seol smiled and threw an arm around her shoulder. Then, leaning close, she murmured quietly:
“Stamina means vitality… Vitality is… you see… helpful at night… when a man…”
Gungbong’s eyes grew round. Then she swallowed.
“…May I also take some?”
“Certainly,” Hwa-eun replied with a light laugh.
Really, why?
She didn’t have a betrothed, or even someone she loved. Even Hwa-eun and Eunbong—who did—weren’t scrambling for any. Why the urgency?
As I descended to join them, Lady Seol teased her gently.
“Gungbong, and what do you intend to use that for?”
Gungbong stopped, her hand halting in the dirt. She coughed slightly.
“J-Just… for readiness. In case it’s needed.”
Well, phrased that way…
I nodded just as Cho’s voice called out.
Tssrr! 『Father is back!』
Hwa-eun waved as soon as she saw me.
“So-ryong!”
The instant I landed, she hurried over and reported like a child wanting approval.
“So-ryong, I took the liberty of sharing some with everyone. I hope that was acceptable?”
“Naturally.”
I had, after all, been considering her possessions as mine for some time—the entire Tang Clan, for example.
So this was unimportant.
I replied offhandedly, and Hwa-eun smiled, still inquisitive.
“Where did you go?”
“Oh, I discovered another Cordyceps patch nearby.”
“Another one? But Cordyceps is valuable! That’s amazing.”
“What of the children?”
“They went to find you. They feared you were lost.”
Of course. They were likely concerned about me.
“Cho, Yeondu—can you please round everyone up?”
Tssrr. 『Yes, Father!』
Shaaa. 『Understood, So-ryong.』
As the children flew off to collect the others, I stepped nearer to Hwa-eun. She gazed at me thoughtfully.
“So… why did the locusts die here, exactly?”
She was pondering the same thing I had been. But there was a more urgent matter to address.
“Actually, there’s something stranger, Hwa-eun.”
“Stranger?”
“Yes. Yeondu made me see it. It’s not only that they died here—it’s that they’re all buried underground.”
“Oh…”
Hwa-eun tilted her head, perplexed.
Lady Seol approached and offered a theory.
“Perhaps they dug in to endure the winter and then died?”
A sensible guess—but it didn’t align with locust behavior.
Locusts deposit their eggs in the ground in autumn. Those eggs open in spring.
But mature adults don’t burrow to hibernate. That only happens in warmer regions.
Some kinds can live through winter as young nymphs, but every one of these Cordyceps-ridden bodies was fully grown.
These were desert locusts—a species from the tropics.
There was no chance they would burrow because of chill.
Especially since, only a month or two prior, it was still summer.
“No, desert locusts only survive winter as eggs or very young nymphs. This… isn’t natural.”
“Then were they buried by someone?” Lady Seol asked.
It was the only explanation that fit. I nodded.
“It appears so.”
“But who would do such a thing? Out here? And how? Locusts are small and difficult to capture…”
Before she could finish—
A sharp, rattling buzz reverberated through the mountains.
Chrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
It echoed off the peaks, disguising its origin.
Everyone turned, attempting to locate the source.
Then—thud.
A huge, shimmering locust fell from the sky and landed only a few paces from Hu-gae, who still held clumps of Cordyceps.
Chrrrrrrrrrrr!
Its wings vibrated with fury.
There was no question—it was enraged.