Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang Novel - Chapter 410

Chapter 410
Here’s a full paraphrase of the chapter you provided, with the same structure, length, tone, and events preserved. All names, places, and key terms are kept exactly as in the original.

—

After Cheong-yu Sojeo joined us—
We left the basin where we had searched for Changcheon and pushed into a forest thick with trees. Beyond, the terrain began to shift; the ridges merged together, forming a proper mountain chain.

At last, we stood before the Himalayas.

Snow clung to the jagged summits. Wisps of cloud brushed across their mid-slopes, shrouding the heights in shifting veils. People said this was only the outermost stretch of the range, not especially tall compared to the inner peaks—but the ridges capped in white told another story. Even here, far below the snowline, the air bit colder against the skin.

—Chwarrrrk.

As I lingered, taking in the sight, the faint vibration of Changcheon’s wings reached my ears. Turning, I saw him raise one antenna toward a peak just as the sinking sun touched its crown. His wings thrummed, producing a kind of music.

Hyang, wrapped snugly around me, followed his gesture with her tail and interpreted.

—Tssrik. 『Over there, Dad. He says something was stirring along that ridge. Looks like they crossed beyond it.』

“That way, Changcheon?”

—Chwarrrrk.

—Tssrik. 『Yes, that’s what he insists.』

I pressed him again for certainty, and he nodded eagerly. With Hyang relaying his meaning, there was little doubt—that was the path.

‘Still, it’s impossible to march straight across those icy ridges, not with the children… we’ll need another route.’

Just as I thought so, Hwa-eun voiced it aloud.

“We can’t take the little ones through that kind of cold. We’ll have to look for a valley or a mountain pass between the peaks.”

“Most likely.”

“It feels freezing already, Ryong,” Sister Seol said, clutching at my arm for warmth. She had insisted earlier on going with Yeondu to see snow up close, but the excitement had already given way to shivers. She’d only ever lived in warm regions.

While I weighed options with Hwa-eun, Changcheon’s wings began to hum again.

—Chwarrrrk.

—Tssrik. 『Dad, he says the feeling is gone now.』

Through Hyang’s voice, he explained he could no longer sense the locusts.

“So soon? Well, I suppose it’s natural. The altitude here isn’t exactly friendly for swarms…”

His antennae twitched uneasily, clearly worried at the sudden silence. But I had anticipated this.

“It’s all right. We knew the trail wouldn’t last forever. Let’s keep following Cheong-yu Sojeo’s counsel and move westward.”

—Chwarrrrk.

The reason Changcheon could pick up on ordinary locusts and treat them like kin was simple: if enough were in the area, he could locate them within a rough distance. That was how we had been tracing the remnants of the swarm. But here in these barren heights, the trail vanished.

These mountains weren’t a natural home for them. Any stragglers that made it here would have died swiftly. We had already assumed that only weak or sick ones lagged behind, and in this cold, they wouldn’t have lasted long.

—Tssrik. 『He understands, Dad.』

And there was no point worrying over the dead.

Hadn’t Cheong-yu Sojeo explained the silver needle? It didn’t conjure spirit beasts or bind them by force. It merely appointed one insect as the lead and channeled the others to follow it in a set direction.

This time, that direction had likely been east—toward the rising sun. Which meant the swarm had come from the west. Our course was clear: westward. But the journey would resume in daylight.

Night descended quickly in the highlands, and with it came a sharp chill. At the basin, evenings had been tolerable, but here the cold bit through layers. The children were already shivering; pressing on was impossible.

“We’ll make camp here and set off at first light.”

“Understood, So Sohyeop.”

“Got it, So-ryong.”

At my words, hyung-nim and Ji-ryong began preparations without delay. By now, everyone had grown used to makeshift camps. Roles fell into place naturally.

Hyung-nim left with Hugae to gather dry grass. Ji-ryong set down his bamboo basket, and Monk Jaheo pulled free a bundled sheet of white cloth. It was Yo-hwa’s handiwork—a tent we always carried rolled for convenience.

“Yo-hwa, lend a hand with the setup. Just string it between the trees.”

—Kssit.

With so many trunks around us, it wouldn’t be difficult. As Yo-hwa set to work, Sister Seol called out to Gungbong.

“Gungbong, let’s hunt something before dusk.”

“As you wish, Lady Seol.”

Those two worked well together. Sister Seol’s sharp eyes and keen sense of animal trails, paired with Gungbong’s bow, made them effective hunters.

“I’ll join you, Sister Seol,” said Hwa-eun.

“All right, come along. You’re better at closing in once the prey is spotted.”

With that, the three vanished into the forest.

Not long after, hyung-nim’s wife came over, smiling awkwardly. She plainly wanted to contribute, though aside from wielding a spear, she knew little of camp life—less even than Hwa-eun.

So once again, it fell to me and her to collect firewood.

“Shall we gather some branches, then?”

“Let’s, Elder Brother’s wife.”

—Tssrrrk. 『I’ll come too, Dad.』

—Tssrik! 『Hyang wants to help!』

—Kkyuit! 『Me too, Grandpa!』

We built a small fire with the wood at hand, then, with the children and Sister-in-law in tow, searched for more. By the time we returned, the tent stood ready, and Sister Seol’s hunting party was back as well.

“Ryong!”

“You’re back, Sister Seol! What did you catch?”

“A marmot.”

“A marmot?”

She held up a bundle of fur with a long tail. At a glance, I recognized it.

Yes—like that viral NutView clip, the creature that lets out a shrieking “AAAH!” when startled. A marmot. And tonight, it would be our supper.

In the Central Plains, people ate everything except the table itself.

“I’ve tried all sorts since arriving in these lands,” I thought, though rumor said marmot meat was tasty. I was curious.

“So this is a marmot.”

“Indeed. Please see to it, will you?”

“Of course, Lady Seol. I’ll cook it right away.”

She handed it to the translator, who deftly set down an iron pot. He had somehow become our group’s cook—not out of duty, but because he was surprisingly skilled.

I’d once assumed beggars ate whatever scraps they could scavenge, but necessity had forged in him a knack for turning meager ingredients into meals. Back in Busan, we called it “scrap cooking”—throwing together whatever was at hand and somehow making it work. He was like a magician of scraps. His dishes looked rough, but they always turned out strangely satisfying. That talent earned him the role of camp chef.

“Wait… where are the kids?”

Watching him slice the marmot, I suddenly realized the little ones—who had been around a moment ago—were nowhere in sight.

“They slipped into the tent earlier,” my elder brother said. “Looked chilled.”

“Ah, that explains it. With snow so close, the cold must’ve gotten to them.”

Indeed, when we’d been gathering branches, their movements had been sluggish. They were, after all, insects and reptiles—creatures whose bodies slowed in the cold.

I pulled several stones from the fire, wrapped them in Yo-hwa’s cloth, and carried the bundle to the tent. More than light or fire, the children loved those warm stones.

Inside, a Night Pearl hung from the ceiling, its glow softening the shadows. The kids lay curled together around fluffy Yo-hwa, draped beneath a white blanket, another of her works.

“I’ve brought the warm stones, little ones.”

—Tssrrrk. 『Stones!』

—Kssit!

—Sia. 『What a relief.』

They pressed eagerly against the pouch as I set it down. Cheong-yu Sojeo, tail stretched across it, sighed with something between complaint and comfort.

—Siaa. 『I thought my only weakness was stamina, but apparently the cold slows me down as well. This body has its flaws.』

Travel hadn’t been too harsh for her, clinging to Yeondu as she often did, but the chill clearly wore on her.

“Your body still holding up?”

—Sia. 『Yes, So-ryong. Thank you for asking.』

“Don’t worry about it. Oh—our link to the locusts is gone. From here on, we’ll just keep moving west.”

—Siii. 『I heard. That’s fine.』

I was still speaking with her when a man’s voice called out from beyond the tent.

“Travelers from the Central Plains, pardon us! One of our own has fallen ill. May we warm ourselves by your fire—? …What!? Martial artists!? What business do Central Plains fighters have in Tibet!? Are you here to meddle with us!?”

I glanced at Cheong-yu Sojeo, then stepped outside.

Around our fire stood over a dozen monks in red robes, each burdened with a large pack, one of them supporting an injured comrade. Their garb suggested they were monks of Podalap Palace, a martial sect native to Tibet.

Monk Jaheo stepped forward, bowing politely.

“Amitabha. This humble one is Jaheo of Shaolin. If I’m not mistaken, you are from Podalap Palace? There’s no cause for alarm—we are only passing westward.”

“Shaolin?”

At first, I thought the shared faith might smooth things—but then came a furious shout.

“Lies! Who would believe such nonsense!?”

I had heard Podalap monks were confrontational, but their hostility was sharper than expected.

I gave Ji-ryong a look, and at once his voice brushed my mind, sent in secret.

[Relations between Podalap Palace and Central Plains martial artists are strained. After the fall of the northern nomadic dynasty, both the Central Plains and Tibet claimed this land. Podalap considered themselves heirs to Tubo, while the Central Plains claimed sovereignty.]

[And the Central Plains prevailed?]

[Yes. But when Tibet rose in revolt, it was Central Plains martial artists who crushed it…]

[Wait—you mean the sects themselves put down the rebellion?]

[Exactly. Since Podalap was a martial sect too, the Central Plains dispatched their own to suppress them.]

No wonder these monks harbored such animosity. To them, we were the victors who had crushed their kin.

As the tension neared breaking, Cheong-yu Sojeo’s voice sounded from behind.

—Siaa. 『Is this about to turn violent?』

I turned to see her emerge from the tent, Yeondu and Orange at her side.

And at her appearance, the monks’ eyes went wide.

“That—that’s the Nagaraja!”

All at once, they dropped to their knees, bowing low before her.

What… was happening?