Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang Novel - Chapter 442

Chapter 442
“Crimson Poison Harpoon Snail. Truly a magnificent name.”

I was still savoring the profound satisfaction of bestowing a scientific name upon a magnificent new species when the steady rainfall seemed to deepen the moment’s gravity. Then, from the direction of Podarlap Palace’s inner gate we had just left, I recognized the sound of familiar voices calling out.

“Senior! What in the—!? Is that—?”
“Senior, it all went smoothly, I trust?”
“So-ryong, you did it!? Wow, that’s amazing. It’s really the Crimson Fruit…”

Spinning around, I found our entire group, who had evidently come searching for me after the dawn’s excitement. The moment their eyes landed on the two snails resting on my shoulders, their faces all lit up with congratulations. They understood immediately that the unfamiliar creatures meant my success was complete.

My shoulders were already squared with pride from forming a pact with the two snails, but now they seemed to rise even higher—as if they had somehow scaled the very peak of the Himalayas, reaching Mount Everest itself.

“Indeed. Let me make the introductions. This red snail is Yeonji, and the black one is called Yeoncheon.”
With a slight lift of my shoulders, I presented the two to everyone. They gathered around, offering warm greetings to the snails.
Even though these weren’t people, everyone in our group understood that spirit beasts possessed intelligence equal to any human, so there was no trace of discrimination. They introduced themselves with the same respect they would offer a person.

“A pleasure to meet you. I am Do-ryong.”
“It’s nice to meet you. My name is Eunbong.”
“Um, I’m Hu-gae…”

Good. Absolutely no prejudice—exactly as it should be.
I smiled, content to see how thoroughly the culture of symbiotic relationships with venomous creatures had been embraced by our companions.

This warm exchange, however, was short-lived.
Yeonji and Yeoncheon had noticed Jaheo standing within the group.
In the sunlight now piercing the scattering clouds, Jaheo’s rain-slicked, bald head gleamed, capturing their attention—and, to be honest, mine as well.

[Hm? That is rather dazzling. What?]
[How does one of *his* kind dare to stand among our benefactor’s companions!]

They instantly reacted with hostility upon seeing Jaheo.
Poisonous harpoons began to slide in and out from their mouths.
I swiftly raised a hand to obstruct their line of sight.

“Ah, no, no—he may be a monk, but he hails from a temple known as Shaolin. How to explain it… Ah! It’s like we share an ancestor but have different parents? Something along those lines.
Just look—his robes are entirely different, aren’t they?”

Hearing my explanation, they scrutinized Jaheo carefully.
Eventually, the distinctions I highlighted seemed to register. The two of them nodded in unison.

[Hmm… If that is the situation.]
[Even a single family can produce a wayward child. That is no reason to condemn them all.]

Whew. That was a close call.
Just as I believed the tension had dissipated, another problem emerged—one that agitated them even more.
Some members of our group had addressed them with a bit too much familiarity, which offended their ancient sense of pride.

[But you all appear so youthful… Why would you use such informal speech upon a first meeting?]
[It is true. You cannot be more than twenty years of age at the most… This is most improper.]

And it was true. These two were likely centuries old.
Even if we were different species, from their point of view, we were mere infants.

Rather than apologizing, our group seemed stunned and amazed by their words.
They weren’t insulted; they simply couldn’t believe what was happening.
After all, this was their first time holding a conversation with a spirit beast, and hearing its voice directly in their minds, no less.

“Wh-what!? Inside my head… it’s speaking!”
“I can hear a voice!”
“Wait… are they the ones talking?”

From their earlier lack of reaction, it appeared the Crimson Poison Harpoon Snail only communicated telepathically with those it permitted. Now included in that circle, the group was utterly astonished.

“So-ryong! Is this what you meant when you said you converse with creatures?”
“Well, it’s not precisely the same, but it is similar.”
“Ooooh!”
“Senior, you’ve experienced such incredible things!”

As the group marveled at their first intelligible discussion with spirit beasts, the snails continued, their tone distinctly displeased.
They were clearly irritated that their point about manners was being ignored.

[Tsk. We highlight their discourtesy, and they change the subject instead of offering an apology?]
[Precisely. They claim to be martial artists—whatever happened to the etiquette of the Central Plains? A shame.]

Our group finally snapped back to attention and hurriedly bowed in apology.
“Please forgive our rudeness. We did not realize we were in the presence of such seniors.”
“It’s just that you’re so charming… We meant no disrespect.”
“W-we apologize!”

Even elite members like the Dragon Fangs offered their apologies. Yet the snails responded in a manner that made their dissatisfaction plain.

[Hmph! By the protocols of the martial world, our seniority vastly outweighs your own. ‘Charming,’ you say? How wholly unsuitable.]
[When Hwamu-jin was still alive, such behavior was inconceivable.]
[It certainly was.]

There it was—a full-fledged complaint about the old days. They clearly knew a thing or two about martial customs.
Who could have taught them?
I made a mental note to ask them about it later.

I was pondering this when I noticed the rest of our group staring, their eyes wide with shock.
They looked as though they had just heard the name of a myth.
Then came the stunned exclamations.

“Hwamu-jin!?”
“Y-you can’t mean the Blade Sovereign Hwamu-jin from three centuries ago!?”
“The Blade Sovereign Hwamu-jin?”

Not being well-versed in martial history, I tilted my head in confusion and glanced at Hwa-eun, silently requesting an explanation.
But it was Hyung-nim who answered, wearing the same awed expression he had when I first found a venomous creature.

“Hwamu-jin, the Blade Sovereign. A grandmaster who achieved the Life-and-Death Stage three hundred years in the past.”
“That’s correct, So-ryong. A legendary master said to have found enlightenment on the very brink of death.”
“In the entire long history of Murim, only three have ever reached the Life-and-Death Stage. And Hwamu-jin was the sole master to accomplish this using a blade, Senior.”
“A man who forged his legend with a single sword!”

Even Ji-ryong and Hu-gae were practically breathless with excitement as they explained, which confirmed this individual was a truly monumental figure. Then Yeoncheon, swelling with pride, declared:

[Yes. He was my companion. What do you have to say about that?]

The entire group immediately froze and then bowed with the deepest respect.
“We greet the Great Elder of Murim.”
“Respects to the Elder.”
“Greetings to Elder Yeoncheon.”

Everyone wore expressions of bewildered disbelief—but what else could they do? He was a personal friend of a legend from three hundred years ago.
Once the formal greetings concluded, Yeoncheon tapped a part of his underside and addressed the others:

[This So-ryong here is my benefactor. He is like a brother to me—you will afford him the highest respect.]

At that, everyone’s faces contorted into looks of pure, unadulterated astonishment.

***

Later, back at our lodgings, the women were all competing to have either Yeoncheon or Yeonji sit upon their hands.
“Elder, please, come onto my hand.”
“No, please come to me.”
“Hwa-eun, isn’t it difficult? Let your sister hold one of them.”

You would think no one would want a sticky, mucus-covered snail on them—but this entire frenzy began because of something Yeonji mentioned.
What a scene…

Now that our private discussion was over, I needed to briefly report on the situation at Podarlap Palace and get ready to depart. This meant I had to leave Yeoncheon and Yeonji behind and meet with the palace monks.
Consequently, I had little choice but to entrust them to Hwa-eun’s care for a short while.

The moment she held them and felt their slick, gelatinous texture, Hwa-eun couldn’t suppress a shudder—which prompted Yeonji to say something utterly astonishing.

[The stickiness may be somewhat unpleasant, but if you apply our mucus consistently, your skin can gain the resilience of one who has mastered high-level external martial arts. We are intentionally producing extra for this purpose. Please bear with it.]
“R-really?”
[Naturally. Did you not observe the tree we were attached to?]
“Oh, So-ryong mentioned it. He said it was hard as iron…”
[Correct. That was a deceased tree. When our mucus is applied to living tissue—such as human skin—it becomes soft as down yet durable as steel. Hwamu-jin himself valued the potency of our mucus.]
“What!?”

Hwa-eun stared at me in disbelief, and I gave a slight nod of confirmation.
Even common snails could make similar claims supported by evidence.
The mucus secreted by snails contains mucin, which aids in healing and regenerating damaged skin tissue.
It also includes chondroitin sulfate, which encourages skin repair, and is abundant in complex glycoproteins like hyaluronic acid, renowned for their superior moisturizing properties.
And that is not all.
It possesses allantoin, which calms the skin and minimizes pores—lessening irritation and shielding against environmental harm.
Furthermore, it inhibits melanin production (a cause of skin aging), brightens the complexion, and, due to glycolic acid, assists in exfoliating dead skin cells.
What is the sum of all this?
That snail mucus is ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ one of the finest ingredients for skincare.
In my previous life, snail mucin was renowned in cosmetics and medicine for treating scars and whitening skin.
It was produced in Korea and France. There was a time when snail cream was sold in military PXs, and a soldier bringing a jar home was hailed as the most devoted son imaginable.

But Yeoncheon and Yeonji were not ordinary snails—they were spirit beasts.
Their mucus was not merely mucus. And judging by the tree they had been attached to, Yeonji’s claim was no exaggeration.
Which explained the entire commotion unfolding before me.

“Is this actually happening?”
I muttered, disbelieving. Ji-ryong sent me a discreet voice transmission.
[Of course it is, Senior.]
[Huh? Why do you say that?]
[Are you aware of why women typically avoid training in external martial arts?]
[I… don’t actually know?]

I tilted my head. I had never heard a reason given.
Then came his whispered explanation:
[Because training external arts inevitably develops muscle and makes the skin coarse. Consider it—what man wishes to hold a woman whose skin is rough and calloused?
This is why women often shy away from external training.
But this—it maintains the skin’s softness while bestowing resilience. It is a treasure. Particularly for female martial artists.]
[Whoooa!]

Indeed, for women, this was an invaluable treasure.
Perhaps I should consider the cosmetics business in the future…
I started mentally estimating potential market prices when Jaheo’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Senior, the monks of Podarlap Palace are awaiting us. We should go.”
He meant it was finally time to meet with the palace leadership. And, true to his monastic nature, he appeared untouched by worldly desires.
While the women were too preoccupied to notice anything else, the men were clearly gazing at the mucus with covetous eyes—wondering if they could discreetly smear some on their own hands. But Jaheo exhibited no such desire.

As expected of a highly advanced Shaolin monk. His Buddhist discipline is so formidable that even priceless treasure cannot sway him.
I regarded him with respect and moved to follow.

At that moment, I felt a touch on my shoulder.
Glancing over, I saw it was Jaheo, giving it a pat.
Why was he being so affable today?
“So-ryong, travel safely.”
“Oh, yes. I will.”

After taking a few steps beside Jaheo, I turned back when Hwa-eun called out a farewell.
That’s when I caught sight of Jaheo subtly rubbing his scalp.
His bald head seemed… more luminous than usual.
…It couldn’t be?
I looked back at my own shoulder—and there, unmistakably, were smears of mucus.
Yeoncheon and Yeonji had been perched there for quite some time, after all.

I hurried over and asked Jaheo directly,
“Venerable Jaheo… your head?”
Startled, he looked ashamed and offered a flustered excuse.
“Ah, Amitabha… There exists a Shaolin technique known as the Iron Head Art, but this humble monk never succeeded in mastering it…”

I remained silent for a time as we proceeded toward the inner quarters of Podarlap Palace.
I had no wish to cause him embarrassment—but he seemed to think I was displeased. Halfway there, he bowed his head and apologized.
“F-forgive me, Senior… This unworthy monk succumbed to worldly temptation…”

I silently gathered the remaining mucus and passed it to him.
It was fine—this small amount meant nothing between us.
Then I gave his shoulder a pat in return.
I wasn’t certain if that story about the Iron Head Art was genuine, but upon reflection…
Scalp care is important too.