Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang Novel - Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Flap, flap.
At sunset, the owl dispatched to the Blood Cult’s branch returned, alighting by the window. A tiny scroll was fastened to its leg, bearing a brief message:
“The operation failed. Be cautious not to expose yourself.”
Blood Rose, a master assassin of the Blood Cult, took the note, crumpled it, and pushed it into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed, destroying all evidence.
She ran through her actions in her mind, checking for any possible mistakes. The woman whose identity she had assumed had been dissolved with Bone-Melting Powder. The woman’s parents were under the influence of Soul-Seizing Arts, completely convinced the imposter was their real daughter. There was no reason for suspicion.
The intelligence she had gathered was already known among the Murim Alliance, so it shouldn’t attract attention.
Content, she prepared to sleep. She had just begun untying her outer robe when a faint bell chimed.
Ding.
The sound came from the room adjoining the Alliance Leader’s quarters.
It was unusual for the old man to summon anyone, especially at this hour. Blood Rose swiftly retied her robe and hurried to his room.
“Alliance Leader, what do you require?” she asked respectfully from the doorway.
The old man’s voice was calm yet purposeful from within. “Would you bring me a cup of West Mountain Dew tea?”
“At once, Alliance Leader.”
A faint smile touched Blood Rose’s lips at his request.
Her mission within the Murim Alliance was straightforward: transform the Alliance Leader into a puppet under the Blood Cult’s command.
After the Blood Cult’s violent war with the martial world decades prior, the cult had retreated to the Dai Yue Kingdom, slowly regaining power by terrorizing small border villages.
Now, thirty years later, the cult had regained its strength. The prevailing sentiment among its members was that the time had come to return to the Central Plains. But to do that, they first had to eliminate the Murim Alliance—the single greatest obstacle to their resurgence.
Her task was vital: infiltrate the Alliance Leader’s inner circle as a servant and use Soul-Seizing Arts to subjugate his will. Controlling the leader of the martial world would allow the Blood Cult to move unseen.
However, overpowering a grandmaster like the Alliance Leader was immensely difficult. To lower his guard, she had used Reverse Mimicry Techniques to take on the appearance of his deceased wife. Additionally, she had been secretly dosing his preferred West Mountain Dew tea with Dreaming Soul Powder, a drug that gradually weakened his mental faculties.
Progress was slow, as the Alliance Leader seldom asked for tea. But tonight, with him requesting it privately, she allowed herself a small, triumphant smile.
‘Excellent. I can administer a more potent dose tonight.’
She rushed to a nearby room, lit the brazier, and boiled water. She brewed the tea, adding an extra measure of Dreaming Soul Powder, then carried the tray carefully into the Alliance Leader’s chambers.
Clink.
“Your tea, Alliance Leader.”
She set the steaming cup before him, its gentle vapor rising in curls. As she finished and turned to leave, the old man’s voice halted her.
“You… remind me of her.”
“I beg your pardon?” she asked, pretending not to understand.
“Come closer,” he said, his voice low.
Blood Rose felt a surge of anticipation. She paused for a moment for appearance’s sake, then stepped forward wearing a bashful expression, as if uncertain of his motives.
“Wh-what is it?” she stammered, injecting a tone of shyness into her voice.
“Remain still,” he instructed, rising from his seat. He reached out, one hand closing around her wrist while the other moved toward the base of her skull.
His face slowly neared hers.
‘Age changes nothing; a man is still a man,’ she thought, inwardly smirking. This would greatly speed up her mission.
The effectiveness of Soul-Seizing Arts relied on the target’s diminished mental state and emotional openness. If the Alliance Leader had reached this point, controlling him would be far simpler.
But something was amiss.
His lips did not meet hers. She had waited long enough for contact, but instead, an icy whisper reached her ear.
“I can smell the vile odor of the Blood Cult on you.”
“What?!”
Her eyes flew open in shock, only to be met with a burning heat at the back of her head.
Her vision swam, turning white as she fell. The last thing she heard was the Alliance Leader calling for his guards.
“The strategist guaranteed this would be intriguing. Gag her to prevent suicide and take her to the dungeon.”
“Yes, Alliance Leader!”
Guards rushed in, seizing the unconscious Blood Rose by her hair. They dragged her limp form from the room and down into the Murim Alliance’s dungeons.
***
“I am Tang Hwa-eun of the Sichuan Tang Clan. Greetings to the Patriarch of the Hebei Peng Clan.”
“I greet the Patriarch of the Hebei Peng Clan,” I repeated after her.
Before us at the Nine-Tiered Gates stood the members of the Peng Clan, who resembled a band of enforcers more than a noble family. Their leader, who looked every bit the bandit chief, stepped forward with a hearty laugh.
“Haha! If it isn’t young lady Hwa-eun!”
“It has been a long time,” Hwa-eun replied with courtesy.
“That it has. I last saw you when you were only this high. And who is this standing next to you?”
His curious gaze fell on me. Not wishing to be impolite, I stepped forward and clasped my hands in a formal salute.
“It has been five years since our last meeting. I am—”
“A pleasure to meet you, Patriarch of the Hebei Peng Clan. I am Wei So-ryong, Hwa-eun’s fiancé.”
“Fiancé?”
The Peng Patriarch’s powerful voice cut through the air. He moved closer and began inspecting me critically, circling like a hawk evaluating its quarry. Then, to my astonishment, he gave a light but firm slap to a very personal area and nodded with approval.
“Ha! I had my doubts, but this proves it—you’re all man down there. Give it a few more years, and you’ll be quite a sight! Haha!”
Suddenly, Hwa-eun’s earlier caution about discarding formalities made perfect sense. The Peng Patriarch was… quite a figure. His bluntness and lack of ceremony were as shocking as they were straightforward.
While it was somewhat embarrassing, his words held a strange kind of praise, and I managed to accept them with grace. After all, a compliment is a compliment.
“Thank you for your kind words, Patriarch of the Peng Clan.”
His eyes widened in pleased surprise, and he laughed, slapping my shoulder. “Haha! You’re not like those fragile young masters from other clans. You know how to take a compliment. I am Peng Mu-hwan, Patriarch of the Peng Clan.”
As he boomed with laughter, Hwa-eun, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, swiftly changed the subject.
“Did you come all the way from Hebei to aid our clan with its recent troubles? How did you arrive so swiftly?”
Hebei, located on the northeastern frontier of the martial world, was a tremendous distance from Sichuan. Her question was logical. However, the Peng Patriarch tilted his head, appearing genuinely puzzled.
“Troubles? What troubles? What occurred with the Tang Clan?”
His expression showed he had no idea what she was talking about. Hwa-eun paused before answering.
“The attack by the Blood Cult Elder—you didn’t come because of that?”
“Blood Cult?” His face instantly darkened, and he rolled up his sleeves on reflex. Without another word, he turned to his warriors.
“Where are those damned Blood Cult scoundrels? If they’ve shown themselves again, it’s time to smash their faces in! Let’s go, men!”
“Yes, Patriarch!”
The Peng Clan warriors, visibly thrilled, spat into their palms and made ready to charge. Their sudden fervor left Hwa-eun flustered as she struggled to speak.
“T-the Blood Cult Elder has already been taken care of. He has been eliminated, Patriarch.”
Peng Mu-hwan’s excitement vanished instantly. He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Tch. We were too slow. Should have set out sooner.”
One of his warriors mumbled under his breath, “Patriarch, you’re the one who said there was no rush…”
“Did I?” Peng Mu-hwan scratched his head, utterly unbothered by the admission. “Anyway, if you’ve already handled the Blood Cult, then what did we come for?”
Hwa-eun’s face tightened with frustration. “If it wasn’t about the Blood Cult, then why are you here?”
Realization struck Peng Mu-hwan, and he smacked his forehead with his palm. “Ah, I nearly forgot! We actually came to ask for assistance.”
“Assistance?”
Before he could explain further, my father-in-law and Zhuge Hu appeared at the gates, both taken aback by the unexpected guests.
“Patriarch Peng? What brings you here?”
“You surely didn’t journey all this way because of the Blood Cult?” Zhuge Hu inquired.
Peng Mu-hwan clasped his hands in greeting. “I am Peng Mu-hwan, Patriarch of the Peng Clan. It’s been a while, Strategist. No, my visit isn’t about the Blood Cult.”
“Then how did you get here from Hebei so quickly? It’s no short trip,” my father-in-law pressed.
Peng Mu-hwan gestured to one of his men and issued a command. “Bring her here. She should greet the elders properly.”
One of his warriors stepped forward, crouched down, and spoke to someone on his back. “Miss, we’ve arrived. The Patriarch says you may get down now.”
“Miss?”
All of us—Hwa-eun, my father-in-law, Zhuge Hu, and I—stared in bewilderment. A soft patting sound came from the warrior’s back, followed by a small, high voice.
“My legs are sore…”
Peeking over his shoulder were two small, bun-like shapes. A moment later, a little girl no older than six or seven emerged, clutching a stick of candy. Her glossy black hair, round eyes, and doll-like face made her appear utterly delicate. She gave the candy a quick lick, then hastily hid it in her sleeve upon noticing everyone’s stares. Bowing politely, she introduced herself.
“Hello. I’m Peng Yeong-yeong from the Peng Clan.”
The Peng Patriarch then declared with pride, “She’s my daughter.”
“What?!” we all exclaimed in unison.
The adorable child before us seemed completely out of place next to her rough, bandit-like father. It was like seeing an orc present a fairy as his own child.
Peng Mu-hwan scratched his head awkwardly and laughed. “People always say she takes after me, don’t they? Haha!”
I glanced at Hwa-eun, who looked back at me as if pleading for confirmation of her disbelief.
‘I know exactly how you feel, Sister.’
If I could have sent a thought, I would have assured her immediately.
Lifting his daughter onto his shoulder, Peng Mu-hwan turned to my father-in-law with his request. “My daughter isn’t well. I’ve come hoping you could examine her.”
“She’s unwell?” my father-in-law asked, studying the child skeptically. She seemed perfectly healthy, except for the candy she had just pulled back out of her sleeve and was licking again.
Her actions triggered a sudden thought. ‘Is it possible… childhood diabetes?’