Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang Novel - Chapter 56

Chapter 56

It would require two full days to replenish the provisions for the Zhuge family’s vessel. In that interim, we discovered another individual would be sailing with us, bearing a letter for the Namgung family, who lead one of the Seven Great Clans. Left with little choice, we resolved to wait before proceeding to the Namgung estate. Although the strategist had alluded to some internal discord within the Namgung family, we could not postpone our journey. The only known source of nourishment for our blue-scaled lizards was supposedly located there.

The next morning, after I had finished my meal, the strategist, Zhuge Hu, came to collect me.
“Come with me,” he instructed. “You have a visitor wishing to see you.”
“Understood, Strategist.”

I accompanied him to the most elevated pavilion in the Murim Alliance—the Tianwu Pavilion—climbing all the way to its eighth story, the highest level. Apparently, the Murim Alliance Leader, Zhu Jung-hak, desired an audience. A personal invitation had even been dispatched. A mix of curiosity and slight trepidation filled me as I ascended the seemingly infinite staircase, my calves aching with each step.

When we finally reached the summit, an anxious servant was already stationed at a lavishly decorated door. Noticing our arrival, the servant stammered nervously, “L-Leader, the strategist and the young master from the Tang Clan have arrived.”
“Allow them to enter,” a serene, grandfatherly voice responded from within.

The servant, flustered and uncertain which door to open first, hesitated momentarily before moving aside, his face flushed with embarrassment. Zhuge Hu’s voice sounded in my mind through mental communication.
[This one is new. The previous servant did not last.]

I entered and offered a deep bow in greeting to the Murim Alliance Leader.
“I am Wi So-ryong of the Sichuan Tang Clan. It is a great honor to meet you, Leader.”
“Ah, so you are the one. Please, come in!” Zhu Jung-hak exclaimed, his tone warm and welcoming. Despite his cheerful disposition, his appearance bore the heavy imprint of innumerable conflicts—white hair, white eyebrows, and a face lined with the evidence of a hard life.

He stepped forward eagerly and took my hand, his smile wide. “Tell me, those small creatures on your wrist and waist—surely they do not bite just anyone?”

My sister had told me the Alliance Leader was one of the three most supreme martial artists in the Central Plains. True to her words, his perception was remarkable. While others had failed to detect the golden centipedes concealed on my person, he had identified their presence immediately.
“Certainly not, Leader,” I answered, pulling back my sleeve to show them. Zhu Jung-hak studied them with keen interest.
“So these are the progeny of the Blue-Spotted Centipede? I have witnessed many things in my life, but this is a first. Remarkable! Now, please, take a seat. Let us share some tea.”

He poured the tea himself, and as we drank, the inevitable series of personal inquiries commenced—a customary practice from someone of his advanced years.
“I understand you are betrothed to a member of the Tang Clan?”
“Yes, Leader.”
“And your parents?”
“I am alone in this world, without any family or connections.”

I employed a phrase I had long wished to use, a classical Chinese expression with a poetic flair. The Alliance Leader looked toward the strategist, who provided an explanation on my behalf. “The Tang Clan’s patriarch mentioned the young man has lost all his memories. He was discovered living by himself on Hainan Island, surviving by catching snakes.”
“Heavens, that must have been a terrible hardship,” Zhu Jung-hak said, his voice thick with compassion.
“It was not so terrible,” I replied cheerfully, indicating the centipedes. “I had these companions to share my days with.”
“…”

Though I spoke lightly, Zhu Jung-hak’s expression only grew more sorrowful.
‘Just a moment,’ I thought. Understanding arrived—he had misinterpreted my meaning. To an ordinary person, referring to insects and reptiles as “companions” likely sounded like the sad tale of someone too isolated to form human bonds. Like a castaway on a deserted island naming a volleyball his friend.
“I did not intend it that way—” I started, but Zhu Jung-hak cut me off with a sympathetic smile.
“It is quite alright. Loneliness can make people do unusual things.”
“No, truly—”
“Let us speak of other matters,” he said, deftly shifting the topic before I could clarify. “I summoned you here because you have performed a great service. I wished to give you a reward.”

The mention of a reward immediately dissolved my irritation. Gifts, after all, had a way of improving any situation. Still, I was curious.
“A reward, Leader? But I have already informed the strategist of what we require.”
“Yes, I am aware. But that is merely information—compiling details from the Murim Alliance’s archives and sending them to you. The discovery you made is far more significant. Do you grasp the scale of your accomplishment? The Blood Cult has been a scourge upon the Central Plains for decades, and the venom you supplied has given us a way to subdue them permanently. That merits a reward of corresponding value.”

While his reasoning was sound, I decided to uphold the Tang Clan’s custom of modesty. Accepting too greedily would be improper.
“I only defended my family and happened upon the discovery while doing so. Knowing I was able to protect those dear to me is sufficient reward.”

The atmosphere changed the instant I finished speaking. Zhu Jung-hak fell quiet, his demeanor growing somber.
“…You defended your family and happened upon it, you say…”

I glanced at the strategist, whose wide-eyed look suggested I had uttered something unforeseen. Before I could add anything, Zhu Jung-hak spoke again, his voice now gentler.
“I see. That is why I felt such a connection to you. We are similar, you and I.”
“Similar? In what manner?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.

Zhu Jung-hak reached into his robe and tossed a book onto the table.
— Thud.
“You may not comprehend it now, but it is not our faces that are alike.”

I gave an awkward chuckle, uncertain of his meaning. His tone became grave as he continued.
“I lost everything to the Blood Cult—my family, those I cherished. In the end, I staked everything to save the last of my kin. That desperation led me to a pivotal advancement in my martial arts, allowing me to reach my current standing. I am told you hurled yourself at a Blood Cult elder to protect your family, even while poisoned. Is this true?”
“Well, yes…” I conceded hesitantly.
“Then you and I are the same. A man who will risk everything for those he loves.”

His words struck a chord, and I began to comprehend. It was not about physical likeness but a shared experience—the desperation to protect.

Zhu Jung-hak gestured to the book he had given me. “This is my clan’s martial art, the Iron Cabinet Technique (Cheolgwe Gong). I developed it myself. As my clan has been eradicated, I have no disciples to inherit it. Consider it my gift to you. Teach it to your descendants if you wish. Do not concern yourself—I have no desire to assume the role of a master.”
“Leader! Your personal martial art?” the strategist blurted out, his shock palpable.

Zhu Jung-hak dismissed his concern with a wave. “It is of no use to me now. Besides, this young man has rightfully earned it.”

The immense significance of the gift was clear to me. This was not just any martial art—it was the fruit of a lifetime of mastery.
“Thank you, Leader. I will honor your name and ensure this art is never used improperly.”

Zhu Jung-hak’s weary face relaxed into a gentle smile. “Good. I am certain you will.”

***

As I exited the Alliance Leader’s chambers, holding the manual of his martial art technique, I found myself contemplating the strategist’s final words.
“Keep this confidential for the time being, particularly from anyone outside your clan,” the strategist had advised.
“Why is that?” I asked, puzzled by his concern.

His voice lowered into a more serious tone as he elaborated. “The individual the Blood Cult most desires to eliminate is the Alliance Leader. If it becomes known that you have inherited his martial art, do you believe they will permit you to live in peace? Especially considering you are also the one who uncovered their San Gong Poison. The fewer people aware of this, the better.”
‘So… without realizing it, I have burned yet another bridge with the Blood Cult,’ I reflected grimly.

His warning left me unsettled, but there was little to be done. I resolved to train with dedication, refining the techniques I had been given while remaining prepared to use any means necessary. Poison would always be my final safeguard.
“I understand, Strategist,” I said, giving a firm nod.

The strategist looked at me with a slight smile. “Good. Well, I must leave you here. I have further matters to discuss with the Alliance Leader. Can you find your way back to your quarters on your own?”
“Yes, thank you for your concern.”
“Then we shall part ways here. You depart early tomorrow, so take care until then,” he said, offering a respectful nod before turning back toward the pavilion.

With that, I descended the steps of the immense Tianwu Pavilion, making my way toward my lodgings. It was nearly lunchtime, and I thought I might have a quick meal with my sister. It was also a good opportunity to verify whether accepting the Alliance Leader’s gift was the correct decision—and to ask her why she had so boldly proclaimed me her fiancé the day before.
“Excuse me, Young Hero Wi?”

A voice called out just as I was walking in the direction of the guest hall. I stopped and looked around, noticing a man emerge from the shadow of a wall, a spear in his hand.
‘Is that not Spear Dragon, Yang Seong-hoo?’ I thought, recognizing him immediately. His posture indicated he had been waiting for me.

He approached and offered a courteous bow. “It is good to see you again, Young Hero Wi.”
“Ah, yes, good to see you as well,” I replied, returning the bow.

The situation was uncomfortable, and I felt compelled to ask, “Were you merely passing by, or did you come here specifically to find me?”

He paused before bowing once more. “I came to see you. There is something I wish to ask.”
“Something to ask?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

We were not close, having met for the first time only yesterday. What could he possibly want from me?
‘Surely he does not want me to vouch for him or something similar?’ I thought with wariness.

Before I could say another word, he bowed even more deeply and stated, “I would like to request a duel with you.”
“A duel?” I asked, surprised by the unexpected proposition.
“Yes, Young Hero.”

A duel, or bi-mu, was essentially a sparring match to gauge martial skill. My sister had explained it was comparable to sparring in modern martial arts but could involve real weaponry. Due to the risk of injury, it was typically reserved for close acquaintances or official tournaments.

I returned his bow and answered firmly, “No.”

His face registered shock. “What? Why not?”

I could surmise his motivation. He likely wanted to test if I was a suitable match for my sister’s fiancé. But frankly, I was in no state to spar. Not only had I not fully mastered any martial arts, but there was also the matter of my golden centipedes. If he were to emit even a hint of killing intent, the centipedes might perceive it as a genuine threat and attack him in earnest.
“It is too dangerous,” I explained.

He stared at me in disbelief and objected, “If your worry is injury, I will remove the spearhead and restrain my strength. Please, grant me this chance to confirm that you are truly a man worthy of Lady Tang!”
‘Worthy? What does this man even want me to prove? This is like a university student challenging a middle schooler to a fight,’ I thought, exasperated.

Nevertheless, I shook my head firmly. “It is not happening. It is too risky.”
“I beg you! I swear I will take every precaution! I will hold back—”

He clearly believed I was afraid, so I interrupted him with a more direct explanation. “It is not about me. You are the one who might die. That is why it is too dangerous.”

For a moment, his eyes clouded with confusion. Then, they abruptly sharpened with determination.
‘Wait… is he losing his composure?’ I wondered as I detected a dangerous glint in his gaze.

Before I could react, he lunged toward me, intent on forcing a duel. In that instant, the air changed.

— Slither.
— Whip.
— Snap, snap, snap.

My golden centipedes shot forth from my sleeves and waist, twisting through the air between us. Their bodies coiled, fangs bared as they issued a sinister hiss.
“What… What is this!?” Yang Seong-hoo cried out, recoiling in horror.

I sighed, calling the centipedes back, and looked at him sternly. “Congratulations. I have just saved your life.”