Camellia 17
by LiliumYujae opened his eyes in a sturdy embrace. If the sect leader, worshiped as a god by his followers and lauded as a public enemy by Jungwon, were to be seen cradled in someone’s arms with the appearance of a child, the martial artists he had killed would probably die laughing again in the afterlife.
Seolyeong was sprawled out fast asleep, snoring. His robe had come undone, revealing his pale chest. Each time he snored, his smooth skin would rise and fall with a soft bulge.
Yujae squirmed out of the broad chest. After drinking the medicinal liquor made by the Divine Healer, his body never felt like his own. Maybe it was because the medicine forcibly suppressed his Qi and held back the spreading poison. The bluish spots had disappeared, but with such a feeble body, he couldn’t use martial arts and found daily life difficult.
But why on earth was he lying in the same bed with this guy?
He remembered heading out into the snowfields right after drinking the liquor, unable to withstand the heat surging in his danjeon. Burying his entire body in the icy snow, from head to toe, had been the only way to feel remotely human. His body temperature had plummeted, but Yujae, more attuned to yin than yang, preferred it that way.
Usually, after lying there until the heat cooled, Si Pungjae would come to retrieve him. Apparently, this time, the madman had found him before that.
“You can sleep a bit more…”
Seolyeong muttered as he hears a rustling noise, with one eye barely open. He gently clasped the boy’s slender wrist. Even though he grabbed closer to the forearm, it fit entirely in one hand, the boy was severely malnourished. Seolyeong felt the urge to feed him a hot bowl of meat soup, he slowly sat up.
Blood fiends weren’t typically the sleepy type, but he had been desperately mimicking human behavior to live like a human. The drowsiness he felt was nothing but illusion, yet Seolyeong rubbed his eyes and spoke.
“This body will accompany you down the mountain, just this once. Let’s go into the village and catch a nice fat boar.”
Yujae ignored him and began gathering the leather clothing tossed in a corner of the room.
Seolyeong tilted his head.
“Can you not hear me?”
He wondered if the boy had damaged his hearing after being sick all night. It never crossed his mind that the boy might be ignoring him on purpose.
He twisted up his loose hair and looked at Seonwol-do. The softly glowing ring on his finger transformed into a hairpin. Though a few strands stuck out sloppily, Seolyeong was satisfied. He believed that no matter how messy his hair was, his radiance would shine.
Indeed, the exposed nape of his neck gave off a seductive air. But the beauty trap didn’t work on the boy. Seolyeong was puzzled when the boy walked right past him, not affected.
“Ahae1?”
Seolyeong could only feel pity as he looked at the boy’s back, draped in a rough leather coat. Just how weak must he be to stagger with every step? Worried, Seolyeong hurried after him.
“Ahae!”
As he stepped into the hallway, the boy turned back. A young voice spoke.
“Everyone chosen by the Flowing Water Transformation Sword has died without exception.”
“What?”
“Will you be the same?”
His tone made it clear he was genuinely curious. Seolyeong looked briefly startled, then rubbed his chin and answered.
“A taoist who was punished for revealing the secrets of heaven once stopped by Yonyeong and read this body’s fate. He said I’d live long enough to smear dung on the walls of a nursing home, so you needn’t worry.”
Then he scolded the boy’s way of speaking.
“To an elder, you should say hyung-nim or daehyeop2, not ‘you.’”
Seolyeong clicked his tongue, he rested his hands on his hips. The look in his eyes said he was pondering how best to teach the boy manners. In the Murong clan, he usually taught children strictly and solemnly.
But this frail boy, wrapped in shabby leather to ward off the cold, looked far too delicate compared to the children of the Murong clan. If he applied the usual methods, the boy might just burst into tears.
So Seolyeong spoke gently.
“From now on, address me as ‘Master.’”
He had promised to take Si Pungjae as his first disciple, so this boy would be his second.
Even in the demonic sect full of rogues, Seolyeong planned to keep teaching. Not to reform them into model warriors, he simply couldn’t help himself. If he didn’t teach someone, his entire body itched, and he couldn’t function.
Yujae muttered to himself, thinking the lunatic had completely lost it.
“Doesn’t know his place…”
Whether it was that phrase or the memory it brought, Seolyeong’s expression turned cold.
Knowing one’s place had been a burden Seolyeong had carried all his life. Everyone except the former Murong clan leader and Murong Wi had told him that.
You need to know your place. Only then can you live among the martial artists. As a blood fiend, it would be hard to understand chivalry, so at least imitate the great warriors around you.
The young Seolyeong had nodded obediently. He had desperately copied the heroes, longing to become one of them.
“Such a foul mouth.”
Seolyeong muttered with a bitter smile and pushed down on the boy’s head. Unable to resist his strength, Yujae’s head drooped. When the boy ground his teeth in frustration, Seolyeong burst into laughter.
“This Master has taught dozens of brats like you and turned them into first-class warriors!”
The moment the child flung off his hand, Seolyeong exaggeratedly chuckled and hoisted Yujae’s dried-up body onto his shoulder. Then he smacked the wriggling bottom.
“Oh-ho! Can’t you stay still!”
His booming scolding made Yujae momentarily snap.
“You filthy bastard…!”
“Not filthy bastard, Master, remember? Are you just forgetful, or unwilling to learn? How impudent.”
Seolyeong strolled along with Yujae slung over his shoulder.
He bumped into Yuwon in the hallway, who was bringing a bowl of medicinal decoction. Seolyeong greeted her casually.
“Thanks again the other day, my lady. No need to worry about this child. I found him passed out in the snow and decided to take him in as my disciple.”
Seolyeong lowered his voice for the woman, he spoke with exaggerated politeness, and Yujae felt a wave of murderous intent. Worse, Yuwon was holding back laughter as she looked at him.
The graceful physician, elegant but cold, approached Seolyeong.
“Your heart may be wide as the ocean, but what if this child has parents?”
“Whether he has them or not, a master-disciple bond can still be formed. From the looks of his emaciated body, I doubt there’s an adult caring for him… Ahae, do you have a mother or father raising you?”
When Yujae didn’t reply, Seolyeong jumped to his own conclusion.
“Seems not. If he tells me about his family later, I’ll take him home and explain everything. No need to worry.”
With that, he started walking again.
Yuwon glanced at Yujae, who looked like a cow being dragged to slaughter, and gave him a wry smile. She tipped the bowl, letting the dark brown liquid pour out onto the floor.
The strong scent made it clear, it was Junglaji. Drinking that would help dissipate Yangcheonju’s energy and return to normal faster.
Yuwon had brewed the medicine just to throw it out in front of him. She smiled in satisfaction, her crimson lips curving elegantly.
Farewell, my god, my little brother. I hope you get to experience what it’s like to submit to someone with no way to resist. Whatever retribution Cheonsin brings upon me, for now, I feel satisfied.
As her smile faded, Yuwon looked up at the ceiling and spoke.
“Even if you look at me with such sorrow, there’s nothing I can do, Warrior Si. If that’s how you feel, you should have found the Supreme One faster than the madman. People might think I was the one who sold him out.”
Si Pungjae emerged silently from concealment. He stammered awkwardly.
“…I could have… given the medicine.”
Yuwon scoffed.
“And then what? He would’ve regained his body in an hour at best. He was bound to end up in the madman’s hands anyway. Don’t blame this physician.”
Si Pungjae simply stared down at his toes.
Yuwon, frustrated with this pure-hearted man who knew nothing but Cheonsin, smashed the porcelain bowl on the floor and left.
Si Pungjae loved his lord.
And no one knew that better than the one who loved Si Pungjae.
Even if he himself never realized it.
That was why, every night, Yuwon prayed he would never understand that feeling. Not even in death.
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