Camellia 28

What is the objective appeal of a monkey’s looks, really?

Even with the most generous interpretation, one might call it cute, but beautiful or elegant? That would be stretching it.

Seolyeong knew this, which is why he added,

“A monkey is such a clever creature, is it not? Since your tree-climbing skills are exceptional, I meant it as a compliment, out of deep respect.”

Had Choseon been conscious, he would have told him to shut up before he made the atmosphere any more awkward, but unfortunately, he was still passed out.

“Especially those long limbs of yours. They’re slim, well-proportioned, and quite pleasing to the eye.”

Seolyeong lips twitched, he was trying his best to compliment him. It was one of those compliments that would’ve been better left unsaid, but he couldn’t stop rambling. Without a response from the other party, he had no sense of where to stop.

“And the way they groom their fur, so thoroughly and with such care, it glistens like it’s been polished, no need for ritual baths. So when I think of beautiful animals, monkeys come to mind. Most people would probably say foxes or deer, but for me, it’s monkeys.”

Seolyeong ended his over-the-top monkey praise sounding like the most devoted simian enthusiast in the world.

Birds chirped through the silence. The sound of the valley stream carried slowly through the air. The mood had grown icy cold. Cheonsin didn’t say a word. His gaze was distant and indifferent.

“…I misspoke. This mouth of mine is unruly, and I’ve been rude to you, husband.”

Seolyeong felt the seriousness of the situation and finally apologized.

Cheonsin let out a quiet exhale, as if stifling a laugh.

Seolyeong’s eyes widened in surprise. His rabbit-like gaze focused on the handsome man perched in the tree. Leaves swayed lazily. Even Seolyeong, who was used to beautiful appearances and rarely impressed, found himself momentarily stunned.

Poison techniques that had reached a certain sharpness typically emitted a deep green aura. The Tang family, once rulers of Sacheon and now forgotten, had worn green robes to symbolize this mastery.

Seolyeong now understood why Cheonsin preferred staying in trees. With that cold expression and distant aura, he looked far more striking surrounded by leaves.

Cheonsin swept his back his hair, he said,

“You’re unpredictable.”

And that unpredictability sparked genuine curiosity in him, who had long been plagued by boredom.

Tang Yujae slowly reached out. Just as Seolyeong let out a small noise of surprise.

His body, well over six feet tall, lifted into the air and landed beside Cheonsin. It took no more than a heartbeat. The time it took for a strand of hair to rise and fall again. With a thud, he sat on the thick tree branch and asked,

“…Have you mastered Huingong¹ arts?”

While force normally pushes and disperses, attraction pulls in and captures. This technique is known as Huingong.

It was useful for immobilizing fleeing enemies or manipulating natural objects for attack, which made it highly sought after. More powerful than Heogong seobmul, it had the advantage of greater force.

The problem was, very few manuals recorded it, and it was a technique passed down by retired masters living as civilians. Learning it was extremely difficult. So while many martial artists were curious, very few actually mastered it, almost none, in fact.

But now his husband had?

Tang Yujae, the feared Sahyeol Amje of the martial world?

Judging from how cleanly he’d executed the move, it wasn’t some surface-level imitation. Seolyeong wanted to ask where and how he’d obtained such a technique, but held back. First, he had to rescue the unconscious Hwang Choseon, who was still lying somewhere nearby.

Then, he’d need to go searching for his disciple. Questions about Huingong Technique could wait until they were back at the sect.

Seolyeong spoke seriously,

“I received the sash you sent through the messenger bird. It belongs to my dear friend Hwang Choseon. I assume you don’t know her name, but the woman you kidnapped and tossed beneath the tree is her. Why did you abduct her? And what are those corpses beside her?”

Cheonsin suddenly asked,

“Isn’t it nice being off the ground?”

“Pardon?”

“Why did you call me a monkey?”

Sahyeol Amje’s gaze drifted toward the blood-soaked earth.

“The ground stinks. Wherever people walk, it reeks, of blood, of money, of their clothes. But animals’ paths aren’t like that.”

As soon as he spoke, the falcon on his shoulder flapped its wings. The brush of twigs stirred the scent of grass.

Fresh and crisp. Seolyeong instinctively inhaled deeply. It felt like breathing in a pure fragrance from refined Qi.

Cheonsin murmured in a flat voice with barely any inflection,

“The more you train in poison, the more sensitive you get to bad smells.”

The Supreme One was the man who had conquered the martial world through poison. Seolyeong suspected he was descended from the Tang clan, he carefully chose his next words.

“But the stronger the poison, the fewer traces it leaves. I’ve heard your poison weapons are especially discreet.”

The sect leader’s poison pills, powders, and liquids were all odorless and colorless. Yet the martial artists struck by Sahyeol Amje always turned pitch black before death, and a red ‘天’ (heaven or sky) character would bloom on their foreheads.

The Martial Alliance discovered that poison from the Thousand-Year Temple could cause both red and black discoloration, but that didn’t stop the new demonic sect’s rampage.

The Nine Sects were helpless against these unknown poisons. The Five Noble Clans fared no better, having also lost their leaders.

“I’ve heard you use the poison of the Thousand-Year Temple. From what I know, it has a sour smell and a pale yellow tint. May I ask how you removed its scent and color? I vaguely remember reading a brief mention of it in a secret manual from the Tang clan that I found in the Murong family’s archives when I was young.”

At the word “secret manual,” Cheonsin looked at him.

Of course, it was a lie. If such a manual had existed, Seolyeong would have mastered poison arts as well as the cult leader.

“If you wish, I could ask my sister to steal it for you…”

He had fabricated the Tang-related story to gauge the sect leader’s reaction. Of course, he wouldn’t uncover his past in one short exchange.

The secr leader leaned toward him.

“My strange bride. Why didn’t the Alliance put you at the front?”

The falcon took flight. Seolyeong felt a twinge of foreboding. Cheonsin unexpectedly complimented him.

“If you had led the vanguard, the martial world might not have fallen so pitifully. Did they balk at the idea of giving a blood fiend such a key position?”

Tang Yujae had never crossed swords with the blood fiend siblings. No need to ask why. The Orthodox sects hadn’t wanted to formally accept blood fiends, remnants of the old demonic sect, as allies.

Cheonsin believed that outdated judgment had led to an early tragedy.

Seolyeong’s throat suddenly tightened.

Not because he felt bitter about being shunned by the Orthodox sects, but because he remembered the countless martial artists dying while he was holed up at the Murong estate, praying to the Wonsi Cheonjon². He had only gained permission to act against the new sect when the Murong family received a threat.

Had that opportunity come sooner, the course of the Great War might have been very different.

But what’s done is done. It was when he was trying to shake off his melancholy.

“Urgh…!”

A cold energy swept through his body. So fast he couldn’t even feel the pain.

A dagger, thick as a child’s forearm and far larger than most, had pierced him just below the navel.

The scent of blood stabbed at his nose.

“Cough…”

Gurgling, blood spilled from between his teeth. Cheonsin twisted the dagger sharply to the left.

Seolyeong’s head slumped onto his shoulder. It was a poisoned blade, one that had torn his lower danjeon cleanly. When it was yanked back out, Seolyeong’s body fell limply to the ground.

“Ahh… ugh…”

Hot blood gushed out. The pain from his ruptured danjeon was beyond imagining. Blood even flowed from his eyes, painting his vision red. A piercing ringing filled his ears.

His fingers twitched as he passed out, eyes still open.

Cheonsin threw another dagger.

Thwack! The second blade drove into the same place, slicing across the already destroyed core.

He felt no guilt for crippling his bride’s martial arts.

“Just keep your head down and live quietly. That’s what I took you in for.”

Cheonsin whispered.

All he needed was the yang energy in his bride’s body. Destroying the danjeon didn’t erase that. It just meant it couldn’t be cultivated through martial arts.

Better to break his wings and lock him up than let him run around pretending to be one of the righteous.

He watched his dying bride with a blank expression.

1. 흡 (吸) = to suck in, absorb 인 (引) = to draw, pull 공 (功) = martial technique, skill, or art ↩︎
2. Primeval God ↩︎