After renting out the inn and unpacking, the exhausted laborers all slumped in the dining hall—everyone looked ready to collapse the moment they finished eating.
Seizing the perfect opportunity, Cho Yoon produced several large gourds he had brought along. “This is liquor infused with Siberian peashrub, specifically brewed to soothe aching muscles,” he announced, his voice carrying over the din of the common room. “I shall offer a cup to each of you.”
A chorus of cheers erupted from the weary travelers, their eyes lighting up at the mention of spirits. As Cho Yoon uncorked the vessels, a sharp, bittersweet aroma billowed out, instantly brightening the faces of the exhausted porters. He moved methodically from table to table, filling each cup with no more than two shallow mouthfuls.
“Eh? Is that all?” one porter grumbled, staring at the meager serving.
“It is both an aperitif and a medicinal tonic,” Cho Yoon replied coolly. “This is the precise dosage required for efficacy.”
“Master, let us help!” Sa-yeong and Sa-hyeon chimed in, starting to rise from their seats.
“Stay seated,” Cho Yoon commanded, settling them with a single look. “Children have no business pouring liquor, let alone drinking it.”
He continued his rounds, weaving through the crowded dining hall.
The reactions were as varied as the men themselves; some winced and spat at the bitterness, while others inhaled the herbal steam with appreciative hums.
Cho Yoon explained that while the peashrub was pungent and spicy, it required no dietary restrictions, allowing them to enjoy their meal in peace. Most were simply grateful for the sudden warmth spreading through their bellies.
Finally, Cho Yoon approached the table where Nan Wi-jeong, Jo Woo-il, and the Mount Hua disciple, Guyang Seon, sat together. He produced a different gourd. “For the gentlemen at this table, I have prepared something better suited to your specific needs: the Four Gentlemen Decoction.”
“Ah, hyungnim. You have my thanks,” Nan Wi-jeong said, offering a polite bow.
Cho Yoon poured the amber liquid for Guyang Seon first, then Nan Wi-jeong and Jo Woo-il. Seeing a flicker of disappointment in the warrior’s eyes—likely because the brew lacked the kick of true alcohol—Cho Yoon clarified its purpose while sealing the gourd.
“This is a decoction of ginseng, licorice, poria, and atractylodes. it is designed to fortify the stomach and tonify the Qi. When one suffers from mental exhaustion, the lining of the stomach is often the first to suffer. Please, look after your health.”
He cast a pointed look at Nan Wi-jeong.
Especially you. Leading a caravan across mountains, fending off bandits, and managing an inn—you’ll fall apart if you don’t manage your stress.
Cho Yoon felt a quiet sense of satisfaction; the ‘Immortal Healer’s’ vast knowledge was proving invaluable, and he was glad he had brought along enough supplies to actually use.
As he finished, Guyang Seon shifted on his bench, making room. “Thank you, Herbalist. Won’t you join us?”
“Yes, hyungnim, please sit,” Nan Wi-jeong added, his smile bright and persistent.
Unable to find a polite way to refuse, Cho Yoon glanced toward his disciples. They seemed to have integrated perfectly with the other adults, chatting away with surprising ease. He caught Cheon-oh’s eye—the boy had sensed his gaze instantly—and gave a small wave to signal he was fine before settling next to Guyang Seon.
“The other Daoists…” Cho Yoon began.
“Ah, Senior Yu and Lee Yeon wished to stay in their rooms to recover from the journey’s fatigue,” Guyang Seon answered with a weary sigh.
More likely because they’re dying of embarrassment, Cho Yoon thought.
It was hardly surprising.
A high-ranking disciple of the Great Mount Hua Sect had arrived with the arrogance of a protector only to earn the nickname ‘The Bed-wetter.’ He had sensed their auras stashed away in their rooms, refusing to budge.
If Guyang Seon hadn’t been present, the porters would likely be mocking Yu Myeong-woo openly; even now, the twitch at the corner of Jo Woo-il’s mouth suggested the damage to the sect’s reputation was already irreversible.
Guyang Seon seemed to realize this. He filled his own cup with lukewarm water and drained it in a single, somber gulp. “I must apologize for Senior Yu’s rudeness, Guild Leader. He is… accustomed to a certain level of deference. He has been corrected many times, but he lacks the will to change. I suppose this time, he learned his lesson the hard way.”
“Think nothing of it,” Nan Wi-jeong replied smoothly. “We merely offered gifts to the Daoists who traveled so far to protect us.”
“Gifts that a true Daoist should never have craved in the first place,” Guyang Seon countered.
It was a delicate admission to make in front of civilians—essentially revealing the internal decay of his own sect—but the man didn’t hesitate. It seemed he had decided that one failure of honor was enough for a lifetime.
“The prestige of Mount Hua is not what it once was. It is hubris to expect a name to remain exalted when the hearts of the people bearing it have withered. I am truly ashamed you had to witness such a display.”
Guyang Seon’s large, bear-like hand rested on the table, trembling slightly with melancholy.
Nan Wi-jeong reached out, his hand looking much younger and more delicate as he patted the warrior’s knuckles with steady composure. “When the world is in chaos, people inevitably waver. But as long as Mount Hua has men like you, Great Hero Gu, it can rise again. Your potential is vast.”
Guyang Seon fell silent, touched by the merchant’s words.
Cho Yoon, watching the exchange, felt a different kind of pressure. God, this is awkward.
It felt exactly like being the lone outsider at a high-stakes corporate meeting where trade secrets were being leaked. They were still within Shaanxi Province, and here was a disciple of Mount Hua speaking of the sect’s decline. Given the pride typically associated with the sect in the original story, even a slight distortion of this conversation reaching the wrong ears would lead to a bloodbath.
The fact that Nan Wi-jeong didn’t even flinch confirmed Cho Yoon’s suspicion: the young merchant was a formidable player. He was sharp, capable, and protective of his own—convincing Cho Yoon that joining the trek to Sichuan was a wise move.
Once the Tang Clan’s sealing is lifted, this man’s future will be limitless.
The tension finally broke as the kitchen staff began delivering the feast. Being in Shaanxi, the birthplace of wheat delicacies, the spread was dominated by various noodle dishes, alongside steamed freshwater fish, blanched shrimp, and stir-fried vegetables.
Cho Yoon found himself looking forward to the meal.
Whether it was the body’s memory or his own preference, he favored the bold flavors of Shaanxi—heavy on the vinegar and garlic. He sat with his back perfectly straight, lifting his bowl to chest height to eat with refined, practiced movements.
It was a posture so ingrained in the ‘Immortal Healer’s’ bones that sitting any other way felt physically uncomfortable.
He had finished about three mouthfuls in silence when Nan Wi-jeong spoke up. “By the way, Cho Guyang Seon-hyungnim… surely you could remove your hat while we eat?”
Cho Yoon’s hand froze mid-air. He had become so accustomed to the bamboo hat that he had forgotten how bizarre it looked to keep it on during a banquet. He fought the reflex to pull the brim lower; to do so now would only highlight his desperation to hide.
Why is he asking this now? He was fine when it was just the two of us. Is he trying to out me in front of everyone?
“I possess a rather unsightly countenance,” Cho Yoon replied, his voice dropping into a firm, decisive tone. “I would prefer not to offend your eyes. Please, do not dwell on it.”
His bluntness was a gamble. Humans are naturally curious creatures, and being told no only stoked the fire. He felt the weight of several inquisitive gazes—including Guyang Seon’s—drifting toward him from the surrounding tables.
“Ah, my apologies,” Nan Wi-jeong said, his smile turning apologetic and clean. “I only asked because I thought you might be uncomfortable. Please, eat your fill.”
Liar, Cho Yoon thought, noting the glint in the merchant’s eyes. He’s just enjoying the fact that I’m squirming. He’s a total fox.
Seeking to kill the topic, Cho Yoon shifted the conversation. “What have you done with the bandit leader?”
“With Great Hero Gu’s help, we sealed his pressure points and locked him in the storehouse,” Nan Wi-jeong answered. “My warriors are taking turns guarding him in shifts. You need not worry, hyungnim.”
I’m not worried about him escaping, Cho Yoon mused. I’m the one who told him to stay put.
He knew his toxin was far more powerful than any standard Murim anesthetic; even a Peak Master like Baek Ho-cheol wouldn’t be shaking it off anytime soon.
As the name of the bandit leader was mentioned, the conversation spread to the neighboring tables. The porters began a rowdy debate: could it really be the ‘King of the Green Forests’? Why was he alone? Was it a divine beast that saved them, or a hidden immortal? Either way, they toasted to their survival.
Cho Yoon sipped his white liquor, watching the rowdy, warm atmosphere.
It wasn’t a bad way to spend an evening.