Cho Yoon collected himself and, as if to reassure them, gently stroked the backs of the children’s hands with his thumb while answering as evenly as he could.
“Do not trouble yourself over it,” Cho Yoon said, his voice steady despite the internal chaos. “I understood your intent, so I took no offense.”
It’s not like you could have shouted ‘I’m from the Tang Clan and you’re the Immortal Healer’ in the middle of enemy territory, he reasoned. I get it. Totally understandable.
He had intended the words to be a simple, forgiving gesture, but Nan Wi-jeong’s reaction was anything but simple.
The young man released his formal pogwon and stood straight, a subtle, sharp smile spreading across his face.
On his refined, noble features, there was a flash of something that looked dangerously like ecstasy.
“The moment you rescued our men and brought them to us, I realized we were already dancing in the palm of your hand,” Nan Wi-jeong murmured. “I shall cherish the immense grace you showed by deigning to play along with our little theater.”
Wait… is he being sarcastic? Or is this some high-level backhanded compliment? Cho Yoon wondered.
A cold sweat pricked his spine.
Beside him, Cheon-oh was looking up with eyes that practically sparkled with newfound worship, as if thinking, I knew Master had such profound foresight!
The weight of that combined adoration was suffocating. With his disciple looking at him like he was a god, Cho Yoon found he couldn’t bring himself to shatter the illusion. He stood there, stiff as a board, caught between confession and pretense, until Nan Wi-jeong mercifully continued.
“From this point forward, we are within the borders of Sichuan. First, I shall clear away those who have dared to harbor ill intent toward the Immortal Healer.”
Raising a hand to shoulder-height, Nan Wi-jeong signaled his men.
The escort warriors, who had been spread thin to protect the caravan, moved with lethal, disciplined precision. They shifted into a new formation without a single rustle of silk or the clatter of a scabbard. They moved as a single entity, the product of a grueling, high-level training regimen.
“Please be careful, everyone,” Nan Wi-jeong added, his tone almost casual for a man ordering a purge. “We cannot have bloodstains marring the path the Immortal Healer walks upon.”
A thin, cold curve touched the corners of the Guild Leader’s lips as he uttered the final command.
“Go.”
In a blur of speed that bordered on the supernatural, the warriors surged forward and began to scale the cliffs.
Dozens of men kicked off the earth, their bare hands finding purchase on the nearly vertical stone faces. It was as if their bodies possessed a different density than ordinary men; with every powerful thrust of their legs, they vaulted higher into the air. Under the pressure of their ascent, crumbling earth and loose stones cascaded down the precipices, creating miniature streams of debris that hissed into the canyon below.
The warriors vanished into the mountain mist clinging to the heights.
Moments later, a chorus of guttural screams erupted from the fog. They were short, wet sounds—abruptly silenced as if throats were being sliced mid-cry—and their echoes rattled through the canyon with a haunting, metallic resonance. Not a single drop of blood or a stray corpse fell into the valley; the porters simply stood there, staring upward with bored indifference, waiting for the work to be done.
The children, however, were transfixed, their eyes glued to the swirling mist.
At least they’re far enough away that they can’t see the details, Cho Yoon thought, letting out a weary sigh. The last thing I need is to traumatize them with a live R-rated horror show.
After about fifteen minutes, the warriors began to drop back down into the canyon. Some ran down the vertical walls halfway before vaulting into the air to land on the path.
The heavy thud of their landings left deep indents in the dirt, but they all rose instantly, forming their lines with a flourish. Murim warriors and their damn showmanship, Cho Yoon noted dryly.
The moment he saw the look in the children’s eyes, he fired off a series of Voice Transmission warnings.
[Don’t you even dream of trying that. You’re all still in your growing phase.]
[…]
[If you try a stunt like that at Mount Dumang, you’ll shatter your knees into a thousand pieces. And if you do, you’ll never grow another inch.]
[Master…]
[If you want to spend the rest of your life at your current height, be my guest.]
Sa-hyeon, whose eyes had been the brightest with longing, pouted his lips in dissatisfaction. However, his silence signaled a reluctant acceptance.
Cho Yoon on the other hand, felt a small victory; he knew all too well that the best way to stop a curious child from imitating a dangerous stunt was to threaten their future height.
As the warriors reassembled, Nan Wi-jeong turned to Cho Yoon and knelt, bowing his head until it nearly touched the earth. Cho Yoon, who had been focused on the children, turned to him with a start.
“Furthermore, I have a deep apology that I must offer upon my knees,” Nan Wi-jeong said, his voice dropping into a register of gravity Cho Yoon hadn’t heard before.
Cho Yoon was genuinely bewildered.
He had already accepted that the deception wasn’t Nan Wi-jeong’s fault, yet here was the Guild Leader prostrating himself in the dirt. Even the escort warriors followed suit, dropping to their knees and pressing their foreheads into the dust.
It wasn’t just an apology; it was a display of reverence usually reserved for an emperor.
It was beyond burdensome.
Before Cho Yoon could find the words to tell them to stand, Nan Wi-jeong’s next confession made a dull ache throb behind his eyes.
“When those pathetic bandits attacked us in the Qinling Mountains, it was a source of both shame and profound emotion for me to see the Immortal Healer intervene personally. My original, paltry intention was to stage a chance encounter to defeat them, shift the credit to Mount Hua, and then uncover the truth of their motives. I never dreamed that the Immortal Healer would take it upon himself to act.”
So… I didn’t even have to do anything? You had a plan the whole time? Cho Yoon’s mind reeled. You expected the clash between Mount Hua and the Green Forests, and you purposely lured Baek Ho-cheol into a fight just to get someone you could interrogate? You had the power to handle it all along?
And I was the only one… the only one freaking out for nothing?
“I possessed the strength to cross the Qinling Mountains with ease, yet I refrained from doing so to maintain our cover,” Nan Wi-jeong continued. “Had a mere merchant guild crossed a mountain under a Green Forests blockade unscathed, word would have reached Xi’an and Angang instantly, sparking suspicion. Please, I beg you to believe that I never intended to monitor your movements or manipulate the Immortal Healer’s actions for my own gain.”
Well, I knew that much, Cho Yoon thought. I didn’t act to save your caravan; I acted because I didn’t want the kids to see a massacre.
But having a man kneel in the dirt and claim he had committed a mortal sin when Cho Yoon hadn’t even given it a second thought was incredibly awkward. He looked around frantically, searching for a way to end the scene.
Nan Wi-jeong, misinterpreting Cho Yoon’s wandering gaze as a concern for being overheard, quickly added a final reassurance. “Every person remaining here is a member of the Tang Clan. The porters and guards we hired as temporary covers were dismissed in Angang. The concerns you harbor, Elder, will never come to pass.”
I wasn’t actually worried about my life, Cho Yoon sighed internally. I just felt a bit guilty for suspecting you. But he couldn’t very well say that to a man currently prostrating himself.
“As I said… I am not troubled by it,” Cho Yoon replied, choosing the most neutral path. “Stand up.”
“No. There is one final request that Nan Wi-jeong of the Nan family dares to ask of the Immortal Healer. It is the ambition of my life—the very reason I brought you to Sichuan.”
Nan Wi-jeong struck his forehead against the ground once more before Cho Yoon could protest.
“Please! Break the obsession of the Tang Clan Head, ‘Single Drop Execution’ Tang Yeom-cho, and shatter the twenty-year sealing of the Tang Clan!”
“…”
Cho Yoon stood in a stunned, heavy silence. He couldn’t exactly tell the man that he had come to Sichuan with that very intention.
Based on the legendary, eccentric reputation of the ‘Immortal Healer,’ Cho Yoon would never have agreed to such a thing so easily. Nan Wi-jeong knew this, which was why he was pleading with such desperation.
The real problem, however, was the children.
Cheon-oh was staring up at Cho Yoon with eyes even more luminous than before. The boy was clearly convinced that his master had known everything from the moment they left Xi’an—that every step had been part of a grand, divine plan.
Cho Yoon felt a stinging prick of guilt.
Far from knowing everything, he had been flying blind since they left the city, and nothing had gone according to his meager plans. He looked at Sa-yeong and Sa-hyeon; even though their faces were hidden, he could feel the weight of their awestruck gazes.
“We still have a long road ahead,” Cho Yoon said finally, his voice sounding much more dismissive than he intended. “How long do you plan on wasting time? Get up.”
How… how does ‘I get it, so please just stand up’ come out sounding like that? he wondered, utterly exasperated with his own stoic hardware. I’m going to drive myself crazy.
Fortunately, Nan Wi-jeong was a master of interpretation. He rose to his feet and offered another deep, respectful bow. “Thank you, Elder. I shall ensure we reach Chengdu by nightfall without further incident.”
Behind the Guild Leader, Cho Yoon watched as Jo Woo-il threw a large, coarse sack over Baek Ho-cheol. The King of the Green Forests, who had turned pale with shock upon realizing his captor was none other than the Immortal Healer, vanished into the brown flour sack.
Jo Woo-il tossed the ‘packaged’ king onto a spare horse, and the caravan resumed its formation.
Caught in the center of dozens of admiring, expectant gazes, Cho Yoon had no choice but to quicken his pace, his heart heavy with the sudden, massive burden of expectation.