In any case, Tang Yeom-cho, perhaps believing he had finally encountered someone older and wiser after twenty years, expressed his grievances at length about matters he couldn’t discuss with his own clan. He appeared genuinely pleased even when Cho Yoon simply listened in silence, continuing to talk extensively.

Tang Yeom-cho looked for all the world like a neighborhood grandfather whiling away the hours at a community pavilion, swapping stories with his peers until the sun dipped below the horizon.

As their meandering conversation lingered for a full quarter-hour on the singular virtues of Tang Woon-geum, Cho Yoon finally managed to interject.

“I understand you are quite smitten with your late-born granddaughter, but that is enough,” Cho Yoon said, his voice a cool blade cutting through the sentimentality. “Tell me of this Divine Artifact.”

“Ah, yes. My apologies. I’ve made a spectacle of myself before the Esteemed Immortal Healer.”

Cho Yoon could have listened to the old man’s affectionate ramblings, but he had no interest in learning the specific milestones of another man’s granddaughter—like when she first crawled or rolled over—while his own three children were left alone in an unfamiliar and potentially dangerous environment. He had told Sa-yeong this would be brief, yet the minutes were slipping away.

While Tang Yeom-cho was amicable, the rest of the Tang Clan viewed the Immortal Healer with anything but warmth.

The Clan Head offered an abashed smile, his expression far more relaxed than when they had first entered the room. He settled into a serious posture and began to speak with measured gravity.

“I am unsure of how much you already know, so I shall begin with how the Tang Clan first learned of this matter. Four months ago, a monk sent secretly by the Prajna Master of the Emei Sect arrived with a single command: ‘Go to Shaanxi.’ Knowing that the Prajna Master would not risk sending a Buddhist nun into the heart of Chengdu unless the matter was dire, I sent Nan Wi-jeong in disguise to investigate.”

The Emei Sect was another powerhouse of the Sichuan region.

Though situated on the eponymous Mount Emei, they maintained good relations with the Tang Clan, largely because the sect consisted of disinterested Buddhist nuns. They specialized in palm techniques under the precept of never taking a life.

Despite their small numbers, every member was a high-level master, earning them an undisputed spot among the Nine Great Sects and One Faction of the White Chivalry Alliance.

If the nuns of Emei are leaving their temple for the bustle of Chengdu, something has definitely gone sideways, Cho Yoon noted, offering a small nod.

Encouraged, Tang Yeom-cho lowered his voice and reinforced the barrier of silence.

“Upon Nan Wi-jeong’s return from the Zhuge Clan, we learned the truth of the Divine Artifact in Liaoning Province. It seems the Moyong, Hebei Peng Clan, and Zhuge clans, along with the Shaolin Temple, the Beggars’ Sect, and the Emei Sect, are organizing a martial arts assembly to scout for talent. Their primary objective is to keep word of the object from reaching the Namgung Clan, while their second is to find an individual worthy of wielding it.”

So that was it, Cho Yoon thought, a spark of relief warming his chest. He finally recognized the plot point. While the original ‘Cho Yoon’ might have been in the dark, the transmigrator had read the novel. He knew exactly what was happening.

Tang Yeom-cho set down his empty cup and looked at Cho Yoon with a probing gaze. “I have never heard word of the Immortal Healer taking disciples. Do you believe those children are the ones the Divine Artifact seeks?”

“No. That is not the case. The one destined for the Divine Artifact is someone else entirely.”

Cho Yoon’s children had only come down the mountain to buy rice; the Divine Artifact would only “awaken” once it touched the hands of the story’s protagonist.

I wondered when the main story would actually kick off, Cho Yoon mused. It’s closer than I thought. If they’re scouting talent now, the events should begin within a few years.

He paused, struck by a sudden realization.

Given the time it would take for a growth-type protagonist to eventually clash with the ‘Sovereign of the Underworld,’ Joo Cheon-oh… it meant the age gap between the hero and Cheon-oh was negligible.

The original Joo Cheon-oh was described as an absolute monarch of terrifying power. Cho Yoon had assumed that despite his youthful appearance, the villain was much older than the hero. Realizing that Cheon-oh was actually just a young man in his twenties when he reached those heights was a shock.

Just how monstrous was his talent, and how much hell did he have to endure to sharpen it like that? Cho Yoon felt a headache brewing as he looked at the eleven-year-old boy currently in his care. And how much more am I going to have to suffer raising a kid like that?

Regardless, those were problems for the future. For now, his priority was ensuring Cheon-oh enjoyed what little childhood he had left.

As Cho Yoon organized his thoughts, Tang Yeom-cho spoke up with visible delight. “As expected, the Elder already knows of the chosen one! Is the identity of this person what you intended to tell me? Or perhaps… is the one worthy of the object destined to emerge from the Tang Clan?”

“I suggest you lift the seal on your gates immediately and use that as a pretext to diligently gather talent,” Cho Yoon advised, sidestepping the question. “Whether they are ‘the one’ or not, strengthening your clan is clearly in your best interest.”

He had to keep the protagonist’s location a secret for now. The process of searching for a wielder would uncover several geniuses who would eventually become the hero’s allies; he couldn’t risk sabotaging that narrative arc yet.

Yeom-cho nodded eagerly, accepting the vague advice as profound wisdom. “Yes, Esteemed Immortal Healer. The current state of the ‘Righteous Faction’ is a disgrace. To dismantle this hypocrisy, we must actively build our strength. Nan Wi-jeong reports that the actions of the Namgung, Mount Hua, and Wudang sects are becoming intolerably wicked. The Tang Clan will do everything in its power to excise that rot.”

Good. Become a sturdy backbone for the protagonist, Cho Yoon thought, nodding. Despite the awkward start, he had gleaned quite a bit of useful intelligence.

Believing their business concluded, Cho Yoon set his cup down and rose to leave. However, Tang Yeom-cho called out to him, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

Cho Yoon paused at the door and looked back.

To his horror, the seventy-year-old master of poison slid from his chair and prostrated himself on the floor.

It was a scene of perfect family resemblance; he looked exactly like Nan Wi-jeong kowtowing in the dirt of the Daba Mountains. Cho Yoon stiffened, his body once again paralyzed by the sheer burden of such extreme deference.

The silver-haired elder pressed his wrinkled hands against the wooden floor and shouted with desperate intensity.

“I know I am being shameless, but I beg for your aid one last time! Please, grant my people a lesson that will make them realize just how much they still lack!”

“…”

Cho Yoon realized with a sinking heart that his days of peace were still a very long way off.

***

“This is the Pavilion of Emerald Jade, where the elders of the clan reside. And over there is the Pavilion of Emerald Pillars, where my grandfather lives.”

Tang Woon-geum chattered away, her small fingers pointing toward the distance.

Sa-yeong turned to look, her eyes landing on a massive structure defined by scarlet pillars and vibrant green dancheong paintings.

Acting as the social bridge for her quiet brother and taciturn martial brother, Sa-yeong replied with a warm, melodic tone. “I see. It is a magnificent building, a fitting symbol for the sovereign of Sichuan. Is my Master inside as we speak?”

“Mhm! Grandfather spends all day in there. He says there are too many dangerous things inside for me to enter, but he took the last guests straight there too.”

At those words, Cheon-oh, who had been trailing behind in silence, snapped his head toward the pavilion. Sa-yeong clicked her tongue inwardly at the boy; they had only been separated from their Master for minutes, yet he was looking at the building with the damp, longing eyes of a man pining for a departed wife.

Smiling brightly, Sa-yeong steered Woon-geum in a different direction. “Oh, Young Lady Tang, what is that building over there? It’s situated deeper in than the Emerald Pillars, yet it looks so secluded. There’s nothing around it.”

Oh no. I messed up.

The moment the question left her lips, Sa-yeong felt the gazes of the second-generation Tang disciples trailing them turn razor-sharp. Even without looking back, she could feel their scrutiny pricking her skin like needles.

Master and the Tang Clan clearly have a strained history. I shouldn’t have pried. That must be a highly restricted area.

But the words were out, and there was no taking them back. Sa-yeong quickly decided to lean into the persona of a sheltered, naive traveler. She fired off a clumsy, rudimentary Voice Transmission message to her two useless brothers.

[Don’t react. Pretend you know nothing. Just stay still.]

“Oh, that’s the Pavilion of Ten Thousand Poisons!” Woon-geum answered, her lips pouting slightly. “It’s where all the Tang Clan’s poisons are kept. They say it’s where our secret formulas are made, but I’ve never been allowed inside… I don’t even know if guests can go there.”

It was even more significant than I thought, Sa-yeong realized, masking her alarm with a look of feigned wonder.

Woon-geum’s dissatisfaction at being excluded was palpable.

Seeing her hesitation, the second-generation disciples began competing to cut into the conversation.