Chapter 65

“Actually, I recently obtained a spiritual creature similar to a hawk and have been training it. If I put in just a bit more work, I think I’ll soon have a messenger hawk that can follow a special scent and reach its target no matter how far the distance.”

“…It is not a hawk akin to a spiritual creature, but a spiritual creature that merely resembles a hawk?”

“Yes. It is certainly no ordinary beast,” Hui confirmed. “It can even pierce through arrays, provided they aren’t overly robust.”

A hawk capable of bypassing arrays? He captured such a creature and even trained it? Was that even possible?

Having hunted a considerable number of monsters in the Mount Dumang, Cho Yoon felt a storm of confusion brew in his mind. While a spiritual creature lacking hostility toward humans might theoretically be tamed, the more he considered it, the more doubtful it seemed.

Isn’t this practically the equivalent of capturing and domesticating a phoenix? I never saw anything like this in the original novel.

“This pouch contains one of the scents it tracks,” Hui explained. “With proper training, it can traverse the distance between Guangdong Province and the Qinling Mountains in a mere three days.”

“…You have acquired a truly formidable spiritual creature.”

“Fufu, I was quite lucky. And I intend to allow Young Lady Lim and Young Hero Lim to utilize this messenger hawk as well.”

In other words… he is handing over a dedicated communication network that requires barely a week for a round trip.

His meticulousness was truly insurmountable. Wearing a slightly bewildered expression, Cho Yoon accepted the fragrance pouch. Rather than bestowing a favor upon Hui, it felt as though he had simply been showered with an overwhelming amount of considerate care.

Gathering the key and the peony plaque, Hui handed them over, his voice melting into a soft, gentle cadence.

“Since you are entrusting your precious disciples to me, I felt I must exert every effort to offer you a sliver more peace of mind. I sincerely hope these arrangements please you.”

“…They do. I will not forget your profound consideration.”

“Not at all. I am the one who should be thanking you.”

Listening to Hui’s gracious words, Cho Yoon tucked the items securely into his robes. After taking a steadying breath, he spoke.

“I plan to leave Sichuan with Cheon-oh by the day after tomorrow at the latest. If you intend to take the children back to Guangdong Province sooner than that, I will depart as early as this evening.”

“Ah, that is perfectly fine. The day after tomorrow sounds ideal,” Hui replied easily. “I plan to remain here until the end of the week to resolve matters concerning the King of Green Forests.”

Come to think of it, Baek Ho-cheol had been completely absent from the estate since the beginning. Although the man probably hadn’t left the city yet—and his expanded qi sense would easily locate him—Cho Yoon had no desire to investigate matters that had already been beyond his control.

Offering a brief farewell, Cho Yoon left Hui behind and stepped out of the room.

Yeowa, the escort warrior waiting outside, immediately slipped inside as if he had been anticipating his departure.

The ornate, paper-lined sliding doors snapped shut, cleanly severing the sound of their voices.

Withdrawing his attention entirely, Cho Yoon quickened his pace, desperate to savor the rapidly dwindling time left with all of his children.

***

“Do not forget to keep the hairpin and bell on your persons at all times. You remember the instructions I gave you on how to use them, correct?”

“Yes, Master. We remember.”

“I will send the Life-Saving Elixirs the moment I finish concocting them, so you must carry those with you constantly as well. Do not easily reveal your possessions to others, and never trust people too readily.”

“Yes. Yes, Master.”

“No matter how much passion overflows within you, sacrificing your time to sleep and eat to immerse yourselves in training will only cause catastrophic harm in the long run. No matter what you do, how did I tell you to approach it?”

“You told us to accurately gauge our own limits and apply a moderate level of ruthlessness,” the siblings answered faithfully.

“Exactly. Ruining your health renders everything meaningless. Sa-yeong, you in particular have a habit of voluntarily inviting hardship, so you must be extra careful.”

There is still… still so much more I need to tell them. What should I do?

Nearly fifteen minutes had already slipped past as they stood before the estate’s main gates.

Though he continuously gripped the siblings—who had come out to see him off—and relentlessly pelted them with warnings, a suffocating anxiety still gripped him.

He had completely forgotten that he had repeated these exact same words for the past two days straight, even going so far as to write them down and press the paper into their hands.

Finally, Cho Yoon dropped to one knee, taking one of each sibling’s hands, and met their gazes squarely.

“If it becomes too difficult, you may return at any time. There is no need to grit your teeth and endure, nor is there any absolute requirement for you to become a specific type of person. You are both still in the stage of discovering what you truly wish to do, so please, do not burden yourselves with the stifling responsibility that what you learn now must dictate your entire lives.”

“Yes, Master. We will place our significance solely on learning many things.”

“M-me too.”

“You will encounter countless people from now on. Do you remember what I told you to keep in mind when dealing with others?”

“I have memorized it all,” Sa-yeong recited smoothly. “You said that those who excessively slander others merely possess desolate hearts, so we should not listen to them closely. We must never rely on the evaluations of others, and we must always keep our ears open but our mouths shut.”

“Indeed. Sa-hyeon, this is something you must engrave especially deeply into your heart. No matter what anyone says about you, pay them no mind and simply pity them.”

“Y-yes… Master.”

The children nodded earnestly. Alternating his gaze between the siblings, Cho Yoon let out a short sigh and gently tugged on their joined hands. Gathering them in, he wrapped one arm around each child. Perhaps owing to their recent breakthrough with physical affection, their bodies did not stiffen quite as rigidly as before.

They have truly grown so much in such a short time. It feels as though four years vanished in a single breath, yet you two already overflow my embrace.

Snuggling into his chest, the children squirmed slightly, their small hands gripping the fabric of Cho Yoon’s robes. Sa-hyeon, who had been desperately clamping his lips shut to hold back his tears, let out a wet sniffle. Rhythmically stroking their backs, Cho Yoon murmured softly.

“…Write to me. Even hearing about the most trivial matters will put my mind at ease.”

“…Yes, Master.”

Delivering one final, tight squeeze, Cho Yoon rose to his feet. He then placed a hand on the shoulder of Cheon-oh, who was standing quietly beside him. Having observed the farewell with an utterly expressionless face, the youngest disciple bowed deeply.

“Senior Sister, Senior Brother, please take care of yourselves. I will pray for your success.”

“…”

Staring intently at the boy, Sa-yeong abruptly reached out and snatched Cheon-oh’s wrist. Her face set in resolute determination, she locked eyes with him for roughly five seconds before suddenly releasing her grip.

“I’ll be back,” she added—a blunt but characteristically sincere farewell.

Though the distinct exchange of internal energy flowing between the two was glaringly obvious, Cho Yoon actively chose to feign ignorance.

He already knew that whenever he briefly stepped away during their stay at the estate, the children frequently conversed, and Sa-yeong no longer displayed the same aggressive hostility toward Cheon-oh as she once had.

Sa-yeong soon turned her gaze up to Cho Yoon.

Bearing her usual bright, intelligent expression, she spoke in a crisp, flawlessly articulated voice.

“I will be going now, Master. I will learn much and return.”

“…Yes. Have a safe journey.”

In that instant, a surge of emotion nearly brought him to tears. The fact that it didn’t physically manifest on his face was entirely thanks to the stoic nature of ‘Cho Yoon’s’ body.

Forcing down his lingering attachments, Cho Yoon affectionately patted the children’s heads one last time before spinning around. If he delayed even a second longer, he felt he truly wouldn’t be able to force his feet to move.

Donning his bamboo hat, he pushed open the main gate and stepped outside. Cheon-oh immediately trotted after him, pressing close to his side. Grasping the boy’s hand as Cheon-oh habitually looked up at him, Cho Yoon set off.

Just then, a voice rang out from behind, accompanied by the frantic sound of someone catching the closing gate.

“—The only reason I have this opportunity is all thanks to you, Master! Thank you, Master. I will absolutely… no, I will do well!”

“…”

Halting briefly, Cho Yoon simply resumed his stride. He neither looked back at his disciples nor offered a reply. Instead, Cheon-oh, who had twisted his head to look back, scrambled to keep up, peering up at his master’s face.

Not even sparing a glance down at Cheon-oh, Cho Yoon walked with long, rapid strides, only decelerating once they were a considerable distance from the estate.

Clenching his jaw, he abruptly scooped Cheon-oh up into his arms.

Since the Tang Clan believed Cho Yoon’s party had already departed Sichuan, they needed to cross into Shaanxi Province via untamed mountain trails to avoid arousing unnecessary suspicion.

For that, it was far more efficient for Cho Yoon to carry the boy and deploy his lightfoot technique to swiftly evacuate the area.

However, every single step pierced him like a flying dagger. He wasn’t simply watching the children leave; he was actively walking away and leaving them behind with his own two feet. There was no way his steps could feel light.

No matter how many times he chanted to himself that this was a genuinely good thing—that the children couldn’t remain in elementary school forever—his heart ached terribly.

Standing before the mountain and swallowing another heavy sigh, Cho Yoon suddenly felt Cheon-oh, who had been resting quietly in his arms, extend both hands. The boy wrapped his arms around Cho Yoon’s stiff neck and buried his face into his shoulder.

As the master bit down hard on his lower lip, the child spoke carefully.

“…Master, please do not be sad. I will never leave you. The only person I wish to learn from is you, Master. Even when my body grows as large as Senior Sister’s or Senior Brother’s, I will not go anywhere else.”

No. You don’t have to do that. I want to be your teacher and your family. And if I am a truly proper adult—if I genuinely cherish you—I shouldn’t bind you like that.

Yet, he couldn’t deny that this clumsy comfort offered profound solace.

Ultimately saying nothing, Cho Yoon soothingly stroked the boy’s back as he vanished into the forest.

His retreating figure, draped in white cotton and burdened by his own vulnerability, was swiftly engulfed by the shadows of the leaves.

It was Cho Yoon’s first outing, but an endeavor where he had lost far more than he had gained.