Chapter 74

Cheon-oh landed with a thud in Estate of Deep Mists’ back courtyard.

He’d forced himself to hold his breath and pushed his lightness skill to the limit, so he was back in less than a quarter of the time it had taken to reach Yeonpa River.

His leg meridians felt like they were about to burst and his breathing was ragged, but he couldn’t afford to delay.

Bounding into his master’s room, Cheon-oh roughly pulled open the drawers of the massive herbal cabinet that blanketed an entire wall. Retrieving every single ingredient his master had specified and lining them up on the table, the total count quickly surpassed thirty.

And then… what else do I need to do?

Overcome with anxiety, Cheon-oh fidgeted with his longevity lock, pacing frantically around the cramped room. Abruptly halting his steps, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts into order.

One. Master is more peerless in medicine and poison than anyone else in the world. He told me he would return quickly, so I must simply trust him and wait.

Two. The poison flowed downstream, so Master will likely concoct an antidote with these ingredients to distribute to the villagers living below the mountain, or use them to purify the mountain and river. He anticipated this process would easily take a few days, which is why he told me to wait at the inn.

Three. If that is the case, there are roughly two things I can do. First, while Master is brewing the medicine, I can run down to the village and warn them not to use the river water. Second, I can prepare to wait on Master hand and foot, as he will undoubtedly be exhausted from days of grueling labor outdoors.

The former required traversing the mountain alone, so he needed to obtain his master’s permission once he returned. Therefore, the only thing he could actively do right now was the latter.

I have to do something. I can’t just sit here doing nothing while waiting for Master to return. 

Desperate to always be an exceptional disciple, Cheon-oh concluded his train of thought and immediately approached the wooden chest tucked in the corner of the room. Opening it, he pulled out his master’s neatly folded clothes.

I saw him vaporizing the moisture, but continuing to wear clothes that were fully soaked might be uncomfortable for him. I need to prepare these so he can change immediately. Furthermore, purifying the river might require him to submerge himself a few more times, so I should pack spare clothes and towels. And…

The clothes sticking to his soaked body. The pale skin visible through the semi-transparent cotton. The perfectly straight shoulders and slender waist. The elegant nape exposed as he swept back his hair. The disheveled appearance of the master he had witnessed for the very first time.

Thud. 

The clothes in his hands tumbled to the floor.

Startled back to his senses, Cheon-oh frantically scooped them up before pulling out a fresh set. Trapped in the abrupt flashback, his every movement felt jarring and disjointed.

No matter how many times he squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, his master’s back flickered relentlessly in his mind, and the sight of that pale hand sweeping back wet hair flashed blindingly before him.

“…”

Cheon-oh’s movements, habitually closing the chest, ground to a halt once more. Staring blankly into empty space, his eyes aimlessly chased the memory. Had it not been for a bird crying out from outside at that exact moment, he likely would have remained completely spellbound for quite some time.

Jolted awake, Cheon-oh sprang to his feet in terror.

Overwhelmed by an inexplicable sense of despair, he dropped his gaze, only then realizing his heart was hammering so violently it felt as though it might burst from his chest.

This is… strange.

He didn’t know why, but his instincts screamed at him. Continuously replaying this memory, and letting his heart race over these unfathomable emotions—all of it was something he absolutely must not do.

It was abnormal, shameless, ungrateful… a profoundly wicked act.

Standing entirely alone, utterly disconnected from the familiar scenery of the Estate of Deep Mists, Cheon-oh pressed a hand hard over his pounding heart. His fingertips were ice-cold, and drawing breath felt impossibly heavy.

The chirping of mountain birds and insects, the burbling of the nearby brook—everything sounded muffled and distant.

The scent of mountain air and medicinal herbs tickling his nose only made the image of the person currently absent from this room surface with even more agonizing clarity.

Unable to mentally drag himself away from the water’s edge, Cheon-oh’s mind slowly began rewinding through his past memories. His brilliant brain flawlessly regurgitated every single scene he had ever shared with his master, but his pitch-black gaze was now hungrily scanning places entirely different from before.

The lips parting to consume his cooking, the white teeth and moist tip of the tongue visible within.

The immaculate fingertips delicately grasping a cup while drinking alone under the moonlight, the dreamlike sound of his laughter.

The steady heartbeat and rich scent of herbs he felt when happily embracing him, his master standing with his back to the roaring flames.

The white hair that fell and scattered gently following the stroke of his hand, the crisp scent of osmanthus oil, and the soft, jade-like voice.

The pale back of the hand that held his own small one, the gaze that naturally met his whenever he lifted his head.

—Whatever the truth may be, if you wish for me to believe it, then I shall believe it.

—I will never abandon or turn a blind eye to you.

The dim cave echoing with the relentless downpour, those infinitely benevolent eyes. The lukewarm body heat transmitting through his ankle. The calm words soothing a weeping, terrified child. And…

—At the very least, I can make you capable of overcoming every poison in the world.

Those eyes, shining with profound wisdom beneath the golden sunlight.

The precious memories he only took out to examine occasionally, terrified they might wear away—the boundless admiration he had built while constantly looking up at an untouchable peak—suddenly collided with a perverse, newly bloomed desire and began to warp entirely. The brilliant, pure yearning that hadn’t harbored a single speck of shame was now thickly smeared with pitch-black tar.

I want to gaze at him endlessly. I want to strip away the layers wrapping him. I want to engrave every single detail into my eyes without missing a thing. I want to be the only one to know a face no one else has ever seen. I want to distort that immaculate brow. I want to soak his entire body. I want to invade him. I want to dye him black. I want to ruin him.

Unable to even dare attempt to halt the overflowing deluge of thoughts, swept away helplessly by the current, the only thing left remaining was…

…a lust that must absolutely be hidden.

A wicked act.

This is a wicked act. 

Even if he didn’t fully comprehend what it was, these were emotions he was strictly forbidden to harbor, thoughts he absolutely must not entertain. His legs giving out beneath him, Cheon-oh collapsed to the floor, blindly groping his lower abdomen with one hand.

The tight, heavy sensation coiling deep inside, the agonizing, teasing tickle, the rushing blood—everything felt terribly, profoundly wrong.

Experiencing such a situation for the very first time in his life, Cheon-oh remained frozen in place, paralyzed by utter confusion, completely incapable of knowing what to do. As if his brain had short-circuited, absolutely no course of action came to mind.

Just then, a familiar voice drifted from the doorway.

“Cheon-oh, what are you doing?”

“M-Master?”

Any other time, merely hearing that voice would have filled him with immeasurable joy, but not now. Struck by an inexplicable, overwhelming terror, Cheon-oh stiffly turned his head. Standing there, leaning heavily against the doorframe with a deathly pale complexion, was his master. That sight snapped Cheon-oh back to his senses in an instant.

“Master?! What happened? Are you unwell?!”

“I am the one who should be asking that. Why were you sitting like that? Are you perhaps experiencing abdominal pain now?”

Only after breaking free from his shameless delusions did he finally register his master’s scent filling the room. It wasn’t the usual aroma of long-decocted herbs, but a sharp, pungent smell, like freshly crushed grass. To think he hadn’t detected a single trace of his master’s presence until he was right at the door—it was unbelievable.

His face completely drained of color, Cheon-oh practically launched himself toward his master. However, despite the cold sweat beading on his forehead, his master grabbed Cheon-oh’s shoulders, pushed him firmly into a chair, and began checking his pulse.

“You do not appear to be ill; why were you sitting there in a daze, your soul entirely absent? When you didn’t answer my calls, I genuinely thought a monster had stolen your skin and entered the house.”

“That is, I simply had something to think about… I am fine. I am not in pain.”

Answering with a hollow, absentminded voice, Cheon-oh’s eyes darted erratically. Seen up close, his master truly appeared severely ill. His fingertips were dyed a sickly blue, and seeing him repeatedly swallow dryly and clamp his mouth shut as if suppressing nausea—these were the textbook symptoms of poisoning.

A horrifying hypothesis flashing through his mind, Cheon-oh turned stark white and desperately snatched the hand his master was using to check his pulse.

“M-Master. Are you perhaps poisoned? Are you in pain?! Your hands are freezing, and your lips are purple! Is this because of the Zhenniao bird?!”

“Do not make such a fuss. This is merely a temporary phenomenon.”

Brusquely cutting off Cheon-oh’s frantic worries, Cho Yoon shifted his gaze toward the table laden with medicinal herbs. But Cheon-oh unhesitatingly reached out, grabbingist master’s robes and yanking him closer.

“Master, I am terrified! I have never seen your esteemed self in such a state. Forgive my insolence, but I am terrified something terrible might happen to you. I know full well there is no time, but please, explain just a little more to me. Please…”

“…”

With his mind already a chaotic, dizzying mess, seeing his master appear in such a state pushed his confusion past its absolute breaking point. He knew he was acting spoiled, relying on his master’s kindness, and holding him back when time was critical. The paralyzing fear that his master might look at him with annoyed, burdensome eyes made it agonizingly difficult to even lift his head.

His previously expressionless face—which had slowly grown to mirror his master’s—contorted as if he were about to burst into tears. His usually low, calm voice wavered erratically, thick with damp emotion. Yet, he couldn’t let go of those robes. He couldn’t stop pleading.

Suddenly, a light touch rested atop his head. Gritting his teeth, Cheon-oh squeezed both hands tightly.

Stroking Cheon-oh’s hair and cheek, Cho Yoon gently patted his shoulder and spoke.

“As I said, it is a temporary phenomenon. Even if the Zhenniao’s corpse rots and decays into nothing, it will undoubtedly continue spewing poison, so I couldn’t simply leave it there…”

“…”

“So I ate it.”

What?