So… in the original world before the protagonist regressed, the people of Shaanxi died after consuming the Jimgyo bird’s poison. Even in
The corpse of the Zhenniao, the catalyst for the poison, had settled in the deepest reaches of the Point of No Return Mountain Range.
This range was the sanctuary of Immortal Healer Cho Yoon—a man capable of detecting even the faintest trace of toxicity in water.
This premise led to only one inescapable conclusion.
Cho Yoon! You knew that poisonous monster was rotting in the river right behind your mountain, and you didn’t even bother to fish it out?!
If a single spoonful of rice was enough for me to realize something was wrong, there was no way the original Cho Yoon didn’t know! He must have realized that the water rinsing that monster’s corpse would flow downstream and cause astronomical casualties, yet he just sat back and watched!
He could have made a far better choice than I did, jumping the gun and swallowing raw meat. If he’s been living for over two hundred years and everyone calls him an immortal, he should have acted like one!
Jeong Hayoon had known it since he first woke up on Mount Woonhan, but the original Cho Yoon was truly, horrifyingly indifferent. On the day Cheon-oh barely managed to escape that underground vault, Cho Yoon had been staying at the Cheongmyeong Inn at the base of Mount Woonhan.
Do you know what that means?
It means that even without my transmigration, Cho Yoon could have easily taken Cheon-oh in and protected him if he had simply possessed the will to do so!
It was Cho Yoon’s array that had masked Cheon-oh’s clumsy presence, and it was Cho Yoon who just happened to be passing by the mountain that day. But because Cho Yoon chose to look away despite knowing everything, Cheon-oh was captured by a Demonic Cult lackey and plunged into a living hell.
In a way, it might have just been a leap in logic.
One could argue it wasn’t Cho Yoon’s fault, as the story’s trajectory was entirely up to the author.
But having lived in this world for nearly ten years raising this child, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of resentment. He could have shown a little more interest. He could have helped, just once.
Look at Sa-yeong and Sa-hyeon, too.
In the original novel, when the protagonist brought the poisoned Tang Woon-geum to Mount Dumang, there wasn’t a single mention of the siblings being at the Estate of Deep Mists. Judging by how Cho Yoon irresponsibly brought them in and then neglected them… they probably ended up leaving the mountain. They’re such brilliant children, yet they weren’t even mentioned in the original work.
And they’re supposed to be the disciples of the Immortal Healer.
My kids are destined to become incredible people if they just keep growing like this. They’re so smart, so admirable, so considerate. Even Cheon-oh is working so hard.
At least to me, he’s doing exceptionally well.
While indulging in his protective, parental pride within his floating consciousness, Cho Yoon tried to reign in his wandering thoughts. What mattered now was finding a way to resolve this one-sided guilt, not reminiscing about his graduated disciples.
If things follow the original novel, the protagonist should be in Shaanxi Province with his half-brother by now. The Zhuge Clan is in Tongguan City, just north of Xi’an…
Wow.
That means Zhuge Seol-rin, the array master; Moyong Dan, the master of mechanical traps; and the protagonist, Moyong Seo, will all be in the same city. Setting aside Zhuge Seol-rin’s escape from the harem, what about the protagonist’s credibility? Won’t he start doubting himself if his prediction fails?
Just as Cho Yoon was contemplating the impending chaos in Shaanxi with a heavy heart—
Rattle!
His body jolted.
Cho Yoon finally realized the obvious fact that he possessed a physical form. He felt his back vibrating against a hard floor and his two arms lying limp.
Attempting to exert force into his unfamiliar limbs, his fingertips twitched. He felt clean blood and pure energy beginning to circulate through his blood vessels and meridians without obstruction.
Cho Yoon flexed the muscles in his thighs and calves, curled his toes once, and slowly opened his eyes.
A pair of pitch-black eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, immediately filled his vision.
The pale face, which had initially looked startled, gradually contorted. Cold tears soaked Cho Yoon’s cheek as they slid down. Cheon-oh didn’t even bother to wipe the tears falling like beads; he barely managed to part his lips, his voice trembling violently.
“Master… Master, I thought you would never wake up again. Even though I knew you would… I was so… so afraid.”
“…Cheon-oh. Why…”
Why are you crying so sorrowfully?
Cho Yoon looked up blankly at Cheon-oh and asked, but the voice that emerged was as coarse as sandpaper.
Rattle.
The floor jolted once more.
The rhythmic sound of two horses’ hooves echoed from outside.
Snapping back to his senses, Cho Yoon sat up abruptly. He realized he had been resting his head on Cheon-oh’s lap inside a covered wagon.
He quickly assessed the situation, but he was still stunned.
Cho Yoon looked around quietly, noting his medicine chest, Cheon-oh’s luggage, and the Sudden Rain Sword standing at an angle, wrapped in cloth. After taking in the empty interior of the wagon and the scenery passing by outside, he turned his gaze back to Cheon-oh.
Startled, he rushed toward the boy.
While Cho Yoon had been momentarily distracted, Cheon-oh had broken into a full sob, roughly rubbing his eyes with his palms.
“I… I am sorry. I was wrong. You were indeed unwell. If only I had been more careful while cooking, or if I hadn’t stubbornly insisted on coming along like an impudent fool, you wouldn’t have had to push yourself this hard…”
“Shh, Cheon-oh. My child. I have never said anything of the sort to you, so why are you berating yourself so? Stop it now.”
Cho Yoon’s voice was thick as he urgently stopped Cheon-oh’s self-flagellation, taking hold of the two hands that were wiping away tears. The boy lowered his hands obediently, but he continued to weep.
It had been a very long time since Cho Yoon had seen him cry so helplessly. It seemed he had ultimately collapsed from the poison’s side effects, and judging by the boy’s ghostly pale face, he must have been truly terrified.
Clearing his raspy throat with a few coughs, Cho Yoon gathered the child’s hands and met his eyes. Cheon-oh sniffled but looked up as his master patted the back of his hand. Cho Yoon addressed each of the boy’s voiced insecurities in a calm tone.
“First, you have been studying medicine for less than ten years. You have never even encountered poison before, so it is only natural that you wouldn’t recognize it instantly. Or do you resent me for not teaching you about poisons sooner?”
“N-no. Not at all. I remember your teaching that medicine and poison follow the law of ‘when things reach their extreme, they reverse,’ so it is vital to master one first.”
“Correct. And when you were drawing that water, the poison that had flowed down must have been extremely diluted. Detecting it was simply a result of my own skill, not a sign of your inadequacy.”
Cheon-oh slowly stopped crying, though he began to hiccup from the aftermath of his silent wailing.
Cho Yoon lightly embraced the boy, who filled his arms completely, and stroked his back as gently as a feather as he continued, “Furthermore, while I was a bit startled by your request to accompany me, I never considered it impudent or unpleasant. It’s only natural for you to feel anxious when I told you to go down without a proper explanation. I understand.”
“Is… is that true? Did you really not make that difficult choice because of me?”
“Not at all. I would have acted exactly the same even if you had followed my orders and gone down the mountain.”
In fact, I might have hurried even more out of anxiety because he wasn’t in my sight.
Cho Yoon had swallowed the Zhenniao’s corpse raw simply because there was no other way.
Leaving it in the air would have continuously spewed poison; burying it would have contaminated the soil; and once the mountain became polluted past a certain point, it would have taken extreme measures to cleanse itself.
There weren’t many paths to choose from.
Relying on his body’s digestive and detoxifying powers—rumored to be the strongest in the world—and sealing the Zhenniao within his stomach was entirely Cho Yoon’s own choice.
Although he had suffered more than expected, he had been certain his abilities would prevent him from dying.
“So, stop your useless worrying and drink some water. Your eyes are going to swell shut.”
“…Yes, Master.”
A quiet answer came as Cho Yoon squeezed the boy’s hand firmly before letting go. Cheon-oh blinked his reddened eyes and rummaged through his rucksack to pull out a gourd.
While the boy popped the stopper and rehydrated himself, Cho Yoon gauged the activity outside the moving wagon. He could sense the presence of a dense crowd of people nearby. The hum of daily life began to ring clearly in his ears, a sound that felt strangely familiar.
Ultimately, Cho Yoon had to ask.
“But… where exactly are we going?”
“Ah. You might not remember, but you left some instructions before you lost consciousness, and I agonized over what to do.”
Cheon-oh quickly wiped his lips with the back of his hand and sat up straight.
Cho Yoon had to suppress the urge to facepalm at the demure answer that followed.
“You kept calling for Shaanxi Province, so I thought perhaps there was someone there who could look after your condition. We are almost at Xi’an, Master.”