“The reason I lost consciousness was that reaction erupting so violently. In the end, my immunity became even stronger—so don’t dwell on it.”
“That is a great relief. But if meals are so vital to health, shouldn’t you eat something as well, Master? You have only just… recovered.”
Cheon-oh asked with his eyes downcast, the shadow of his earlier despondency still lingering in his voice.
Though Cho Yoon had already stated he wouldn’t eat before they ordered, the boy was clearly unable to put his mind at ease.
Amused and touched by Cheon-oh’s solicitous nature, Cho Yoon replied, “Have you not already conditioned my palate to your own hand? I find I have no appetite for anything not prepared by you, so there is nothing to be done.”
“…Pardon?”
In truth, Cho Yoon was abstaining because his stomach, having taken a direct hit from the poison, was still slightly queasy, but he knew the boy would be consumed by worry if he mentioned that. Since it wasn’t entirely a lie that he had grown accustomed to Cheon-oh’s cooking, the excuse slipped out easily.
Upon hearing this, Cheon-oh snapped his head up. His eyes darted erratically as he struggled to process the compliment before he finally stammered out a response.
“But… I served you poisoned food. No—should I go to the chef now and ask if I can borrow a corner of the kitchen? I cannot make medicinal dishes as I do at the Estate of Deep Mists, but still…”
“Stop. It would only be a nuisance to such a busy establishment.”
Cho Yoon hastily cut him off.
If left alone, the boy looked ready to sprint into the inn’s kitchen and demand a stove. While Cho Yoon was bewildered by this desperate urge to feed him, he understood it better when considering what the child had endured over the last few days.
It seemed high time to dispel the boy’s misplaced guilt.
“It seems you haven’t been listening to me properly. Do not remain bound by your own exaggerations; look at the situation clearly. I consumed a mere two spoonfuls of rice that contained poison. Is that not so?”
“…No, that is correct.”
“Then, which do you think had a greater impact on my condition: two spoonfuls of faintly tainted rice, or the literal flesh of the monster that was the source of the toxin?”
“…The flesh of the monster.”
“Indeed. As I told you back at the Estate of Deep Mists, the poison in your cooking could not inflict even a speck of harm upon me. Your current behavior belittles my disciple and, by extension, underestimates me. Will you continue to act this way?”
His face turning white, Cheon-oh shook his head repeatedly, stammering apologies and promising never to do it again.
Cho Yoon, who hadn’t intended to be quite so harsh, accepted the apology and ended the conversation there, directing the boy to finish his meal.
I’ve never once been truly strict with him, so I don’t know why he trembles at my every word, Cho Yoon wondered.
He suspected it might be the fault of his own blunt, socially stunted way of speaking. He sighed, realizing that this was the best his social skills had become after years of effort.
As if his earlier panic had been a dream, Cheon-oh began emptying his bowls with renewed vigor. The boy, whose appetite always surged whenever they descended the mountain, soon crowded the table with empty plates.
It was undeniably cute how he would occasionally remark on how a certain ingredient might better suit Cho Yoon’s taste or how a dish could be adjusted for his master’s preference.
Consequently, Cho Yoon spent the entire evening focused on Cheon-oh, failing to establish a single detail for their sudden journey. He simply attributed this to the boy being an articulate and consistent conversationalist with an impressive vocabulary.
***
Leaving the inn, Cho Yoon toyed with the gold key in his hand. It had been a long time since he’d pulled it from the corner of his medicine chest, but the craftsmanship remained as exquisite and ornate as ever, its peony engravings shimmering in the afternoon sun.
It was a gift from Hui four years ago, one he had never once used.
It’s been four years since I last stepped foot in Xi’an. I still have plenty of money from back then, and there’s an escort agency near the mountain, so why would I ever have come all this way?
Yet, here he was.
Cho Yoon agonized over whether it was ruder to never use the gift or to treat it as his own. He wondered if Hui was effectively subsidizing his entire public life and realized, upon reflection, that it was a rather burdensome gift.
At the time, his sense of familiarity with the character had blinded him, but now he realized how excessive it was for someone he’d barely met to hand over the keys to a luxury villa. Unless Hui was trying to intentionally indebt him, the man clearly had a warped sense of economics. Given that he was a promising former prince, the latter seemed likely.
Fine. We’re only staying in Xi’an for today; tomorrow we hit the escort agency and head straight to the Zhuge Clan. There’s no need for luxury. Let’s just find somewhere close.
Just as Cho Yoon made this decision and gripped the key tight—CRASH! A loud roar of breaking furniture and shouting erupted. Cho Yoon and Cheon-oh silently turned toward the source: another inn located just a short distance away.
“You cowards, poking around with your little metal skewers!”
“—How dare you!”
Though the voices were partially buried under the din of the crowd, Cho Yoon easily deciphered the argument. Meanwhile, the spectators gathering around the inn began to whisper.
“Is it Mount Hua and Zhongnan again? My heart pounds just seeing those uniforms these days.”
“Mount Hua has been quiet for a few years, but Zhongnan is the problem lately. It hasn’t even been that long since they wrecked that tavern, and now they’re brawling in another innocent inn.”
“Oh dear, look at that. Nothing’s going to be left standing.”
It appeared martial artists were engaged in a sword fight right in the middle of a civilian residential area.
As the combat grew more violent, the crowd gasped, while the family who appeared to own the inn sat on the ground outside, watching helplessly as their livelihood was pulverized.
Cho Yoon instantly abandoned his plan to find a nearby room.
After a moment’s thought, he extended his internal energy toward the crowd. The energy, passing harmlessly through the civilians, expanded into a hemispherical dome that enveloped the two groups of martial artists without their knowledge.
Soon, a distorted voice began bouncing off the walls of that invisible barrier.
It was the Six Harmonies Sound Transmission, an advanced technique that makes the same sound appear to come from the front, back, above, below, left, and right, making the speaker’s location impossible to pinpoint.
“Gasp! Who is there?!”
“Show yourself and reveal your identity!”
It was a laughable sight: sturdy martial artists in fine uniforms, wielding expensive swords, cringing in terror and lunging at thin air.
As they thrust their blades at random shadows, the civilians outside the range of the technique—who had heard nothing—shrieked in alarm.
Cho Yoon mocked the foolish “righteous” martial artists with a cold gaze before taking Cheon-oh’s hand and turning away.
Cheon-oh, who had been staring fixedly at the brawlers, followed without resistance and asked via sound transmission:
[Was that your doing, Master?]
“…”
Cho Yoon felt a sudden pang of déjà vu.
He hadn’t intended to interfere, but seeing a ten-year-old child crying while clinging to his devastated parents had made it impossible to ignore. Finding it difficult to explain his soft-heartedness, Cho Yoon simply changed the subject.
He began walking toward a quieter, more affluent residential district. Fearing he might lose the boy in the bustling streets, he tightened his grip on Cheon-oh’s hand, completely ignoring the fact that the boy was fifteen and nearly as tall as he was.
[Your eyes and ears are the organs that connect you most closely to the world. Since what you see and hear shapes your life, shouldn’t you encounter good things whenever possible?]
[Yes, Master.]
[In that sense, do not stand by and watch the conflicts of others from afar. If you feel you must intervene, do so early; otherwise, do not give them your attention.]
Cheon-oh complied submissively as always.
Though Cho Yoon knew the boy wasn’t naturally meddlesome, the lecture grew longer as he used it to distract from his earlier intervention.
As they moved away from the chaotic scene, Cho Yoon continued to pour out lessons drawn from his life experience.
[Furthermore, third parties who have nothing to do with your fight must never suffer harm. You must be especially careful if they are weak and unable to resist you. Lashing out at them is as despicable as a man taking his anger out on his child after a fight with his spouse.]
[I will keep that in mind, Master.]
[You will grow even stronger in the future, and your actions may determine the lives of many. Even if you do not feel a sense of grand responsibility, always be careful not to treat such things lightly. That is the duty and the way of those who stand above others.]
Cho Yoon wondered if the boy he had raised could ever truly become the “Sovereign of the Underworld” who ordered the massacre of righteous sects, but he knew there was no harm in being prepared.
Given Cheon-oh’s talent, he was destined for a position of great power and many followers even if he grew up correctly.