MTLNOVEL 4 - She Lives (3)
Morning.
As guests gradually began entering the banquet hall, the owner of the banquet hall, Sword Star Mo Yong Cheon, was heading alone to the deepest part of the family compound.
A separate pavilion far from the center.
Though within the estate of one of the Five Great Families, it was a small house that seemed like a cozy family home placed there separately.
What made it special was that “formations” were spread around it, making it inaccessible to anyone else in the family.
Every family has forbidden areas, but anyone who sets foot in this small pavilion would face Mo Yong Cheon’s wrath.
Because this was where Mo Yong Cheon had lived with his deceased wife, and where all traces of his deceased wife remained.
Another notable point was that the pavilion was spotlessly clean, as if someone came to clean it every day.
Thud, thud.
Breaking through the formations, a man entered the pavilion.
“I’ve come, wife.”
The owner of the pavilion, Mo Yong Cheon, stood in the yard holding a white bouquet.
“Though you admonish me in dreams every time, telling me to stop coming like this daily, I really wanted to visit today.”
Placing the bouquet in front of a stone tombstone beneath a tall peach tree at the side of the yard, Mo Yong Cheon sat cross-legged facing the tombstone.
“Seol has recovered from her illness.”
There was no answer.
Though he wanted an answer, his counterpart had departed long ago.
“It was an incurable disease. The disease that made you blame yourself countless times for passing it to our daughter, even to the point of self-harm—it’s cured.”
Mo Yong Cheon took out a flower from the bouquet, broke off a petal, and placed it on the tombstone.
“Do you know what I thought when Seol first told me ‘the disease is cured’? I felt resentful toward you.”
Mo Yong Cheon’s voice, which had never trembled before anyone, quivered like flower petals scattered in the wind.
“Seven years. If only you had waited seven years. Instead of blaming yourself for passing a fatal disease to our daughter, if only you had gritted your teeth and endured until today.”
Still no answer.
“At least then, you could have seen Seol healthy and beautiful today. You could have seen her smile like a blooming spring flower, just as you once did.”
Only the shadow of the peach tree, swaying in the wind, gently covered Mo Yong Cheon.
“And regarding today’s events… as Seol’s parents, I would have sought your wisdom and made a wise decision.”
Mo Yong Cheon bowed his head deeply.
“I don’t know what to do. If swinging my sword would provide an answer, I’d swing it a thousand, ten thousand times. But… how can I swing my sword?”
With trembling hands, the Sword Star grasped the tombstone.
“With the same look as you back then, with the same eyes that you looked at me with, Seol was looking at him. At the man who saved her life and took our Seol’s first time.”
The hand grasping the tombstone trembles.
Someone who could crush rocks with just a little strength, having removed all his internal energy, shakes while holding the tombstone with just a human hand.
“What would you think of a son-in-law? Would you want to kill the son-in-law who took the heart of our precious daughter, or would you joyfully call him son-in-law first, as the lifesaver who cured our daughter’s incurable disease?”
Whoosh.
The wind blows, and the flower petal on the tombstone scatters into the sky.
“…I know. Yes. The dead don’t return. I know I shouldn’t kill him. How could a human kill their benefactor? So… I’ll be completely honest only in front of you.”
Mo Yong Cheon let out a deep sigh.
“…The moment I saw our daughter naked in that man’s room, I felt more rage than when I fought the Demon King in a life-or-death battle. I wondered if I was going mad.”
Whoosh.
“I thought I had reached a state of no-mind, but I guess I’m still human. It was the first time in my life I felt such anger rising. As much as when that Namgung fellow grabbed your wrist, no, even more… Now I understand why your father was so angry.”
The leaves rustled in the wind, and sunlight sparkled toward Mo Yong Cheon.
“Yes. I should cherish him. Embrace him. Just as your father entrusted you to me, I too will think of him as my son. Because that’s surely what you would have done.”
Mo Yong Cheon stretched his hand forward and began to sweep the ground.
Despite dirt getting on his clear, unwrinkled hand, he continued to sweep in front of the tombstone.
“You said as you were dying: If, truly if a miracle happens.”
Rustle.
“…Give this to that child.”
As he removed the dirt, a wooden box small enough to be held in one hand appeared.
Mo Yong Cheon carefully took out the wooden box with both hands, lifted the latch, and opened the box.
“…….”
A white jade hairpin like a frozen branch.
After staring at the jade hairpin for a long time, Mo Yong Cheon closed the box, tidied up the place, and slowly stood up with the box held in both hands.
“I’ll come again tomorrow. And, perhaps I won’t be able to come often in the future.”
The Sword Star’s face, looking up at the sky between the sunlit leaves, had already hardened back to its usual expression.
“Because all kinds of wolves from the Central Plains will dare to target Seol… and him.”
Daytime.
While Mo Yong Seol was getting ready for the banquet, I also changed my clothes and came out to the banquet hall.
“That man…”
“Shh. Be quiet. There’s no reason to get involved with a ‘failure’.”
People who recognize me avoid me.
Since I have no reason or leisure to chat with others, I quietly take a glass and slip away to a corner of the banquet hall, leaning my back against the wall.
‘That’s the normal gaze.’
The look given to a failure.
When someone dies of illness, ultimately, whether family members or mourners, they can’t help but give complex looks to the physician.
Even if it’s an incurable disease.
‘No. Endure.’
I must not reveal it.
Absolutely not.
Ding, ding, ding─
Music sounds throughout the hall.
Even if it’s one of the Five Great Families of the martial world, music shouldn’t be played carelessly at a banquet of this size, but those playing the instruments are the “Imperial Palace Orchestra.”
“My goodness. Court musicians? Did the imperial palace send an orchestra?”
“He’s a hero of the martial world, but also a hero of the Central Plains, isn’t he? I heard the emperor himself ordered them to be sent.”
People holding glasses whisper about the musicians.
I already knew the orchestra came from the imperial palace, but those who just entered the Mo Yong family compound today can’t help but be surprised.
Isn’t there a saying, “Officials and martial artists don’t interfere with each other”?
Although officials and martial artists live on the same land without crossing into each other’s domains, the Mo Yong family is different.
“Thanks to the Sword Star suppressing the rebellion within the Imperial Guards and preventing the Evil Sect’s mass slaughter, it makes sense when you think about it.”
“Indeed. Despite being from the Mo Yong family, didn’t the emperor try to make him his son-in-law? Even saying he could choose any princess as his wife.”
“Is your visit here possibly because someone from the imperial family might come?”
“To some extent. What other reason would a Beggar Sect beggar have for dressing up in martial robes like this?”
“I thought you were just trying to show basic courtesy.”
“That too.”
I know who they are.
The leader of the Wudang Sect and the chief of the Beggar Sect.
As a Taoist and a beggar, those who typically dress relatively freely are today wearing bright yet proper attire befitting a banquet that is also a “funeral.”
‘Indeed, there’s no shortage of famous people.’
If there’s anyone who’s a bit freer in their clothing, or more precisely, wearing what they usually wear:
“Amitabha.”
It would probably be that monk from Shaolin Temple in yellow monk’s robes praying to Buddha over there.
Rather than just a monk, he looks like an immortal, and is a living history of the current martial world.
“My, what brings the Divine Monk here?”
“Shaolin owes a debt to Mo Yong, so how could I not come?”
Divine Monk.
One of the world’s five great masters.
The elderly monk who didn’t leave the main hall of Shaolin Temple even when the Evil Sect crossed Shaanxi and Sichuan has come to the Mo Yong family’s banquet hall.
“The abbot boasted that Mo Yong would certainly be cured, but instead troubled Miss Mo Yong, so although this old monk cannot cure Miss Mo Yong, can I not at least pray for her rebirth in paradise?”
“To have the living Vaisravana praying for rebirth in paradise. Surely Miss Mo Yong will live without suffering in the next life.”
The leader of Wudang, Shaolin’s highest master, and the chief of the Beggar Sect are putting aside their personal histories to pray for one woman’s peaceful rest.
‘Shaolin’s debt.’
I know what it is.
Just then, another topic popped up from another side.
“To be able to resolve the death of someone with meridian blockage only like this. Alliance Chief. Must we continue to helplessly watch the deaths of young people like this?”
“General Commander. I understand your feelings, but there’s no clear method.”
The Martial Arts Alliance Chief and the Alliance’s General Commander, the Kunlun Sect Leader and the head of the Namgung family, are exchanging words.
“Neither Shaolin’s Great Return Pill nor the treatment from the world’s best physician was of any use in the end.”
“But… then the infant….”
“I’m sorry about your nephew’s case. …Still, the budget for meridian blockage treatment increases every year, so we can only hope they find a method.”
“Hah. I wish that were the case, but even the Greatest Pharmacist couldn’t find a method, could he?”
I’ve been quietly listening, but now my spine goes cold.
“Nor his disciple.”
A momentary glance toward me.
The “Greatest Pharmacist” refers to my master “White Face,” the title given to the winner of the medical competition that the Alliance Chief prepared for us to enter the Mo Yong family.
“He also did his best.”
The Alliance Chief gave me a complex look.
He knows my background, but the Alliance Chief also knows how sincerely I tried to cure Mo Yong Seol.
“I just resent heaven.”
If I wanted to escape the Evil Sect and survive, this was the only path to life I could take.
Or so I thought.
Until yesterday.
‘But now it’s different.’
A path to life has opened.
No, I opened it myself.
Though I never imagined that path would lie with Mo Yong Seol herself.
‘I should slip away when the banquet starts.’
To avoid anyone approaching a failed physician—
“Excuse me.”
“…Who might you be?”
A tall woman with long black hair approached me.
Should I call her the epitome of an ice beauty?
“I am Shao Yanchi, the senior disciple of Point Spear.”
The senior disciple of Point Spear.
The direct disciple of the Point Spear Sect leader.
At the same time, a familiar face.
-Hey, what do we do now…? Huh?
-It’ll be okay. Don’t cry. Stop.
One of the children I met in the cave when I was kidnapped at seven years old.
-…Can we really survive?
-We have to struggle until the end. If it gets unbearable, break your ankle or something and come here. At least while you’re bedridden, I can look after you.
-…I’ll try not to get hurt.
She entered the Point Spear Sect to kill rising talents, and now she’s one of the “hidden poisons” positioned at the future core of the Point Spear Sect.
From what I hear, she’s already beyond first-class and aiming for the realm of the pinnacle.
“We haven’t met before. Pleased to meet you. I’m Seok Mu Wol.”
“I’ll get straight to the point. Where will you go after the treatment is finished?”
“I’m not sure.”
Truly, I don’t know.
Regardless of her being an Evil Sect spy, I really don’t know what to do.
“In that case.”
Shao Yanchi took a deep breath and stepped closer to me.
“Would you come to Point Spear?”
“…Pardon?”
“I mean, if it’s Point Spear… that is….”
Shao Yanchi briefly bit her lower lip, trying to refine her words, but.
“Hmm-”
Amidst the murmuring behind us, I reached for my waist at the sound of a low laugh.
“What might you be saying right now?”
Tap.
Shao Yanchi’s instinctive movement to draw her sword was incredibly fast, but the speed at which the sword was “forcibly” pushed back into its scabbard was even faster.
“What?”
Behind Shao Yanchi.
With one finger gently pressing the end of the sword handle that Shao Yanchi had firmly grasped, a woman was leaning to the side, smiling broadly.
“What do you mean, taking ‘my physician’ somewhere?”
The protagonist of the banquet—Mo Yong Seol—appeared in bright white clothes.
Wearing clothes similar to a burial shroud for someone being placed in a coffin.