MTLNOVEL chapter 0 - Prologue
Chapter 0: Prologue
Azure Heaven. As befitting a clan vying for the title of the world's greatest, the sky above mirrored the name on the day of the Patriarch's birth celebration. Clear laughter and the lilting melodies of stringed instruments drifted from the pavilion, keeping pace with the pristine weather. Yet, the pond below, veiled in lily pads, reflected only a surface of jade green, unable to capture the vastness of the heavens above.
Before this tranquil scene stood a woman clad in emerald robes, her gaze fixed on the crimson pavilion. A young maid standing beside her, hesitant, softly called out, "Daebunim…"
As if oblivious to the maid's voice, the woman remained unmoving. The maid considered herself fortunate. A direct gaze from the Daebunim was more unsettling than being subjected to this furtive observation. Perhaps it was the fear instilled by the woman's origins – a daughter of the Sichuan Tang Clan. An old martial world adage warned against crossing those who wore green. Green symbolized the Tang Clan.
In matters of ruthlessness, which clan dared to utter its name in the same breath as the Tang? One could find oneself riddled with hidden weapons or succumbing to a potent poison before even realizing the danger. Their ruthlessness, so akin to the unorthodox sects, earned them a subtle disdain even as they contended for the title of the world’s greatest clan. Of course, that title now felt impossibly distant, a faded memory for the Tang.
The woman in green, Tang Sohwa, drew a deep breath, her chest momentarily rising with unspoken thoughts, and finally turned away from the pavilion.
“Ma, Manim!” The maid’s lips thinned in alarm, yet she dared not block Tang Sohwa's path. Even confined to a separate quarter, she was still the Patriarch's only wife, the Daebunim of the Namgung Clan. Though the Namgung’s main and branch families treated her with disdain, that disregard did not extend to a mere servant.
More importantly, the maid did not want to incur Tang Sohwa’s displeasure. Though Tang Sohwa had never ventured into the martial world, she had earned a sobriquet: Mandokhaesa – the "Solver of Ten Thousand Poisons." She possessed unparalleled knowledge of toxins, capable of curing even the most stubborn afflictions, earning the gratitude of countless martial artists. However, the seemingly respectful title held a chilling undercurrent. Dok - poison. The inclusion of that single word was unsettling. To be able to neutralize all poisons implied the ability to wield them, a thinly veiled warning to all.
The maid hurried after Tang Sohwa, her heart pounding. Interrupting the festivities was unacceptable, yet defying the Daebunim was unthinkable. To the exalted, a servant's life was insignificant, but to the maid, her own life was the most precious thing in the world.
“Michigesseo! (This is crazy!)” The maid muttered under her breath, trailing Tang Sohwa up the pavilion steps.
“Ehei, on a day like today, you should indulge a bit more!”
“Changhyeon is right. The Patriarch must revel on such an occasion!”
“With so much good fortune, this is truly a double blessing! Haha!”
Gyeopgyeongsa – a double blessing. The maid flinched at the drunken pronouncements of the Namgung family. She swallowed, her gaze fixed on Tang Sohwa’s back.
Five years ago, the previous Namgung Patriarch had fallen ill. In a baffling decision, he summoned Namgung Hyeon, who had been living as a son-in-law in Sichuan. On his deathbed, citing the young age of his heir, the Patriarch decreed that Namgung Hyeon act as temporary head until the heir came of age. The Tang Clan Head, a longtime friend, went against his family's wishes and sent his son-in-law and daughter to the Namgung Clan, with the understanding that their stay would be temporary.
However, Namgung Hyeon showed no inclination to relinquish his position. Months bled into years, and five years had passed since their arrival. Then, almost imperceptibly, the Tang Clan began its decline. Like a ship caught in a sudden storm, misfortune after misfortune struck them. Their heir apparent disappeared in a supposed accident while crossing the Yangtze River. Businesses crumbled for inexplicable reasons. A sect impersonating the Tang Clan spread poison throughout the central plains, leading to their expulsion from the Martial Alliance.
This was just the beginning. A relentless series of calamities, so improbable as to suggest deliberate sabotage, continued to batter the Tang Clan. Their finances dwindled, their administration paralyzed. The once-proud clan teetered on the brink of collapse. In an act of desperation, the proud Tang Clan Head, Tang Jiha, swallowed his pride and begged his son-in-law for assistance. Yet, before he could rebuild, disaster struck again. The Demonic Cult, sweeping down from the Kunlun Mountains, engulfed Sichuan in an inferno. Tang Jiha pleaded with Namgung Hyeon for aid, but Namgung Hyeon stalled, promising to gather support from the Martial Alliance. Trusting his son-in-law, Tang Jiha returned to Sichuan, where he perished defending his home.
Namgung Hyeon did not abandon his wife's family, nor his longtime allies. He simply did not rush to their aid. The problem was that the situation in Sichuan was dire. The Taoist sects, alerted to the Demonic Cult's advance, arrived in Sichuan before Namgung Hyeon even mobilized his forces. His inaction was effectively a refusal to help.
The Wudang, Hwasan (Mount Hua), and Jongnam (Mount Zhongnan) sects – the greatest Taoist sects of the central plains – fought valiantly, but by the time they arrived, not only the Tang Clan but every sect in Sichuan had been decimated. Their efforts were not in vain; they ultimately repelled the Demonic Cult, safeguarding the central plains. Still, a bitter sense of what could have been lingered, especially for the sole surviving descendant of the Sichuan Tang Clan.
Tang Sohwa closed her eyes briefly. Though it felt like a lifetime ago, less than a year had passed. Yet, the Namgung family seemed to have erased it from their memories. Musicians played, dancers twirled, and the festivities continued unabated.
Tang Sohwa slowly opened her eyes. The Patriarch's birthday feast, a month in the making, was a spectacle of extravagance. It was this very extravagance that had finally driven Tang Sohwa, sequestered in her isolated quarters, to action. With a soft rustle of silk, her delicate slippers touched the polished wooden floor.
She had barely taken a few steps when the boisterous conversations abruptly ceased. Her head was already visible to those seated in the pavilion. Even amidst a throng of renowned courtesans from Anhui, Tang Sohwa, once known as the Jewel of the Sichuan Tang Clan, effortlessly commanded attention. Silence fell, and averted gazes replaced curious stares. Tang Sohwa’s obsidian eyes swept across the gathered crowd, each individual caught in her unwavering gaze. Finally, her eyes met those of the Patriarch, Namgung Hyeon, seated at the head of the table. He did not flinch, meeting her gaze with an impassive expression.
Surrounded by imposing figures, her husband appeared strikingly slender. His delicate features, once the subject of much admiration, were now etched with the passage of time. Though he still possessed the composed air characteristic of the Namgung Clan, there was an undeniable hollowness about him. The tongue that once debated principles was now slurred with drink; the eyes that once dreamed of righteousness were now clouded.
Or perhaps, she realized with a bitter pang, he had always been this way.
Upon returning to the Namgung Clan, her husband had treated her with icy indifference, even going so far as to send disobedient servants to her quarters as punishment. No one questioned his behavior. Even she, weathered by five years of his coldness, had grown accustomed to it.
That was why she had realized the truth so late.
Namgung Hyeon had not changed. He had never loved her. The sweet words of affection whispered by the Namgung bastard had been a meticulously crafted deception.
For the past year, Tang Sohwa had retraced her steps, searching for the point where everything went wrong. And she had found her answer in Namgung Hyeon. None of this could have been coincidence. He had used her to infiltrate the Tang Clan, to dismantle them from within. But why? Was the title of the world’s greatest clan so important? Enough to justify the annihilation of the Tang? No, that seemed implausible. The Namgung were already among the most prominent clans; eliminating the Tang Clan would not significantly alter their standing. There had to be another reason, something she didn't know.
But the realization had come too late. Even if she knew the reason, would it bring her father back? Would it find her brother, lost to the cold currents of the river? Would it save her clan, abandoned and scattered?
Tang Sohwa’s gaze remained fixed on her husband. “How does it feel?” she finally asked, her voice low.
Namgung Hyeon frowned, puzzled by her cryptic question.
As if in answer, Tang Sohwa unclasped her hands and spread her arms wide. Her ample sleeves cascaded like a waterfall, catching the sunlight. The emerald silk shimmered, momentarily blinding Namgung Hyeon.
“This is the ceremonial robe my father had made for me for my birthday last year.” A chilling smile curved Tang Sohwa’s lips. It didn't matter anymore that she didn't know the full reason behind the Tang Clan's destruction. The reason was no longer important. The Tang Clan had been destroyed by the Namgung Clan. That was all that mattered.
Each word dripped with a profound, chilling han, a sorrow so deep it resonated in the air.
“There’s a saying,” her voice, though soft, carried a strange weight. “Never make an enemy of one who wears green.”
The attendees shifted uncomfortably, covering their mouths with their sleeves, coughing nervously, and setting down their chopsticks. Even the most esteemed members of the Namgung Clan, those who shared the Patriarch's table, possessed enough internal energy to resist most poisons. Yet, the ingrained fear of the Sichuan Tang Clan, especially when embodied by the Mandokhaesa, was enough to quell their appetites.
“Sohwa,” Namgung Hyeon said, his voice low. “I understand your feelings, but this…”
He trailed off, a cough erupting from his throat, spraying blood across the table.
“Patriarch!” Screams and shouts filled the air, quickly replaced by the rasping sounds of choking.
“Heueok!”
“Keok, keok…”
One by one, members of the Namgung Clan clutched at their throats and collapsed. Their eyes, wide with confusion and terror, locked onto Tang Sohwa. She ignored them, continuing her measured pace towards the head of the table. No one dared to block her path. The terrified dancers huddled against the pillars, silent and trembling. The guards and other family members convulsed, their eyes rolling back in their heads.
Namgung Hyeon, despite blood flowing from every orifice and his face turning a ghastly purple, clung to consciousness.
“H-how…?” Each ragged breath sent more blood spraying from his lips. Tang Sohwa glanced down at the crimson droplets staining her robe. As if disgusted by the defilement of her exquisite garment, she pulled a cloth from her sleeve and dabbed at the stains.
Her robe took precedence, even over her dying husband. The implication was clear, and Namgung Hyeon’s eyes bulged with rage. He tried to circulate his internal energy, but instead of cleansing the poison, it only seemed to accelerate its spread, driving the toxin deeper into his core. Dormant poison within him surged like a swarm of ants, devouring his life force. His hands trembled uncontrollably, unable to even grip his sword.
A cold voice pierced through his fading consciousness.
“You spent over twenty years preparing. Did you think I couldn’t endure a single year?”
Namgung Hyeon struggled to speak, to question, but his voice failed him.
As if anticipating his question, Tang Sohwa knelt beside him, gently wiping the blood from his lips. Her smile was chilling. “Hyeon-ah, you thought you were so clever,” she said, her tone reminiscent of the past, when she was the Tang Clan’s prized daughter and he was the despised bastard of the Namgung Clan. Her voice, though gentle, like that of an elder sister soothing a younger sibling, dripped with glacial coldness.
“Heu…”
“Yes, you were clever. You ousted your older brother, the Namgung prodigy, and eventually claimed the Patriarch’s seat. You endured all those years, hiding your true nature, waiting for the opportune moment to destroy my clan. You, in your insignificant position, achieved the impossible. I'll give you that.” Her words were kind, but her eyes, fixed on her dying husband, were devoid of emotion.
“However, there’s one thing you didn’t know.”
“Heu, euk…”
Her gaze, deep and dark as the abyss, slowly rose to meet his. A cruel smile twisted her lips.
“I’ve loathed you for a very long time.”
“Keuheok…”
“When your beloved concubine lost her child to poisoning, and you blamed me… I was actually… quite bewildered.” She frowned slightly. “I thought it would be a blessing if Yeon-a gained your favor and bore your children. I couldn’t bear to breathe the same air as you. The sound of your breathing made my skin crawl.”
Namgung Hyeon's eyes widened slightly, as if struck by a sudden realization. Tang Sohwa chuckled softly and shrugged.
“I, too, have wanted you dead for a long time. But unlike you, I don’t possess exceptional martial arts skills, nor do I have influential patrons. So, I had to resort to… other methods.”
She picked up a white porcelain teapot.
“To snuff out your life, insidiously, in secret.”
A clear stream of liquid flowed into a small cup.
“For the past six months, I’ve burned incense around you. Incense to make you vulnerable to even the weakest poisons. I’ve meticulously crafted this poison so that you will feel every agonizing moment, as your organs rot and your blood vessels burst.”
Tang Sohwa removed one of her earrings. She twisted the ruby, and a tiny pill, no larger than a grain of rice, fell out. She dropped it into the cup of wine.
“Patience is our shared virtue, isn’t it? Perhaps that’s how we ended up married.”
Tak. The delicate clink of porcelain echoed in the sudden silence.
Tang Sohwa raised her cup and touched it to Namgung Hyeon’s. She drained her cup in a single gulp. Then, with a soft sigh, she turned to her husband, his life ebbing away.
“Let’s meet again in hell.”
The poison she had chosen for herself was swift and painless, a mercy she had denied him. Tang Sohwa was unmatched in the Tang Clan’s poison arts. The concoction she had prepared for herself would ensure a quick end.
A trickle of blood flowed from the corner of Tang Sohwa’s lips. Before she could register any pain, her breath stilled.
Her final regret, as she slipped into the darkness, was that he hadn't heard her final promise of vengeance, a vow to continue their feud even in the depths of hell.