Chapter 13: Escaping One Foul Smell Only to Encounter Another
Full Blood, along with Heavenly Cloud and Piercing Strike, comprised Hou Gong's three great defensive techniques. At present, only Full Blood remained usable.
The technique lasted mere moments.
During its duration, he could evade opponents' pressure point strikes while exploiting their momentary confidence to counterattack.
But where was this stench coming from?
The revolting odor grew unbearable. Outside, chaos erupted as confused voices rose in question.
Hou Gong summoned Songhwa at once.
"Where is Songhwa?"
"Hng... Hng..."
"Hm?"
Her reply came as an odd moan.
Songhwa soon entered, her nose and mouth swaddled in cloth. Only her crescent-shaped eyes remained visible as she doubled the cloth over her mouth with both hands.
"Young Master, are you unwell?"
Though muffled, her words remained intelligible.
"Ahem... Far from it. What manner of stench is this?"
"I don't know. It began suddenly."
"Eh?"
"Young Master, what shall I do? If this persists, I'll rot away! My lovely skin can't possibly suffer, can it?"
"That would be catastrophic indeed."
The smell itself held no physical harm.
Hou Gong stepped outside to investigate.
Chaos reigned.
Bewildered faces peered through cloth masks. The clear air carried no smoke nor fog - only pure, unadulterated stench.
A familiar voice rose above the din in the distance. Yun's shouts carried across the courtyard where ten figures clustered.
Yun berated Bumong as if ready to throttle him.
Hou Gong rushed over.
"Elder Brother, you've come?"
Yun abandoned his mouse-like grip on Bumong to bow properly.
"Explain this situation."
"Bumong appears to have disrupted the ventilation array while repairing the eastern gate's defensive formation," Yun reported.
"Ah?"
Bumong stood pale as parchment, tears brimming.
"Eldest Brother, please don't strike me! I beg you!"
"Account for yourself."
"I swear no mischief! The eastern gate sees scant use - how was I to know its defenses had decayed? I merely made repairs when this stench erupted! Others witnessed it - they'll confirm my words! You must believe me!"
His face radiated utter injustice.
"Hmm..."
Hou Gong's thoughtful hum lingered.
Bumong's honest nature and lack of prior deceit lent credence to his plea. Hou Gong combed through Fan Heng's memories of the eastern gate's formation, but immediate solutions eluded him.
Moreover, Bumong's talent in formations nearly matched Fan Heng's own. Personal intervention would yield little difference.
"Bumong," Hou Gong decreed, "conduct another thorough inspection. Find the source and rectify it. Yun - assist him."
"At once, Elder Brother."
"What will you do, Elder Brother?"
"I have separate business."
Hou Gong departed swiftly from the stench, Songhwa and four guards in tow.
"Let's go!"
At his command, Songhwa fluttered to his side while the guards approached with relieved expressions. Serving the Young Master after years of hardship felt like redemption.
They descended to the village, dined at an inn, then strolled through bustling streets. Hou Gong observed passersby, finding no familiar faces.
None who'd known Fan Heng.
His outing served dual purposes - escaping the stench while gauging the martial world's currents since the alliance leader's shocking suicide. Though Fan Heng had mingled with noble disciples before his melancholy, no recognizable figures appeared.
After circling fruitlessly, Hou Gong sought tea at a tavern. He and Songhwa settled by the window while guards occupied a neighboring table.
"Young Master, what truly causes this stench?"
"Unclear."
"Could strange herbs be growing?"
"Perhaps strange humans lurk about."
Songhwa burst into giggles.
"Where would such people be?"
"An ancient beggar's presence might explain it."
"They say Beggar Sect members never bathe! Why is that?"
"Beggars defy understanding."
"Oh? You know of the Beggar Sect, Young Master?"
Songhwa's curious gaze mirrored the guards' sudden attention.
"From texts."
His casual reply brought instant nods. The Young Master's legendary reading habits explained all.
Songhwa smiled brightly.
"Books reign supreme! Still, I doubt it's people causing this."
"Merely speculation. The thought alone chills me."
As tea arrived, Hou Gong sipped while observing the street. Ordinary folk passed by - a child clutching its mother's hand, elderly strollers, well-dressed youths.
His gaze sharpened.
Two young men and women crossed toward the opposite tavern. The men sparked recognition - Yeomhwagak's Second Young Master Jang Ye and Seomun Family's Third Young Master Seomun Heon. Fan Heng had known them peripherally.
The women drew no recollection.
Two witnesses sufficed for gauging the martial world's climate. The quartet settled by the opposite tavern's window, too engrossed in each other to notice observers.
Hou Gong sipped his tea. Let the youths enjoy their moment before approaching.
A roar shattered the peace.
"TAVERN KEEPER! PRESENT YOURSELF!"
A middle-aged swordsman near the entrance stood bellowing, his sharp eyes and squared jaw twitching. The proprietor scurried over.
"Sir, what troubles you?"
"You seek to murder me!"
"Pardon?"
"Why add mosquitoes to my soup?!"
"Mosquitoes? We'd never intentionally—"
"Then why bury one deep in the broth? I nearly finished before finding it!"
"Terrible oversight! We'll provide free wine and waive your fee."
The owner bowed deeply.
"Absurd! Free swill won't suffice after I've consumed bug-infested slop!"
"What recompense do you seek?"
"Thirty silver nyang!"
The proprietor's eyes bulged. A month's earnings. His face crumpled.
Hou Gong inwardly scoffed. The martial world remained rife with such extortionists.
"Sir... thirty nyang..."
"Still too modest, I see."
Shrrring!
The swordsman's blade leapt to the owner's throat.
"Does this adjust your calculations?"
Trembling seized the innkeeper. The guards looked to Hou Gong for orders, but he shook his head. Such scum weren't worth the trouble.
"Songhwa."
"Yes, Young Master."
"Pay the sum."
"Understood."
Songhwa grasped Hou Gong's desire for discretion. This marked his first outing since recovering both memory and health after years of seclusion. Clasping her hands politely, she approached.
The swordsman eyed her suspiciously.
"You are?"
"Good day."
"Good... day?"
The sudden courtesy from a stunning girl left him off-balance.
"You... what do you want?"
"Does the mosquito broth trouble you still?"
"And?"
"My master offers ten silver nyang in compensation."
The swordsman appraised Songhwa, then sneered at Hou Gong's delicate, well-dressed form with its four unimpressive guards.
"Not bad," he leered. "But thirty nyang would better soothe my distress."
"Apologies, but we've no more funds."
"Then this won't end well."
Hou Gong snorted. No second chances remained.
"Songhwa. We depart."
The swordsman's blade blocked their path.
"Who said you could leave, pretty lordling?"
His smile twisted vicious.
Hou Gong crossed his arms and nodded at Songhwa.
Her demeanor shifted instantly.
"Persist," she hissed, "and you'll die."
"Bitch!"
The swordsman's pupils dilated. His blade flashed upward in a thigh-to-shoulder arc—only to cleave empty air.
Songhwa stood a zhang away.
The swordsman blinked. They'd been at sword's reach—how?
Songhwa's aura transformed completely.
Her eyes glinted as icy energy flooded the tavern. Patrons fled while the owner and staff shook like winter-stranded travelers. The timid maiden vanished, replaced by a glacial menace.
The swordsman's lip curled.
"Playing meek with such skills? Pathetic."
His blade thrust forward.
