Chapter 30: The Lord of Seomun Cannot Dare to Compare to Him
As he pulled his right hand before his eyes, an earthquake erupted within his pupils.
Crack. Crack.
His fingers danced and twisted like strands of taffy. Seomun Woong finally burst into tears as he watched five knuckles snap and bend backward. In sync with his sobs, his wrist twisted next. It crumpled sideways with a sickening snap, followed by blood vessels and tendons bursting to stain his skin crimson. Finally, his arm bent outward and shattered—yet kept twisting.
Crack-crack-crack!
"Gaaah! Aaah! Kyaaaaaaah!"
His neck jerked back with a snap before wrenching into place. But this reprieve lasted mere seconds before convulsions began ravaging his entire body.
What served as a bone-crushing technique when self-applied became excruciating torture when inflicted on others. Seomun Woong thrashed in the bathtub like a gutted fish—neck contorting, limbs twisting madly, blood foaming from his mouth. He resembled nothing so much as a loach drowning in brine.
"Kyaaaaaaah! Rya-cha-chaaan! Was it you? Did you poison me for your family's vengeance? Gaaah... Gak-gak-gak!"
His screams tore through the night, joined by the horrified shrieks of two maids witnessing this hellish spectacle. The Seomun estate's peace lay in tatters.
The Lord of Seomun arrived then.
He gathered his convulsing son into his arms.
Even cradled against his father, Seomun Woong writhed like a speared serpent. His neck kept snapping at unnatural angles, making eye contact impossible, yet he strained desperately to keep his father's face in view through tear-blurred vision.
"Calm yourself! What happened? What... what's happening?"
"Kyaaaaaaah!"
Only screams answered.
Snap!
The Lord pressed acupressure points to halt the seizures.
His eyes widened.
The technique failed.
He immediately channeled energy through vital meridians, discovering seven conflicting forces clashing within his son's body. The violent energy surges made muscles jump like live wires beneath the skin.
"Bring Hyeon-eul Jinin—NOW!"
One shichen later.
Hyeon-eul Jinin's robes clung to him, soaked through with sweat.
Seomun Woong's convulsions had subsided to occasional twitches.
But this brought no comfort.
The young master's body had compacted into a fetal ball, limbs fused against his halved torso. His face resembled melted wax—unrecognizable and grotesque. The stillness wasn't recovery, merely exhaustion.
"Huu... The immediate danger has passed."
"Can he be fully healed, Master Jinin?"
"We must move him elsewhere."
Wiping his sleeve across a sweat-drenched face, Hyeon-eul Jinin strode out followed by the Lord. Once outside, the physician's expression turned grave.
"My Lord, what enemy have you made?"
"What nonsense is this? Isn't this Qi Deviation?"
"This was no natural imbalance. Someone orchestrated this. Why pretend ignorance?"
The Lord of Seomun remained silent.
Despite Hyeon-eul Jinin's accusatory tone, Seomun Chu genuinely had no answers.
"An astonishing technique. Only a renowned master or ancient adept could manipulate acupoints thus. Who did you provoke?"
"..."
"Answer me! We must know the perpetrator to counter them!"
"Nothing... nothing occurred."
"Nothing? You dare claim ignorance?"
Hyeon-eul Jinin's face twisted in frustration. Seomun Chu's brow furrowed—ordinarily, no physician would dare use this tone with the clan lord, regardless of their "Divine Healer" reputation.
"Explain yourself, Jinin. My son hasn't left the estate today. We hosted a banquet, nothing more."
"No conflicts? No altercations?"
Terror flashed in the physician's eyes. Seomun Chu inhaled sharply.
"An... inside job?"
"That... seems likely."
Rage kindled in the Lord's gaze. Their enemies were either legion or nonexistent, given their flawless track of leaving no traces. But an internal threat changed everything—yet didn't explain the physician's palpable fear.
"How skilled is this perpetrator?"
"Who can say? Specialized acupoint masters needn't be martial prodigies. Does any name come to mind?"
"..."
None did. The Qingyue Sect handled pressure points, but they were irrelevant here.
"You'll root them out, my Lord. Now, a request."
"Name it."
"Prepare quarters for me here. Treatment requires at least a month of observation."
Seomun Chu clasped the physician's hand.
"Your aid won't be forgotten."
"Don't thank me yet. First, I'll gather emergency supplies. Have the listed herbs ready by dawn."
"Of course."
Hyeon-eul Jinin fled the estate with uncharacteristic haste. Though trained in martial movement, he preferred leisurely walks—this was his first full-speed dash in years.
He summoned his household the moment he arrived. When the family saw their patriarch's ashen face at this unholy hour, tension thickened the air.
"Shr-shrunken, you say?"
"Like taffy kneaded by invisible hands."
"Who... who could do this, Father?"
"Unknown. The Lord himself seems clueless. I first suspected deception, but..."
His brother interjected, "Surely the Lord hides sensitive matters."
Hyeon-eul Jinin remained silent until finally muttering,
"Knowing changes nothing. What's certain is the Seomuns have angered someone terrifying. The Lord can't hope to match this foe. I downplayed it as acupoint mastery, but the technique's complexity... Hundreds of energy roots across seven meridians, interacting to crush bones and warp flesh? It defies my understanding."
Murmurs of disbelief rippled through the room.
"And worse—considering the young master's movements today, the pressure points were likely activated posthumously."
"What?"
"If not delayed activation, then the perpetrator infiltrated the estate undetected. Either scenario implies power beyond comprehension. Yet when I mentioned this, the Lord had the audacity to ask the assailant's probable cultivation level!"
"Wh-who did they provoke?!"
Meanwhile, atop Hyeon-eul Jinin's roof...
"Senior brother! So 'delayed acupoint activation' means effects manifest later? Deadly!"
"Idiot. First time hearing of posthumous strikes?"
Eun Anggae and Chwi Ungae lay sprawled eavesdropping. Having tailed the fleeing physician, they now exchanged covert messages.
"Tsk. Heard rumors, but this..."
"Master once said Hou Gong played such tricks."
"Wait—Hou Gong? That's crossing lines!"
Eun Anggae's eyes narrowed.
"Still, why's the physician so spooked? The Seomun heir's that messed up?"
"Exaggerating, probably."
As the rooftop debate continued, the family below concluded their meeting with strict secrecy orders. By the time Hyeon-eul Jinin forbade loose tongues, the two beggars had already melted into shadows.
Soon, three figures raced through darkness—
"Waaa! Let's hurry to Tianhua Pavilion! Lalala~!"
"Shut it, rookie."
Tianhua Pavilion, past midnight.
Hou Gong awaited three beggars in the open-air Windflower Pavilion. His prediction proved accurate—open spaces minimized their stench.
Though part of him wished to reform these unwashed vagrants, experience taught otherwise. Take Gong Ohsingae—washed and rehabilitated, yet the man reverted to filth within half a year.
Still, Hou Gong held grudging affection for these true ascetics. Unlike temple monks, they owned nothing—sleeping in streets while roaming to uphold justice.
Or so their creed claimed.
"Slurp... Girl! More meat! Beef's best rare—move it!"
"Best damn beef ever, right senior brother?"
"Talk less. Chew."
"Hypocrite. Wanna fight?"
"After eating."
Hou Gong rubbed his tired eyes.
So much for "non-attachment."
These supposed ascetics devoured the feast he'd prepared with otherworldly gluttony. The rookie beggar grinned, cheeks bulging:
"Big bro! Tianhua's awesome! Let's live here with you! Nom nom."
Hou Gong's eyelid twitched.
Some reforms remained eternally hopeless.
