Chapter 41: The Efficacy of the Mystic Herb
Juyang frowned, his brow creasing with disbelief.
“Why trouble yourself with such needless worries?”
“My efforts will also require considerable expense.”
“Naturally.”
“Straightforward as ever—I appreciate that. Then I’ll determine the scale of operations myself.”
“Do as you see fit.”
“Hmm. What shall we name it?”
“How about the Extermination Squad?”
“Direct and fitting.”
“Ah, there’s one more matter requiring your attention.”
“There’s more?”
Manbakja tilted his head in confusion.
“Assassins will remain active until the Extermination Squad is established. Until then, we’ll need guards for Fanhang. Let’s call them the Sky Guard Squad.”
“The Sky Guard Squad? Those who protect the Great Gongja of Tianhuaxu?”
“Precisely.”
“Extermination Squad and Sky Guard Squad. Understood.”
“These plans must remain hidden from Fanhang.”
“Hm? What plans? We’ve discussed nothing at all.”
Manbakja plastered an exaggerated look of innocence across his face.
Juyang burst into laughter.
“Haha! You’re utterly shameless.”
“Oh? Hahaha! You’ve learned to mimic me quite well. Not half bad this time.”
“Hahahaha!”
Everything had unfolded perfectly.
Juyang’s joy overflowed—a man who’d expected death today now breathed the air of a new life.
Juyang and Manbakja departed after three days.
Despite fervent requests to stay longer, they refused, leaving the family head and others wistful in their wake.
Hugong found himself perplexed.
The two had seemed unusually eager to leave—not that he’d wanted them to stay. But their haste felt... conspicuous.
‘Did I glare at them too often?’
He’d certainly shot them more disdainful looks than warm ones. Their guilty consciences had left them squirming like worms on a hot plate whenever he glanced their way.
Not that Manbakja could linger anyway.
The scoundrel likely had a dozen schemes brewing to line his pockets elsewhere.
Good riddance.
With them gone, Hugong could finally focus on consuming the Mystic Herb.
The process would take twenty days—a month at most.
After briefing the family head on future plans, he summoned his younger brothers via Songhwa.
“Elder Brother demands our presence?”
“Yes.”
Yun and Bumung’s faces drained of color at Songhwa’s message.
The inevitable had arrived.
This would be a thrashing.
Regardless of their intentions, their actions had nearly killed their elder brother. They’d hoped the matter would fade quietly, but Hugong wasn’t one to forget.
If only they’d delivered the original message without meddling...
Regret always comes too late.
“Songhwa,” Yun ventured cautiously, “did Elder Brother seem... angry?”
“It’s beating time!” she declared with perverse cheer.
“......”
Hope died a swift death.
“Hurry and prepare! The more you delay, the worse it’ll be.”
“Why do you look so thrilled?”
“Can’t you see how heartbroken I am?”
Songhwa’s giggling contradicted her words, twisting Yun and Bumung’s faces into grimaces.
With Juyang gone and the weather splendidly calm, the brothers saw no escape. They layered their pants thickly before trudging to their fate.
But instead of “Assume the position,” they heard:
“Yun. You’ll oversee family affairs for the next month. This includes negotiations with the Northern Anhui Alliance and implementing new combat formations.”
“M-me?!”
Yun’s eyes bulged at the unexpected responsibility. Hugong continued calmly:
“Grandfather’s too aged, Uncle too impetuous. I’ll be sequestered to absorb the Mystic Herb’s power.”
“But Elder Brother, how can I—”
“I chose you not from lack of options, but belief in your capability.”
“...Elder Brother.”
Yun’s eyes reddened. This recognition—from the genius who’d humbled Ximen Sega with ease—overwhelmed him.
‘How could I have doubted him?’
Shame burned through him. While he’d worried about lashes, his brother had entrusted him with their family’s future.
“I’ll honor your faith in me.”
“See that you do. Consult me only for critical decisions—alliance representative selections will be chaotic, but we’ll follow whatever outcome.”
“Understood.”
“For formations, rely on Bumung’s expertise. Approach me only for grave matters.”
“Yes, Elder Brother!” they chorused.
Yun glowed with pride; Bumung nearly vibrated with joy. Both failed to notice Hugong’s sleeve-rolling until—
“Songhwa.”
“Yes, Young Master!”
The girl materialized, proffering a bamboo rod.
“Hyungnim, mercy!”
“Assume the position. Properly.”
“We’ll never hide anything again!”
“Of course you won’t.” Hugong hefted the rod. “Did you think I’d miss those padded trousers? Spring’s here—planning to catch cold?!”
Thwack!
Crack!
Their yelps echoed through the courtyard.
Later, Hugong addressed his guards:
“The Mystic Herb reeks worse than Six-Cornered Net sewage. I’ll sequester myself in the winter formation chamber to contain the stench. As my loyal guards, you’ll naturally insist on joining me.”
“Absolutely not!”
Hugong raised an eyebrow as they shouted in unison:
“We have zero concerns!”
They’d learned to read between lines—their master wanted privacy.
“Tch. Such weakened loyalty.”
“Indeed.”
His gaze shifted to Songhwa. “Surely your devotion differs?”
“Loyalty? I’ve never heard of it.”
“...Is that so?”
“Yes!”
“Off to hell I go, then. Ungrateful wretches.”
The guards bit their lips, stifling laughter. How times changed—once they’d feared failing to protect him; now they feared getting in his way.
Twenty days later...
Within the snow-globe stillness of the winter formation, Hugong tested his transformed body.
Creak.
With each step, his frame shrank to a child’s size before snapping back. Muscles and bones obeyed him utterly now—every nerve, every vessel under perfect control.
The Mystic Herb’s vomitous stench (imagine rotten eggs marinated in burning hair) had borne fruit:
Formless Heaven-Earth Heart Technique - 3rd Star, Initial Stage.
A year’s progress compressed into twenty days.
New abilities unfolded:
Purple Spirit Eyes pierced distant snowflakes with crystal clarity.
Internal energy perception sharpened, his aura deepening into scholar-like serenity.
Triple Defensive Arts reached completion:
Blood Shift altered meridian points for hours.
Void Cloud refined its counterattacks.
Penetrating Strike now redirected impacts through any connected object—earth, weapon, or foe.
Unlike the Mountain Ox Strike that shattered distant targets, this technique made Hugong the conduit, transferring force through whatever he touched.
‘With two Evils mastered, the Poisonous Stinger’s power beckons.’
Three foul odors would unlock strength rivaling the Five Great Spirits.
Hugong remained ten extra days, bonding with his new sword.
Sword Connection required not energy manipulation, but unity of consciousness. He named it Spirit, forged through three days of relentless drills across snowfields.
Seventy-Two Sword Forms flowed through him—no longer techniques to memorize, but extensions of his being. With each movement, Spirit became less a tool and more a part of his soul.
