Chapter 86

“…Young Master… wake up… Hwi Young Master…”

The voice was like a fog lifting in my head.

…Is that calling for me?

As the voice of the girl, somewhat troubled, registered, my submerged consciousness began to rise.

“Hi Young Master! You need to wake up! The sun is high in the sky! Today, the Master is expecting guests to come by at the ‘Misi’ (1-3 PM)!”

Still unable to completely shake off the drowsiness, I lifted my heavy eyelids with a dazed expression.

What came into view was a small girl, no bigger than a chestnut, standing with her hands on her hips and a pout on her face.

The outfit she wore looked a bit worn from being passed down through several generations, but in terms of shape and finish, it was initially an exquisite piece made from high-quality fabric.

In a human world where well-made clothing was rare, this was not an outfit that seemed suitable for a noble-looking child.

Above all, it felt extremely strange and familiar.

“My goodness! You need to snap out of it quickly. I let you sleep a bit longer as you said you weren’t feeling well, but at this rate, the Master will be very angry! Come on! Here’s your medicine!”

The girl complained, saying, ‘I can’t do without you!’ and handed me a bowl filled with herbal medicine.

Overwhelmed by her insistence, I accepted the bowl and stared blankly at the inside of it.

After being well brewed and strained, the surface of the pitch-black herbal medicine reflected a face.

A boy with perfectly defined features.

But they say the eyes are the windows to the soul, don’t they?

Beneath his eyes, dark circles and unfocused eyes revealed emotions of resignation that could not be hidden.

Clatter!

“Yaaah! Young Master! Do you have any idea how hard I worked for this?!”

The girl next to me shouted in horror, but her voice hardly registered.

I merely stared blankly at the ground.

The spilled herbal medicine rolling on the wooden floor reflected a pale expression on the boy’s face looking back at me.

◈ ◈ ◈

“Really, you make it impossible for me to live, Young Master. I know you’re sick, but the more so, you should concentrate and live properly. You see, when I was a six-year-old kid… babble…”

While I skillfully assisted her in changing clothes in front of me, the girl kept chattering nonstop like a little bird as she looked up at me.

Gu Ye.

One of the attendants who had served me in my previous life.

‘…No… is this not my previous life?’

I, Araya, no, Gongson Hee, was confused by the current situation.

After all, I was in the body of Gongson Hee, a scholar secretly operated by my family and hidden from others.

“Young Master…! Just a moment! Not yet!”

As I stepped outside anxiously to assess the situation, the new method of moving effortlessly twenty steps at a time felt merely like a dream, nothing more than the flailing of a sick person.

In the midst of this, one of my steps miscalculated and slipped due to the height change in my perspective.

“Ugh—!”

As my body swayed, I tried to steady myself with my other foot, but the slow and feeble strength of that foot couldn’t maintain my balance, causing me to stumble and roll.

Though I had merely tripped and rolled on the ground, even though the surface was wooden, it felt like my entire body had been struck by a giant battering ram.

“…Ugh!”

Tears brimmed in my eyes from the unbearable pain.

And I remembered.

The lifelong curse I had forgotten during what felt like a dream.

The heavenly curse. An unidentified malady.

Born into the bloodline of a famous martial family, weaker than ordinary commoners.

Even with expensive tonics, I couldn’t ensure a full lifespan beyond my youth.

“Screech! Hi… Hi Young Master, are you okay?”

Hearing the voice of Ye, who was running over while screaming, I felt a twinge of despair sprout in a corner of my heart.

◈ ◈ ◈

“…Young Master, are you okay…?”

Ye set down the bowl of medicine with a worried expression.

Reflected in the bowl was a face more haggard than when I had seen it last, and the aura of death was starting to creep in.

I slowly took my gaze away from the bowl.

Before my eyes were piles of books.

Names written in ink that were still wet adorned the covers.

Jaehwa Swordsmanship, Seongjeon Sword Law, Yeonwang Dragon Technique, Simguk Mansang, Geumsik Ikbo, … the Araya Technique and Araya Illusion.

Various other books were likewise displayed, each one a martial arts manual.

Martial arts that either didn’t exist in this world or were written in a different format than what was recorded here.

‘My memories are so clear.’

I thought as I gently touched the martial arts manuals.

Some of the philosophies that composed the fundamentals were incompatible with humans, yet I found no flaws in the logical arguments that constructed those philosophies.

Most martial arts could indeed be manifested here as well.

Thus, my feelings were complex.

Was everything truly a dream?

If there was one thing to brag about from my weak, broken body, it was the abnormally developed Baikhyeol.

Connecting with the heavens and serving the spirit was Sangdanjeon.

Was the resentment of fading away without leaving any name or meaning in this world shown to me through Sangdanjeon in a dream?

Though the martial arts I created in my dreams seemed real and my memories were clear, everything else became increasingly blurry over time like the dreams we have after awakening.

At this moment, I couldn’t even recall proper memories; only a lingering sense of nostalgia remained in my heart.

“Ugh-! Wretch-!”

“Young Master!”

What made me realize the grim reality more than anything was this cursed affliction.

The cursed condition that grows each day, consuming my body.

I wiped my mouth with my black sleeve, stopping the approaching Ye who looked worried.

The black silk robe I wore was not the green outfit I wore in my dreams, resembling those the Kwan Gongsun Dai wore.

Right, the reason I started wearing black clothing was because of this.

With blood stains, no matter how much I washed, it was hard to clean the traces thoroughly.

The cursed body. The black attire like that of death. Born as a descendant of a prestigious martial family and having to end my short life locked away in this prison. Those who would mock or pity that…

Everything approached me with a profound sense of reality.

“Haha…”

It was a laugh that felt mournful even to myself.

◈ ◈ ◈

Am I the butterfly? Or is the butterfly me?

That was a saying from Zhuangzi, wasn’t it?

But the butterfly, after returning to Zhuangzi’s form, could not turn back into a butterfly again.

It was truly a harsh matter.

For a butterfly’s happy dream.

Knowing it was a dream that could not be realized.

All that remains is resignation.

The droplets of water in the flowerpot flow along the ink stone, and the ink grinds.

The family had been disappointed in my potential and yet exhilarated by my potential.

Now it became an indecipherable repetition.

As the fine brush made from weasel fur soaked in the ink, I began to write characters swiftly across the blank paper.

Along with it, simple illustrations were also added here and there to aid understanding.

The words I wrote and the pictures I drew did not stop until they became the last page I had planned.

Approximately two hours later.

The martial arts that would form the foundation of a sect was remodeled.

It was under the request of a relatively large martial sect among the many small sects settled near the Tian Shan mountains in Liaodong, who visited my family as guests.

Of course, it was a different school that shared only the name with the Tian Shan sect located in Xinjang.

In Zhongyuan, countless sects had been established, and if you included those that were merely a gathering of a bunch of ruffians, the number would exceed ten thousand.

Among so many sects, how many had a lineage accommodating individuals with great talents?

The famous sects like Gu Fai Bang, which had produced exceptional talents, or the Eight Great Families, were celestial beings in their own right.

Most individuals would either forget their names after exceeding a certain age or would be those who shone brightly for a generation before disappearing.

Talented disciples flowed into famous sects, and there were few well-rounded individuals capable of inheriting the doctrines of the sect. Even those who lacked talent, due to a misunderstanding of teachings, were often led astray from the underlying philosophies and began using corrupted martial arts.

Amidst the long history that accumulated over time in Zhongyuan, while many nations rise and fall, the Zhu family has recently established a new country, yet practical teachings remained valuable, and significant knowledge and talents were still closed off and exclusive.

To those small and medium sects, my existence was akin to a miracle.

By swearing cooperation with Gongson family at the appropriate cost, they can elevate their martial arts to a higher level.

Not even a completely new martial art, but rather utilizing the martial arts already in practice.

A martial artist’s desire for martial arts is immense, and if given the chance to learn new techniques, they might even abandon their former practices.

However, the decision to abandon a martial art honed over a lifetime was not easy, and breaking the master-disciple relationships based on the roots of the original martial arts was not something easily done in this country, where Confucianism thrived.

But what if they entrusted me to maintain the martial arts that have formed the foundation of their sect for a long time?

While martial arts can develop as they are passed down, they could also degrade through misinterpretation.

This is because, depending on how a person interprets the same words, the meanings might differ.

Thus, returning distorted interpretations to their original ones and sometimes even further advancing beyond the original martial arts.

Furthermore, I am ‘officially’ someone ‘nonexistent’ in the Gongson family.

The martial arts improved through me would become solely the achievements of the clients once I pass away.

If the truth is concealed, all that remains would be the honor of becoming a descendant who restored the martial arts and elevated them to another level.

Thanks to that, the number of small and medium sects coming under the Gongson family increased, their quality refined, and the Gongson lineage surpassed that of the Mu Yong family, an old victor of Liaodong.

The Eight Great Families are talked about by the people of the world, so the mere fact that my family is now becoming prestigious does not change the position of the Eight Great Families. However, given time, it would not be far-fetched for the Gongson lineage to take that place.

Of course, by then, I would no longer be alive.

I, who was destined to be exploited by the family until my final breath, merely created and remodeled martial arts.

Though I was not a direct descendant, I was treated quite precious. ‘A useful tool.’

The children taking care of me would eventually be ‘processed’ once I die, but they were well-trained, and the herbal medicines and meals to maintain my health were of good quality.

No longer did I seek the vain attention and love of my blood relatives.

But even if I were to be erased from history without a trace, I wanted to leave my mark on the world.

Even if the achievements I cultivated became others’, I hoped that the martial arts I created and remodeled would be engraved into the world in some way.

‘…How nice it would be if I could have learned martial arts directly.’

The happy dreams that I can’t recall now.

Although my current body is smaller and frailer, it still felt like I roamed the world freely.

After a bitter laugh, I put away the completed martial arts manual and picked up a book.

Kwan Gongsun Dae’s Disciple Dance Sword Technique.

Like a traveler whose thirst cannot be quenched no matter how much they drink.

Yearning for stories that I can never achieve.

I began to flip through a book containing the tales of a transcendental being who shared my surname.

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