Episode 234: The Art of Poison
In the span of just a few days, Tang Mujin had grown quite comfortable with Gyobu-hwa, engaging in conversations that felt almost friendly. Their discussions revolved around a specific topic: the unique poisons of the Southern Barbarians and the poison techniques Tang Mujin had mastered.
Gyobu-hwa held up a tiny insect, explaining, “This is a Blood Leech Bug. Its poison changes depending on what it eats. Normally, it feeds on the sap of the Kirin Tree, which makes its venom weak. Even if it bites you several times, you’ll only get a slight swelling.”
“You’re saying the poison changes with its diet?”
“Exactly. If it feeds on the sap of that herb over there, it can cause a severe fever in humans. It won’t be fatal, but even a skilled martial artist would be bedridden for two weeks if they haven’t trained in poison techniques.”
“I tried a bit of that herb before, but I didn’t sense any poison.”
Whenever Tang Mujin had a question, he asked Gyobu-hwa without hesitation, and Gyobu-hwa always answered willingly.
“Not all poisons require a toxic diet to develop.”
“True, that makes sense. What other poisons can it develop?”
“If you feed it the sap of the Ox Nose Tree, it becomes a potent aphrodisiac with no known antidote. Unfortunately, I don’t have any seeds for that tree right now.”
“An aphrodisiac, huh? So those really do exist.”
The poison techniques of the Southern Barbarians seemed similar in structure to those of Tang Mujin and the mysterious Gui, yet they differed significantly in the details. The most notable difference lay in how they wielded poison.
Gui used poison as a supplementary weapon, employing it after subduing an opponent or occasionally scattering poison liquid. Tang Mujin had taken Gui’s approach a step further, applying poison to weapons crafted by Dan Seol-young or coating needles to manipulate them with telekinesis.
However, the warriors of the Southern Barbarians opted for a simpler yet more powerful method: using venomous creatures like insects and snakes to target their enemies. By harnessing the instincts of these creatures, they could demonstrate their poison techniques without resorting to complex skills like telekinesis.
There were many ways to control these venomous creatures. Some were drawn to specific scents, others to the sound of a flute or subtle vibrations, and some would even leap into a fire if they sensed the presence of a female.
‘This must be the strength of the Five Poison Clan.’
Such knowledge couldn’t be amassed by a single person. It required the collective effort and experience of many. Tang Mujin was continually impressed by Gyobu-hwa’s insights.
Of course, there was always the risk of the practitioner being bitten and poisoned by their own creatures. Yet, despite this risk, the method was so effective and powerful that it captivated Tang Mujin.
Though Tang Mujin had invented and mastered the art of using telekinesis with poison, he was also acutely aware of its challenges and limitations.
“You said raising Blood Leech Bugs isn’t difficult, right?”
“That’s right. Breeding them is easy too, as long as you know what to feed them.”
“In that case, could I take a few Blood Leech Bugs with me?”
When Tang Mujin asked, Gyobu-hwa feigned a pout. “I saw you sneaking some away earlier. Don’t play innocent.”
“I figured you’d let me have them, so I took the liberty. Now that we’re at it, could you also share some herbs to feed them?”
Tang Mujin’s cheeky request made Gyobu-hwa pretend to ponder before sidling up to him with a playful smile. “It seems like I’m getting the short end of the stick here. What will you give me in return?”
“I’ve taught you my poison techniques and shown you my telekinesis. I don’t show that to just anyone.”
Gyobu-hwa grumbled, “But it’s hard for me to learn your techniques. I’ve never wielded a sword, so how could I master telekinesis?”
“That’s not my fault. If nothing else, you could teach your future children about these methods.”
“I suppose that’s an option. Still, it’s a shame. If I’d known, I would’ve learned the basics of swordsmanship.”
Just as Tang Mujin had learned much, Gyobu-hwa had gained a lot too. While Gyobu-hwa had extensive knowledge of poisons, Tang Mujin’s skill in integrating poison with martial arts was unmatched.
The process of forming poison techniques and the method of internal energy manipulation were prime examples. Though Tang Mujin and the Five Poison Clan’s techniques were similar, they differed in subtle ways.
Studying a completely different approach to poison techniques was beneficial, but observing techniques that were similar yet varied in detail was an even richer experience. A similar framework meant that insights and knowledge could be quickly applied.
This was an even greater opportunity for Tang Mujin, who rarely had the chance to exchange ideas about poison techniques with others.
Tang Mujin couldn’t help but smile. ‘Coming to Nogunsan was the right decision.’
Every moment spent conversing with Gyobu-hwa expanded their horizons, introducing new methods and elevating their mastery of poison techniques.
While Tang Mujin and Gyobu-hwa were holed up in the cave, engrossed in their discussions for days, someone else was growing bored. That someone was Mok Wana.
‘What should I do today?’
Mok Wana was knowledgeable about poisons too, but while her instincts for poison techniques were sharp, her theoretical knowledge was lacking. Listening to Tang Mujin and Gyobu-hwa felt like grasping at clouds, and explaining her own experiences to them was even more challenging.
Moreover, Gyobu-hwa’s discomfort around Mok Wana was evident, which was the biggest issue. Given Mok Wana’s personality, she wasn’t about to engage in a power struggle with Gyobu-hwa, so she naturally drifted away from the cave, wandering around the area.
‘Maybe I’ll visit Uncle Jinram again today.’
Thus, Mok Wana sought out Gyobu-hwa’s bodyguard, Jinram. Initially, she thought Jinram didn’t speak because he wasn’t fluent in the Central Plains dialect, but that was only partially true. Jinram was not only unfamiliar with the language but also naturally taciturn.
Despite visiting Jinram for several days, Mok Wana had only managed to extract a few words from him. Still, with no one else to keep her company, she continued to chatter away to Jinram, even if it was one-sided.
“How old are you, Uncle?”
”···.”
“You look over thirty-five but not quite forty.”
Jinram turned his head slightly.
Mok Wana scooted over to where Jinram had turned and asked again, “Are you married? How many kids do you have?”
”···.”
“Not married, huh?”
Reluctantly, Jinram nodded. Mok Wana seemed pleased with even that small response and bombarded him with more questions.
“How did you meet Miss Gyobu?”
“···I was chosen.”
It was rare to hear his voice. The phrase “I was chosen” sounded intriguing. Sensing a story, Mok Wana pressed on with more questions.
“What do you mean by ‘chosen’?”
”···.”
“Come on, don’t be shy. I’ll listen to everything.”
Seeing that Mok Wana wasn’t going to back down, Jinram sighed softly and picked up a small twig. He intended to use drawings to supplement his limited speech.
Jinram explained with a few words, using writing and drawings. The Five Poison Clan was divided into two main groups: the Five Great Bloodlines, which formed the core, and the Inner Circle, who served the bloodlines but weren’t part of them.
Only the Five Great Bloodlines could learn the clan’s poison techniques. Gyobu-hwa was naturally part of the bloodlines, but Jinram, in the past, wasn’t even part of the Inner Circle. He was an outsider, not even within the clan’s boundaries.
As a child, Jinram admired the Inner Circle. While they might be disregarded within the clan, they held significant status compared to ordinary people in the Southern Barbarians.
Jinram trained diligently in martial arts to enter the clan’s boundaries. Each of the Five Great Bloodlines selected a bodyguard, and one could be chosen as a bodyguard based on skill, even if they weren’t part of the Inner Circle.
Eventually, Jinram achieved something special and was chosen as a bodyguard. When he finished explaining, Mok Wana asked, “What’s so great about being in the Inner Circle?”
“A lot.”
The bloodlines granted the Inner Circle small fragments of power. While these were mere scraps from the bloodlines’ perspective, they were substantial for outsiders. They could earn a year’s income in a month and get away with killing an outsider without much consequence.
Among the Inner Circle, bodyguards held a particularly high status. They were the ones who served the bloodlines most closely, after all. The closer you were, the more power you received.
“Then why aren’t you married? In the Central Plains, a man who’s good with a sword and quiet would be quite popular. Isn’t that the case here?”
Jinram shook his head. “To become a bodyguard, you must host a Gu.”
“What’s that?”
It wasn’t a topic he wanted to delve into, nor was it easy to explain. Jinram chose to gloss over it. “It’s something like that.”
Gu, or Gu poison, is known by many names and can be created in various ways. It refers to a pair of insects, the Mother Gu and the Child Gu. When inserted into the nostrils, they crawl into the brain and settle there.
The Mother Gu, despite its unusual habitat, doesn’t harm the host. Even when fully grown, it’s only the size of a grain of rice.
However, the situation with the “Jago” is different. Unlike the “Mogo,” which remains relatively small, the Jago grows much larger and possesses a peculiar trait.
When a Mogo dies, the Jago senses it and thrashes about, tearing everything around it to shreds.
In other words, if the person carrying a Jago dies, nothing happens to the person carrying a Mogo. But if the person with a Mogo dies, the one with a Jago suffers a brain meltdown and dies without any chance of survival. It’s a vicious creature with no means of removal.
Cruel and bizarre, yet it serves as the strongest leash a master can place on their bodyguard.
“So, you’re saying you can’t get married because of this ‘Go’ thing?”
“It’s not that I can’t; I choose not to.”
Interestingly, this solitude makes bodyguards even more desirable as potential husbands.
The power struggles within the Odokmun are fierce. Many of the five great families perish, and even more bodyguards meet their end.
A living bodyguard is a well-paid, somewhat prestigious husband. But the benefits don’t end there. When a bodyguard dies, they leave behind a substantial inheritance. In Namman, remarriage isn’t frowned upon, making it even more appealing.
Once Jinram was selected as a bodyguard, many women began to approach him.
Some were likely after his background and wealth, but most seemed genuinely interested in Jinram himself.
The problem was that Jinram started viewing all women with suspicion.
Suspicion. It’s a poison that takes root deep in the heart, with no antidote.
Jinram concluded that it was better to live alone than to build a family with such distrust.
Of course, he didn’t bother explaining all this to Mok Wana.
Jinram realized he had been talking for quite a while, sharing more than he usually would. It should have been tiresome, but he found it oddly enjoyable.
Perhaps it was because Mok Wana had such an innocent nature, or maybe because she was completely unaware of the life in Namman and the ways of a bodyguard.
As they chatted, Mok Wana’s expression suddenly darkened.
“That’s so sad. It’s similar to my situation, but a bit different.”
“Similar?”
“I can’t get married either. I was just rejected by Dang Mujin.”
Mok Wana didn’t hide her sadness and earnestly recounted the whole story to Jinram.
Listening to her, Jinram couldn’t help but chuckle.
He didn’t know much about the customs of the Central Plains, but it was clear that Mok Wana’s behavior was anything but ordinary. Her situation was downright comical.
“Haha!”
“Why are you laughing? It hasn’t even been ten days! I didn’t show it in front of Mujin, but my heart still aches.”
As Mok Wana grumbled, Jinram’s laughter grew louder.
He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed like this.
It felt like the first time since the Jago had taken root in his mind, or perhaps even since his childhood.
Jinram eventually stopped laughing, but the smile lingered on his lips.
He glanced at Mok Wana and then turned away.
‘What a peculiar woman.’
He felt a twinge of envy towards Dang Mujin for capturing the heart of such a woman.
At the same time, he felt a slight concern for both Dang Mujin and Mok Wana.
A ripple of emotions stirred within Jinram.
He looked ahead again.
Mok Wana’s gaze was fixed elsewhere, not on him.
It was the cave where Dang Mujin and Gyo Buhwa were conversing.
Jinram spoke teasingly.
“Miss Mok.”
“Yes?”
“How would you feel if Mr. Dang married your master?”
“That will never happen.”
Mok Wana replied with conviction.
It wasn’t the denial of someone ignoring the obvious. Her voice was filled with certainty.
“Is that so.”
Jinram pondered for a while before speaking to Mok Wana.
“I’ll say this just once, so listen carefully.”
“What is it?”
“It would be best for you to leave here immediately.”
“Why? Where should I go?”
Jinram didn’t answer and stood up.
His gaze on Mok Wana was filled with complex emotions. Pity. Regret. A vague but significant kindness, and perhaps a touch of affection.
Jinram brushed off all those feelings lightly.
As always, it wasn’t difficult.