Chapter 56
The Poison Called Hongyu
“The fact that the Nine Great Sects and Five Noble Clans have been toyed with by one hermit for years—robbed of countless secret manuals and elixirs—is no secret. Perhaps this gathering was arranged to cut the bud before history repeats itself?”
“A fine deduction,” the man replied calmly. “Not entirely correct, but difficult to deny.”
Not entirely?
‘So this mess isn’t just about Yeonghwang Yuse… someone else is involved too?’
For another sect to ally itself with the Yeonghwang Clan—it had to be bold indeed. He wasn’t sure which one, but the bait he’d tossed had clearly hooked something useful.
“Still,” the man continued, “thanks to you, our talk can move faster. Then now… Clan Leader?”
At that, Tang Maeryeong—who had been silent until now—opened her mouth, her voice as sharp as a drawn blade.
“Lady Namgung. I have one question regarding what happened at the Namgung banquet. They say the liquor served to you had a peculiar scent. Can you describe it?”
“Burning wood.”
“The color?”
Before I could answer, Jin Cheong-ak cut in.
“Hmph. Are you mocking our lady for being blind?”
“…That was a slip of the tongue. My apologies, Lady Namgung. But even after noticing the odd scent, why did you drink it?”
Jin Cheong-ak answered again in my stead.
“Our lady doesn’t usually drink, nor does she care for music or parties. She wouldn’t know enough to suspect poison just because the scent was strange.”
“How did it taste?”
“Like liquor,” he said dryly. “A little poison doesn’t turn alcohol into honey.”
“I heard you, Jin Cheong-ak, were the one who gave her the antidote.”
By now, the two of them were talking as if I wasn’t even there. Since it made things easier for me, I didn’t stop them.
“Perhaps I did.”
“…From the symptoms described, the scent, and the treatment method, I can narrow down the poison Lady Namgung ingested to three possibilities.”
The Tang Clan was renowned for its mastery of poisons, but for someone of Tang Maeryeong’s age to pinpoint it to three with so little information was no small feat.
“My, my! Only three possibilities? How impressive.”
“Two of them have no known antidote. The third does—but it’s impossible to obtain through ordinary means. Yet somehow you had it. Which means…”
“Why not just say it outright?” Jin Cheong-ak’s tone turned ice-cold. “You suspect that my lady and I are in league with the Hermit Sect.”
A heavy silence swept across the table. Then Tang Maeryeong burst out, voice sharp with fury.
“I’ve tolerated you long enough, Jin Cheong-ak! How dare you speak so insolently? I don’t know where a stray cur like you crawled in from, but this is no place for you to bark!”
“Insolent, am I?”
The air grew so tense it seemed fists might fly—
“Enough!”
The Alliance Leader’s voice rang out, laced with inner energy that quelled them both.
“I understand youth’s hot blood, but this is not the place. We are here to discuss, not to fight.”
But Jin Cheong-ak was not one to back down.
“Easier said than done. Anyone with ears can hear the suspicion dripping from her tone—accusing our Lady Namgung and me of conspiring with criminals.”
“Please, calm yourself,” the Alliance Leader urged. “Neither I nor the Clan Leader harbor such intent.”
“Intent isn’t the issue—it’s attitude. Is this how you treat a woman who nearly died and barely made it back alive? Eh, Young Master Namgung?”
Namgung Jeokmyeong’s voice cut sharply through the air.
“Brother Jin, do not make things harder for So-yo.”
“For So-yo? Ha. Seems the young master still doesn’t understand our lady at all.”
The tension only thickened. And then Tang Maeryeong suddenly shouted—
“Silence!”
Thud!
Something hit the table, making it quiver slightly. She had placed something there.
“This—this is Hongyu,” she declared. “The poison Lady Namgung swallowed! The same poison that melted the organs of my parents and siblings—murdered by that vile Hermit Sect! The Blood of Salmak!”
Her words poured out like blood itself, and everyone fell silent.
There wasn’t a soul in the martial world who hadn’t heard of that tragedy—
The Sichuan Tang Clan Poison Massacre.
At first, many thought the Tang Clan caused the poisoning. But in truth, all six victims were Tang blood—Clan Leader, Vice Leader, every direct heir, all dead in a single night.
That was when the world learned of the poison called Hongyu, the signature of the Hermit Sect (Salmak).
No one ever found an antidote. For years after, a saying spread across the land: Never eat food given by another.
“I have searched for the antidote to Hongyu for years,” Tang Maeryeong said, trembling with rage.
“…”
“And not a trace—not a whisper—was ever found. Which means no physician on this continent has ever discovered it!”
So, even now, no cure existed.
‘And since the Hermit Sect vanished without a trace, there’d be no stealing it either,’ I thought.
Using the antidote to Hongyu had been simple logic—no one in the Namgung Clan was knowledgeable enough to recognize it.
The Tang Clan’s involvement, however, was an unexpected twist.
But unexpected didn’t mean unmanageable.
Yeo-il (myself) lifted a sleeve and feigned a small cough.
“And yet,” Tang Maeryeong continued coldly, “you suddenly appeared with a cure that no one could find or create. Naturally, its source must be questioned—”
I coughed again.
“Cough!”
A spatter of crimson blood struck the center of the table.
It was more than I’d intended; the wound I’d opened was bleeding freely.
But the effect was immediate—panic spread across the room.
“Lady Namgung! Are you all right?”
“So-yo!”
“Again…!” Namgung Jeokmyeong exclaimed.
Had I gone too far?
Even Jin Cheong-ak, who had been putting on his own act of outrage, was startled. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered softly.
As my strength faded, he caught me against his chest and pried open my jaw to look inside. He found the deliberate cut on my inner cheek almost immediately, grimaced, and released me.
“Yeo-il…”
He wanted to say something, but in the end, he didn’t.
While my head rested weakly against his chest, the Alliance Leader barked out orders.
“Chief! Fetch a physician immediately!”
“Yes, sir!”
As Mo Yong Sang-hwi hurried off, the Alliance Leader knelt by my side.
“This much blood loss is serious. I heard you were nearly cured by the antidote—perhaps you’ve been poisoned again on the way here. Namgung Jeokmyeong, do you have any idea what could’ve caused it?”
Namgung Jeokmyeong looked shaken, unable to answer. He didn’t know whether I was truly collapsing or only pretending to.
I pushed Jin Cheong-ak away and rasped weakly, my throat hoarse and raw.
“I’m… fine… the antidote… wasn’t perfect… cough, cough… just a little strain, and the poison stirs again…”
“So-yo, that’s enough,” Jeokmyeong said firmly. “You can write instead of speaking. Don’t strain your throat.”
But I shook my head, clutching my chest, forcing the act to its bitter end.
Because to overcome the enemy who’d destroyed my parents, I had to risk everything—even my life.
