Episode 20 – Heir of Medicine Immortal
Let’s turn the clock back a bit—to the time of the feast at Baek Family Manor.
Tang Siyuk, who had been drinking non-stop, sat there with an unpleasant expression.
It was because of the voices buzzing around him.
“That moment! When the Eastern Sword Dragon drew his sword and said, ‘How dare you roam the Martial World at will!’ Man, that was incredible!”
Eastern Sword Dragon.
A swordsman from the East who drove off the evil forces of the Demon Cult with sheer presence alone. It referred to none other than Sado Hwan. Just as expected, the hundreds of witnesses at the scene had come up with a title for him. And it was a rather fitting one.
“And that’s not all! Who else would speak up for nobodies like us? Would the Tang Clan step in—?”
“Whoa there, friend. You’ve had too much to drink. Calm down now.”
“No, seriously! Am I wrong?! Tell me I’m wrong!”
Tang Siyuk glared at the drunken man. Only then did the man squeak in fear and scramble away.
One of the Tang Clan’s warriors who had stayed by Tang Siyuk’s side spoke up.
“Shall I go teach him a lesson, Young Master?”
“Forget it.”
Tang Siyuk took a bitter swig and muttered,
“We’re not the stars of this feast. We’re just uninvited guests—we can’t be the ones to cause a scene.”
“Understood.”
“This whole thing is ruined. Let’s get ready to leave.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Tang Siyuk rose from his seat. But not a single person saw him off. The Tang Clan was usually treated like VIPs no matter where they went, but just as he had said, they weren’t the center of attention this time.
That role belonged to Yun Yeopja, surrounded by people and smiling warmly, and to the Eastern Sword Dragon—who wasn’t even present.
Grit.
Tang Siyuk ground his teeth. The feeling of being thoroughly excluded filled him with frustration.
He could accept Yun Yeopja having the spotlight because of his status and achievements.
But Eastern Sword Dragon? Hah! To him, it was just the cowardly nonsense of a silver-tongued weakling.
A true martial artist should fight with their sword, not their words. But that guy had weaseled his way into hero status by appealing to a bunch of no-name fighters.
Whatever. I’ll never see those nobodies again anyway. I should focus on finding the Black Parasol.
As he walked, Tang Siyuk recalled a conversation with the Tang Clan Patriarch, Tang Munsu.
“People think the Black Parasol was a treasure of the Poison Demon, but in truth, it originally belonged to our Tang Clan. Until your grandfather lost it to the Poison Demon in a wager over 20 years ago.”
“Is it really that important?”
“Very. It’s not just a tool for spreading poison. A hundred years ago, during the Blood Massacre of the Heavenly Demon, a Taoist from the East loaned us that treasure.”
“That was a hundred years ago though, wasn’t it?”
“That Taoist left a prophecy. That in a hundred years, one of his descendants would return to reclaim the item. And this year is the hundredth year. He will come.”
“And who was that Taoist, exactly…?”
When he heard the answer, Tang Siyuk had no choice but to be stunned.
***
How long had he been walking? Tang Siyuk suddenly realized something was tickling his nose.
He sniffed around as he walked, following the scent.
His steps halted at the exact spot where Skybreaker Sword had been embedded in the ground. The indentation remained, and from it rose a faint but distinct scent of poison.
An untrained person wouldn’t have noticed, but not him. As a direct descendant of the Tang Clan, with years of poison training, his nose could not be deceived.
At that moment, Tang Siyuk realized—
“He was deceiving everyone after all.”
The faint poison scent lingering where his sword had been lodged could only mean one thing—the fan that man carried was the Black Parasol.
He must be a Demon Cultist. It was all a scripted performance, and everyone else had fallen for it.
It was a theory born from a drunken, jealous mind—but strangely enough, it was almost accurate.
That twisted smile on Tang Siyuk’s face as he went to confront Sado Hwan had come from this belief.
But—
What he saw of the Eastern Sword Dragon in person was not someone from the Demon Cult. Watching him unleash his martial prowess with his own eyes, Tang Siyuk felt as if lightning had struck his mind.
“Perfect mastery of sword flight… and the scent of poison…”
That faint poison scent… a youthful face… from the East…
There was only one person all those clues could point to.
“C-could it be… you…?!”
The Eastern Sword Dragon’s face stiffened ever so slightly. That reaction was all the confirmation Tang Siyuk needed.
“That poison scent… So that’s what it was… It is you, isn’t it?!”
The Eastern Sword Dragon nodded, wearing a solemn, weighty expression, as if troubled by this sudden recognition.
“So, you’ve finally realized. Yes. It is I.”
I sheathed Skybreaker with a flourish and folded my arms, adding just enough gravitas. Tang Siyuk clearly thought I was someone important, so I went along with it.
“I pay my respects to the Heir of Medicine Immortal!”
Tang Siyuk gave a formal martial salute, bowing so low his back formed a sharp angle. I could see the top of his once-proud head.
I was a veteran reader of Return of the Murim. I’d chewed through it, savored it, and dissected every bit of it. I knew almost every character that appeared—even the minor ones, like Tang Siyuk, who was mentioned as a background extra during the Demon Cult War.
So of course, I knew who Medicine Immortal was.
Medicine Immortal—literally, “Medicine Immortal.” One of the most legendary Taoists in the East. Known for manipulating both medicine and poison as if they were divine arts.
He never appeared directly in the story, but his legacy did.
“Ooh! This is the elixir left behind by Medicine Immortal!”—characters would constantly marvel at treasures he left behind. Those items often caused sects to go to war, that’s how valuable they were.
And now Tang Siyuk had mistaken me for Medicine Immortal’s heir.
I was from the East, and clearly powerful. But that alone wouldn’t have made him think I was Medicine Immortal’s heir…
Then it clicked—the final clue was the scent of poison.
Dok So-gong’s residual poison aura.
The poison qi that Skybreaker had absorbed from Dok So-gong had fooled Tang Siyuk.
“I never… I never even noticed. Not until you, the heir, intentionally released that poison scent to enlighten me…”
That wasn’t it at all. I just wanted to make a cool entrance and Skybreaker happened to emit sword energy, unintentionally releasing some of that lingering poison. Total improv.
Still, for him to catch that faint trace and draw this conclusion? I’d need to be very careful using Skybreaker in the future. If I used it like a signature weapon, I might draw unwanted attention.
“So that fan truly is the Black Parasol, isn’t it?”
“Indeed. To reclaim the item Medicine Immortal entrusted a hundred years ago… I came personally. I apologize that your clan lost it.”
As long as I played the part, Tang Siyuk did all the drum-beating and storytelling on his own. And from him, I learned something valuable—
The Black Parasol originally belonged to Medicine Immortal.
That explained its absurd performance.
[That’s impossible.]
“What is?”
[The Black Parasol is a treasure of the Demon Cult.]
‘Maybe Dok So-gong said that because he was a Demon Cultist?’
Still, Tang Siyuk was mistaken on one point—Medicine Immortal has no heir.
He ascended before he could leave one behind. After that fact was revealed in the story, his elixirs became rare collectibles and prices skyrocketed.
Hehe.
I couldn’t help but laugh inwardly.
Because right now, Tang Siyuk had created an identity for me.
Up to this point, I’d only vaguely said I was “from the East.” Now he’d attached a legendary name to it.
Tang Siyuk, fidgeting like a puppy who needed to pee, looked strangely adorable. You know what they say—even a pile of dog crap has its uses.
But that was just how I felt inside. On the outside, I kept up the dignified act—like a true heir of Medicine Immortal.
Tang Siyuk was practically trembling. No surprise. If I was truly Medicine Immortal’s heir, my status would easily be equivalent to a head of the Nine Great Sects. If they’re S-rank, the Five Great Clans like the Tang would only be A+.
My first priority now was locking his mouth shut.
[What, are you going to kill him? Want help?]
‘Are you a murder-addicted psychopath or what? Shut up.’
With a stern face, I said,
“Tang Siyuk.”
“Y-yes, Heir!”
“You know what you did wrong, don’t you?”
“Well, uh…”
I suddenly shouted,
“You fool!”
Tang Siyuk flinched, then collapsed to his knees.
“I-I’m sorry! Five days ago, I picked a fight while drunk! Ten days ago, I made a bet and tricked a subordinate! A month ago, I broke furniture at an inn—but I paid for it with silver! And also…”
Wow. Honestly? Kinda cute. Most martial artists, when they mess up, at least one person ends up dead. These were just petty mistakes.
He might be salvageable.
“And, uh, and…”
“Enough. That’s not your true mistake.”
I cut him off.
“Your mistake was judging people with your pitiful little mind. Before you knew the truth, you looked down on me and the martial artists of Taeryeong Prefecture, didn’t you?”
“Guh!”
Tang Siyuk covered his mouth like he’d just been exposed.
Of course. Most young martial artists think like that. Yun Yeopja was the strange one—not that he’s even “young” anymore.
“Remember this, Tang Siyuk. The Martial World is vast, and people are many. Never be arrogant.”
Tang Siyuk’s ears turned bright red in embarrassment. Guess he’s the type whose ears show it. He nodded deeply.
“Understood, Heir! I’ll never act arrogantly again!”
“And one more thing. Don’t call me ‘Heir.’”
“Huh?”
“I was heading west on an important mission. Reclaiming the Black Parasol was incidental.”
“Then… please let me help!”
“No. This is a secret mission of the East. If my identity is exposed, the mission will be jeopardized.”
“So that’s why you’ve kept it hidden… Does Master Yun know?”
“Yun Yeopja is a good man. But he knows only that I’m from the East.”
For some reason, Tang Siyuk looked pleased to hear that.
“In any case, don’t act rashly. And never reveal anything beyond the fact that I’m from the East. Understand?”
“Yes, absolutely!”
“And this Black Parasol…”
“Of course! Of course you should keep it, Heir—no, Young Master!”
God, he’s falling for it so hard it’s starting to make me feel guilty.
[You are a bad guy.]
“…Hey?”
[But Tang Siyuk’s worse. Getting duped like this? Tch. That’s the Martial World for you.]
‘Young martial artists are always like this.’
That’s how the world works—everyone’s tricking or getting tricked. With his personality, he didn’t stand a chance against my salesperson-trained acting and silver tongue.
And with that said, this wasn’t over yet.
“Tang Siyuk. You carry a poison pouch, don’t you?”
All poison-using martial artists carry a poison pouch. Dok So-gong did too.
“Yes, of course, but…?”
“Hand it over.”
Once you catch a sucker, you squeeze them for everything.