TYDOFC 31

Chapter 31

“Where… am I?”

I slowly opened my eyes.

My head felt foggy.

My body was limp, like a sponge soaked with water.

“Ugh…”

But I couldn’t just keep them closed forever.

When I finally blinked them open, a faint mist wavered in my blurry vision.

It didn’t feel like ordinary ground fog — it shimmered, almost sacred.

And yet, at the same time, it was murky and acrid, like poisonous smoke.

Then—

“Shhh.”

Someone reached out and rubbed my stomach as if soothing me.

“Who’s… there…?”

No answer came.

I lowered my gaze to see the hand that was touching me.

It was small, with slender fingers — unmistakably a woman’s hand.

And in that moment, I realized I was dreaming.

The reason was simple.

“In this world, the only person who ever held me like this was Father.”

But this wasn’t his hand.

My father’s hands were not small or delicate — they were larger, rougher.

The hand caressing me now felt cold, distant from warmth.

That alone confirmed it — this had to be a dream.

Realizing that, I relaxed.

My body, heavy as a waterlogged cloth, sagged even more.

“Um… excuse me…”

I tried speaking gently to the woman.

Her face was veiled by the mist, indistinct.

All I could see was that small, pale hand reaching out from the fog to stroke my stomach again and again.

Still, she gave no reply.

But her silence came with soft, tender motions — an answer made of touch.

I lay limp in her arms, quietly accepting her touch.

“It feels… like a mother.”

If I had a mother, maybe she would have held me like this.

That thought made me resent the mist that hid her face.

“Who is she?”

Who was holding me so gently?

Who embraced me with such affection — treating me so tenderly, just like Father used to?

Carefully, I reached out a hand.

If I stretched far enough, I thought I could touch her face.

But—

“I can’t reach.”

My hand couldn’t touch her.

Suddenly, tears welled up.

I wept in the arms of a woman I couldn’t even identify, inside this dream.

Then, wiping my eyes with both hands, I muttered softly,

“Mom…”

I miss you, Mom.

I’ve tried to be brave, but I’m hurting. I’m tired.

Why did you leave me before I was old enough to even remember your face?

“Why, Mom…”

At that moment—

The woman’s hand, which had been softly stroking my lower abdomen, moved slightly upward.

And just like that, the sharp pain that had been gnawing through my body like a swarm of ants faded away — vanished as if it were never there.

My body felt light.

It didn’t hurt anymore.

I lifted my head to look at her face — but still, I couldn’t see it.

“Biya…”

Dang Jin-hyeon whispered in a voice choked with anguish, clutching Dang Bi’s small hand.

She was only eight years old — her hands were tiny.

Even with both her hands spread like maple leaves, they were smaller than his single clenched palm.

And those hands were trembling.

No matter how tightly he held them, the trembling wouldn’t stop.

Only Dang Bi herself could still that shaking.

At that moment, he hated himself — because there was nothing he could do for her.

She was his daughter.

And he, her father.

So how could he do nothing for his little girl?

“Biya…”

Dang Bi was in a state not unlike possession deviation — the inner energy backlash that occurs when cultivation goes wrong.

While circulating her energy according to the secret formula of the Honwon Dokche Divine Art, she had been attacked — her concentration shattered.

Dang Jin-hyeon ground his teeth as he stared at the small dagger lying beside her.

It was the weapon that had wounded her stomach.

The wound wasn’t even deep — the blade had grazed her rather than pierced her.

But because she had been in the middle of energy circulation, even that slight cut became deadly.

There was a reason why martial clans built their cultivation chambers deep and hidden — even a light disturbance during training could cause irreparable damage.

And she had been injured in the middle of training.

“Damn it…”

That tiny dagger had driven his little girl to the brink of death.

Every time he thought about it, fury surged through him.

If he could, he’d go out and find the one who did this — tear them apart with his bare hands.

But he couldn’t leave his daughter’s side.

He was terrified that if he did, something irreversible would happen while he was gone.

His small, frail daughter had turned the once-fearless Poison Lord Dang Jin-hyeon into the most cowardly man in the world.

Then—

“Step aside.”

A calm, powerful voice spoke as Dang Cheon-gi entered the room where Dang Bi lay.

Behind him stood Dang Sa-yuk, the head of the medical hall, who had gone to fetch medicine.

Dang Jin-hyeon bowed his head.

“You’re here, Father.”

Dang Cheon-gi examined the wound.

A faint trace of blood had seeped through the cloth bandage — not flowing, just staining.

That meant the external injury wasn’t serious.

His gaze then shifted to the girl’s pale face.

“The real problem isn’t outside.”

Her true danger lay within — internal injury.

Healing that was beyond even Dang Sa-yuk’s skill.

Her energy channels must have reversed; her qi and blood were in chaos.

To fix that with medicine would require not an ordinary healer, but the legendary Divine Doctor — long vanished from the world.

Except for that mythical figure, almost no one could save someone caught in such a severe energy deviation.

And to attempt it meant great danger — both for the healer and the patient.

Only a top-tier martial master would even dare.

Fortunately, the Sichuan Tang Clan had one such person.

“Everyone, leave.”

One of the Ten Great Masters of the Martial World,

The man known as the supreme master of poisons —

The Poison Sovereign, Dang Cheon-gi.

If anyone could try, it was him.

Dang Jin-hyeon knew this too.

So without another word, he gently squeezed Dang Bi’s hand, let go, and rose to his feet.

Soon after, Dang Jin-hyeon, Dang Sa-yuk, and the maids tending Dang Bi’s sweat all left the room.

Guards took up watch outside the door.

Only then did Dang Cheon-gi place his hand over her dantian.

Even he couldn’t guarantee success.

But there was no hesitation.

“Biya.”

He slowly channeled his qi into her body.

It was heavy and deep — utterly different from the girl’s own.

Like a grandfather’s touch, like the love of one who cherishes his grandchild — delicate and controlled.

But he was the Poison Sovereign.

No matter how gentle his control, to such a small child, his qi was like crashing waves.

If she was swept away, she would die. If she endured, she would live.

His energy surged through her meridians like a storm, and Dang Bi’s face grew even paler.

Still, he didn’t stop.

“Hold on, just a little longer.”

To stop now would reverse everything.

She had to overcome it.

Only then could she live.

He murmured quietly as he pushed more of his deep, heavy energy into her.

Twitch—!

At that instant, Dang Bi’s fingers moved.

Dang Cheon-gi knew it for certain.

“This… I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”

Nothing had ever unsettled him like this — and nothing ever would again.

Except, perhaps, for this one eight-year-old granddaughter of his.

While restoring her disrupted energy channels, he discovered something extraordinary.

Something he had never once encountered in all his years.

Something that should not exist in the body of an eight-year-old child.

Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

He wiped it with his sleeve.

It had been a long, long time since anything had made the great Poison Sovereign sweat.