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Chapter :13
The Weakest of the World’s Strongest Village
“Have you, by any chance, seen an elderly man in his mid-sixties, around seven cheok tall, wearing robes with light-blue lapels and cuffs?”
“Hmm. Can’t say I have.”
“······.”
Namgung Gu turned to Kang Yu.
Kang Yu shook his head.
“Thank you for your time.”
The two left the tent.
That made it their twenty-fifth dead end.
Namgung Gu let out a sigh.
“This feels like searching for a single grain of sand in the desert.”
As he grumbled, Namgung Gu glanced at Kang Yu’s hand.
The boy’s soft-looking hand was holding a small piece of cloth.
“Are you really sure you can find anything with just that?”
“Of course! I told you, it’ll work. We’re halfway done, so let’s check the rest.”
“······.”
Namgung Gu clicked his tongue awkwardly.
The piece of cloth belonged to their missing clan leader, Namgung Cheon.
Kang Yu insisted on taking it along, claiming he could track the clan head’s scent.
But even if that were somehow true, would it really work here?
This riverside area was open and windy.
Most of the fortune-telling tents were made of thin canvas, air flowing freely through.
Even if Namgung Cheon had been here two weeks ago, how could anyone trace him by scent alone?
And even if, by some miracle, they did—what if the fortuneteller didn’t remember him?
Namgung Gu had asked those exact questions before, word for word.
Kang Yu had only replied calmly:
“I told you, I have my ways.”
“······.”
Sighing again, Namgung Gu entered the next tent.
This one was larger than the others, though the contents were much the same:
Talismans, paintings, jade pendants, carved stones, wooden mandarin ducks, and so on.
A typical tourist fortune-telling shop.
Namgung Gu called toward the empty counter.
“Anyone here?”
A middle-aged man wearing a tanggeon cap stepped out from behind the display.
He eyed the two from head to toe.
“Father and son?”
“No.”
“Uncle and nephew, then?”
“No.”
“Then are you two—”
“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but we’re not here for a reading. We just have a question.”
The fortuneteller’s face instantly soured.
“What is it?”
He looked like he just wanted them gone.
Namgung Gu repeated the same description he’d given countless times.
“Have you seen a man, mid-sixties, around seven cheok tall, robes with light-blue lapels and cuffs?”
“You mean—have I seen someone like that?”
“Yes.”
The man snorted.
“Listen, do you know how many people pass through Soho in a single day?
If I remembered every one of them, do you think I’d still be stuck here doing this?”
Another standard response.
Namgung Gu gave his usual counterpoint.
“Perhaps, but most visitors here are young couples.
An elderly man would stand out. You might have noticed him.”
“Hmm.”
The fortuneteller nodded slowly.
“Well, when you put it that way… still, I don’t recall anyone like that.”
Another dead end.
Namgung Gu looked to Kang Yu without much hope.
“He says he doesn’t remember.”
“Sniff. Sniff-sniff.”
“······.”
This time, though, Kang Yu was moving around, sniffing at the cloth and the tent itself.
“Sniff.”
Then his nose froze midair.
“I smell it.”
“Excuse me?”
Kang Yu, who had even crouched to sniff the dirt floor, looked up.
“I definitely smell it.”
The fortuneteller sniffed his own sleeve.
“Smell what?”
Kang Yu brushed the dust from his knees and walked toward the counter.
He met the man’s eyes.
“You’re lying, aren’t you?”
“Huh?”
“You’re lying.”
“What are you—”
Namgung Gu stepped in.
“Wait, Kang Yu, you’re saying you really caught the clan head’s scent from that cloth?”
“Yes.”
“For real?”
“I told you already. Yes!”
“······.”
Hard to believe, but it wasn’t the first unbelievable thing the boy had done today.
Namgung Gu tried to defuse the situation.
“Even if that’s true, sir here might simply not remember.
It’s not fair to accuse him so bluntly—”
“No.”
Kang Yu looked around again and inhaled deeply.
“The scent’s stronger here than on the letter.”
“What?”
“The smell of the vermilion ink on his letter was faint.
But the scent of the clan head here—it’s much stronger.”
“···?”
Seeing Namgung Gu still confused, Kang Yu frowned.
“That means the clan head wasn’t here two weeks ago.
He was here much more recently.”
“What?”
At that, Namgung Gu turned to the fortuneteller.
After a lifetime working in the Namgung Clan’s outer affairs, he could read faces better than anyone.
But the man behind the counter truly looked baffled—no hint of deceit or guilt.
Still, Kang Yu’s tone was firm.
“At least ten days ago. Maybe five. The clan head was definitely here.”
The fortuneteller shook his head.
“What nonsense are you spouting?”
“You’re still lying.”
“I said I’m not!”
As the man barked, Kang Yu suddenly began talking about something completely random.
“When I was four—maybe five—I used to climb Mount Jangbaek a hundred times a day.
If I didn’t, Granny Dang wouldn’t feed me.
One day, I only climbed ninety-nine times, but I was starving, so I said I’d done all hundred.
Old Man Cheon asked if I was telling the truth.
I lied. He put his hand on my forehead, and somehow he knew.
I went hungry for ten days after that.”
“What on earth are you—”
“Just a second.”
Before Namgung Gu could stop him, Kang Yu stretched out his hand.
The fortuneteller was yanked toward it as if by invisible force.
“T-telekinesis…!?”
Namgung Gu was stunned.
The fortuneteller, in a different way, was terrified.
“W-what are you doing?!”
Veins bulged on the back of Kang Yu’s hand.
The fortuneteller’s eyes rolled back white, drool spilling from his mouth.
Black vapor began to rise from his body.
Kang Yu placed his hand on the man’s forehead and spoke quietly.
“Are you sure you’ve never seen the clan head of the Namgung family?”
From the fortuneteller’s mouth came a distorted voice.
“I… know nothing…”
The veins on Kang Yu’s hand thickened.
His skin darkened to black.
“Really?”
“I…”
“!”
Namgung Gu’s eyes widened again.
“Th-the Demonic Soul-Seizing Art…!?”
To dominate a person’s spirit—such soul arts were exceedingly rare,
their effectiveness so great that most in the martial world considered them mere legend.
And the one known true art of that kind was the Demonic Soul-Seizing Technique,
part of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art of the Heavenly Demon Sect—
a secret known only to the sect master himself.
“H-how could the Young Dragon Lord know such a thing…?”
Namgung Gu’s mind reeled.
The black vapor filled the tent.
The fortuneteller convulsed, eyes white.
Meanwhile, Kang Yu’s voice turned low, otherworldly.
“Tell me the truth. You did see the clan head, didn’t you?”
“Namgung… Clan… Namgung Cheon…”
“!”
“He was here, wasn’t he?”
“He was…”
“When?”
“Two weeks ago… and ten days ago…”
“Twice?”
“Yes…”
“Where is he now?”
“······.”
“Where is he now?”
“······.”
The black aura thickened.
Kang Yu’s eyes inverted—whites turned black, blacks turned white.
“Answer me. Where is he now?”
“H-human pillar… Mandarins…”
“Human pillar? Mandarins? What does that mean?”
“Human pillar… Mandarins…”
The shadowy air pulsed unnaturally,
and Namgung Gu swallowed hard.
“Human pillar… Mandarins…”
“Mandarins…?”
That last word sparked something in his mind.
The carved mandarin duck ornaments—every shop had them,
but this one’s felt… different.
Namgung Gu scanned the display shelves.
There they were—carved from fragrant cypress wood,
but unlike the others, these ducks were back-to-back, tails touching.
Mandarin ducks were supposed to face each other, symbols of marital harmony.
A strange design, indeed.
Namgung Gu grabbed one and twisted its head.
Click.
Then another. And another.
He turned them all so they faced each other—
Thud!
The counter behind the fortuneteller shifted, revealing a hidden opening leading underground.
“It worked!”
But there was a problem—Kang Yu’s eyes were still inverted,
his body surrounded by lingering black haze.
Namgung Gu knew the Heavenly Demon Art devoured its wielder’s mind the longer it was used—
“Oh. Huh.”
With a soft exclamation, the black vapor vanished.
Kang Yu’s eyes returned to normal.
He released the fortuneteller, who collapsed unconscious.
“Wow, I kept smelling something weird, and it turns out the door was over there!
How’d you find it?”
“That’s… never mind that. Are you all right?”
“Huh? Why wouldn’t I be?”
Kang Yu carefully leaned the unconscious man against the counter.
“Let’s go.”
“······.”
Without hesitation, Kang Yu jumped into the hole.
Namgung Gu looked between the gaping pit and the drooling fortuneteller,
then shook his head.
“Unbelievable… just unbelievable…”
And then he jumped in after him—
deciding it was best not to think too hard about the Young Dragon Lord anymore.
