By the time the sun began to set the next day, we could finally see the boat we had docked ahead in the distance. Sister Seol cried out joyfully.
“So-ryong! The boat! Whew, we’re finally here. Who would’ve thought I’d be this happy to see a boat? Lately, the boat’s started to feel like home, you know?”
The others all nodded in agreement.
“She’s right. We’ve spent most of the year on the boat—at this point, it feels more like home than anything else.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever find a boat comfortable, but here we are.”
“Boats are cozy, right?”
Things had certainly improved compared to the time we’d forgotten about tents and had to sleep under the dew, but tent life was far from easy.
Our tents were woven from Yo-hwa’s silk. We’d pitch them, then layer the floor with more silk and lay a thick bed of reeds or dry grass—but even with all that, mornings were usually damp and freezing.
No matter how much we blocked the ground’s moisture, the condensation from our breath always turned the inside humid by dawn. And since we’d just crossed the Himalayas, not even Yo-hwa’s high-insulation silk could keep the cold out completely.
We tried wrapping fire-warmed stones in Yo-hwa’s silk to sleep through the night, but even those went cold by morning. Getting up was pure misery.
Most of our group hadn’t yet reached the stage of resisting heat and cold, so the cold was inescapable for everyone. No wonder they were so happy to see the boat—at least on the boat we could light a brazier.
‘So then... why am I not happy?’
Everyone was practically running toward the boat, eager to get back. But I couldn’t bring myself to be excited.
It was because of the Golden-Furred Wasp Kings who had visited yesterday.
When I asked Cheongwol about it, she said it didn’t seem like Ranghu had sent them. But those wasps had clearly come to me yesterday to deliver something like a warning—something bad was coming.
‘Please don’t tell me Ranghu’s sulking again...’
Thinking about the behavior I saw yesterday, I realized Ranghu always reacted badly to unmarried females.
If I brought Hwanji and Hwana aboard, she’d probably act up again.
The only silver lining was that—maybe—there was only one unmarried female?
‘Wait, no... two. Damn it.’
I tried to hope for the best, but the more I thought about it, the more grim it got.
There were two unmarried females: both Hwanji and Hwana.
-Buuuuuuuuuuu...
As we neared the boat, the sound of a ram’s horn blew across the valley.
A crew member must’ve spotted us and was blowing the horn to signal the others on board.
“So-ryong-nim is returning!”
As someone shouted, the clear sound of the horn rang out. And then came the sound of wings—Golden-Furred Wasp Kings again.
-Buuuung.
They flew from the boat and arranged themselves in two lines between the boat and us.
‘What... the hell is this?’
Where had they learned this? They lined up perfectly on both sides like they were welcoming us back with a formal reception.
Everyone in the group was stunned.
“Hahaha... what in the world...”
“Are they lining up to welcome us?”
“Wow. They’re definitely getting smarter.”
The group came to a stop in awe at the sight of the insects, and two of the wasps flew over to me, gently guiding me to the front.
Then, from the distance, a completely different pattern of wingbeats emerged.
-Buuung. Buung buung.
Bees usually buzz with fast flapping wings—about 190 beats per second, creating a ~190Hz sound.
That buzzing is used for communication, collecting pollen, and even vibrating flowers to shake loose the pollen. Higher frequencies—around 280Hz—are used for talking. But this sound... was unusually low.
It was like she was deliberately slowing down her wings.
So what was this?
If I had to describe it... it was like a bee trying to fly gracefully.
Not the usual straight-line bee flight, but something soft and fluttery—like Sister Jeokwol’s elegant butterfly drift.
That’s how Ranghu approached me.
She gently flew into my arms and hugged me tight.
“Oh—hey, hey, Ranghu! You’re here. You’ve been doing well, right?”
-Buuung.
She rested her jaw on my shoulder and gave me soft little taps like she had missed me.
Hwanji and Hwana were further back, but Ranghu didn’t seem to react to them at all.
‘Wait... seriously? The workers were just panicking for no reason?’
Maybe I’d worried for nothing.
The workers had spooked me for no reason. I was relieved.
***
-Buuung.
That night, Hwa-eun woke up to the low buzz and gentle breeze against her cheek.
“Hnng?”
When her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw it—a Golden-Furred Wasp King hovering where it definitely shouldn’t be, making a small gesture for her to follow.
“You want me to follow you?”
Before she’d met So-ryong, she might not have known what the gesture meant. But by now, she was used to such things.
When she spoke, the wasp nodded and turned to crawl away quickly toward the deck, careful not to wake the others.
Hwa-eun rubbed her eyes, threw on a robe, and followed.
When she arrived on the deck, she was surprised to find not just the wasp—but several others already waiting.
There were Cheongwol, Yo-hwa, Jeokwol, and Cheong-yu Sojeo, all gathered on deck.
Beyond the railing, Hwanji and Hwana were peeking inside.
“What... what is all this?”
Ranghu, seated regally on a chair, spotted Hwa-eun and flew over.
-Buuung.
Still keeping her buzzing quiet so as not to wake the others, Ranghu gently pulled Hwa-eun toward the chair and motioned for her to sit.
“You want me to sit here?”
-Buuuung.
Hwa-eun sat down, staring around at the others with a face that clearly said, what is going on in the middle of the night?
But Cheongwol, Yo-hwa, Jeokwol, and Cheong-yu Sojeo all returned her look with one of their own:
We don’t know either.
It felt like everyone had been dragged out unexpectedly.
Still, just in case, Hwa-eun sent a telepathic message to Cheong-yu Sojeo.
『What is all this about?』
Cheong-yu simply tilted her head and shook it—she had no idea either.
Then Ranghu took off and flew outside the boat, returning moments later with three pebbles she had picked up by the riverside.
Everyone blinked in confusion, unsure what she was doing, watching her movements closely.
Once back on the deck, Ranghu flew straight to Hwanji and Hwana.
-Buuuung.
She pointed with her left foreleg at each of the pebbles in turn, right in front of Hwanji and Hwana’s eyes.
It seemed like she was telling them to pay close attention.
When the two gave her a clueless nod, she flew over to Hwa-eun and placed one of the pebbles at her feet.
Then she picked up another pebble, gestured toward it as if to say watch closely, and dropped it in front of the group gathered together—Cheong-yu, Jeokwol, Yo-hwa, and Cheongwol.
-Buuung. Buuung.
It still wasn’t clear what she was trying to communicate, but Hwa-eun finally noticed that there was a distance difference between where everyone was placed.
She was seated in a chair all by herself, while the others were gathered together in one spot.
Meanwhile, Hwanji and Hwana were outside the boat entirely.
It felt... arranged. Deliberately spaced out.
‘Wait... is she trying to rank us?’
Then Ranghu pointed at the space between the pebbles, as if emphasizing the distance, and flew back to Hwanji and Hwana.
She held the last pebble in front of their eyes... and suddenly flung it far into the distance.
-Plunk.
Hwanji and Hwana looked absolutely bewildered.
-Shaa!?
-Shhhhh!
While they sputtered in confusion, Hwa-eun began putting the pieces together.
Was Ranghu trying to say: Hwa-eun is the top, the others are beneath her, and you two are waaay far down the hierarchy?
A warning, perhaps, not to overstep their bounds?
‘No way. She wouldn’t... right?’
Still, Hwa-eun shook the idea from her mind.
She’d been spending too much time around spirit beasts lately—she was starting to overthink everything.
***
The next morning, everyone gathered in the large cabin after an early breakfast.
The goal: not grave-robbing—excavation—of Hwamu-jin’s secret chamber.
Yeoncheon-senior had said he’d guide us once we reached the river. So everyone showed up one by one, without needing to be called.
“Senior, we’ve arrived at the river. How do we find Hwamu-jin’s burial chamber from here?”
I asked on behalf of the group. Everyone’s faces were glowing with anticipation.
Yeoncheon nodded and asked in return:
[Ah, right. Benefactor, are you familiar with a place called Hanga?]
“Hanga?”
[Yes. Back in the day, the Qiang barbarians lived there...]
The unfamiliar name had me tilting my head, but Hwa-eun and Ji-ryong answered at the same time:
“I’ve never heard of Hanga, but the Qiang tribe are a minority living in Sichuan.”
“Do you know any nearby landmarks, senior? Mountains or rivers? Place names ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) change, but mountains and rivers usually don’t.”
Since we were talking about a location from 300 years ago, the name could easily have changed with administrative reforms. After a moment of thought, Yeoncheon offered two reference points:
[It’s where the Yalong River curls around Mount Gongga.]
‘Mount Gongga? What kind of name is that...?’
The name struck me as odd, but Hwa-eun quickly followed up.
“If it’s where the Yalong River meets Mount Gongga... Which direction from that point, senior?”
[Where the sun sets.]
“Then it’s probably Jiulong today!”
Sichuan is Tang Clan territory.
Just hearing a rough description of the location was enough for Hwa-eun to pinpoint it immediately.
Yeoncheon nodded again.
[Jiulong, yes. The place where he’s buried is a rocky mountain—like nine dragons coiling around each other.]
“Then the Hanga from 300 years ago is almost certainly today’s Jiulong.”
It seemed Hwamu-jin’s secret chamber wasn’t far from where we were.
All we had to do was sail down from the Jinsha River and turn east to reach the Yalong.
The boat moved quickly. Three days later, just as Yeoncheon had described, we arrived before a rocky mountain with ridges twisting like nine dragons.
Pine trees grew from the rocks, and clouds clung to the peaks.
It gave off the distinct vibe of the Central Plains martial world.
[That’s the mountain, Benefactor.]
“Ooh. That’s where Hwamu-jin’s secret chamber is hidden.”
“So that’s the place?”
[He carved it into the mountainside, halfway up.]
The rocky cliffs were so steep a normal person couldn’t even dream of climbing them.
“How did he expect anyone to reach it? You’d have to be insane to even try.”
Of course, we had Yo-hwa, Cho, and Yeondu, so we could manage—but how were other people supposed to get up there to learn his techniques?
It was hard not to wonder if maybe he didn’t want to pass on his martial arts after all.
But when I asked, Yeoncheon waved off the concern.
[We’re not going to climb it. We’ll enter from the opposite side. Normally, you’d have to pass nine gates to reach it—but we’ll go straight to the chamber where Hwamu-jin died.]
“Ooh! As expected of Senior!”
‘Even spirit-beast seniors get cheat codes, huh?’
Skipping the trials and heading straight to the treasure? Now that’s privilege.
Once again, life proves that blood ties, social ties, and academic ties open all doors.
But the next morning, when we reached the back of the mountain—where Yeoncheon said the exit from the secret chamber lay—he slipped into a small cave hidden behind the rocks.
Moments later, he emerged with a troubled expression.
[The entrance inside is collapsed.]
“...Huh?”
[Looks like we’ll have to go through the nine gates after all.]
So much for the cheat code.
