Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang

If a typical drinking gathering is lively and boisterous, the atmosphere at this particular gathering by the pond was anything but typical—it was eerily silent.

There was no funeral taking place, yet the drinking session had inexplicably turned solemn.

And the reason for this unusual silence?

It wasn’t because it was a formal drinking gathering with high-ranking guests.

No, the true cause was the single bottle of alcohol that had been brought to the table.

”Well then, I’ll go first. I trust you’ll stand guard for me.”

”Of course, don’t worry and drink. We’ll keep watch.”

”It’s only natural to provide protection when someone is circulating their Qi.”

I had thought that, even if the liquor contained a drop of medicinal essence, it was still alcohol and would be consumed smoothly. But would martial artists ever let even a single drop of elixir go to waste?

Even if the amount of medicinal energy infused into each drink was minimal, they were extracting every last bit of it to enhance their internal energy.

As a result, instead of clinking glasses together, an odd spectacle unfolded—whenever one person drank, the remaining three stood guard, ensuring their safety as they circulated their Qi.

”Khh... This is excellent. Just one bowl is worth months of internal energy. It’s sweet, truly sweet.”

The Iron Cavalry commander opened his eyes after finishing his circulation, his voice filled with joy, prompting the other three to react with excitement.

”Oh? It’s really that effective?”

”So, it’s confirmed to be a mid-grade elixir. The energy is rich. Very rich.”

”I’m glad to hear you’re satisfied.”

”This household has a truly remarkable son-in-law. He managed to refine a Golden-Furred Wasp King into an elixir. I’ve never even heard of such a thing before!”

”Hahaha, my son-in-law is quite outstanding, isn’t he?”

Seeing the guests overjoyed, my father-in-law beamed with pride.

Hearing them praise their son-in-law so much, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction myself.

Following the Iron Cavalry commander, each guest took turns drinking and circulating their Qi, with my father-in-law being the last. Finally, as the process concluded, the heavy silence lifted, replaced by a lively atmosphere filled with the guests’ joyous chatter.

”By the way, we’ve consumed something precious. It would be improper not to pay for it, don’t you think, General Maeng?”

”The Governor of Sichuan is right. Elixirs are meant to be compensated for. Taking them for ★ ★ free would surely bring misfortune.”

”Indeed. In the martial world, it’s an unspoken rule that one must always pay a price for consuming an elixir.”

Listening to their conversation, I recalled a similar unspoken rule in my past life—when adopting a living creature, even if it was just for a symbolic amount, one had to pay at least a small sum.

It seemed the martial world had a similar principle when it came to elixirs: one must always offer compensation.

‘That’s actually a great custom.’

After all, a person who loves free things too much is bound to go bald.

As I nodded in agreement internally, the conversation continued.

”Then, since the three of us have consumed such a fine elixir, we should each present a gift to this household’s son-in-law. After all, he even made medicine for me before, so I owe him quite a bit.”

The conversation had started as a simple gesture of repaying me for the elixir, but before it could progress further, it veered off track.

The moment the Governor of Sichuan mentioned taking medicine, the other two showed concern.

”Medicine? Are you unwell?”

”Wait, are you sick?”

While my father-in-law was aware of the situation, he couldn’t help but show an awkward expression.

After all, the Governor of Sichuan had been whining about his condition, which had led me to concoct the Ji-dam Pill for him. However, the man had failed to follow my usage instructions and had nearly gone to pay his respects to the King of the Underworld.

”Ahem...”

Glancing around, as if making sure no one else was listening, the Governor of Sichuan leaned forward toward the table and spoke in a hushed tone.

”It was a medicine to invigorate a man’s vitality. I’ve tried many remedies in the past, but none have compared to this one. Of course, it has some toxicity, so one must be careful when taking it, but the effects are astonishing. I even took in a new concubine because of it.”

”!”

”!”

At the end of his explanation, both of the other men’s faces lit up with visible exclamation marks.

Moments later, the three of them turned to look at me in unison.

I smiled knowingly.

I didn’t even need to look directly at them to recognize the greedy gleam in their eyes.

”I’ll inform the apothecary to prepare some for you before you leave. However, you must take it cautiously.”

”What!?”

”Are you serious!?”

With that, the drinking session transformed into an uproar of excitement, and the previously interrupted conversation resumed its natural course.

”I mean, isn’t it enough that this young man shared his elixir with us? And now he’s even packing some medicine for us to take home? Hahaha.”

”This son-in-law is truly remarkable! What is my own son-in-law even doing with his life?”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

”Not only have we been treated to an elixir, but we’re also getting medicine to take home. We must compensate him generously. Hahaha!”

The three middle-aged men, now referring to the virility tonic as an elixir, laughed heartily.

Having given them what they considered the ultimate gift, the drinking session quickly turned into a chorus of praises directed at me.

In the end, the conclusion of their discussion was clear—they each wanted to give me a gift.

”Let’s do this. We’ll ask what this young man needs or wishes for, and then among his requests, we’ll grant what we can.”

”An excellent idea, Governor.”

”A very wise suggestion.”

”Indeed. So, is there anything you need? Or something you desire? Tell us what you want, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Their proposal was straightforward—if I listed what I needed, they would choose something among my requests that they could fulfill.

”How could I possibly ask for anything? I was merely being a good host to my household’s guests...”

I feigned modesty, attempting to refuse.

However, as expected, the three of them frowned and spoke firmly.

”Don’t say such things, young man. An elixir’s effects are worthless unless a price is paid.”

”That’s right, that’s right.”

”Come now, don’t be shy. Speak freely.”

Somehow, rather than repaying a debt of gratitude, it felt more like they were performing a ritual to ward off bad luck because of the elixir’s effects. But by now, I was quite used to this kind of atmosphere.

So, as always, I gave my usual answer.

Of course, I rarely actually received compensation for my requests. But this time, I had a feeling I might actually get something in return.

My usual answer was always about venomous creatures or spiritual beasts. However, since information about spiritual beasts was rare, no matter how many times I asked, I never gained much from it.

‘Cho, Bini, your dad is by the pond. Could you both come over here?’

When explaining something, it was always best to show rather than tell.

After asking the two to come over, the sky began to darken.

The Head of Qingcheng Sect, who had instinctively looked up at the sky, seemed to think it might rain. But when he saw what was actually happening, his face paled, and his hand shot to his sword.

”H-hah?!”

Reacting to his startled expression, I looked up as well—sure enough, Cho had arrived first.

As the centipede slithered down from the sky, the other two guests, confused by the sudden reaction, turned to look. Then, as soon as they realized what was happening, they, too, leapt up from their seats and backed away.

”W-what in the world?!”

”A c-centipede?!”

-Tssrrt?

And then, from the entrance of the pond, another dark figure emerged.

A massive, chitinous body reflecting light as it skittered forward at high speed—Bini had arrived.

-Tssssssssrrrrr.

”T-two of them?!”

”A s-spiritual beast?!”

My two daughters had arrived, each taking their place beside me. With all the love and affection in the world, I embraced them both and rubbed my cheek against theirs before speaking.

”I have a fondness for raising venomous and spiritual creatures. If you’ve ever heard any unusual rumors or stories, even minor ones, I’d love to hear them.”

‘If you’re truly grateful, then hand over information on venomous and spiritual creatures.’

The three of them exchanged glances, blinking in stunned silence.

***

Once they had recovered from their initial shock, it was General Maeng of the Iron Cavalry who spoke up first.

He had been staring at Cho and Bini for a while, deep in thought, before suddenly clapping his hands as if recalling something.

”Ah! That’s right! Young man, have you ever heard of the salamander?”

”The salamander? You mean the amphibian?”

‘Salamander? Which one?’

Tilting my head in confusion, General Maeng repeated himself.

”Oh, most people just call it a Crying Salamander.”

”Ah! Crying Salamander! Of course, I know it!”

The moment I heard that name, I practically jumped to my feet.

It might have been an overly excited reaction for a formal gathering, but I simply couldn’t help myself.

Crying Salamander was the common name for the Chinese giant salamander, the largest amphibian in the world, growing up to 1.8 meters in length.

These massive salamanders could be found in both Japan and China, but the largest ones lived in China.

With their large, wrinkled bodies and flat heads, they looked like soggy mops. And when frightened, they would secrete a thick, sticky liquid.

Despite their Chinese name being written in Hanzi, it had a rather unique pronunciation. This was because, during mating season, these creatures made cries that sounded like a human baby wailing—hence the name Crying Salamander.

In Korea, they were called Chinese giant salamanders, but their official name was Andrias davidianus, belonging to the Cryptobranchidae family of giant salamanders under the Urodela order of amphibians.

In my past life, I had always wanted to raise one, but China absolutely forbade their exportation—even though they cooked and ate them themselves.

Apparently, they were considered one of the ”Eight Rarities” in Manhan Quanxi (the Manchu Han Imperial Feast), making them an expensive delicacy.

I had heard stories of people trying to smuggle them into Korea through shady channels, only to get caught at customs. Even I had only been able to see one when I visited China in person.

I remember asking my guide in China to show me a Crying Salamander, only to be taken to a restaurant. I was utterly horrified.

‘That’s right! The Chinese giant salamander is native to this region! How could I have forgotten?’

Since I was in the Central Plains, it was only natural that I should try to raise a Crying Salamander. I had been too focused on other spiritual beasts and neglected the foundational creatures.

These things looked like old slippers—so ugly that they became adorable. Just imagining them made me happy.

‘I’m going to catch one the moment this drinking session is over!’

They were bound to be living here in Sichuan. I was determined to catch one as soon as possible.

Seeing the grin spreading across my face, General Maeng nodded knowingly before continuing with a smile.

”You really do love venomous and spiritual creatures. It wasn’t just talk, after all. Anyway, I personally love salamanders—I often have them cooked for meals.”

‘Gyaaaah! You savage! Murderer!’

I almost shot him a look of pure disgust, but I managed to suppress it and put on a polite smile.

This was, after all, the Central Plains—where they ate everything that wasn’t a table or a chair.

”I-I see.”

”Yes. So, every now and then, I send my servants to buy salamanders, or I go along with them myself. But I remembered something peculiar that one of the traders told me.”

”What was it?”

”They said that while salamanders are incredibly rare, there exists an even rarer variant—the Tiger Salamander.”

”Tiger Salamander?”

”Yes, Tiger Salamander.”

‘Not oh yeah, but Tiger Salamander? That would mean a tiger-patterned salamander...?’

As I tried to picture what the creature might look like, General Maeng continued his explanation.

”It has tiger-like markings, and anyone who approaches or touches it is said to die on the spot. The strangest part is that the victims’ bodies show no wounds or signs of poisoning.”

”Ohhh! Tiger markings!”

I racked my brain, trying to remember if there were any giant salamanders with tiger-like patterns.

There were some that were orange or yellow, like golden perch, but I had never heard of one like this before.

And if it was capable of killing people with a mysterious venom, it had to be a true spiritual beast.

I hadn’t expected much, yet here I was, receiving such valuable information.

Excited, I quickly asked, ”Do you know when and where it was last seen?”

”About ten years ago, here in Sichuan. Two fishermen who tried to catch it died on the spot.”

Ten years was quite a while, but if it hadn’t been captured, it might still be alive.

After all, Chinese giant salamanders were called giant for a reason—they were incredibly long-lived.

The average lifespan of a normal Crying Salamander was around 50 years.

‘Just you wait, Tiger Salamander or whatever you are. You’re already destined to become Fabre’s next prized catch!’