Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang

“Crimson Poison Harpoon Snail. What a beautiful name.”

As I basked in the echo of naming my first great scientific species, the rain pouring down added to the solemn mood.

Then, from the inner gate of Podarlap Palace where we’d exited, I heard familiar voices.

“So, Senior! Huh!? Is that—?”

“Senior, everything went well, didn’t it?”

“So-ryong, you succeeded!? Ooh, incredible. It really is the Crimson Fruit...”

Turning around, I saw our group had come looking for me after the early morning commotion, and upon seeing the two snails perched on my shoulders, they all wore expressions of congratulations.

Seeing those unfamiliar snails on both shoulders, they must’ve realized I’d succeeded.

My shoulders were already puffed up from the thrill of contracting the two snails, but now it felt like they were lifting even higher—as if my shoulders had ascended to the summit of the Himalayas, to Everest itself.

“Yes, allow me to introduce them. The red snail here is named Yeonji, and the black one is Yeoncheon.”

Raising my shoulders slightly, I introduced the two to the group. They came closer, greeting the snails warmly.

Even though they weren’t human, everyone knew spirit beasts could be just as intelligent—so there was no bias. They introduced themselves as they would to people.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Do-ryong.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Eunbong.”

“Uh, I’m Hu-gae...”

Good. No prejudice at all—just as it should be.

I smiled with satisfaction, seeing how deeply the culture of companion venomous creatures had taken root in our group.

However, the warm introductions didn’t last long.

Yeonji and Yeoncheon had spotted Jaheo among the group.

In the sunlight breaking through the dispersing clouds, Jaheo’s bald, rain-slicked, gleaming head caught their eyes—and, frankly, even my eyes.

[Hng? It’s blinding. Huh?]

[How dare he stand among our benefactor’s people!]

They immediately reacted with hostility at the sight of Jaheo.

Venomous darts began slipping in and out of their mouths.

Quickly, I raised a hand to block their view.

“Ah, no, no—he may be a monk, but he’s from a place called Shaolin. How should I put this...? Ah! Yes, same ancestor, different parents? Something like that.

Look—his robes are completely different, right?”

At my explanation, they studied Jaheo closely.

Eventually, the differences I’d pointed out seemed to click. They both nodded.

[Hmm... if that’s the case.]

[Even within a family, you can have bad children. That doesn’t mean you punish all of them.]

Phew. That was close.

Just when I thought the situation had been defused, another issue popped up—one that provoked them even more.

Some of our group had greeted them a bit too casually, which ruffled their ancient pride.

[But you all look so young... Why are you speaking so informally upon first meeting us?]

[Indeed. You can’t be more than twenty years old at most... This is troubling.]

And it was true. These two were likely hundreds of years old.

Even if we were different species, from their perspective we were practically newborns.

Our group, rather than apologizing, looked shocked and incredulous at their words.

They weren’t offended—they just couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

After all, it was their first time speaking with a spirit beast, and hearing one inside their heads at that.

“W-what!? In my head... it’s talking!”

“I can hear voices!”

“Wait... is it them talking?”

From their lack of response earlier, it seemed Crimson Poison Harpoon Snail only spoke telepathically to those they chose. Now that they were included, the group was stunned.

“So-ryong! Is this what you meant when you said you talk with the creatures?”

“Well, not exactly the same, but close.”

“Ooooh!”

“Senior, you’ve been through some amazing experiences!”

As the group marveled at their first comprehensible conversation with spirit beasts, the snails continued in a disgruntled tone.

They were clearly annoyed that no one had apologized yet.

[Heh. We point out their rudeness, and they start talking about something else instead of apologizing?]

[Exactly. They’re supposed to be martial artists—what happened to Central Plains etiquette? Tsk tsk.]

Our group finally came to their senses and bowed in apology.

“Forgive us. We didn’t realize you were so senior.”

“You’re just so adorable... We didn’t mean to offend.”

“W-we apologize!”

Even the elite like the Dragon Fangs offered apologies. But the snails replied in a tone that made it clear they still weren’t pleased.

[Hmph! In martial etiquette, our seniority would far exceed yours. ‘Adorable,’ you say? How very inappropriate.]

[Back when Hwamu-jin was alive, this sort of thing was unthinkable.]

[Indeed it was.]

There it was—a full-on back in my day grumble. Clearly, they knew something about martial customs.

Did someone teach them about it?

I should ask them later who it was.

I was wondering just that when I noticed the rest of the group staring wide-eyed in disbelief.

They looked as if they’d just heard the name of a legendary figure.

And then came the stunned voices.

“Hwamu-jin!?”

“Y-you mean the Blade Sovereign Hwamu-jin from three hundred years ago!?”

“Blade Sovereign Hwamu-jin?”

I didn’t know much about martial history, so I tilted my head and looked at Hwa-eun, silently asking for an explanation.

But it was Hyung-nim who answered, wearing the same look he had when I first discovered a venomous creature.

“Hwamu-jin, the Blade Sovereign. A master who reached the Life-and-Death Stage three hundred years ago.”

“That’s right, So-ryong. A legendary master said to have reached enlightenment at the edge of death.”

“In all of Murim’s long history, only three have reached the Life-and-Death Stage. And Hwamu-jin was the only one who did so with a blade, Senior.”

“A man who carved his legend with a single blade!”

Even Ji-ryong and Hu-gae were practically spitting as they explained, which meant this guy was a really big deal. Then Yeoncheon, puffing up with pride, said:

[Yes. He was my friend. What now, then?]

The whole group instantly stiffened and bowed with utmost respect.

“We greet the Great Elder of Murim.”

“Respect to the Elder.”

“Greetings to Elder Yeoncheon.”

Everyone looked like they weren’t quite sure if this was real—but what could they do? He was a friend of a legend from three centuries ago.

Once the greetings ended, Yeoncheon tapped a section of his belly and said to the others:

[This So-ryong here is my benefactor. He’s no different than a brother to me—treat him with the utmost courtesy.]

At that, everyone’s faces twisted into expressions of utter disbelief.

***

Back at the lodging, the women were all vying to have either Yeoncheon or Yeonji perch on their hands.

“Elder, please come onto my hand.”

“No, please come to me.”

“Hwa-eun, isn’t it hard? Let your sister hold one of them.”

You’d think no one would want a sticky, mucus-dripping snail on them—but this whole fuss started because of something Yeonji said.

What a commotion...

Now that our own conversation was finished, I needed to give a quick report on the situation at Podarlap Palace and prepare to leave. Which meant I had to set Yeoncheon and Yeonji down and meet with the palace monks.

And that meant I had no choice but to hand them off to Hwa-eun temporarily.

But as soon as she held them and felt their slick, slippery texture, Hwa-eun involuntarily shuddered—prompting Yeonji to say something absolutely unbelievable.

[It might be a little uncomfortable because we’re sticky, but if you apply our mucus regularly, your skin can become as firm as if you’d mastered high-level external martial arts. That’s why we’re producing extra on purpose. Endure it.]

“R-really?”

[Of course. Didn’t you see the tree we were clinging to?]

“Oh, So-ryong told me. He said it was as hard as iron...”

[Yes. That was a dead tree. When our mucus is applied to living tissue—like human skin—it becomes soft as feathers but tough as steel. Hwamu-jin also appreciated the power of our mucus.]

“What!?”

Hwa-eun stared at me in disbelief, and I nodded slightly.

Even ordinary snails could make that kind of claim and back it up.

The mucus secreted by snails contains mucin, which helps heal and regenerate damaged skin tissue.

It also contains chondroitin sulfate, which promotes skin repair, and is rich in complex glycoproteins like hyaluronic acid, which provide excellent moisturizing effects.

And that’s not all.

It includes allantoin, which soothes skin and tightens pores—reducing irritation and protecting against external damage.

On top of that, it suppresses melanin production (which causes skin aging), brightens the skin, and thanks to glycolic acid, it even helps remove dead skin cells.

What does all this mean?

That snail mucus is one of the best cosmetic ingredients.

In my past life, snail mucin was famous in cosmetics and medicine for scar treatment and skin whitening.

It was manufactured in Korea and France. At one point, they sold snail cream in military PXs, and if a soldier brought home a jar, he was praised as the most filial son alive.

But Yeoncheon and Yeonji weren’t ordinary snails—they were spirit beasts.

Their mucus wasn’t just mucus. And judging by the tree they’d clung to, what Yeonji said wasn’t an exaggeration.

Which explained this entire scene.

“Is this really happening?”

I muttered in disbelief. Ji-ryong sent me a quiet voice transmission.

[Of course it is, Senior.]

[Huh? Why do you say that?]

[Do you know why women don’t usually train external martial arts?]

[I... don’t know?]

I tilted my head. I’d never heard of a reason.

Then came his hushed explanation:

[Because training external arts inevitably builds muscle and toughens the skin. Think about it—what man wants to embrace a woman with calloused, rugged skin?

That’s why women tend to avoid external training.

But this—it keeps the skin soft as feathers while preserving resilience. It’s a treasure. Especially for female martial artists.]

[Huuuuh!]

Indeed, for women, it was a priceless treasure.

Maybe I should go into cosmetics someday...

I began calculating potential prices in my head when Jaheo’s voice snapped me out of it.

“Senior, the monks at Podarlap Palace are waiting. Let’s go.”

He meant we should finally go meet with the palace leadership. And as expected of a monk, he seemed free of worldly desires.

While the women were too distracted to move, the men were clearly eyeing the mucus with greedy thoughts—wondering if they could sneak a bit on their hands. But Jaheo showed no such signs.

As expected of the most advanced post-cultivation Shaolin monk. That man’s Buddhist devotion is so strong, even priceless treasure doesn’t move him.

I gave him a respectful look and started to follow.

At that moment, I felt a sensation on my shoulder.

Looking over, I saw Jaheo patting it.

Why’s he being so friendly today?

“So-ryong, travel safely.”

“Oh, yes. I will.”

After walking a few steps alongside Jaheo, I [N O V E L I G H T] turned back as Hwa-eun called out to see me off.

Then I caught a glimpse of Jaheo quietly rubbing his scalp.

His bald head looked... shinier than usual.

...No way?

I glanced back at my shoulder—sure enough, traces of mucus.

Yeoncheon and Yeonji had been perched there the entire time, after all.

Rushing over, I asked Jaheo directly,

“Venerable Jaheo... your head?”

Startled, he looked guilty and gave a nervous excuse.

“Ah, Amitabha... There’s a Shaolin technique called Iron Head Art, but this humble monk never managed to master it...”

I said nothing for a while as we walked toward the inner quarters of Podarlap Palace.

I didn’t want to embarrass him—but he seemed to think I was upset. Halfway there, he bowed his head and apologized.

“F-forgive me, Senior... This unworthy monk was tempted by worldly desire...”

I silently scooped up the remaining mucus and handed it over to him.

It was fine—this much was nothing between us.

Then I patted his shoulder for a change.

I wasn’t sure if that Iron Head excuse was true, but thinking about it...

Scalp care is important, too.