Chapter 1: The Dream
In Sichuan Province, there are two martial arts sects that belong to the Nine Great Schools.
The Emei Sect, a bastion of Buddhist martial arts alongside Shaolin, and the Qingcheng Sect, which carries the legacy of Taoist martial arts.
From the perspective of martial artists, the status of these two sects is quite similar.
However, to those who know nothing about martial arts, the story is different.
The Emei Sect is nestled on the Golden Summit of Mount Emei, a place that takes a good seven days to reach from Chengdu, the provincial capital of Sichuan. The nuns and monks of Emei are solely focused on spiritual cultivation and martial arts, showing little interest in anything else. They don’t even have a single branch office.
As a result, ordinary people in Sichuan have little interest in the Emei Sect. It’s rare for them to even have a conversation with a martial artist from Emei in their lifetime.
But the Qingcheng Sect is a different story.
Located just two days from Chengdu, the Qingcheng Sect has been proactive in expanding its influence, establishing three large branch offices within Sichuan.
Unless you live in a particularly remote area, you’re likely to encounter a martial artist from the Qingcheng Sect. It’s not hard to find someone who knows someone from the sect. It’s fair to say that the Qingcheng Sect dominates the region.
Among the Qingcheng Sect’s branches, the largest is undoubtedly the Chengdu branch.
The Chengdu branch of the Qingcheng Sect is home to dozens of Taoist priests and hundreds of secular disciples.
The branch is so large that many people rely on it for their livelihood, including the Tang family.
The Tang family has been a lineage of physicians for generations.
Up until Tang Mujin’s great-grandfather, they were just a small-town clinic. But things improved when Tang Mujin’s grandfather started dealing with the Qingcheng Sect.
Their income became stable, and their reputation soared because they treated the esteemed martial artists of the Qingcheng Sect.
What more could a physician ask for? It was a decent life without greed.
Tang Mujin had no complaints about his father’s respected life as a physician. He planned to follow in his father’s footsteps and continue the family business.
His father, Tang Jeseon, shared the same thoughts. He taught Tang Mujin medicine with the intention of passing on the family trade.
However, Tang Mujin had yet to treat any patients.
Though he had sufficient medical knowledge, he lacked experience, and patients preferred the seasoned Tang Jeseon over the young Tang Mujin.
Tang Jeseon was still in his prime, full of energy and vigor.
Thus, Tang Mujin’s role was mostly menial tasks.
For instance, he would venture into the deep mountains to procure herbs from gatherers.
At this moment, Tang Mujin was visiting one such herb gatherer.
The gatherer, Jong Gwak, handed Tang Mujin a bundle and held up one finger.
“One silver coin.”
Tang Mujin peeked into the bundle and grumbled.
“Isn’t this less than usual?”
“Check the bottom of the bundle. Do you know how hard it is to find Chuanlianzi and Sangpyocho in this weather?”
“I know. I was just saying.”
Tang Mujin handed over a silver coin to Jong Gwak. It was a steep price for a bundle of herbs.
But considering the value of the herbs Jong Gwak provided, it was actually a bargain. Jong Gwak was a gatherer who wouldn’t even glance at common herbs like kudzu or duckweed.
In truth, a physician’s skill is only half the equation; the variety and quality of their herbs make up the other half.
Tang Jeseon understood this well, which is why he sent his son to Jong Gwak twice a month.
The round trip from Chengdu to Jong Gwak’s hut took a full day.
Most people would find it bothersome, but Tang Mujin enjoyed this errand.
Jong Gwak was easy to talk to, and visiting him often resulted in a nice side income.
Tang Mujin casually probed Jong Gwak.
“Got anything special this time?”
“Sure do.”
A fortnight ago, Tang Mujin had received a handful of venison jerky from Jong Gwak. It was top-notch, perfectly seasoned and dried.
A month ago, they shared a pheasant Jong Gwak had hunted while searching for herbs. They had shared rabbit meat so many times it was hard to count.
“What is it this time?”
“Mushrooms.”
Jong Gwak pulled out a few dried mushrooms from his pocket.
Tang Mujin’s face crumpled. Dried mushrooms were a decent snack, but they didn’t compare to the meat he had been hoping for.
“What kind of mushrooms? No leftover jerky or rabbit meat? I even brought some good wine this time.”
Tang Mujin grumbled, but Jong Gwak grinned confidently.
“You don’t know what you’re looking at. These mushrooms are much rarer than jerky.”
“Really?”
Tang Mujin was a physician. He knew all the medicinal mushrooms and most edible ones. But these mushrooms were unlike anything he had seen before.
“Are they some kind of delicacy? I’m not really into mushroom dishes…”
“No, they’re not for the taste. These are special mushrooms.”
“Special? Are they some miraculous medicine? Like something that grants a year’s worth of inner strength?”
Jong Gwak squinted at Tang Mujin.
“If they were that valuable, I wouldn’t show them to you. I’d hide them away and sell them to a martial arts master.”
“Then what are they?”
“They offer a unique experience. Follow me.”
Jong Gwak led Tang Mujin into his hut. He sliced the dried mushrooms into small pieces and handed a handful to Tang Mujin.
“The only downside is the taste. Swallow them quickly.”
“If they don’t taste good and aren’t healthy, why eat them?”
“You’ll see once you try.”
With that, Jong Gwak tossed a handful of the sliced mushrooms into his mouth and swallowed them down.
He grinned at Tang Mujin, as if daring him to back down.
Tang Mujin, full of youthful bravado, didn’t want to be outdone by his peer.
So he tossed the mushrooms into his mouth. An indescribable bitter taste filled his mouth.
He almost spat them out but forced himself to swallow.
But nothing happened.
”…They just taste awful. What’s so special about them?”
“Just wait a bit. You’ll find out soon.”
Jong Gwak lay back on the floor. Tang Mujin did the same. They chatted leisurely.
They talked about trivial things, like wanting to talk to a pretty girl in the village below or how there was a trap set for pheasants that might yield some meat next time. Just idle chatter.
After about half an hour, Tang Mujin felt something strange.
“Whoa, what’s happening?”
“Feeling it now?”
His fingertips tingled slightly, and his body felt pleasantly heavy.
It was similar to the feeling of being tipsy, yet distinctly different.
His vision blurred, and he saw vibrant colors swirling before him. He could taste and smell delicious foods he hadn’t eaten in ages.
“What is this?”
“They’re hallucinogenic mushrooms. I find them occasionally.”
“That’s incredible…”
It was an indescribable sensation.
A relaxed yet euphoric feeling. A slight boost of confidence, as if he could accomplish anything.
Suddenly, Tang Mujin felt a twinge of anxiety.
“There’s no harm to my body, right?”
Tang Mujin asked, and Jong Gwak chuckled from where he lay.
“Nothing to worry about. Just don’t tell your father.”
“Of course, I won’t…”
Time passed, and the effects of the mushrooms began to fade.
Judging by the sun’s position, about an hour had passed.
He regretted that this strange sensation was ending.
Tang Mujin picked up another mushroom from the pile.
Jong Gwak waved his hand in protest.
“Don’t. There’s no benefit in overdoing it.”
“Are you just being stingy?”
“Not at all. They’re hard to sell, and they spoil quickly, so there’s nothing to be stingy about.”
Tang Mujin grinned at Jong Gwak, mimicking the earlier look that dared him to back down.
“Then there’s no problem, right?”
Tang Mujin promptly swallowed the mushroom. It was twice the amount he had eaten before.
Jong Gwak looked at him with a mix of disbelief and concern.
“You know, I can’t guarantee what’ll happen. I’ve never eaten that much myself.”
“It’ll be fine.”
Tang Mujin replied confidently and closed his eyes.
Soon, he felt as if his entire body was sinking into the ground.
Just moments ago, he had been lying down, chatting with Jong Gwak. But now, Tang Mujin found himself in a bustling city.
Yet it was no ordinary city. Every building was carved from stone, and all the people were dwarves.
Not just any dwarves.
They were so short that they barely reached the chest of an average person. But their arms, legs, and torsos were twice as thick. Their faces and chins were covered in thick beards that half-concealed their upper bodies.
Tang Mujin noticed how close the ground seemed. It was as if he had become a dwarf himself.
He raised his hands. They were thick and stubby, just like the dwarves around him.
He should have been startled, but he felt strangely calm. As if he had been a dwarf all his life.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder from behind.
“Grombel, what are you doing, just standing there?”
“Huh? Oh, right.”
Grombel? Is someone calling me?
Of course, that’s my name.
Grombel snapped back to reality. What was I doing again?
The strange name, Tang Mujin, kept swirling in his mind. But after a few vigorous shakes of his head, the memory of that unfamiliar name faded away like mist.
“Get it together, Grombel. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance.”
“I know.”
Today was not the day to be absent-minded. Today was the day Ironmaul Forge was selecting a new blacksmith.
How many dwarves are there who don’t dream of becoming a blacksmith at Ironmaul Forge?
Grombel clenched his fists tightly. Today, he had to stay calm and show off his skills.
He entered Ironmaul Forge with his friend by his side.
He gave it his all, and a few days later, he received the news that he had been chosen as a blacksmith at Ironmaul Forge.
From then on, he swung his hammer to his heart’s content every day.
Grombel’s skills improved rapidly. After about a hundred years of work, even the three or four-hundred-year-old dwarves couldn’t call him a rookie anymore.
The name Tang Mujin had long since vanished from Grombel’s mind.
He thought he would live like this forever, until one day, he felt someone shaking him.
“Hey, are you going to get up or not?”
Grombel lifted his head. A stranger was looking down at him.
Wait, why do I think he’s a stranger? It’s Jonggak. We were just eating mushrooms and chatting together.
His thoughts were jumbled. Tang Mujin responded a bit dazedly.
“Uh… what?”
“How long are you going to lie there like that?”
Tang Mujin clutched his head.
The memories of Grombel the dwarf blacksmith and Tang Mujin, the son of a noble family, were all mixed up.
He couldn’t tell if Grombel was dreaming of being human or if Tang Mujin was dreaming of being a dwarf.
Is this what they call the butterfly dream?
Jonggak looked down at Tang Mujin with a disapproving expression.
“I told you not to eat so much. You stuffed yourself and then just collapsed. I thought something was wrong.”
Feeling sheepish, Tang Mujin glanced outside.
The sun was already setting. He must have been out for at least an hour.
But that hour didn’t feel long. In fact, it felt absurdly short.
He had spent over a hundred years in the dream, so how could just an hour feel long?
As Tang Mujin staggered to his feet, Jonggak asked, “Heading out already?”
“Yeah, I should.”
“Alright then. See you in a fortnight. I’ll have some pheasant or rabbit ready, so don’t be late.”
“Sure.”
Tang Mujin gathered his bundle of herbs and hurried towards the city. His mind was still in a fog.