Episode 112: Chusam

The man who had come to see Dang Mujin was impersonating Gwiui. This meant Dang Mujin had to consider two perspectives: his own, having discovered someone impersonating his master, and Gwiui’s, the one being impersonated.

The priority, of course, was Gwiui’s perspective, not his own.

And if the Gwiui he remembered were here, he would never have killed this man.

With a sigh, Dang Mujin released his grip on the sword’s hilt.

“What’s your name?”

”…Chusam.”

Chusam’s face showed a flicker of confusion. Asking for a name and letting go of the sword in such a situation seemed to imply he wouldn’t be killed.

“Are you going to spare me?”

“Yes. If it were my master, he wouldn’t have killed you.”

Chusam’s legs, which had been standing firm, began to tremble. The small tremor grew until he collapsed to the ground, sitting down heavily. It was a stark contrast to the composed demeanor he had shown until now.

Chusam had been able to maintain his composure when facing Dang Mujin not because he wasn’t afraid, but because he had resigned himself to certain death. A death he couldn’t escape, no matter what he did.

In the martial world, nine out of ten people caught impersonating a renowned figure end up dead. The one who survives is usually left in a sorry state.

Yet Chusam had survived, and he considered this a miracle.

Dang Mujin helped Chusam to his feet, grasping his right hand.

“Sorry about your nose and left hand.”

“No need to apologize. Considering I was impersonating a martial artist, I’m incredibly lucky to get away with just this. My face wasn’t much to look at anyway, so a crooked nose isn’t a big deal.”

“Since things turned out this way, why don’t you stay for dinner? You should at least explain yourself to those who came all this way.”

Dang Mujin started walking, and Chusam limped after him.

When Dang Mujin brought Chusam back to the village, Dan Seol-young and Namgung Myung were preparing dinner. The preparation was simple, just laying out some dried provisions on a large leaf, a common sight in Guangdong.

Dan Seol-young looked at Chusam and asked Dang Mujin, “Things seemed tense earlier. How come you brought him back with you?”

“It just turned out that way.”

Neither Dan Seol-young nor Namgung Myung had any objections to Dang Mujin’s decision. Unlike Dang Mujin, they had no personal grudge against Chusam.

The four of them shared a modest meal, with the conversation naturally revolving around Chusam.

“You mentioned earlier that you met Master Gwiui. How did that happen?”

Dang Mujin spoke in a somewhat informal tone, feeling awkward because Chusam was at least twice his age.

He knew that people of higher status or martial artists often spoke informally to their elders, but it wasn’t something he was used to. Yet, given the circumstances, suddenly switching to a formal tone felt strange.

Chusam, however, didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he seemed more accustomed to being spoken to informally.

“I was just a third-rate warrior. During a skirmish between the escort agency I worked for and a band of thieves, I ended up with a broken leg and a hole in my stomach, waiting to die. That’s when Gwiui appeared out of nowhere and saved me. Then he vanished. That was it.”

Their connection was surprisingly simple. Gwiui had likely forgotten Chusam’s face within days.

“So you decided to impersonate him? That seems odd.”

“At first, I had no such intention. But when I returned to the escort agency and tried to go back to work, I found myself terrified of picking up a sword.”

Dan Seol-young interjected, “Why were you scared? As an escort, you must have had plenty of fighting experience.”

Chusam shook his head.

“Even on an escort mission, you rarely have to fight. Usually, you just pay a small toll to any bandits you encounter. The problem arises when some of them cause trouble even after taking the toll… Anyway, I was too scared to continue as an escort. That’s when I thought of Gwiui. I figured becoming a healer might be a good idea.”

“That couldn’t have been easy.”

Dang Mujin commented, and Chusam nodded.

“Right. I thought I could learn medicine by helping out at a healer’s house, but such opportunities were rare. They wouldn’t share their family secrets… So I gave up and started following herbalists around. They knew a bit about medicine. I saved up money little by little and bought medical books to study.”

“That must have been even harder.”

Chusam nodded again.

Medical texts passed down through generations are written simply, but well-known ones like the ‘Shanghan Lun’ or ‘Neijing’ are nearly impossible to learn on your own.

The reason is simple: they’re difficult. Even among those who call themselves healers, many haven’t mastered these texts. It was unlikely Chusam could have fully understood them through self-study.

Dang Mujin understood why Chusam’s medical skills were lacking.

His knowledge was a jumble of bits from medical books, remedies learned from herbalists, and folk medicine passed down orally. It might take several generations of experience and record-keeping to establish a proper medical practice. But for now, Chusam becoming a true healer seemed nearly impossible.

Chusam muttered, “Gwiui could save someone with a hole in their stomach, but I struggle to treat even a small boil. Sometimes, no matter how hard I tried, people would still die. Eventually, I figured I’d be better off learning to be a wandering monk, so I started following one around.”

Chusam was a third-rate warrior, a quack doctor, and a wandering monk.

While he might not have been much of an escort or healer, he seemed to have taken to the life of a wandering monk quite well. He recited Buddhist scriptures without stumbling.

But Namgung Myung was more interested in the fourth aspect of Chusam’s life that he hadn’t mentioned.

“I heard you also dabbled in thievery. Did the life of a gentleman thief appeal to you?”

“Not at all. I’ve never stolen anything.”

Chusam’s firm denial left Namgung Myung looking quite disappointed.

What had he been expecting? Surely he wasn’t planning to teach Chusam how to steal.

“Really, not even once? There are quite a few people who claim you stole from them.”

“That’s because many people who gave me things ended up dying.”

Chusam paused before continuing.

“As I said, I’m a quack doctor. In places with real doctors, there’s no work for me. I can only work where doctors refuse to go or have abandoned people. If no one survives, there’s no one to say they gave me something in exchange for my help. Gifts or payments for my efforts often end up being labeled as stolen goods.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Besides, I have no reason to steal. People are most generous when they’re on the brink of death. Even the stingiest person becomes generous when faced with their mortality. I deal with the most generous people, so why would I need to steal?”

“That makes sense.”

“I know many call me a thief or a grave robber. But I don’t blame them. Selling the belongings of the deceased is suspicious, no matter how you look at it.”

Chusam seemed to be sharing his innermost thoughts for the first time, looking remarkably at ease.

Dang Mujin pondered how his master would have handled this situation if he were alive.

The answer was simple, and Dang Mujin called out to Chusam.

“Chusam.”

Hearing his name, Chusam turned to look at Dang Mujin.

“I understand your circumstances, but I can’t let you continue impersonating my master.”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t be so shameless as to ask for that. I’ll probably just continue as a wandering monk. Maybe I’ll shave my head and become a fake monk instead of a fake doctor.”

Dang Mujin shook his head.

“No, that’s not what I mean. I’ll teach you medicine. So you can treat patients under your own name, not my master’s.”

Listening to Chusam’s story, Dang Mujin recalled a healer named Yang Heun, known as the ‘Divine Healer.’

Yang Heun possessed the most renowned medical skills in the world but never shared them with anyone.

Chusam, however, was the complete opposite. His skills were lacking, but he was willing to share what he had with anyone.

There was no overlap between the two. Only one could truly be called a healer. If he had to choose, Dang Mujin believed Chusam deserved the title.

Just as a man who doesn’t forge metal can’t be called a blacksmith, someone who doesn’t treat patients can’t be called a healer.

Most importantly, Dang Mujin had the ability to provide Chusam with what he needed.

“Chusam. Have you heard of Yang Heun, the Divine Healer?”

“Even though I’m a quack, I know the names of the Three Great Healers. Though I never thought I’d meet one.”

“No, you can. I can teach you the Divine Healer’s skills.”

Dang Mujin thought that if Chusam learned Yang Heun’s medicine, the people of the Central Plains would finally meet a true healer.

Of course, Chusam responded with disbelief, as if it were the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.

“Representative Tang, weren’t you a disciple of the Ghost Doctor? How can you claim to teach the skills of the Divine Healer?”

“I’ve mastered the medical techniques of the three greatest doctors in the world and possess all their medical texts.”

Namgung Myung was already aware of this. He had overheard a conversation between Ha-ryeong and Tang Mujin when he first met Ha-ryeong in Junggyeong.

However, Dan Seol-young, who had been unaware until now, was taken aback and exclaimed, “What? How do you have all the medical texts of the three great doctors?”

”…You didn’t know? I thought you were aware.”

“How would I know that?”

“You saw the Book of All Diseases in the clinic, didn’t you?”

”…Was that book really that significant?”

Dan Seol-young’s hands trembled as if she had just heard something shocking.

‘Maybe my husband is more extraordinary than I thought…’

While Dan Seol-young was still processing this revelation, Tang Mujin turned to Choo Sam.

“If you’re interested in learning medicine, follow me. You’ll inherit the Divine Healer’s techniques and train many disciples. We’ll spread the true art of healing across the land, replacing the fake Ghost Doctor with the real healer, Divine Healer Choo Sam.”

Tang Mujin paused to catch his breath and then asked, “Decide now. Will you come with me?”

It was an offer that required no lengthy deliberation. Choo Sam nodded, as if entranced.