Episode 12: Jueul Village

There was no proper path in the direction Hong Jusan had come from.

Endless rows of similar-looking trees stretched out, and the slopes seemed to go on forever.

“No wonder I got lost.”

Hong Jusan tried to lead Tang Mujin and Gwi through the forest, but it was clear to anyone watching that he wasn’t confident. Eventually, Gwi couldn’t stand it any longer and took the lead.

“Let me find the way. It’ll be faster.”

“You know the way?”

“I told you earlier, didn’t I? Jueul Village is about two hours from here. Of course, I’ve been there.”

Gwi strode ahead, and Hong Jusan and Tang Mujin followed. After about two hours of climbing up and down hills, they finally saw a small village surrounded by a modest fence.

The village was nestled in a small basin in the mountains, and it seemed the soil wasn’t too poor, as it wasn’t a slash-and-burn farming village.

Gwi looked down at the village and remarked briefly, “It’s grown a bit since I last saw it.”

Hong Jusan’s eyes widened in surprise. “It’s rare for outsiders to visit this village. When were you here? I’ve never seen your face before.”

“It’s been at least fifteen years since I last came to Jueul Village, so it’s no wonder you don’t recognize me.”

Hong Jusan nodded, mumbling something about fifteen years. Tang Mujin, however, had a different question.

“What brought you to this remote village in the first place?”

“No particular reason. Just wandering the world and happened to end up here.”

But why was Gwi wandering the world?

Tang Mujin thought about asking Gwi more questions but decided against it. Gwi’s lips were firmly shut, and there was no rush to pry since they would be traveling together for more than just a day or two.

The three of them entered the village.

The buildings were small but well-maintained, with no signs of neglect. The stray dogs and cats roaming around seemed to be in decent shape.

“For a village in the woods, it seems to be doing well.”

“Indeed. I remember seeing a beggar here when I last visited Jueul Village.”

Truly impoverished villages don’t have beggars. To be a beggar, there must be somewhere to beg from.

Hong Jusan scratched his head. “That beggar was probably my master. He said it’s been over twenty years since he brought me to Jueul Village.”

In a village with fewer than a hundred households, having a beggar is unusual.

Beggars tend to gather in large cities, and small villages are always short of hands. Hong Jusan and his master could have easily stopped being beggars if they wanted to.

However, the followers of the Beggars’ Sect often refused to work, claiming to uphold their traditions. Some even insisted that a beggar should not obtain food by any means other than begging.

To outsiders, this might seem strange, but if that’s how they choose to live, Tang Mujin had no intention of arguing.

As they wandered through the village, they noticed an unusual lack of people.

Even in broad daylight, the shops were closed, and the number of people on the streets could be counted on one hand.

“Looks like people are staying indoors because of the plague.”

“Yes.”

On the way to the village, Hong Jusan had explained why he was searching for a doctor.

An unknown illness was spreading, and even after treatment from the village doctor, people weren’t recovering completely.

Just then, an old man with a bushy gray beard approached them from a distance.

His eyes were lined with fine wrinkles, which, combined with his gentle demeanor, gave him the appearance of a sage. Only his shabby, dust-covered clothes revealed that he was a beggar like Hong Jusan.

The old man spoke to Hong Jusan.

“You said you were going to find a doctor, and you really did. For someone who’s never left the village.”

“I was lucky. It was more like they found me.”

“Which one of you is the doctor?”

“They both said they were doctors.”

The old beggar nodded at Gwi. “I think I’ve seen you before. Your name was—”

“Yi Chung.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right. I remember now. As I get older, I forget all sorts of things. I’m Hong Gyeon, known as the Hemp Field Beggar. I got the nickname because I spent so much time in the hemp fields.”

“Does this village grow hemp?”

The hemp Hong Gyeon referred to wasn’t ginseng or wild ginseng, but cannabis.

Even if not used for smoking, hemp was a versatile plant, and in larger villages, hemp fields were common.

Conversely, a small village like Jueul Village wouldn’t have hemp fields.

Hong Gyeon shook his head. “Jueul Village doesn’t grow it. Only those who need it cultivate a few plants.”

“Hmm.”

“Anyway, may I explain the situation on Jusan’s behalf?”

Gwi nodded.

“Seeing the patients will give you a better understanding.”

Hong Gyeon led the two doctors to a nearby house.

Inside, there were three people, two of whom were lying down, groaning.

It seemed the husband was taking care of his sick wife and child.

As soon as Hong Gyeon entered, he began to carefully wipe down the young boy’s body with a cloth. The boy was sweating so much that the cloth quickly became soaked.

The homeowner naturally took the cloth from Hong Gyeon and wrung it out. It seemed Hong Gyeon had been helping with the care for some time.

Hong Gyeon began his explanation.

“About a month ago, a few villagers started to fall ill. In spring, it’s common for people to cough, so we didn’t think much of it. But this year was different. People couldn’t get up easily, and their symptoms worsened.”

“And then?”

“The number of sick people increased. Now, more than half the village is ill, and nearly twenty have died.”

“There aren’t many healthy people left, it seems.”

“Those whose families weren’t affected by the illness have left the village to avoid the plague. The only ones left are the sick and their families.”

“You and your disciple seem healthy.”

“Fortunately, the illness spared Jusan and me. We considered leaving, but we couldn’t abandon the village we’ve lived in all our lives. So we’re helping the villagers.”

“Hmm.”

While listening to the conversation between Hong Gyeon and Gwi, Tang Mujin examined the patient’s condition.

When he touched the boy’s arm, he felt sticky sweat. It hadn’t been long since Hong Gyeon wiped him down, yet he was already sweating again.

“There’s a lot of sticky sweat.”

He lightly pressed the boy’s wrist with his fingers.

The pulse, which should have been strong, was barely detectable. After checking the boy’s hands and feet, Tang Mujin placed two fingers on his neck.

“Even considering his age, his pulse is fast and weak.”

He gently touched the boy’s ear. It was red and hot.

Though unconscious, the boy seemed uncomfortable, constantly shifting slightly.

“His hands aren’t hot, but his ears are. The heat inside his body can’t find a way out and is concentrated in his head. His limbs are restless and uncomfortable.”

After checking the boy’s breathing, Tang Mujin opened his mouth to examine his tongue. The coating was white and powdery.

Tang Mujin asked the boy’s father, “Has he vomited?”

“When he first got sick, he complained of a headache and dizziness and then vomited.”

As Tang Mujin crossed his arms and pondered, Gwi asked, “Do you know what illness it is?”

“The symptoms are damp-heat, rapid pulse, internal heat, restlessness, and vomiting. It’s definitely a type of epidemic disease.”

Epidemic diseases refer to fevers caused by harmful energy entering through the nose or mouth.

But even among epidemics, there are countless variations with similar yet slightly different symptoms, so no doctor would simply diagnose a patient with “an epidemic.”

It’s like pointing to a cow, a horse, and a wolf and saying, “These are wingless animals.”

The important thing is identifying which specific epidemic it is.

“Do you know the exact illness?”

“At first, I thought it was summer heat toxin, but it’s not.”

“Why not?”

All four people—Gwi, the boy’s father, and the two beggars—were focused on Tang Mujin’s response. He answered without hesitation.

“There’s no foul odor. When I first entered the house, I only smelled sweat, and even now, there’s none of the sharp smell typical of summer heat toxin patients.”

“Then what would you prescribe?”

“If left untreated, even if he recovers, he might become mentally impaired or blind. We need to reduce the heat concentrated in his head. Acupuncture on the Im-eup, Mok-chang, Jeong-yeong, Seung-ryeong, and Noe-gong points would be ideal.”

“And what about medicine?”

“For now, it’s not necessary. We should monitor the situation and then use Ophiopogon, Trichosanthes seed, Platycodon, and Fritillaria.”

Gwi chuckled. “You’ve read the classics well. Do you have needles?”

“Yes.”

“Then go ahead and perform the acupuncture.”

Tang Mujin took out a case of needles.

He had made them for Gwi, and before they set off the next evening, he had diligently crafted them. The only problem was that Tang Mujin had only ever been on the receiving end of acupuncture, never the one administering it.

Tang Mujin recalled the illustrations from medical texts and the memory of his father performing acupuncture on him.

He estimated the distance of five bu from the boy’s forehead to the hairline and positioned the needle.

“The Im-eup point should be around here…”

In his mind, he understood. But as with anything done for the first time, confidence was elusive.

Tang Mujin’s fingertips trembled slightly, prompting Gwei to step forward and clasp his right hand over Tang Mujin’s.

“Do you think I taught you the basics of energy circulation just to teach you martial arts?”

“What?”

“Feel it. Your sensitivity to energy and your precise control over it are gifts for a healer.”

A thin stream of energy flowed from Gwei’s fingertips, penetrating the back of Tang Mujin’s hand.

The energy moved from Tang Mujin’s hand to his fingertips, then gently entered the shallow part of the child’s head.

Though Gwei was the one manipulating the energy, he guided Tang Mujin’s energy along with his own.

Thanks to this, Tang Mujin could vividly sense the flow of energy as if he were channeling it himself.

Closing his eyes, Tang Mujin focused on the energy’s movement.

Gwei’s energy moved slowly and cautiously, careful not to disturb the child’s brain.

The energy flowed delicately, revealing the five meridian points across the child’s head and the dozens of smaller points within each.

With all the points clearly visible, Tang Mujin knew exactly where to place the needles. As he moved his fingers to begin, Gwei stopped him immediately.

“Not yet. It’s not time to insert the needles.”

“Then what should I do?”

“Feel the malevolent energy circulating within the child. When you insert the needle with your energy, observe how that energy reacts.”

Tang Mujin refocused his senses. Inside the child’s head, he sensed a dark, cloud-like energy.

This murky energy blocked the child’s meridian points, trapping the heat from the organs and limbs in the head.

“Do you feel the malevolent energy?”

“Yes.”

“Proceed with the needling.”

Tang Mujin carefully inserted a needle into the Im-eup point. The malevolent energy trapped there began to escape through the needle. The blocked heat started to stir.

Tang Mujin’s hands moved cautiously yet with newfound confidence. He placed needles in the Mokchang, Seungryeong, Jeongyeong, and Naegong points.

With the five points needled, he felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him.

Releasing the tension in his hands, Tang Mujin stood up.

All eyes were on the child’s face. No immediate change was visible.

The child’s father, not having expected much, maintained a somber and weary expression. A deep sigh filled the room.

Gwei spoke to the father, “Why so impatient? Just wait a little. You’ll see improvement.”

How long they waited was uncertain, but soon, subtle changes appeared on the child’s face. The once-red ears regained their natural color.

Moments later, the child took a deep breath. Inhale—

And then, a long exhale. Exhale.

The child’s breathing became noticeably more relaxed. The father touched the child’s forehead. It wasn’t completely normal, but the fever had undeniably subsided.

Without a word, the father bowed deeply to Tang Mujin.

Gwei patted Tang Mujin’s shoulder and whispered, “Now, you’ve truly become a healer.”

But Gwei’s words didn’t reach Tang Mujin’s ears.

He was solely focused on the sound of the child’s now peaceful breathing.