Episode 161: Mount Wudang

A middle-aged Taoist entered the reception hall, closed the door tightly, and began to speak with a serious expression about his condition.

”…You say the itch between your toes is driving you insane?”

“Yes. No matter how much I scratch until it bleeds, it doesn’t get any better. This itch is maddening. You, too, must know, given your mastery of martial arts, that if one’s internal energy flow is disrupted during practice, it can lead to a deviation. It’s not a trivial matter.”

The middle-aged Taoist, embarrassed by his condition, spoke in a voice that seemed to want to crawl into a hole, his face flushed red.

People often assume martial artists are in perfect health, but that’s only half true.

Their refined internal energy circulates through their meridians, cleansing impurities, so it’s rare for them to die from internal organ failure. However, unless they can completely clear their body’s energy pathways, they can’t avoid minor discomforts in their limbs.

Tang Mujin responded in a deliberately professional tone.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. It’s not as if you fell ill due to a lack of virtue or because of some wrongdoing. Besides, you’re not the only one with this issue.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“That’s how it is. Everyone suffers in silence, unable to voice their troubles.”

Martial artists often share similar lifestyles, leading to common ailments. The most frequent complaint is itching. Despite sweating daily, they can’t strip off their clothes due to decorum, leading to rashes where skin meets skin. Wearing tight shoes while practicing footwork causes athlete’s foot.

Tang Mujin continued his explanation.

“Even if it itches, don’t scratch the wounds. Remember to wash your feet daily. Most importantly, ensure air circulates between your toes while you sleep. Athlete’s foot and eczema thrive in warm, moist conditions, so counter them with the opposite.”

“Is that all?”

“Itching is a persistent symptom, so there’s no guarantee this will completely cure it.”

“Then what should I do?”

“If the itch doesn’t clear up in two weeks, visit the local physician and get prescriptions for Sanmuhwanggeumtang, Xiaofengsan, and Yiyibuzipaejangsan. Don’t take them all at once. Try one, and if it doesn’t work, move on to the next.”

Hearing Tang Mujin’s advice, the Taoist’s face filled with concern.

“Sanmuhwanggeumtang? I’m a Taoist who shuns material desires, so I’m not wealthy…”

“Don’t worry, it’s not that kind of gold. Twenty coins should cover ten days’ worth.”

“Oh, I see. Thank you.”

The Taoist left the reception hall with a bright face, as if the itch had already vanished.

The interesting thing about medicine is that while many physicians can treat serious illnesses like boils, stomachaches, or fevers, few can handle minor ailments well.

Many people are poor, and the threshold to see a physician is high. Unless one is quite wealthy, minor discomforts are usually endured.

As Tang Mujin tended to the Wudang sect’s martial artists, many were delighted. The Wudang sect members he treated were pleased, and even Hyun Gong, who brought Tang Mujin, seemed very satisfied.

While the name of the future head of the Namgung family carries more weight, in terms of practicality, it can’t compare to the Three Great Physicians of the world.

However, the happiest person was someone else—the physician in the village below Mount Wudang.

Since Tang Mujin didn’t have medicinal herbs, he only conducted examinations, acupuncture, and prescriptions, sending everyone to the village physician for the actual medicine.

The village physician was thrilled to sell so many prescriptions, and the scent of brewing herbal medicine filled the air in the village below Mount Wudang for the first time in a while.

This was a mutually satisfying arrangement for Tang Mujin as well.

He could examine patients without the hassle of preparing herbal concoctions, which was time-consuming.

‘When I return home, I’ll have to delegate the task of brewing herbal medicine to someone else.’

But who would take on the task of brewing herbal medicine? Tang Mujin imagined his future child taking on the role.

On the third day of Tang Mujin’s visit to the Wudang sect, he was preparing to leave Mount Wudang.

The martial artists of the Wudang sect who hadn’t fully recovered were taking their prescribed medicine, waiting for improvement, so the number of patients had dwindled.

Unless he planned to stay for another fortnight or month to monitor their progress, it was time to leave.

‘Leaving tonight seems a bit rushed… I’ll have lunch tomorrow and then depart.’

As Tang Mujin lounged around, a square-faced, solidly built Taoist approached him.

He hadn’t come for a medical consultation, but his face was familiar.

‘Wasn’t he the head of the Bojang Pavilion?’

Though Tang Mujin didn’t know what the Bojang Pavilion did, he could tell from the man’s demeanor that he held an important position.

Tang Mujin spoke with a calm expression.

“What brings the head of the Bojang Pavilion here? Is there something troubling you?”

The head of the Bojang Pavilion shook his head slightly.

“It’s not a health issue. Something far more important has come up, and I need you to come with me immediately. Namgung and Hong should come too. Do you know where Hyun Gong is?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Hmm. I see.”

“May I ask what this is about?”

Tang Mujin inquired, and the head of the Bojang Pavilion made a subtle expression.

“It’s a bit difficult to explain here. You’ll understand once you come along.”

With that, the head of the Bojang Pavilion left the reception hall first.

Hong Geolge got up quickly and spoke.

“I think I know. They’re probably going to show us a sword.”

“Oh, really?”

“You haven’t had any dealings with the head of the Bojang Pavilion on Mount Wudang, right? The fact that he’s being so secretive means it’s definitely related to someone higher up.”

Hong Geolge’s guess seemed to be correct, as the head of the Bojang Pavilion led Tang Mujin to the heart of the Wudang sect. There stood a building with a plaque reading “Hyuncheon Hall.”

Hyuncheon Sangje is a high-ranking deity in Taoism, an incarnation of the Primordial Heavenly Venerable, symbolizing the Taiji. A building named after such a deity would likely be where the sect leader resides.

Tang Mujin, Namgung Myung, and Hong Geolge followed the head of the Bojang Pavilion into Hyuncheon Hall.

At the far end of the hall was a sliding door, slightly ajar, allowing a glimpse inside.

Tang Mujin and Namgung Myung peered through the gap with keen eyes. They caught sight of an elderly man with long, white whiskers.

However, the old man’s posture seemed quite uncomfortable. It was a cross-legged position, yet not quite.

While many sect leaders of great martial sects are unique, Youngbo Jin-in was particularly exceptional among all martial artists.

Since entering Mount Wudang, Youngbo Jin-in had never left, not even stepping outside the Wudang sect’s gates more than ten times. He had never embarked on a martial journey.

For this reason, even among martial artists with broad knowledge, few had ever met Youngbo Jin-in.

‘Just as the rumors say.’

Tang Mujin stood on tiptoe, craning his neck to get a better look through the sliding door.

Youngbo Jin-in had no legs. To be precise, his trousers hung limply around where his knees should have been, due to a congenital disability.

Because he had no legs, Youngbo Jin-in couldn’t learn footwork or body techniques.

Yet, he was hailed as the greatest genius among the orthodox martial artists of the current era.

Youngbo Jin-in’s epithet was “The Supreme of Three Steps.”

He couldn’t defeat an opponent beyond three steps, but within three steps, no one could best him. None of the other Six Supremes disputed this, so Tang Mujin and his companions were somewhat excited.

However, at that moment, another voice pierced the air, not belonging to Youngbo Jin-in.

”…The Dragon of Medicine! That villain murdered my father and threw him off the Heavenly Cliff!”

“Yes, it’s a tragic affair.”

“My father was always proud to be part of the Righteous Heaven Alliance. We must punish the villain in the name of the Righteous Heaven Alliance…”

Inside Hyuncheon Hall were two people: Youngbo Jin-in and the head of the Taiyi Sword Sect. Tang Mujin and his companions froze.

’…Why is that guy here?’

Regardless of whether Tang Mujin and his companions stopped, the head of the Bojang Pavilion quietly opened the sliding door.

The head of the Taiyi Sword Sect was too engrossed in his passionate speech to notice the head of the Bojang Pavilion’s arrival.

”…Thus, even the talented Sword of the Ascending Dragon, Hyun Gong, met his end at the hands of the villain. The Sword of the Ascending Dragon’s potential was snuffed out because we failed to uproot the villain in time. Even now, the villain mocks the spirit of the Sword of the Ascending Dragon under the guise of the Dragon of Medicine, claiming to be one of the Three Great Physicians. We must make an example of him, restore justice to the martial world, and demonstrate the Wudang sect’s resolve…”

But something was off. The head of the Taiyi Sword Sect was speaking as if Hyun Gong were dead. Even stranger, he was accusing Tang Mujin of the murder.

Namgung Myung nudged Tang Mujin’s side.

“When did you kill Hyun Gong?”

“I didn’t kill him! We saw him just this morning.”

“Did you kill him after breakfast?”

Namgung Myung’s nonsense prompted Hong Geolge to chime in.

“You’ve already figured it out? Namgoong Myung, your deductive skills are impressive.”

“Ah, I knew it. The culprit should just surrender quietly.”

Already overwhelmed with a whirlwind of thoughts, the joke was ripe for misunderstanding by anyone who overheard. Tang Mujin cut in, slightly irritated.

“Stop spouting nonsense. Are you going to take responsibility if people get the wrong idea?”

It was only then that the Sword Master of the Taeui Sect turned his head, finally catching Tang Mujin’s quiet words.

The moment their eyes met, the Sword Master’s face turned to stone, his hands trembling with a clear fear.

A stark terror.

He didn’t seem like the man who would speak his mind even in front of a member of the Six Masters, like Young Bojin.

However, upon spotting the leader of the Baozhang Pavilion, the fear washed away from the Sword Master’s face, replaced by a look of pure joy.

“As expected of the Wudang Sect! You anticipated the situation and subdued the villains before I even arrived!”

“That’s not quite it. It was just a coincidence that the timing worked out.”

“Then it must be divine intervention!”

Young Bojin denied the Sword Master’s assumption, but the Sword Master showed no fear. With Tang Mujin’s group present, he seemed to consider punishment a foregone conclusion.

The Sword Master sprang to his feet, pointing an accusatory finger at Tang Mujin.

“Villain! Did you think you could survive after murdering my father and the Seungryong Sword?”

”…Didn’t we agree to avoid each other from now on?”

“Agree? Do you think you can escape divine retribution by relying on your paltry strength?”

“Divine retribution… Let’s move on. As for the former Sword Master, what are you talking about with Hyungong?”

“Heaven and earth know that you conspired to murder the Seungryong Sword!”

The Sword Master shouted with such fervor that he seemed almost deranged.

Tang Mujin was about to retort but sighed deeply, shaking his head. Everyone except the Sword Master seemed to be waiting for someone.

”…I don’t know what gave you the confidence to barge into the Wudang Sect, but your misdeeds end today!”

Just as the Sword Master shouted those words, Tang Mujin sensed someone approaching from behind.

The Sword Master was about to continue his tirade when he fell silent, his mouth agape as he stared past Tang Mujin.

Hyungong was cautiously entering the hall.

“What did you call me for… Ah!”

The Sword Master and Hyungong locked eyes, the same thought crossing both their minds. Why are you here?

Both were equally taken aback.

Hyungong’s legs moved in reverse, executing the Wudang Sect’s ultimate technique, Jeungrong, backward. His retreat was faster than most martial artists could sprint forward.

“Hyungong.”

But before Hyungong could completely vanish, Young Bojin called out to him.

Hyungong froze, trembling as he approached Young Bojin.

“Greetings, Master.”

Despite the situation, Young Bojin was not the main focus here.

Between the Sword Master, Tang Mujin, and Hyungong, an intensely awkward tension filled the air.

Young Bojin rubbed his hands together, his face full of anticipation.

“Now, let’s start the conversation again.”