Episode 288: The Spark

The group often stopped by villages to grab a meal and rest for the night. With over fifty people, securing enough food was no easy task.

The monks from Shaolin and the members of the Beggars’ Sect had no intention of causing harm, but the villagers were understandably wary of such a large group of martial artists.

To ease their fears, Tang Mujin would leave a small gift for the village.

Not a material reward that would soon be used up, but something that would provide lasting help.

In other words, medical knowledge.

As Tang Mujin prepared to leave the inn, Hong Geolge asked, “Heading out again?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Whenever Tang Mujin set out, Hong Geolge naturally followed. Normally, Namgung Myung and Hyun Gong would join them, but lately, they were preoccupied with their own tasks.

Hyun Gong was busy teaching Seolhwa the language of the Central Plains, while Namgung Myung was honing his skills to fend off surprise attacks, even sacrificing sleep.

The Blood-Faced Wolf had been attempting ambushes under the cover of night, but in the dark, Namgung Myung was always one step ahead.

Three times now, the Blood-Faced Wolf had tried to sneak up on the sleeping members, only to be caught by Namgung Myung and forced to flee.

Namgung Myung’s vigilance was invaluable to the group, and it was a source of pride for him to test his skills against such a formidable opponent.

While Hyun Gong and Namgung Myung were occupied, Tang Mujin visited local clinics, sharing his medical knowledge and tending to the more serious cases.

This wasn’t so much a repayment to the villagers as it was his nature as a healer.

As they wandered in search of a clinic, Tang Mujin asked Hong Geolge, “Why do you tag along? You could rest if you have nothing else to do.”

“Learning medicine might come in handy someday.”

“Do you think you can learn just by watching?”

“Of course. I’m better than most village doctors.”

Hong Geolge’s voice brimmed with confidence.

In truth, Tang Mujin’s friends had some knowledge of medicine. They weren’t master healers, but as Hong Geolge claimed, they were certainly better than the average village doctor.

Namgung Myung, Hong Geolge, and Hyun Gong had spent a lot of time at the Tang family estate, surrounded by physicians. They had picked up enough through observation to mimic a doctor’s work.

Moreover, they had the advantage of learning medicine with a foundation in martial arts, understanding the human body from both perspectives.

Finally, Tang Mujin found a clinic and exchanged a few words with the young doctor treating patients.

That was enough to take the lead in the conversation and gain the opportunity to demonstrate his medical skills.

When Tang Mujin showcased his skills, the reactions were always split.

Quack doctors, eager to hide their ignorance, would nod silently, avoiding questions or requests for guidance.

To them, medicine was just a means to an easy living, so Tang Mujin would share a few common remedies.

Even simple treatments could save lives, as not all deadly illnesses required complex cures.

On the other hand, those genuinely interested in medicine eagerly absorbed Tang Mujin’s teachings. The doctor in this village was clearly the latter.

After observing Tang Mujin treat and prescribe for a patient, the young doctor lowered himself in gratitude.

“Thank you!”

Tang Mujin studied the young doctor’s appearance.

He seemed just past thirty, unusually young for a doctor.

Few at that age would choose the difficult path of medicine over an easier life, facing skepticism from others. It required determination and relentless effort to gain recognition.

Tang Mujin asked, “What is your name?”

“Wang Bu. It means ‘to become wealthy,’ though my path is quite different.”

“I see. Brother Wang, where did you learn medicine?”

“I picked it up from various villages, like a beggar.”

“Have you thought about studying medicine more formally?”

“I have, but the opportunity hasn’t come.”

As soon as Wang Bu finished speaking, Tang Mujin handed him a gold coin.

It was a fortune for a doctor in a remote area, and Wang Bu stiffened with tension.

Tang Mujin said, “Use this for travel expenses and visit the Tang family estate. You can learn the most advanced medicine there.”

Wang Bu hesitated at the offer.

“The Tang family estate? I’m not sure I’m skilled enough to go there…”

He seemed to have heard of the Tang family estate.

In fact, Tang Mujin hadn’t met a doctor recently who didn’t know of it, even beyond the Yellow River to the north.

“The Tang family values attitude over skill. They care about how serious you are about medicine, so there’s no need to worry. You’re not lacking in skill, Brother Wang.”

“How do they gauge one’s seriousness about medicine?”

“Simply by the fact that you made the effort to come to the Tang family estate.”

In short, if you seek them out for knowledge, they won’t turn you away.

Wang Bu laughed heartily.

“Alright. But you never know how things might turn out. Could you tell me your name? I might be the first doctor to get turned away, but if I say I was referred, maybe they’ll let me stay.”

Tang Mujin reached into his robe, pulled out a needle from his case, and handed it to Wang Bu.

“Show them this needle and say Tang Mujin sent you.”

Wang Bu’s eyes widened twice. First at the sight of the needle, finer than an ox’s hair, and then again as he recalled where he’d heard the name Tang Mujin.

“Tang Mujin…!”

As a young doctor familiar with the Tang family, he had suspected, and his guess was right.

Wang Bu trembled with excitement at his unexpected fortune.

“I’ll definitely visit. I’ll finish treating my current patients and head straight to Sichuan.”

“I’ll see you in Sichuan.”

With that, Tang Mujin concluded the conversation and left Wang Bu’s clinic.

Hong Geolge followed silently, deep in thought.

“What are you thinking about?”

“That there’s a lot to learn.”

“Medicine? You should study it seriously.”

“No, I mean your skill at subtly revealing your identity and impressing others.”

”…Do I look like you? Don’t twist things.”

Lately, Hong Geolge had been growing anxious.

According to the original plan, he should have already demonstrated his skills to the other members of the Beggars’ Sect.

But things had taken a turn. The Shaolin monks’ Thirty-Six Arhat Formation was so solid that there hadn’t been any fights.

‘Should I just show off the power of the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms? No, that would be too embarrassing…’

Lost in thought, Hong Geolge followed Tang Mujin back to the inn.

The next evening, Tang Mujin’s group arrived near the Guanglang Sect.

As expected, the Blood-Faced Wolf was nervously circling the area.

It was clear he was cornered, but his reaction was unexpected.

Shin Seung frowned.

“Still not coming? What a coward.”

Most sects would defend their grounds with their lives if threatened.

But the Blood-Faced Wolf, despite being the sect leader, showed no intention of approaching. He seemed to value his life too much.

The group had come to the Guanglang Sect not to burn it down, but to draw out and eliminate the Blood-Faced Wolf. Things had taken an unforeseen turn.

To make matters worse, it didn’t seem like he would come even if they waited.

Namgung Myung asked Shin Seung, “What will you do?”

“We’ve come this far, we can’t leave empty-handed. We’ll have to set it on fire as promised.”

Just then, a loud shout echoed from afar. It was the Blood-Faced Wolf.

“Cowards! Come out of the village!”

His intent to lure them out was obvious.

It was laughable for him to call them cowards when he himself was too scared to approach. The image of him with one ear missing, his head wrapped in cloth, made it even more so.

‘He must have known it would come to this.’

Before setting the fire, they searched the Guanglang Sect for anything valuable. There were no rare manuals or treasures; the Blood-Faced Wolf had likely hidden them.

But the buildings remained. The grand structures of the Guanglang Sect.

It was hard to imagine how many misdeeds had been committed to build such a large sect.

“The buildings are far enough apart that the fire won’t spread to others.”

“I agree.”

After a quick survey, the fifty-odd members gathered to decide who would set the fire.

No one was eager to step forward. Setting a building on fire was a drastic measure, and the idea made everyone uneasy.

Outside, the voice of Hyeolmyeon Gwangrang rang out again.

“Stop right there! If you continue like this, I won’t hold back any longer! Don’t think I’ll be as merciful as I’ve been until now!”

The crowd chuckled, dismissing his words as nonsense.

Throwing daggers, shooting arrows, sending rogue warriors to fight, sneaking up to kill someone in their sleep—were those supposed to be acts of patience and mercy?

Hyun Gong whispered to Dang Mujin, “Why don’t you take the lead, like the seasoned veteran you are?”

“Veteran, my foot…”

In the past, Dang Mujin had once locked assassins in a building and set it ablaze. Compared to that, this situation was nothing. Setting fire to an empty building seemed trivial.

But before Dang Mujin could act, Shin Seung volunteered for the dirty work.

“The one who suggests it should do it,” he said.

Shin Seung tossed a log into the campfire, then walked around the compound, setting each building alight. The small flames quickly climbed the pillars, reaching the roofs, casting a red glow as they slowly engulfed the structures.

Hyeolmyeon Gwangrang’s voice was thick with anger. “I warned you! There’s nothing left for you to take from me! Whatever happens next is on you!”

Hong Geolgae sneered, “That guy’s got a real talent for playing the victim. You’d think he lived an honest life.”

Hyun Gong, well-versed in the psychology of such people, added, “There are those who forget their own misdeeds and only remember the slights and losses.”

The fire spread slowly, wrapping around the Gwangrang Gate. The monks from Shaolin and Dang Mujin’s group remained calm, but the Beggars’ Sect members seemed genuinely pleased. To them, this was a promising start to avenging their fallen comrade, even if Hyeolmyeon Gwangrang still lived.

The group watched leisurely as the Gwangrang Gate turned to ashes, then began retracing their steps. Their thoughts were aligned: how to lure out and eliminate Hyeolmyeon Gwangrang.

Yet, no brilliant plan emerged. How do you chase down a coward with such high martial skills?

After a day’s journey back, they stumbled upon a strange sight.

The village they had left two days ago came into view. In front of it stood a large zelkova tree, and something was hanging from it, swaying in the breeze.

Suppressing a sense of foreboding, they approached the tree.

Nine bodies hung there, not just one.

A monk murmured, “The five on the left are the innkeeper, the staff, and the cooks. Who are the other four?”

The Beggars’ Sect members answered, “The next two are the ones who gave us food.”

Dang Mujin’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the two on the far right. The young doctor Wang Bu and the patient Dang Mujin had treated at Wang Bu’s clinic.

The bodies were in a gruesome state, as if they had been tortured before death. Cuts and wounds marred their limbs and torsos, and fresh blood still dripped from them.

Shin Seung’s brow furrowed with anger. “This is despicable. How dare they involve innocents in a martial dispute?”

The Beggars’ Sect members muttered, “Foolishness. This will only draw the authorities’ attention. Why create trouble for no gain?”

“I’ve heard the authorities have little influence north of the Yellow River. But they won’t just stand by…”

Yet, even if the authorities got involved, it was hard to imagine how they could punish Hyeolmyeon Gwangrang. If Shaolin and the Beggars’ Sect couldn’t catch him, how could the authorities?

Dang Mujin threw a flying wheel, cutting the ropes that held the nine bodies.

As they fell to the ground, writing in blood was visible on their backs.

“What does it say?”

Dang Mujin approached the bodies, piecing together the letters.

[Think about who is responsible for their deaths.]

With a cold expression, Dang Mujin stood up, resolving that the answer to that question would be carved into Hyeolmyeon Gwangrang’s own skin.