Chapter 300: The Namgung Clan

Dang Mujin reflected on the condition of Gwang Yeom-ra.

“A deep sword wound on his side, and countless metal shards embedded in his back.”

Judging by how he fled while clutching his side, it was likely a severe injury that could have caused his insides to spill out. The number of metal shards piercing his flesh was probably not insignificant either.

“There’s a fifty-fifty chance he’ll die. Even if he survives, he’ll suffer for a long time.”

It seemed unlikely that Gwang Yeom-ra, in his critical state, would continue teaching martial arts to the rogue warriors or engage in further battles.

With nothing left to gain, the rogue warriors would likely avoid further conflict with the orthodox martial world.

Dang Mujin recalled a saying he had heard once.

“The Great War of Justice and Evil starts with a bang but ends with a whimper.”

The end of the war was approaching. Or perhaps it had already ended without anyone noticing.

Dang Mujin wasn’t the only one who thought so. Hyeon Gong and Hong Geol-gae were already preparing to return to Sichuan.

“Dang Mujin, have you packed your things?”

“Why the sudden rush to pack?”

“Why else? It’s time to head back to Chengdu.”

“That’s my home, not yours. Besides, I have unfinished business here. Just wait a bit.”

Unlike Hyeon Gong and Hong Geol-gae, Dang Mujin had no intention of leaving for Sichuan immediately. There was one reason: the city of Kaifeng was overflowing with patients.

While physicians might not excel at treating external injuries, there were still ways to help the patients.

Even if they couldn’t mend bones and flesh, they could manage the illnesses that followed the wounds.

More than three or four out of ten people with severe injuries would develop a fever.

Suddenly, their bodies would burn with heat, and their consciousness would blur. A skilled physician like Dang Mujin could certainly be of help in such situations.

And Dang Mujin wasn’t the only physician in Kaifeng.

Before the battle with the rogue warriors, Dang Mujin had met several physicians in Kaifeng. Some had stayed at the Tang family estate, and others had learned medicine from them.

Dang Mujin had advised them to leave Kaifeng, and most had followed his advice. However, two had chosen to stay behind.

Dang Mujin called them over.

“I have a question.”

“Yes? Oh, yes. Please, go ahead.”

“Why did you two stay in Kaifeng? I clearly advised you to leave before the rogue warriors arrived.”

The two physicians, who were almost old enough to be Dang Mujin’s father, hesitated, unsure of how to address him.

Finally, they answered.

”…But where would a physician go, leaving patients behind?”

Dang Mujin frowned.

“Fortunately, the situation resolved quickly this time, but getting involved in martial affairs can easily cost a physician their life.”

“We were aware of the risks.”

“And yet you stayed in Kaifeng?”

“We may be in danger, but it’s not as dire as the patients who are on the brink of death from their wounds.”

Dang Mujin shook his head in frustration, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. He felt both exasperated and satisfied.

Physicians are human too. There are times when they must compromise with reality.

It might be a small compromise, like charging a bit more for medicine to cover living expenses, or a significant one, like withdrawing from a battlefield to save their own life.

Dang Mujin didn’t think such compromises were wrong.

Yet, occasionally, there are physicians who refuse to compromise.

They choose to stay by their patients’ sides, even knowing the risks to their own lives. They find peace only when they can provide medicine to their patients, even if it means going without food themselves.

Dang Mujin found such physicians frustrating, but he couldn’t help but cherish them. They were clumsy, upright, and therefore noble.

He asked the two physicians, “What are your names?”

“Just call us Yang and Yeom.”

“Doctor Yang and Doctor Yeom, then. Where are you from?”

“Near the Heilongjiang River. We’ve been friends since childhood.”

The name of a distant region surprised him.

Heilongjiang was far to the north of Kaifeng, and even further east. Even Dang Mujin, who prided himself on his travels, had never been there and likely never would.

“Do you have families?”

Yeom answered, “Yes, but both Yang and I have the wanderer’s spirit, and our families understand that. Our wives and children have come to accept our travels. We’re not exactly good husbands or fathers. We just send money home occasionally.”

People said to have the wanderer’s spirit can’t stay in one place.

Some can’t bear to stay put due to their nature, while others wish to settle but can’t. Those with the wanderer’s spirit inevitably find themselves leaving for distant lands.

After wandering a few times, they accept their fate and roam the world without a fixed destination. The wanderer’s spirit is a kind of heavenly punishment.

“We learned medicine because of our wanderer’s spirit. We needed a skill to earn a living while traveling, and being a physician seemed the best option. Initially, we thought we’d just pretend to be physicians to make a living… but after thirty years, we’ve managed to do the work of one person between the two of us.”

“You’re being modest.”

Though they spoke humbly, their skills were quite advanced, enough to serve as esteemed guests in a noble household.

As they continued their conversation, Yang cautiously broached a topic.

“Master Tang, we have a request.”

“Yes?”

“Yeom and I once stayed at the Tang estate. At that time, the head physician mentioned there were medical techniques he couldn’t teach us.”

The head physician referred to Chu Sam.

There wasn’t an actual building called the Medical Pavilion, but people often referred to Chu Sam as the head of the medical division at the Tang estate.

“There are indeed such techniques.”

”…Could we learn them?”

Of the medical techniques Dang Mujin had learned, only a little over half were passed down through Chu Sam at the Tang estate.

The techniques of the Divine Physician were taught in full, but the techniques of the Demonic Physician were not taught at all. There was no intention to pass them on, as they weren’t meant to save lives.

The problem lay with the techniques of the Eccentric Physician.

Among these, the techniques for ordinary people were passed down alongside those of the Divine Physician.

However, some techniques were difficult to pass on. For example, using one’s internal energy to treat internal injuries in martial artists. Such techniques couldn’t be performed by someone without internal energy.

“It’s not that we don’t want to teach you, but even if we did, you wouldn’t be able to learn them. They require martial arts training and internal energy cultivation. Moreover, if the treatment goes wrong, you could easily incur the wrath of martial artists, so it’s risky to teach them.”

Most people would give up after hearing this.

But Yang and Yeom reacted differently.

“That’s fine. We still want to learn.”

“It won’t be easy.”

“Is it because of our age?”

Dang Mujin nodded.

“Yes. You know that the younger you start, the easier it is to cultivate internal energy.”

“We’ve heard as much.”

“Even if you start cultivating now, you won’t become like other martial artists. You’d be lucky to improve your constitution enough to reduce minor illnesses. But the training will be several times harder than for others. It’s not worth the effort.”

“It doesn’t have to be worth it.”

Dang Mujin smiled and continued his explanation.

“You’ll have to wake up at dawn, before the rooster crows, to practice breathing exercises. You’ll need to avoid hot foods and alcohol, and spend several hours a day training. Even then, you might not treat many patients. Opportunities to treat martial artists with internal injuries are rare. You might never use what you learn. Are you still willing?”

Despite the discouraging words, Yang and Yeom’s expressions remained steadfast.

“You said we could learn it.”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s enough. We want to learn.”

Yang and Yeom looked at Dang Mujin with determined expressions.

Dang Mujin smiled.

“Then, since we’ve discussed it, we might as well start right away.”

Dang Mujin drew his sword sheath and tapped the backs of their knees.

“For the next month, you won’t fully straighten your knees.”

”…What?”

“You’ll live every moment in a horse-riding stance.”

Two hours later, Yang and Yeom were sprawled on the ground, clutching their trembling legs.

Once the treatment of the martial artists in Kaifeng was complete, and Yang and Yeom had grown accustomed to waddling around in a horse-riding stance, Manryeokseung came to see Dang Mujin.

“Dang, there’s going to be another meeting soon.”

“I thought as much.”

It had been confirmed that the Demonic Cult was behind the conflict with the rogue warriors, and news had spread that the cult leader was mastering an unparalleled martial art.

They couldn’t remain idle any longer. The orthodox martial artists would soon gather again to discuss their next steps.

Dang Mujin mused that if Yeong Heoja were still alive, he would have been quietly pleased.

It seemed that Young Heoja’s insistence on uniting the righteous martial sects to strike against the demonic cult had been proven right, albeit belatedly.

Tang Mujin asked, “Do we know when and where the meeting will be held?”

“Not yet,” came the reply.

Tang Mujin, the head of his household and a family man, couldn’t afford to linger in Kaifeng indefinitely, waiting for a meeting with an uncertain schedule.

He and his companions began packing their belongings. It was time to return to Sichuan.

“We’ll meet again soon. Please take care of the aftermath with the Ghost King.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

The grief of the martial artists who had lost their leader was profound, and the Ghost King was almost certainly doomed. Even if he survived, he would likely spend his days in the repentance hall of the Shaolin Temple, living a life of transcribing scriptures with his martial arts sealed.

Of course, Hyun Gong had no intention of defending the Ghost King. People’s minds change as easily as the direction of the wind.

As Tang Mujin’s group prepared to leave Kaifeng, their numbers had swelled to seven, including the physicians Yang and Yeom, and Seolhwa.

Hyun Gong insisted they couldn’t leave Seolhwa behind, despite the language barrier.

Seolhwa seemed eager to find Baek Hyang-a as soon as possible, but doing so now would be foolish.

The group headed south, as they had done on previous visits to Luoyang, planning to take a boat from the Yellow River to Sichuan.

After traveling for about half a day, Namgung Myung, who had been silent until then, approached Tang Mujin.

“Tang Mujin, I have a favor to ask.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Could you make me a new sword?”

“Why? Is your current sword in bad shape?”

Namgung Myung cherished the sword Tang Mujin had crafted for him. Given the intensity of their recent battles, it wouldn’t be surprising if it had sustained some damage.

But Namgung Myung shook his head. “It’s been used for a while, but it’s still in good condition.”

“Then why do you need a new one?”

Tang Mujin wasn’t asking out of reluctance to make a new sword. The real issue was that there was no need for a new one. Contrary to popular belief, swords aren’t something you replace every time a slightly better one comes along. A sword’s familiarity with its owner is as important as its sharpness.

A well-used sword bears the imprint of its owner’s grip, fitting perfectly into their hand. The blade, too, becomes attuned to its master’s style over time. There’s always a subtle difference in the power of martial arts performed with a familiar sword versus a new one.

Namgung Myung explained, “I need it for something important. I need the best sword possible, and I know you can make it.”

“What do you need it for?”

Namgung Myung gave a meaningful, yet serious smile, different from before. “I’m planning something big.”

“You’re going to use a sword for thievery? You?”

“Why not?”

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

Namgung Myung was a thief, one who slipped in quietly to steal, not one who brandished a sword to rob. That was the realm of bandits, not thieves like Namgung Myung or Yujin Gwang.

Tang Mujin considered their current direction. What lay to the south?

Two places came to mind.

First, Wuhuan, where the martial arts tournament had been held.

Second, the Namgung family estate in Anhui Province.

Tang Mujin realized where Namgung Myung intended to go.

“You’re planning to go to the Namgung estate, aren’t you?”

Namgung Myung nodded with a sly grin.

Tang Mujin was taken aback. This reckless fool was planning to steal the legendary Xuanyuan Sword, the treasured blade of the Sword Demon Namgung Jincheon!

“You’re going to steal the Xuanyuan Sword? Are you prepared to fight your father if it comes to that?”

But Namgung Myung shook his head. “No, the order’s changed. There will definitely be a fight, and the Xuanyuan Sword is just one of the things I’ll be taking.”

It was a startling revelation, but one phrase stood out.

Taking the Xuanyuan Sword, not stealing it.

“You’re going to take it? Not just the Xuanyuan Sword, but other things too?”

“Yes, I’m going to take it all.”

Namgung Myung smiled broadly.

“Before my father ruins the Namgung family any further, I’m going to take it back.”