Episode 33: Namgoong Myung

Namgoong Myung’s uncle was known by the nickname “The One-Handed Thunder Sword.”

Even though he had lost his left arm in a battle against a demon, he could still wield his sword with lightning speed using just his right arm. Namgoong Myung thought his uncle’s nickname was quite impressive.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to become one-armed himself.

Especially not by losing an arm in a duel with a second-rate martial artist he met on a ship, rather than in a noble battle against a demon like his uncle.

Yet here he was, on the brink of becoming one-armed if he hesitated any longer.

His broken wooden sword was useless against Dang Mujin’s blade, and he had no time to demonstrate the footwork passed down through his family.

However, Namgoong Myung knew one technique that could get him out of this situation: the Naryeotagon.

He quickly rolled on the ground to dodge Dang Mujin’s strike.

“Pfft.”

A woman’s laughter echoed from behind him.

A vein throbbed on Namgoong Myung’s forehead.

He had met her on the ship and spent over ten days trying to win her over, hoping for a passionate night together.

He was so close to success, but now he had shown her this embarrassing spectacle.

Sensing the awkward atmosphere, Dang Mujin spoke up, looking a bit sheepish.

“I’m sorry. It seems I swung my sword too dangerously. I’m not used to sparring with a real sword.”

Namgoong Myung’s pride took another hit. That was not something he wanted to hear from someone clearly less skilled.

He gritted his teeth and stood up.

“No, it’s fine. It’s my lack of skill. And perhaps the wooden sword wasn’t in the best condition.”

Of course, he was emphasizing the condition of the wooden sword, not his skill.

Dang Mujin quickly agreed.

“The wooden sword was indeed quite worn out. It was on the verge of breaking. My apologies.”

Namgoong Myung was relieved that Dang Mujin was perceptive enough to catch on, and he glanced back.

The woman seemed to understand, looking at them with a reaction that said, “Oh, so that’s what happened.” Namgoong Myung’s expression softened a bit.

“Since we don’t have any more wooden swords, perhaps we should end the sparring here.”

Dang Mujin suggested stepping back, but Namgoong Myung wasn’t ready to stop.

“No, could you spare a little more time?”

“What?”

“I feel like I’ve just had a moment of insight. I don’t want to lose this opportunity.”

Of course, there was no such insight. It was just an excuse to continue the sparring.

Dang Mujin hesitated.

“But it seems you only have a real sword, and I’m not confident I can dodge it.”

“It’s alright. I won’t channel any energy into the sword, and I’ll avoid dangerous moves.”

”…In that case, I suppose it’s alright.”

Reluctantly, Dang Mujin picked up his sword. It was hard to refuse someone so persistent.

Namgoong Myung drew his sword from its scabbard at his waist.

The Sam Bong Sword, one of the top five famous swords in the Namgoong family, known for sparing no expense on their weapons.

The Sam Bong Sword was a masterpiece from a renowned swordsmith.

Made by mixing precious meteorite iron and black iron, it took over a year to complete.

The result was a sword famous for its exceptional strength and sharpness, as well as its beautiful and ornate design.

The scabbard was engraved with two phoenixes soaring together, and the handle was adorned with a detailed phoenix.

Not just the handle and scabbard were ornate; the elegant gray blade was engraved with a poem reflecting the true spirit of a martial artist in beautiful script.

Namgoong Myung glanced at Dang Mujin’s sword.

Unlike the Sam Bong Sword, it was plain, with no decorations or even a craftsman’s signature.

Before even swinging his sword, Namgoong Myung felt a strange sense of superiority.

‘Though it might be a bit awkward to call it “softness overcoming hardness,” I’ll start with a gentle parry and then press down with overwhelming force. Since I’ve drawn the Sam Bong Sword, I might as well make it grand and impressive.’

Dang Mujin hesitantly raised his sword.

“Then, shall we begin again?”

“Please, show me your skill.”

Dang Mujin swung his sword along the same trajectory as before. It wasn’t flashy, but it was a clean strike.

Namgoong Myung angled the Sam Bong Sword to meet Dang Mujin’s blade.

But the moment the swords clashed, Namgoong Myung felt something strange.

Instead of sliding off the Sam Bong Sword, Dang Mujin’s blade seemed to dig into it.

‘Huh?’

It wasn’t an illusion. Dang Mujin’s plain sword was carving into the Sam Bong Sword’s blade as if peeling fruit.

He suddenly remembered the broken wooden sword. Instinctively, he channeled energy into his sword, and only then did Dang Mujin’s blade stop.

Namgoong Myung looked at Dang Mujin, realizing his mistake. Dang Mujin was staring at him with a deeply uncomfortable expression.

”…Didn’t you say you wouldn’t channel energy into the sword?”

Namgoong Myung’s face turned crimson.

He had insisted on sparring, promised to use a wooden sword against a real one, and now he had broken his promise not to use energy.

Three blunders in such a short time.

Namgoong Myung had no choice but to apologize to Dang Mujin.

“I’m sorry. It’s a habit to swing my sword as if in real combat, and I did it without thinking. I was rude.”

Dang Mujin felt awkward in the face of Namgoong Myung’s polite apology.

It was difficult to scold someone who was apologizing, and being too picky might earn the ire of a powerful family.

”…I suppose I wasn’t entirely blameless either. You did offer me an incredibly favorable condition from the start.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Ah, yes. Somehow, the sparring ended strangely. But at least no one was hurt.”

“Indeed.”

The sparring ended inconclusively.

Namgoong Myung hurried back to his cabin and lit a candle. The woman’s gaze was no longer his concern.

He carefully examined the Sam Bong Sword.

If the blade had simply broken, he might have chalked it up to bad luck, but the Sam Bong Sword was cleanly cut along the path of Dang Mujin’s sword.

The sensation of a sword slicing into another like peeling fruit was no illusion.

‘Is this even possible?’

The Sam Bong Sword looked precarious, as if it might break at any moment. His heart sank.

Having damaged the family’s prized sword, he was sure to hear from his father and the elders.

But soon, another thought crossed Namgoong Myung’s mind.

‘This might be an opportunity.’

He didn’t know how Dang Mujin had acquired such a sword, but it was undoubtedly extraordinary. It might even surpass the family’s most treasured sword, the Heonwon Sword.

‘If I could just get my hands on that sword…’

This was Namgoong Myung’s first journey into the martial world.

Like any young martial artist, he had left the Namgoong family with high hopes.

He dreamed of defeating famous demons and making a name for himself, or winning duels against renowned martial artists.

But reality had been less glamorous, with only minor bandits and a few small-time demons to his name. Far from achieving greatness, he hadn’t even reached mediocrity.

But if he could obtain that sword, all his problems would be solved.

His father, the family elders, and even martial artists from other families would recognize him.

‘Look at Namgoong Myung, the great hero. He found a legendary sword on his first journey. You can do well too, right?’

‘What good is it to slay a few demons? Try to follow in the footsteps of Namgoong Myung, the great hero.’

Other young martial artists would hear these stories until they were sick of them.

Namgoong Myung’s excitement was palpable.

Dang Mujin didn’t dwell much on the sparring with Namgoong Myung. It hadn’t been a proper duel, and they hadn’t parted on bad terms.

He simply thought of it as an experience of crossing swords with someone from a famous family.

So, after the sparring, Dang Mujin’s life continued as usual. He practiced martial arts in the morning and evening, and during the day, he tended to patients on the ship with Gwai, honing his medical skills.

The patients were either the ship’s crew or passengers.

“My eyes keep watering, even though I’m not sad or have anything in them. It’s hard to face people because they think it’s strange.”

“Do you sleep well at night?”

“It takes a long time to fall asleep, and I wake up easily because my hands and feet feel hot.”

“Do you have excessive thirst and diarrhea?”

“How did you know?”

“I suspect it’s a case of lacrimation syndrome. It gets worse with a cold or exposure to cold wind, doesn’t it? It’s summer now, so the symptoms might be milder.”

“That’s exactly right. Can it be cured?”

“First, I’ll perform acupuncture. Please close your eyes.”

Dang Mujin laid the patient down and picked up his acupuncture needles.

He started with the points between the eyebrows, the ear tips, and the forehead, channeling his internal energy through the needles to assess the flow of energy.

As expected, there was stagnant energy around the eyes, causing the tear glands to overreact.

In the past, he would have prescribed acupuncture and herbal medicine, but after learning from Gwai, he could now use a new method. By channeling his internal energy delicately through the acupuncture points, he could treat the condition directly.

Dang Mujin carefully channeled his inner energy through the acupuncture needle, dispersing the stagnant qi blocking the patient’s meridians, and then withdrew the needle.

“You can open your eyes now.”

“Already?”

“Yes, please take a look.”

The patient opened their eyes and glanced around. Earlier, even shielding their eyes from the wind couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down, but now, as if by magic, the tears had ceased.

The patient waved a hand in front of their eyes and turned their head towards the breeze. Everything felt refreshingly clear.

“Incredible.”

Typically, treatment from a physician would take at least two weeks, often a month, and in some cases, over a year. However, using the method taught by the mysterious master, ailments related to blocked qi could be treated almost instantly. It was a treatment that defied conventional wisdom.

Even Dang Mujin, a physician himself, was amazed. One could only imagine how the patients felt. They often widened their eyes in astonishment and admiration after each treatment.

“How did you do it? The doctor I saw before said it was too difficult to treat and that I should just live with it.”

“Lacrimation isn’t a common condition, so it’s not surprising that many don’t know how to treat it. It requires a bit of finesse to handle easily.”

“Finesse? You’re being too modest.”

“It’s really nothing special. Just remember to press the points where I applied the needles whenever you can, and if the condition recurs, ask a doctor to prepare Wolbigachultang for you.”

“Wolbi… what kind of decoction?”

“Wolbigachultang. It includes gypsum, ephedra, atractylodes, licorice, dried ginger, and jujube. None of the ingredients are rare or expensive, so you should be able to get them cheaply anywhere. You can even brew it yourself if needed.”

As Dang Mujin wrote down the recipe for Wolbigachultang, the patient bowed deeply in gratitude.

Dang Mujin stood up and looked around. There weren’t many patients today, so the consultations ended quickly.

However, aside from his medical duties, someone was waiting for Dang Mujin today—Namgung Myung.

Since their sparring match a few days ago, Namgung Myung had been quite friendly towards Dang Mujin.

“You’re remarkable. How did you come to learn medicine as a martial artist?”

“It’s the other way around. I’m not a martial artist who learned medicine; I’m a physician who happened to learn martial arts.”

“What?”

“The Sichuan Dang family is a lineage of physicians, not martial artists. I was learning medicine when I stumbled upon the opportunity to learn martial arts.”

”…That’s even more impressive. Is the physician accompanying you your father?”

This was perhaps the most outrageous thing Dang Mujin had ever heard.

He struggled to suppress his rising anger.

“No, my father is in Chengdu, Sichuan. The old man with me is just a companion.”

Namgung Myung nodded.

Dang Mujin was a physician with a formidable sword, but his martial skills were only second-rate at best. His companions seemed unremarkable, neither exceptional physicians nor high-level martial artists.

In other words, there was no one in Dang Mujin’s group who could challenge the authority of the Namgung family.

“Master Dang, if I may ask…”

“Yes?”

“The sword you carry—are you willing to sell it?”

Dang Mujin hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.

“I’m afraid not. It’s a special sword to me.”

If Namgung Myung had asked him to craft a new sword, he might have considered it. But giving away the Danhon Sword was out of the question. It was the first sword he had named and grown attached to.

“I see. Understood.”

Namgung Myung nodded and stepped back.

That evening, the boat carrying Dang Mujin and his companions docked at Wuhan in Hubei.

The mysterious master disembarked, saying he needed a drink, while Dang Mujin and Hong Geolge finished their sparring on deck and went to sleep.

The next morning, Dang Mujin awoke to find both the Danhon Sword and Namgung Myung missing.

’…That bastard?’