A Flower Blooming in the Snow

The Lord of the Northern Ice Palace was about to commend Seolhwa for her hardships when her expression turned sour. A stranger had approached Seolhwa and bowed respectfully beside her.

In the North, the Lord of the Northern Ice Palace commanded immense respect, so it was not just common but expected for people to show deference. However, this was a custom reserved for the Northerners. A stranger from the Central Plains had no reason to bow, especially if he was a martial artist of great renown.

“And who might you be?” the Lord asked in surprisingly fluent Central Plains dialect.

The man, Hyun Gong, responded with even more courtesy. “I am Hyun Gong, a Taoist from the Wudang Sect.”

“I see,” the Lord replied, though it was clear from her reaction that she had never heard of the Wudang Sect.

“So, Hyun Gong, why do you show me such respect?” she inquired.

Just as Hyun Gong was about to answer, Seolhwa stepped closer to him, close enough to link arms. The Lord of the Northern Ice Palace understood the situation immediately from this gesture alone.

“Hmm…”

Yet, the Lord seemed unimpressed with Hyun Gong. He accepted this reaction as natural, knowing that a father-in-law wouldn’t recognize his worth at first glance.

‘No matter. Given time, my true value will shine through.’

A person’s true worth might take time to reveal itself, but it never remains hidden forever. Hyun Gong was confident in his abilities, which he rated at an impressive eighteen out of twenty. He believed he was not far behind the Lord of the Northern Ice Palace.

‘The Lord may be stronger now, but with age, I’ll surpass her. The influence of the Northern Ice Palace is vast, but its position isn’t ideal. As the future leader of the Wudang Sect, I won’t be overshadowed.’

‘Our scores are about even. It’s not strange to think we’re on par.’

‘But since she’s to be my future father-in-law, I should defer to her for now.’

Having reached this conclusion, Hyun Gong felt a surge of confidence. His shoulders straightened, and his eyes gleamed with determination.

The Lord of the Northern Ice Palace chuckled lightly. “You seem to have some spirit. We’ll talk more later.”

With that, she turned to her subordinates and Tang Mujin’s group. “Let’s head back.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes.”

After another full day of travel, Tang Mujin’s group finally arrived near the Northern Ice Palace. It was situated by a vast frozen lake and surrounded by high stone walls. Despite its name, the palace wasn’t particularly large, but the stone walls were significant.

On their journey, they had seen nothing but endless white snow. The stones must have been either dug from deep beneath the snow or transported from afar, both challenging tasks. The walls alone spoke volumes about the Northern Ice Palace’s influence in the North.

“The Lord is here!”

As the Lord appeared, people from the North gathered like clouds. Unlike in the Central Plains, where people might discreetly avoid high officials, here they flocked to her. Many were children, and no one found this unusual.

Though no one showed excessive deference, the respect and admiration for the Lord were evident. Seolhwa’s tales of the Lord’s popularity were no exaggeration.

“Even the Namgung family couldn’t win over the people of Anhui Province like this,” Namgung Myung remarked quietly, prompting Hong Geolgae to interject.

“Is it really that impressive?”

“Of course. Winning people’s hearts is hard, but losing them is easy. The current Lord’s character, as well as her predecessors’, must be exceptional to earn such a response.”

Hong Geolgae pondered this, then gave Namgung Myung a sly smile. Namgung Myung chose not to ask why, suspecting the answer would be impolite.

The crowd’s attention shifted from the Lord and Tang Mujin’s group to Baek Hyang-ah. Their gazes lingered on her, suggesting that rumors about her had spread throughout the North. Yet, no one showed hostility, assuming there must be a reason she returned with the Lord.

The Lord and Tang Mujin’s group crossed the walls into the Northern Ice Palace. Most of the onlookers dispersed, returning to their tasks, but the children, with no pressing duties, followed them inside.

Tang Mujin asked Seolhwa, “Is it okay for the kids to just come in?”

“It’s fine,” Seolhwa replied, and neither the Lord nor her guards stopped the children.

The Lord extended her hand to Baek Hyang-ah. “Return the manuals.”

“Here they are,” Baek Hyang-ah said, handing over three blood-stained manuals. The manuals, taken by the leaders of the Small and Great Jade Sects, were safely returned to the Northern Ice Palace without ceremony.

The Lord inspected them carefully, then smiled with satisfaction. “Hyang-ah, if you need anything, just ask.”

“Understood.”

The Lord’s gaze then fell on Seolhwa. “Rest for a while, and come to the main hall when I send for you.”

“I will.”

With that, the Lord and her two guards disappeared into the main hall, while the remaining six headed to the guest quarters. The children, naturally, followed Tang Mujin’s group instead of the Lord.

Inside the guest quarters, the children watched Tang Mujin’s group with eager anticipation. Tang Mujin and his friends, however, were unsure what the children wanted.

“Why are they following us?” Tang Mujin asked.

“Just wait a moment,” Seolhwa replied, disappearing briefly before returning with warm tea, which she distributed to the children. It seemed this wasn’t the first time, as both Seolhwa and the children acted naturally.

After sipping their tea, the children began chattering excitedly at Tang Mujin’s group, though their words were incomprehensible to them.

“What are they saying?” Tang Mujin asked Baek Hyang-ah.

“They want to hear stories about the South. They followed us to listen.”

Instead of telling the stories himself, Tang Mujin looked at Hong Geolgae. In Sichuan, Hong Geolgae was known for entertaining the local children, who preferred him over Hyun Gong, Namgung Myung, or even Tang Mujin. Tang Mujin believed it was because Hong Geolgae and the children were on the same wavelength.

Clearing his throat, Hong Geolgae began, “Ahem, alright. Where should I start? How about the endless Yangtze River? Do you know about the Yangtze?”

Seolhwa and Baek Hyang-ah took turns translating. The Northern children listened in awe, captivated by tales of a river without ice and lush green forests, things beyond their imagination. Some even seemed to doubt Hong Geolgae’s truthfulness.

As time passed, young adults also trickled in, listening intently to Hong Geolgae’s stories. Unlike the children, they occasionally asked questions, shifting the conversation from the warm southern lands to the adventures of Tang Mujin’s group and Baek Hyang-ah.

The young Northerners looked at Baek Hyang-ah with sympathy, their murmurs growing angry as they discussed the leaders of the Small and Great Jade Sects.

“What are they saying now?” Tang Mujin asked.

“They’re cursing the leaders of the Small and Great Jade Sects,” Seolhwa explained.

Eventually, the Northerners were led away by women who seemed to be attendants. Seolhwa also left, summoned by the Lord, leaving only Tang Mujin’s group and Baek Hyang-ah in the guest quarters.

Tang Mujin turned to Baek Hyang-ah. “I understand now why you wanted to come back here.”

“Right? It’s cold, but the people are wonderful.”

Despite the biting cold, Baek Hyang-ah wore a bright, relaxed expression Tang Mujin had never seen before.

“I don’t miss my hometown much. I don’t have many fond memories of the Jeweon Baek family. All I remember is the view from inside my room. But I missed the Northern Ice Palace dearly, even though I wasn’t here long.”

“I’m glad. What will you do now?”

“Not sure,” Baek Hyang-ah replied, calculating the time she had left. Thanks to their swift journey, she had a few more days to spare.

Settling by the stove, she continued, “I don’t have any special plans. I just want to spend my time leisurely and, when the time comes, be laid to rest in a sunny spot. Even in this cold land, there are places where the sun shines warmly.”

A Bitter Tale. Yet, Dang Mujin approached Baek Hyanga with determination.

“Really? I’m glad you’re not too busy. Can I ask you for a favor?”

“A favor? What is it?”

“I want to check on your condition.”

Baek Hyanga looked at Dang Mujin. His eyes were those of a pure healer, devoid of any ulterior motives.

She let out a small chuckle.

“And what would you do after checking my condition? It’s not like you can find another patient like me out there.”

“Finding someone similar might be tough. But if we’re lucky, we might discover a way for you to survive.”

“What?”

Baek Hyanga’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Even after extracting your Jinwon energy? You think I can live?”

“It’s just a thought, but there’s a possibility. And if there’s a chance, we should try.”

The common belief was that extracting Jinwon energy meant certain death, a fact even Dang Mujin had never questioned deeply. But in the past few days, traveling with Baek Hyanga had made him reconsider everything he knew about Jinwon energy.

Jinwon energy was a special kind of inner power, stored deep within the dantian. Its potency was unmatched by ordinary inner power, but extracting it was believed to be fatal. This was the prevailing thought among martial artists.

However, Dang Mujin had a different perspective.

“Is using Jinwon energy really the direct cause of death?”

Ancient medical texts mentioned the dantian, but old physicians didn’t see it as crucial to life. Much of what people believed about Jinwon energy was incorrect. For instance, the idea that it couldn’t be accumulated or that its quantity never changed was only half true.

While it’s true that Jinwon energy can’t be intentionally accumulated, it can increase slightly with dedicated martial arts and inner power training. The higher one’s achievements, the more explosive the power when Jinwon energy is used.

Conversely, those who never trained in martial arts had so little Jinwon energy that it was almost undetectable, leading some to doubt its existence. Yet, even with minimal Jinwon energy, people lived—children, the elderly, and the unwell alike.

Some argued that the problem wasn’t Jinwon energy itself, but the damage to the dantian when extracting it. But that was an even weaker argument. The dantian wasn’t an organ like the heart that moved blood, nor was it a vessel for food or related to breathing. People who hadn’t learned dantian-based breathing techniques could still breathe just fine.

In fact, many survived with damaged dantians. When orthodox martial artists punished those from the unorthodox sects, they often destroyed the dantian to prevent them from using inner power. While this meant losing all inner power, survival was possible.

Similarly, Dang Mujin believed that even if all Jinwon energy was used, survival was possible. Though one might no longer be considered a martial artist.

Hong Geolgae, listening nearby, scoffed.

“You’re talking nonsense. It’s common knowledge that using Jinwon energy leads to death.”

“Not all common knowledge is correct.”

“Do you know how many physicians have existed since ancient times? If there was a way, someone would have discovered it.”

At first glance, Hong Geolgae’s point seemed valid. But Dang Mujin thought differently.

“Sure, there have been countless physicians. But how many do you think were better than me?”

An audacious claim. Hong Geolgae and Namgung Myung, listening nearby, were left speechless.

Dang Mujin didn’t stop there.

“I’m not content with just treating patients according to what’s written in medical texts. I’m the one who writes those texts. Future physicians will treat patients using the methods I teach.”

Hong Geolgae and Namgung Myung wanted to argue, but they had nothing to say. Dang Mujin’s words were undeniably true.

In the field of medicine, there was no one who could compare to Dang Mujin. It wasn’t just because they were friends. His nickname, the “Medical Dragon,” and the title of “Greatest Physician Under Heaven” supported that fact.

Moreover, Dang Mujin, while not the highest martial artist, had reached an impressive level. Even in ancient times, there might have been physicians as skilled as Dang Mujin, but none were as accomplished in martial arts.

In short, Dang Mujin had reached an unprecedented level in treating martial artists.

Dang Mujin spoke with conviction.

“If there’s a physician who can treat someone who has extracted Jinwon energy, it’s undoubtedly me.”

He pointed to Baek Hyanga.

“And if there’s someone who can survive after extracting Jinwon energy, it has to be Baek Hyanga.”

Dang Mujin wasn’t relying solely on his skills. Baek Hyanga’s condition was unique. Few had extracted Jinwon energy, and those who did usually died before they could seek medical help.

Even if they reached a physician, they often died before treatment could begin. But Baek Hyanga was different. She was moving towards death, but there was still time.

“Still…”

Hong Geolgae hesitated, worried that Baek Hyanga might cling to false hope only to be crushed later.

In the end, Hong Geolgae raised his hands in surrender.

“I don’t know. I’m not well-versed in medicine, and I’ve never extracted Jinwon energy. It’s not my place to interfere.”

Namgung Myung and Hyun Gong had similar reactions, simply watching Dang Mujin without comment.

Dang Mujin turned to Baek Hyanga.

“What do you think? Will you trust me? I’m not asking you to stay with me all day. Just two half-hour sessions a day. Give me an hour each day.”

Baek Hyanga couldn’t quite grasp what she was hearing. It was all so sudden, and the promise was almost too sweet to believe.

Instead of agreeing, she asked Dang Mujin again.

“Can I really survive?”

“I can’t say for sure.”

Despite his earlier confidence, his answer was deflating.

But Dang Mujin wasn’t finished.

“But I can tell you one thing for certain.”

“What is it?”

“If I can’t heal you, no one will ever survive after extracting Jinwon energy. What do you say?”

Dang Mujin spoke of being the first.

For someone on the brink of death, no more words were needed.

“Please.”

And so, Baek Hyanga nodded.