A Flower Blooming in the Snow

Dang Mujin was unpacking his belongings to treat Baek Hyang-a when he stumbled upon a square box.

A box he had completely forgotten about, yet it was unmistakably familiar.

”···.”

His breath suddenly quickened.

With trembling hands, Dang Mujin opened the box.

And there it was—the sight he had hoped never to see.

···All the blood-sucking insects had frozen to death.

Thud.

Dang Mujin closed the box.

‘At least this time, they didn’t starve to death, right?’

In any case, it was a significant improvement.

For no particular reason, Dang Mujin felt a surge of confidence.

“Let’s begin.”

“Okay.”

In a small side room attached to the reception hall.

Baek Hyang-a lay on the table, while Dang Mujin sat beside her, placing his hand on her abdomen.

Typically, a physician would check a patient’s pulse, but given the urgency and the need to focus on the dantian, there was no other choice.

Baek Hyang-a had even lifted her top slightly to expose her navel, a daring exposure, so Dang Mujin had kept his eyes closed since entering the room.

Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn’t bring himself to look at a woman’s bare skin.

After a few breaths, Baek Hyang-a shifted slightly, her voice filled with impatience.

“Do you sense anything?”

“We just started. Be patient.”

Still with his eyes closed, Dang Mujin focused on observing Baek Hyang-a’s inner state.

He could feel the flow of primal energy from her dantian.

Despite the severity of the situation, understanding the issues related to primal energy wasn’t particularly difficult.

Ordinary ailments spread slowly, affecting the body in a way that’s hard to pinpoint. But problems arising from primal energy were relatively straightforward, as everything revolved around the dantian, stemming from a single issue rather than multiple causes.

Of course, this was Dang Mujin’s perspective. Few others, whether physicians or martial artists, would likely agree. How many in the world excel in both martial arts and medicine?

After examining Baek Hyang-a’s condition for a full half-hour, Dang Mujin reached a tentative conclusion.

‘My suspicions were correct.’

The leakage of primal energy itself wasn’t the main issue.

It was a straightforward conclusion. If the loss of primal energy were the direct cause of death, Baek Hyang-a, having lost more than half of hers, should be near death. Yet, despite the significant loss, her physical state remained almost normal.

‘The extremely condensed and unbalanced yin energy is unrelated to the primal energy, so let’s set that aside for now.’

Dang Mujin continued his thoughts.

Death from the depletion of primal energy comes suddenly.

One moment, a person is lively and wielding a sword; the next, they collapse and die.

‘So, the problem arises suddenly when all the primal energy is depleted.’

Dang Mujin recalled his own experience of exhausting his internal energy.

Ordinary martial artists remember the state of exhaustion as simply losing strength and consciousness.

But as a physician by nature, Dang Mujin had a rough understanding of why that fainting occurred.

A strong sense of fatigue throughout the body. And the sudden void left by the depleted internal energy causing a rapid imbalance within.

Before this imbalance reaches a critical point, the body instinctively protects itself by impacting the nape and the base of the skull. It’s a kind of precise self-harm.

More important than the fainting process is the state of the body upon waking. While ordinary people feel weak and limp after fainting, martial artists find their bodies almost as they were before.

Martial artists recover much faster than ordinary people.

It’s a detail often overlooked, but Dang Mujin questioned this rapid recovery.

The only significant difference between a martial artist and an ordinary person is the presence of internal energy.

Could it be that internal energy plays a crucial role in restoring the body’s balance?

That can’t be right.

‘You lose consciousness when all your internal energy is depleted. It doesn’t make sense for internal energy to restore balance.’

Thus, Dang Mujin theorized that the role of primal energy was to correct the imbalance caused by excessive depletion of internal energy.

His hypothesis was that if all primal energy is exhausted, the body cannot correct the imbalance that follows the use of a large amount of internal energy, leading to death.

‘If my theory is correct, Baek Hyang-a can survive.’

Even with his eyes closed, Dang Mujin could feel her gaze fixed on him.

Though the promised half-hour had long passed, Baek Hyang-a had waited silently, unable to interrupt his thoughts.

Dang Mujin removed his hand from her abdomen and spoke.

“Alright. That’s enough for now.”

“Did you find out anything?”

Sharing good news with a patient is beneficial in many ways, both psychologically and physically.

“For now, things look good. It seems my theory is holding up.”

“Really? What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain in detail later. For now, you need to remember one thing: when your primal energy disappears, your body must be stable.”

“Is that all? Just rest and relax?”

Dang Mujin shook his head.

“If there’s too much internal energy left, it can be harmful. You need to leave just enough for your body to handle.”

Baek Hyang-a replied confidently.

“Using up internal energy isn’t hard. I know plenty of ways to burn through it.”

Dang Mujin interrupted her again.

“On the other hand, having too little is also a problem. Excessive use of internal energy leads to imbalance. You need to deplete it to a reasonable level. And don’t overexert yourself.”

With more conditions added, Baek Hyang-a’s expression turned serious, sensing there was more to come.

Indeed, Dang Mujin wasn’t finished.

“And in your case, there’s one more issue.”

“What is it?”

“The massive accumulation of yin energy in your body. You’ll need to deplete it, even temporarily, to balance the yin and yang. We’ll deal with the blocked meridians afterward.”

“···Is there more?”

“That’s all I can think of for now. I estimate a success rate of about sixty to seventy percent.”

In other words, even with the best measures, there’s a thirty to forty percent chance of death.

But Baek Hyang-a had already resigned herself to certain death. That level of possibility was more than enough.

Her expression brightened as if she had been assured of survival.

“Great! So I just have to wait and do what I want until my primal energy is gone?”

At the current rate, Baek Hyang-a had about three or four days before her primal energy was fully depleted. It was a precious time, not to be wasted, given the lingering risk of death.

However, Dang Mujin spoke sternly.

“Basically, yes. But I’ll be monitoring your condition, so keep your schedule open.”

“Why?”

“We need to increase your chances of survival, even by a fraction. I’ll be checking your condition frequently, so don’t wander too far. I might check ten times a day instead of just twice.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t use up all your internal energy, just in case. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Baek Hyang-a nodded.

Dang Mujin stood up and headed for the door.

Still with his eyes closed, he fumbled along the wall to find the exit, a sight that was somewhat amusing.

Baek Hyang-a watched him leave, took a deep breath, and then smiled softly as she adjusted her clothes.

Death no longer seemed so frightening.

That evening, after Dang Mujin first examined Baek Hyang-a, he was summoned by the Lord of the Northern Ice Palace.

It was a bit of a hassle, but understandable. Though Baek Hyang-a was an adopted daughter, the Lord was naturally concerned about her condition.

“It’s Dang Mujin.”

“Come in.”

Dang Mujin entered the Lord’s office. As a personal space, it had a few simple decorations, but nothing particularly extravagant or expensive.

‘Seems like a frugal person.’

Yet the room didn’t feel empty. The Lord’s large, solid build and intense presence filled the space.

The Lord addressed Dang Mujin.

“You’re Dang Mujin, right? They call you the Dragon of Medicine?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“I heard about your medical skills a bit late. I’m not well-versed in the affairs of the Central Plains.”

“Even if you were, you might not have heard of me. It’s not a widely known title.”

“Modest, aren’t you?”

The Lord smiled slightly, though Dang Mujin sensed a certain stiffness in that smile.

“You’re examining Hyang-a’s condition, correct?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Do you see a way to improve her condition?”

The questions came in a somewhat dry manner. Dang Mujin nodded.

“Yes, there’s a possibility, though it’s not certain.”

“A possibility, you say. How likely is it?”

“With my limited knowledge, I estimate the chances to be around sixty percent. There’s still some time left, so I’ll do my best to increase those odds.”

“And if you do manage to improve them… No, never mind. What happens if the treatment is successful? I’ve heard that even after recovering from an illness, people often have shortened lifespans. It’s concerning.”

After a moment of contemplation, Dang Mujin replied, “It’s unprecedented, so I can’t say for certain. However, from what I’ve observed of Baek Hyang-ah’s condition, the only issues are the excessive yin energy and the problem with her core energy. If the treatment is successful, I believe she could live a full life.”

Dang Mujin offered an optimistic outlook, perhaps a bit boldly. The Lord of the Northern Ice Palace smiled slightly.

Yet, Dang Mujin thought the smile didn’t quite reach the Lord’s eyes.

‘It seems they’re not used to showing emotions.’

As the head of the Dang family, Dang Mujin felt a strange sense of kinship with the Lord’s reserved demeanor. Unlike Hong Geolgae or Hyeon Gong, who had never led others, those in high positions often become cautious about revealing their emotions.

In truth, Dang Mujin found the Lord’s awkward and stiff response rather admirable. A leader should exude such gravitas, not act recklessly.

Dang Mujin resolved to practice maintaining a composed demeanor like the Lord from now on.

The Lord asked again, “Living a full life, is that all?”

“She will no longer be able to use her internal energy. She’ll return to a state like any other person who hasn’t trained in martial arts, unable to rebuild her internal energy.”

The Lord’s brow furrowed slightly. After a moment of thought, the Lord posed another question.

“Then what about the yin energy within Hyang-ah? It would be difficult to manage without a core.”

Dang Mujin was impressed. The Lord, though not versed in medicine, had a keen understanding of the situation.

“You’re absolutely right. Managing such yin energy without a core would be challenging. I plan to disperse as much of the yin energy as possible when the core energy dissipates, then balance it by supplementing with yang energy.”

Dang Mujin continued his explanation confidently yet calmly.

“Of course, not all issues will disappear at once. But with regular dispersal of yin energy and a diet rich in yang, along with continuous care, there shouldn’t be any major problems.”

With that, Dang Mujin concluded his explanation. The Lord had no further questions.

A brief silence followed, and finally, the Lord nodded.

“Thank you for your time. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Understood.”

Dang Mujin left the Lord’s office.

The next afternoon, Dang Mujin and his companions noticed a peculiar restlessness in the Northern Ice Palace.

“Doesn’t it seem like something’s happened?” Dang Mujin asked.

Hong Geolgae agreed, “It’s been odd since around lunchtime. I tried to get some snacks from the kitchen, but no one was there.”

Namgung Myeong shared the sentiment. “I was looking for a quiet spot, but the atmosphere was strange. We’ll probably have to wait until night.”

It was unclear why they needed to find a quiet spot and wait until night in the Northern Ice Palace, but Dang Mujin decided not to press the issue. Sometimes, it’s easier not to know everything.

As they looked around, they realized few people in the palace understood their language.

Just then, Hyeon Gong spotted Seolhwa passing by.

“Seolhwa, is something going on?”

Seolhwa approached Hyeon Gong with quick steps and explained, “There’s trouble in the village outside.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Some people attacked the homes, killed a few, and took others. They stole valuables too. See the smoke over there? They even set fires. It looks like the fires are mostly out now, though.”

Seolhwa pointed southwest, where thin smoke rose into the sky.

Dang Mujin and his companions quickly grasped the situation.

It was likely the work of the Demonic Cult’s warriors, desperate for warm clothes and food. In the harsh northern lands, such necessities were hard to come by.

Seolhwa continued, “Father plans to drive out the intruders. The other warriors of the palace are preparing to fight too.”

Dang Mujin frowned.

The two warriors accompanying the Lord when they first met were likely the elite of the Northern Ice Palace. Yet, from Dang Mujin’s perspective, they weren’t top-tier masters.

In contrast, the Demonic Cult was estimated to have at least three to five top-tier masters—a daunting number. The imbalance in power was evident.

Hyeon Gong asked cautiously, “Seolhwa, how many top-tier masters are there in the Northern Ice Palace?”

“Only my father.”

The palace’s warriors would fight to the death, but could they really fend off the Demonic Cult’s warriors with their current strength?

It seemed impossible. The Demonic Cult’s warriors, unafraid of retreat, would likely turn the situation into a war of attrition.

They would tie down the Lord with one or two fighters while others slaughtered the palace’s warriors, retreating only when exhausted or in danger.

The accumulating losses would fall solely on the Northern Ice Palace.

After several such encounters, the palace’s strength would be depleted, or the Lord would fall, ending the conflict.

It was a simple strategy even a child could conceive, yet there was no clear countermeasure.

‘Hmm…’

Hyeon Gong pondered whether the Lord’s presence was a boon or a bane.

‘The Lord is a bit stern and strict. He seemed to disapprove of me, which is understandable, given I’m interested in his daughter…’

‘But the Lord holds significant power, even in this remote region, and his martial prowess is impressive.’

‘What happens if the Lord falls in battle against the Demonic Cult? Seolhwa might take his place, but one of her siblings could also inherit the position. In that case, it might be better if the Lord survives. Unless I can win over the next leader…’

‘But if the Lord dies, Seolhwa will be heartbroken. She truly respects him.’

As he pondered, Hyeon Gong noticed a sword at Seolhwa’s waist.

His voice turned serious. “Seolhwa, are you going to fight too?”

“Of course.”

Hyeon Gong’s heart sank.

“You’re aware of the overwhelming odds, right?”

“Of course.”

“Are you being forced?”

If that were the case, Hyeon Gong was prepared to flee with Seolhwa. But she shook her head and smiled.

“No. I’m going because I choose to. It’s a duty that runs in my blood.”

In that case, there was no need for further deliberation.

Hyeon Gong took a deep breath and flashed a confident smile.

“Don’t worry. We’ll go with you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I can’t let you face danger alone.”

Seolhwa, deeply moved, embraced Hyeon Gong. He returned the embrace.

Though many people passed by, neither Hyeon Gong nor Seolhwa paid any mind to their gazes. Their embrace showed no sign of ending.

Interestingly, the onlookers didn’t seem bothered by their public display of affection.

It appeared the people of the north were comfortable with such expressions.

Soon after, Hyeon Gong and Seolhwa disappeared into a secluded spot together.

Namgung Myeong watched them go, then turned to Dang Mujin and Hong Geolgae.

“Did he just say ‘we’?”