Episode 40: The Five Stone Powder

Not long after Tang Mujin regained consciousness, the peculiar man entered the room.

Instead of inquiring about Tang Mujin’s condition or how he was feeling, the man immediately began to grumble.

“Couldn’t you have woken up two days earlier? What took you so long?”

“It wasn’t something that could be rushed. Did something happen while I was out?”

“Of course, something happened.”

The man grumbled as he recounted the events. The gist was simple: two days ago, Namgung Jinchun had left the Namgung family due to an urgent matter.

Tang Mujin shrugged.

“That happens. He’s a busy man. We can’t expect him to wait around for a duel.”

“You don’t understand how rare an opportunity it is to spar with one of the Six Masters.”

While Tang Mujin didn’t seem too disappointed, the peculiar man was clearly frustrated. He had been looking forward to the duel with Namgung Jinchun.

But what’s done is done. Namgung Jinchun had left, and there was no telling when he would return.

With no intention of lingering at the Namgung estate indefinitely, the group quickly packed their belongings and prepared to leave.

Once they were ready, the steward of the Namgung family arranged for a carriage and driver to take them on their way. It wasn’t a Namgung family carriage, as they preferred horseback travel for long distances.

“You mentioned heading to Luoyang, right? Please travel comfortably until you reach Henan.”

“Thank you.”

The three of them boarded the rattling carriage and set off.

As the carriage moved, Tang Mujin focused all his energy on managing his internal energy and poison.

But it wasn’t easy. The road was bumpy, and the carriage shook constantly.

According to Tang Mujin’s understanding, cultivating one’s energy should be done in a stable and quiet environment with a calm mind.

His visit to the Namgung estate had reinforced this belief.

While wandering the estate, he often saw people sitting quietly, cultivating their energy, or practicing martial arts with disciplined focus.

In contrast, Tang Mujin’s own cultivation had been anything but calm.

Eight out of ten times, he practiced outdoors, where the cries of wild animals and the bites of insects were constant distractions. Just when he managed to concentrate, the peculiar man or Hong Geolge would interrupt with conversation.

Even now, as he tried to focus inside the carriage, the peculiar man broke his concentration with idle chatter.

“Those Namgung martial artists practice without any interruptions. Can’t I do the same?”

Tang Mujin grumbled in frustration, prompting an unexpected response from the peculiar man.

“That’s the way of those who lock themselves in their sects and train all day. It might be fine for a Taoist seeking enlightenment, but it’s not recommended for a martial artist.”

“Why not?”

“Getting used to uninterrupted training means you can’t perform under unexpected circumstances. You might build your internal energy quickly and excel in structured duels, but in real combat, you’d flounder and get defeated by even a lesser opponent, leaving behind a last word like ‘How could you use such a cowardly trick!’”

“Hmm.”

The peculiar man leaned back in the carriage and continued his explanation, with Hong Geolge listening intently.

“If you’re thinking about real combat, training under artificial conditions isn’t ideal. That’s why martial artists from the unorthodox sects are more practical in real situations, even if their progress is slower.”

“Didn’t unorthodox or dark path martial artists grow faster in the beginning?”

Tang Mujin asked, and the peculiar man made a strange face.

“That’s nonsense. How can you reach higher levels faster when you’re learning under rough conditions? Except for a few special martial arts, those from prestigious sects reach higher levels much quicker. But when fighters of similar skill clash, the dark path usually wins. This trend is less pronounced at the peak level, but for second or first-rate fighters, it’s almost always the case.”

“That’s surprising. I thought the orthodox martial artists would win.”

The peculiar man chuckled.

“Orthodox martial artists are strangely obsessed with levels. Pure internal energy, pure sword energy, profound sword techniques. Look at Namgung Myung. He reached the peak of first-rate martial artists but only recently embarked on his first martial journey. He became first-rate without any real combat experience. Does that make any sense?”

Tang Mujin recalled his duel with Namgung Myung on the ship.

Namgung Myung struggled to maintain his stance due to the ship’s rocking and couldn’t handle unexpected situations well.

Of course, if they fought seriously, Namgung Myung would win, but Tang Mujin didn’t think he had no chance. If he exploited the openings well, he might even land a lucky strike.

“That’s true.”

“If you and Namgung Myung sparred a hundred times with formal rules, he’d win every time. But if it were a life-or-death fight with no rules, you’d have a chance. Don’t you agree?”

Tang Mujin nodded. If he used poison, threw weapons, or struck from behind, he could indeed have a chance.

“Learn to fight without being confined to a mold. The first step is getting used to uncomfortable situations. If the first method doesn’t work, think of another. If conditions don’t allow, find a workaround. That’s how you win and survive.”

”…I feel like I’m becoming an unorthodox martial artist.”

“The way you’re learning martial arts isn’t the orthodox way. It’s more about real combat than meditation. More about action than sitting. Each has its pros and cons.”

Tang Mujin pondered over this until the rattling carriage came to a stop.

Using training as an excuse, the peculiar man naturally shifted the responsibility of preparing meals to Tang Mujin.

After a few days, the group left Anhui and arrived in Henan.

“Have a pleasant journey.”

The carriage provided by the Namgung family had served its purpose and turned back.

Thinking they would walk from Henan to Luoyang, Tang Mujin and his companions soon encountered a merchant caravan. There were over ten people, and they were pulling five carts loaded with goods.

Tang Mujin quickly approached the merchants.

Though it would be difficult to ride on the carts due to the load, traveling with the caravan had its advantages.

The pace might be slow, but they wouldn’t get lost, they could usually find indoor lodging, and if they had to camp, they could easily prepare meals with the merchants’ help. Especially since they had some money to spare.

“Where are you headed?”

“And who might you be?”

Perhaps it was the sword at his waist that made the merchants wary.

“We’re travelers heading to Luoyang. If our paths align, could we travel together?”

“The caravan is almost done, and we’re planning to head near Baekamsan, so the direction matches, but…”

Tang Mujin spoke with the calm and courteous demeanor of a physician.

“Since our paths seem to align, wouldn’t it be better to travel together rather than awkwardly apart? Besides, I’m a physician, so I can tend to minor ailments.”

“A physician, you say?”

“Would you like me to check your pulse?”

Tang Mujin took the merchant’s wrist and channeled the medicinal energy of mugwort from his internal energy into the merchant’s wrist. Mugwort had a pleasant aroma, was familiar to everyone, and wouldn’t cause adverse effects even if used roughly.

As the fragrant scent of mugwort spread and a refreshing energy seeped through the wrist, the merchant’s expression visibly brightened.

“Ah, you’re no ordinary physician. To treat ailments just by checking the pulse.”

Though it had little to do with pulse checking, there was no need to correct him at this moment.

Unseen by others, Tang Mujin discreetly slipped a silver coin into the merchant’s sleeve.

“Could we make it work?”

The merchant’s expression brightened further. The value of a silver coin earned discreetly was different from one earned through the caravan.

“Hmm, if it’s a chance to travel with a skilled physician, we should be the ones asking.”

The merchant went back and persuaded his colleagues, and before long, Tang Mujin and his companions were accepted into the caravan.

The merchants were friendly and sociable, with a cheerful disposition, and they quickly became acquainted with Tang Mujin and his companions.

After two days, the caravan arrived near a village with about five hundred households. The merchants spoke warmly to Tang Mujin and his group.

“This is the last village we’ll visit before wrapping up the caravan.”

“Is that so.”

It seemed like there would be decent lodging and meals available.

However, before entering the village, an unusual sight caught their attention.

A person dressed in luxurious silk clothes appeared. But their hair was disheveled, and their clothes were half undone. Their staggering gait was comical.

Seeing this, Hong Geolge remarked with interest.

“A beggar? Doesn’t look like a member of the Beggars’ Sect. If beggars wear clothes like that, this must be a pretty affluent village.”

Unlike Hong Geolge, Tang Mujin narrowed his eyes. He had heard stories about people like this somewhere.

But he couldn’t recall immediately. As he sifted through his hazy memories, the peculiar man approached with a stagger.

“Did you bring the goods?”

“Of course. Shall I give them to you now?”

The merchant’s response seemed to brighten the stranger’s expression. It was clear he was after something specific.

“No, no… I don’t have any alcohol right now. Come back later.”

With that, the man left.

Dang Mujin pondered deeply. The stranger was peculiar in more ways than just his attire.

His face was so pale it seemed almost ghostly, yet the skin visible through his disheveled clothes was flushed with a feverish red. Despite having his clothes open, he was panting heavily, his speech slurred, and reeking of alcohol.

“Is it a fever… No, that’s not it.”

Curious if Gwai might know something, Dang Mujin glanced at his expression. As expected, it was serious.

But his expression was more of anger and irritation than sympathy for a patient. Why on earth did he look like that?

Suddenly, a thought struck him. The smell of alcohol. And the mention of something.

Dang Mujin approached Gwai and asked, “Sir, is he under the influence of Oseoksan?”

“We’d need to check his pulse to be sure, but it seems likely.”

Dang Mujin’s expression turned uneasy. Hong Geolge, who was clueless, asked, “What’s Oseoksan?”

“It’s a powdered drug also known as Hanseoksan or Hansiksan. It’s made by grinding five types of stones: sulfur, cinnabar, stalactite, white quartz, and red clay. It’s usually mixed with alcohol. It makes you feel good and heats up your body.”

“Sounds like a good medicine.”

“No, it’s dangerous. If you don’t release the heat by moving around, you’ll die. Eating hot food can also be fatal. Even if you manage to release the heat, your mind gradually deteriorates, and eventually, your skin festers and rots away.”

”…Why would anyone take it?”

“Once you start, your body craves it even if you don’t want to. You can’t just stop at will.”

Hong Geolge watched the staggering man walk away, then turned his head.

Gwai, with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, was eyeing the merchants with a cold gaze.