Episode 6: The Mysterious Doctor, Lee Chung

“How could I possibly discard this?”

Seok Ji-seung was holed up in the forge, staring at the blade of the dagger left behind by Dang Mu-jin. Its shape was plain, unfinished.

It was merely a piece that had just been forged. Though it had been dipped in water before cooling, it couldn’t be called proper quenching. It was merely a half-hearted cooling of the metal.

The process of reheating and slowly cooling after quenching, known as tempering, was naturally skipped. After pulling the dagger from the water, Dang Mu-jin had completely lost interest.

To someone with a superficial understanding of blacksmithing, Dang Mu-jin might have seemed like an amateur who didn’t know the order of things.

But Seok Ji-seung had the discernment to gauge Dang Mu-jin’s skill.

The unfinished dagger couldn’t hide Dang Mu-jin’s true abilities.

Seok Ji-seung flicked the side of the dagger with his finger.

Ting. The sound was small but clear. The faint resilience felt through his finger whispered of the dagger’s uniform strength and the potential it held.

Seok Ji-seung roughly fitted the tang of the dagger into a wooden handle and balanced it on his finger. The weight was slightly tilted towards the handle, perfectly balanced as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“This is driving me crazy.”

This wasn’t a flawed piece. It was simply incomplete.

It wasn’t something that had fallen short on the path to perfection, but rather something that had chosen to stop on its own.

Seok Ji-seung recalled his father’s words. There is no perfection in the path of a blacksmith, he used to say. The idea was that endless effort leads to endless improvement.

Yet Dang Mu-jin had shown Seok Ji-seung the process of striving for perfection, only to mischievously leave it unfinished.

A desire bloomed in Seok Ji-seung’s heart. He wanted to complete this dagger himself.

The foundation was already so solid. Even with his lacking skills, it would become a remarkable piece.

What if he completed the dagger and casually displayed it among other items in front of the forge?

The Taoist priests of the Cheongseong sect, who always mentioned the late Master Seok whenever they saw Seok Ji-seung, would surely ask if this dagger was also one of Master Seok’s creations.

Then he would lightly shake his head and reply.

“My father’s hands never touched this. It’s a piece I sharpened with my own inadequate skills.”

Imagining the expressions on the haughty faces of the Cheongseong priests was thrilling.

Seok Ji-seung picked up the dagger left by Dang Mu-jin. If he put it in the forge, slowly cooled it, and just sharpened the blade, it would become a fine piece. It would be a chance for people to see him in a new light.

But after a brief moment of contemplation, Seok Ji-seung set the dagger down again.

The guilt of potentially ruining something so close to perfection was too great. He feared that rushing to finish it might ruin everything.

Seok Ji-seung stored the dagger deep inside the forge, thinking.

Once he had the skill to finish it without ruining it, he would complete it. Whether it was by the end of the year or the next, he would finish it soon.

The world had already fallen into darkness. Normally, it would be time for bed.

But Seok Ji-seung locked the forge door and rekindled the fire, replaying the scenes he had witnessed earlier in his mind.

Unlike Seok Ji-seung, who was reinvigorated by the memories of the previous day, Dang Mu-jin returned to his clinic and immediately placed new needles in the acupuncture case, losing interest thereafter. To him, the needles weren’t particularly special. He even entrusted the finishing touches to someone else.

Thus, what Dang Mu-jin felt wasn’t satisfaction but regret.

“If only my body had been better trained, I could have produced something even better.”

He didn’t need arms as thick and strong as a dwarf’s, but if he had at least Seok Ji-seung’s level of strength, the result would have been much better.

However, it would take at least several years for Dang Mu-jin’s arms and shoulders to be as trained as Seok Ji-seung’s.

And that was if he focused solely on blacksmithing. If he continued to dabble in it while practicing medicine, he might never reach Seok Ji-seung’s level in his lifetime.

“Is there no other way?”

The only method that came to mind was to cultivate inner strength like martial artists.

Of course, it was a ridiculous thought. Cultivating inner strength for blacksmithing?

The next day, Dang Mu-jin went about his usual routine.

He wandered around, brewed herbal decoctions, and delivered ointments to those in need.

In the evening, Dang Je-seon called for Dang Mu-jin.

“Mu-jin.”

“Yes, Father.”

“I noticed the needles have changed. Did you bring them?”

“Yes, I did. Is there a problem? Did they break or bend?”

“Problem? No, nothing like that. I was just curious because they seemed unexpectedly excellent.”

“Is that so.”

“Where did you get these needles? They don’t seem like Seok Ji-seung’s work. Has Master Seok returned to the forge?”

Dang Mu-jin almost said, “I made them, and Seok Ji-seung helped,” but stopped himself.

If he said that, the next question would be, “Where did you learn blacksmithing?” which would lead to stories of the bell, the mushrooms, and the dreams.

So Dang Mu-jin decided not to tell Dang Je-seon the truth.

Whether Dang Je-seon would believe the dream story was one thing, but he couldn’t mention the bell and the mushrooms in front of him.

Dang Je-seon disliked anything that clouded the mind. Unlike other doctors, he never prescribed the common opium, nor did he even touch alcohol.

Telling him about eating suspicious mushrooms, dreaming, and then eating another handful out of regret would predictably lead to a negative reaction.

”…I complained to Brother Seok because I wasn’t satisfied with them, and he spent the whole day crafting them for me. I guess his pride was hurt.”

It was an implausible excuse, as such a piece couldn’t be made just by putting in effort.

But like most people, Dang Je-seon didn’t know much about blacksmithing.

Dang Je-seon nodded with a satisfied expression.

“It’s a rare piece I’ve never seen in my life as a doctor. Convey my thanks and brew some high-quality kudzu root decoction to give him.”

“Understood.”

And that was the end of the conversation.

Dang Mu-jin brewed the kudzu root decoction and delivered it to Seok Ji-seung, who insisted on paying for it, at a price five to ten times higher than usual.

With unexpected extra money in hand, Dang Mu-jin happily pocketed the payment.

And he thought that would be the end of it.

Contrary to Dang Mu-jin’s expectations, the matter didn’t end so simply.

The catalyst was when a subordinate of the military official, who had heard the story, expressed doubt.

“Did you say the needles from the Dang family were that painful?”

“Don’t even get me started. I couldn’t tell if they were doing acupuncture or trying to drill holes in my back. If you hadn’t recommended them, I would have made a scene.”

Though he had already complained to Dang Je-seon, that was considered lenient from the perspective of the military official, Gwak Hoe, who was notoriously difficult to please.

However, the subordinate found it hard to believe.

“That can’t be. I’ve met over twenty doctors, and none were as skilled in acupuncture as the Dang family.”

“I may not have had as many needles as you, but they weren’t worth such praise. Not at all.”

“Hmm.”

That evening, the curious subordinate visited the Dang family clinic. He had a mild headache and thought he might as well get some acupuncture and medicine.

The needles used on him were not the thick ones that had been used on the military official. They were so fine that he couldn’t even tell if they were inserted.

Perhaps it was just his imagination, but as soon as a few needles were inserted, his headache vanished.

The next day, the subordinate told the military official.

“I went to the Dang family clinic yesterday, and their skills seemed even better than before. Even a three-year-old wouldn’t cry from those needles.”

“Impossible! My clothes were stained with blood.”

“You’re exaggerating. I was just there yesterday. The acupuncture was so skillful, I couldn’t even tell if the needles were in.”

Suddenly labeled a complainer, the military official returned to the Dang family clinic.

This time, Dang Je-seon applied the needles with more focus than usual, and the military official felt no pain.

Of course, Dang Je-seon’s acupuncture skills hadn’t changed at all. The difference lay in the needles.

With the needles now in Dang Je-seon’s hands, even a novice could administer acupuncture without causing pain.

While a skilled craftsman doesn’t blame their tools, sometimes the right tool can make all the difference.

“It doesn’t hurt, and my shoulders and back feel refreshed. It’s like my muscles are relaxing.”

“That’s good to hear. I’ll brew you a decoction as well. Take it before bed, and you’ll feel better in two weeks.”

The military official’s chronic back pain disappeared not long after.

With the pain that had plagued him for years gone, the delighted military official spread the word far and wide.

Perhaps because it was rare praise from such a difficult person, officials who knew him decided to visit the Dang family clinic, even if just to see for themselves.

As more and more people began to visit the clinic, eventually requiring appointments, a doctor passing through Sichuan heard the rumors about the Dang family clinic.