Episode 66: The Divine Healer

The head of the Salmak branch in Jeowon paced nervously in the cramped room.

The sun had risen, yet the assassins sent out yesterday had not returned.

If the mission had only hit a minor snag, at least the scout should have come back to report the situation.

But none of the seven had returned. The mission had undoubtedly failed.

“Did Baek set a trap for us?”

No, that couldn’t be it.

Baek Chuseo wasn’t someone with the capability or reason to oppose Salmak. They had coexisted in Jeowon for decades; it wasn’t as if he suddenly developed a sense of justice.

If only one or two assassins had died, the branch head could have covered it up.

But losing all seven was beyond what a mere branch head could handle.

In the end, he sent a detailed report via carrier pigeon.

The branch head assumed the small note tied to the pigeon’s leg would be handled by a middle manager. However, contrary to his expectations, the note reached the hands of the top leader of Salmak, Black Butterfly.

Black Butterfly read the note.

The target’s name was Lee Gyun, a swordsman disguised as a physician.

He had graying hair at the temples and carried a dagger laced with paralyzing poison. Yet, six low-level assassins failed to eliminate him, and even the scout was killed.

Black Butterfly immediately recognized the target.

”…It’s that strange Lee Chung.”

The reason he thought of Lee Chung without hesitation was simple. Among the countless martial artists in the central plains, Lee Chung was the one with the most assassination requests against him.

Even from what Black Butterfly could recall, there were at least six or seven requests. It was as if Lee Chung was courting death, given how many grudges he seemed to attract.

Yet, Salmak had never succeeded in eliminating him. It was purely a matter of cost-effectiveness.

Lee Chung was an exceptionally peculiar and formidable master, making it difficult to gauge his abilities. Salmak had once sent two top assassins after him, only to retrieve two corpses.

Sending more people was also problematic.

Gathering high-level assassins from various regions would disrupt their schedule for handling other requests.

Even if successful, the cost wouldn’t justify it, especially with a slight chance of failure.

If the reward had been astronomical, they might have sent assassins without a second thought, but the clients’ offers weren’t nearly enough.

Ultimately, Black Butterfly chose to watch Lee Chung from afar rather than accept the requests. He was a skilled assassin but also a leader who valued practicality.

“But this time, the money involved is substantial.”

According to the report from the Jeowon branch head, Baek was prepared to pay a significant sum. They could extract at least a couple of gold coins.

A couple of gold coins was a considerable amount, but still insufficient to kill Lee Chung.

However, the accumulated fees from those who had previously requested Lee Chung’s death were significant.

Black Butterfly imagined adding Baek’s offer to the existing rewards.

And he considered the risks involved in killing Lee Chung.

Now, the numbers finally added up.

Black Butterfly finished his thoughts and called for his subordinate.

“Black Cat.”

A figure emerged smoothly from what seemed like an empty wall.

“You called for me?”

“Verify all the requests that have been placed on Lee Chung’s head and see if the clients are still interested. Also, send someone to Baek in Jeowon to find out how much they’re willing to pay.”

“Understood.”

Salmak was ready to rake in the accumulated stakes.

On a gentle mountain path in Fengxiang, Shaanxi Province, an old man walked through the autumn rain.

His hair was entirely white, with not a single black strand, and his skin was deeply wrinkled.

At an age when most would be watching their grandchildren play, his face was set in a stern expression, devoid of any hint of a smile, and his eyes were filled with stubbornness.

The old man’s steps led him to a grave on the mountainside, where few people ventured.

It was the grave of his son, whom he had lost fifteen years ago.

His son had died young. It would have been less bitter if it had been due to illness, but that wasn’t the case.

His son had left home to set up a clinic in a distant town.

For the first few years, he found fulfillment in treating patients, but then the Great Martial War erupted.

Martial artists from both righteous and dark factions clashed, and his son, finding several people on the brink of death, treated them and saved their lives.

Unbeknownst to him, those he saved were from the dark faction.

When the dark faction took over the village, there was no issue. The problem arose when the righteous faction drove them out.

Some righteous martial artists, seeking the doctor who had treated the dark faction, found his son and killed him without hesitation.

Such is the madness that bloodshed brings.

After months of smelling blood, even the righteous martial artists, who once prided themselves on their decorum, and the dark faction, who strutted with arrogance, became equally bloodthirsty.

The world divided into ‘us’ and ‘them,’ and anyone not on ‘our’ side was treated with merciless cruelty.

Like his son, the old man was also a physician.

Holding his son’s lifeless body, he closed his heart to the world, disillusioned. The old physician no longer treated patients.

After the war ended, the righteous martial artists came to him.

They apologized for the past and offered him the head of the man who had killed his son.

“Sir, won’t you consider treating patients again?” they pleaded.

But the old man never returned to treating patients. His son, buried in the ground, did not rise again.

The old man trudged along the ridge, recalling his son’s face.

Occasionally, he paused, out of breath, before continuing his walk.

As he walked, he sensed someone approaching from behind.

If they wanted to pass, they could go ahead. He didn’t turn around.

But the presence didn’t pass him by; instead, it matched his pace.

He glanced sideways.

The face was older than he remembered, but still familiar. It was the middle-aged man, Lee Chung, the Strange Physician.

“Master, it’s been a long time,” Lee Chung said.

“Yes, Chung. It’s been a while. How have you been?”

The old man’s name was Yang Heun. The world called him the Divine Healer.

Even after fifteen years of not treating patients, people still remembered him as one of the three great healers.

“I’ve been well.”

“You don’t look it. Your complexion is poor, and your eyes are clouded.”

“Your keen eye hasn’t changed.”

Thirty years ago, Lee Chung, a young martial artist who knew nothing of medicine, became the Divine Healer’s disciple to learn the art. Until the day the healer’s son returned as a corpse and the healer sealed away his skills.

“Where have you been staying lately?”

“Oh, here and there, wandering as always.”

“Nothing special happened?”

“Something did.”

Lee Chung smiled gently.

“Don’t be surprised. I’ve taken on a disciple. Not officially, but I consider them my student.”

“That’s good. Has your heart healed a bit?”

Lee Chung shook his head, and the healer nodded. The grief of losing a child doesn’t fade easily.

“It’s unfortunate. What brings you here?”

“Master, I heard you still don’t practice medicine.”

“That’s right.”

The Divine Healer’s disappointment with the world was profound. But he was just a physician, powerless to change it.

Occasionally, martial artists would bring their suffering family members to him, begging him to take a look.

Each time, he turned away, hoping they might understand his pain.

Lee Chung asked him, “Have you thought about practicing medicine again?”

“No.”

“I see.”

Lee Chung nodded and shifted the conversation.

“Master, I recently witnessed something remarkable in a small village.”

The healer didn’t respond, and Lee Chung didn’t expect him to. They walked on, rain soaking them.

“The land was barren, unsuitable for farming, and there were no wild animals to hunt. Yet, no one in the village went hungry. It was thanks to a large peach tree in the center of the village, bearing the endless peaches of the Queen Mother of the West. But the tree was a hundred feet tall, and without a ladder, there was no way to pick the peaches.”

“Those with ladders set them up, the nimble climbed to pick the peaches, and those with baskets collected them. From ancient times to now, the village has lived this way.”

“But one day, the ladder owner destroyed the ladder. The only ladder the village had for centuries. When people, unable to bear their hunger, grew angry, the ladder owner said, ‘It’s my ladder, and I’ll do what I want with it.’ What do you think of the ladder owner, Master?”

“There must have been a reason to break the ladder.”

They walked in silence for a long time.

“Medicine isn’t something you invented on your own, Master. It began long ago with Emperor Gong Sun-hyeon and Yan Emperor Shennong, and countless others have added their knowledge and experience to it over time. Just because one branch of this medical knowledge has been passed down to you doesn’t mean you can claim it as your own. Receiving this knowledge is a choice, but once you have it, it’s your duty to practice it and pass it on to future generations.”

The physician let out a deep sigh.

“I didn’t abandon the people. They abandoned me.”

“What does that matter? Even if people turn their backs on us, we must remain steadfast and continue our practice.”

Goeui was an exceptional student. He was easygoing when the situation called for it and firm when necessary. In over a decade of learning medicine, he had never clashed with his master.

But there was one time when Goeui erupted in anger.

It was the day the physician cradled his son’s lifeless body and sealed away his medical knowledge.

Goeui pleaded with him not to do it, but the physician refused.

Goeui asked again, if he wouldn’t practice medicine himself, at least to pass on all his knowledge.

But once more, the physician refused, claiming that the people of this world didn’t deserve to be healed.

That day, Goeui left his master’s side.

Goeui spoke to the physician.

“Master, my student is smart. He may not grasp ten things from learning one, but once he learns something, he rarely forgets. He has compassion for all patients and a righteous heart.”

“Why are you suddenly boasting about your student?”

“Because I believe that if all the world’s medical knowledge were entrusted to him, every patient would benefit for a long time.”

Goeui blocked the physician’s path and asked, “So tell me, where have you hidden the Book of All Maladies?”

The Book of All Maladies was a medical text passed down through the physician’s family for generations.

Its contents were so vast and detailed that the family had earned the nickname “The Great Physician” for generations. Though it seemed no one would bear that title again.

The physician looked at Goeui with a stubborn expression.

“Do you think I’ll tell you?”

“Master, aren’t you underestimating your student a bit too much?”

Goeui twisted his lips into a smile.

“I’m also a martial artist, you know. I have a few ways to make a closed mouth open.”

“Yi Chung, you’ve become a monster.”

“A monster for the sake of the world’s suffering and pained. What’s there to be ashamed of?”

Five days later, the Three Great Physicians of the world became the Two Great Physicians.

But such titles meant nothing to Goeui.

The physician’s knowledge would be passed on to Dang Mujin and future generations.

Goeui took the Book of All Maladies and set off for Bong Sang.