Episode 68: Luoyang
Not long after starting to work with Tang Mujin, Jong-sam realized that Tang’s medical skills were beyond what he could teach.
However, everyone has something to learn from others, and Jong-sam had his own lessons to impart to Tang Mujin.
“We use lantern grass often, so keep it outside for easy access. As for bitter ginseng, it’s sensitive to moisture, so it’s better to store it on the shelf by the window where there’s good airflow.”
“Understood.”
“Before using any herbs, always check their scent. If there’s even a hint of sourness, it means the preparation was wrong or the herbs are too old. Don’t hesitate to throw them away.”
Unlike the Tang family clinic, which often handled small tasks haphazardly due to a lack of hands, the Gui Song clinic was well-organized, likely due to its larger scale. Jong-sam thought this experience would be invaluable when he eventually took over the Tang family clinic.
Jong-sam meticulously taught Tang Mujin everything he could, and Tang listened intently. It reminded him of his days working back home, which, in hindsight, wasn’t that long ago.
Tang Mujin also made significant progress in his medical skills.
“Mujin, prepare some Danggui Jianzhong Tang for this patient.”
“Isn’t this the same person who had the Yinggui Gan Cao Tang last time?”
“Yes. The chest discomfort has subsided, but they still experience limb spasms in the morning and evening. The remaining symptoms should be treated with Danggui Jianzhong Tang.”
Gui Song clinic had three consultation rooms and three doctors, meaning they could see three times as many patients, prescribe three times as many treatments, and observe three times as many outcomes compared to the Tang family clinic.
While following the wandering doctor, Tang had seen many patients, but it was difficult to track their progress over time due to constant travel. The experience at Gui Song clinic was exactly what Tang needed.
‘Coming to Luoyang was the right decision.’
The prescriptions from the three doctors, including Son Sung-gyeom, often followed medical texts closely, but occasionally, they would introduce unusual treatments. At first glance, they seemed questionable, but upon connecting symptoms with treatments and understanding the principles behind them, they made sense. Most were surprisingly effective.
‘Is this why the old master traveled all over the central plains to gather medical knowledge?’
As Tang Mujin settled into the routine at Gui Song clinic, one day, one of the three doctors didn’t show up. Tang went to Son Sung-gyeom to inquire.
“Doctor Bok didn’t come in today. Is there a problem?”
“He went back to his hometown. He’ll be resting until the end of winter. Doctor Gong will also be taking a break after today.”
“Both of them at the same time? That’s quite a coincidence.”
Son Sung-gyeom looked at Tang with a knowing expression, as if realizing something for the first time.
“Ah, right. You’re not from Luoyang, so you might not know.”
“Know what?”
“Haven’t you noticed an unusual number of martial artists in the streets lately?”
Indeed, Luoyang was teeming with martial artists. Previously, you might spot one or two here and there, but now their numbers had more than doubled. It was as if they were everywhere.
“Is there a reason for this?”
“Martial artists without a fixed residence flock to Luoyang or Chang’an in winter. When the weather turns cold, it’s hard to travel and make a living, so they settle in big cities.”
“And how does that relate to the doctors taking a break?”
“When martial artists gather, it becomes difficult to practice medicine. Doctors Bok and Gong would rather forgo earnings than deal with the mess.”
“The mess?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
As the days grew colder, the nature of the patients visiting Gui Song clinic began to change. Previously, most came with stomach issues, but now there was an increasing number of people with cuts and fractures.
The reason was obvious. When martial artists gather, fights break out for all sorts of reasons.
‘This isn’t good.’
Not all patients are the same. The clinic specializes in treating internal imbalances like stomachaches, headaches, and coughs. External injuries are much harder to handle.
While they could manage cuts and muscle pains to prevent infection, there was little they could do for broken bones. Treating other ailments might be 80% skill and 20% time, but with fractures, it’s 90% time and barely 10% skill.
Tang Mujin spoke to Jong-sam.
“Indeed, dealing with these kinds of patients would make practicing medicine less appealing.”
“No, that’s not what Doctor Son meant.”
“Then what?”
Just then, a commotion erupted outside the clinic. Another fight between martial artists had broken out.
Tang expected a few injured patients to come in, and he was right. However, the patient didn’t arrive in the way he anticipated.
A martial artist in blue clothing was thrown over the low wall into the clinic, not by his own skill, but because he was beaten and tossed over. He rolled on the ground, coughing up a significant amount of blood.
“Cough!”
As Jong-sam rushed to the fallen man, another man with bloodshot eyes burst through the clinic’s gate. Judging by the situation, he was the one who had beaten the man in blue.
With a fierce glare, he drew his sword and charged at the fallen martial artist, intent on finishing him off. Despite the crowd watching and Jong-sam trying to tend to the patient, he showed no hesitation.
A life was about to be lost within the clinic’s walls.
Patients waiting in line were horrified, and fear flickered in Jong-sam’s eyes.
Tang Mujin dashed towards the sword-wielding man, instinctively reaching for his waist. Of course, there was no sword hilt to grasp; he hadn’t brought a weapon to the clinic.
Instead, Tang employed the Shadowless Step he learned at Shaolin, executing a swift palm technique.
His right hand moved lightly, distracting the opponent, while his left palm enveloped the man’s face.
Through his fingers, Tang saw the man’s startled eyes.
Without hesitation, Tang slammed the man to the ground.
Thud.
Tang’s internal energy surged through his palm into the man, indicating that Tang’s energy far surpassed his opponent’s.
However, it wasn’t just Tang’s energy that flowed; like a stone splashing into a river, some of the man’s energy seeped back into Tang.
Normally, such a small amount wouldn’t be noticeable, but this time, it felt peculiar.
After kicking the man’s sword aside, Tang waited for him to rise.
The man shook his head violently, breathing heavily as he got to his feet.
His eyes, once filled with confusion, now burned with anger and determination.
“I’ll kill you!”
He clenched his fists and launched into a martial stance. But Tang, standing at an angle, easily deflected the man’s punches with one hand.
It was a clear provocation. The man’s martial arts were not deep, and Tang’s mastery of the White Lotus Divine Fist allowed him to handle it with ease.
As the man’s punches slowed and his fighting spirit waned, Tang changed his approach. He unleashed a killing intent, charging at the man.
Tang’s fingers aimed for the man’s throat, his palm for the heart, and his hand for the forehead.
Each move was a lethal strike. The man flailed desperately to avoid death.
Though he wasn’t defeated by Tang, he soon collapsed from exhaustion, retching.
His limbs trembled, and he felt as if Tang’s fist could crush his skull at any moment. He couldn’t understand how things had escalated to this point.
‘Is this how I die?’
But Tang didn’t deliver the final blow. Instead, he looked down at the man with a calm expression.
“Have you come to your senses now?”
”…You’re not going to kill me?”
“A doctor doesn’t kill in a clinic, especially not someone whose mind isn’t clear.”
“Not clear?”
“Your internal energy is a mix of two conflicting forces. Have you been practicing more than one internal energy technique?”
The man’s eyes widened. He had never shared this with anyone.
“How did you know?”
“I’m a doctor.”
Tang’s casual explanation made the onlookers narrow their eyes.
His words were unlike any doctor they had known.
Tang continued, checking the man’s pulse.
“I don’t know what martial arts you’ve practiced, but at least one of them is a dark art. The evil energy is seeping into your bones, clouding your mind and making you violent. If this continues, you’ll become a madman.”
In his impatience to build internal energy, the man had turned to a dubious manual, leading to his current predicament. Initially, the rapid increase in energy was exhilarating, but soon he found himself unable to control his temper, leading to this situation. In hindsight, the fight hadn’t even started over anything significant.
Swallowing his pride, the man asked.
“What should I do now?”
“Push yourself to the brink of exhaustion, using your martial arts to purge the accumulated energy. Then, employ the internal energy techniques you originally learned to rebuild your pure energy. Repeat this process a few times, and as long as you don’t use the wrong techniques again, you won’t lose your mind. You may not be exactly as you were before, but you’ll be close.”
The man, his legs trembling, stood up and bowed deeply to Tang Mujin.
“Thank you. I don’t know how to express my gratitude.”
“You can express it with the treatment fee. Over there.”
Tang Mujin gestured towards Son Sung-gyeom’s clinic, where Son was watching him with wide eyes.
Winter had come to Luoyang once again.
Countless martial artists, wandering in search of a place to settle, had temporarily made their nests in Luoyang.
Rumors spread about a young doctor who combined martial arts with medicine to diagnose ailments, drawing the martial artists of Luoyang to the Gui Song Clinic.
Of course, those who had learned martial arts through verified methods from famous sects or had a clear path ahead of them had no reason to seek out Tang Mujin.
But there were many martial artists who had roamed the central plains, learning martial arts haphazardly and encountering problems. For them, Tang Mujin’s help was crucial.
With so many people coming for similar reasons, Tang Mujin took over an empty room at the Gui Song Clinic to treat the martial artists.
While Tang Mujin examined them, the martial artists would chatter about stories they’d seen or heard from all over the central plains.
Most of the stories were about affairs between high-ranking officials and martial artists or famous martial artists fighting each other. Useless, but entertaining tales.
One day, a martial artist from Shaanxi, receiving acupuncture, spoke up.
“Ah, I’m much better than the last time I came. In a few years, you might become one of the three great doctors of the world. Though for now, you’re probably too young for that.”
Tang Mujin felt a swell of pride but maintained a humble demeanor.
“One of the three great doctors? That’s too much praise.”
“It’s not. People love to fill empty spaces, so your name might soon be on everyone’s lips.”
Tang Mujin’s eyes narrowed. There was something in that statement he couldn’t ignore.
”…An empty space?”
A thought crossed his mind—could something have happened to the old master?
Fortunately, the name mentioned by the martial artist wasn’t the one he feared.
“Yes, the Divine Doctor of Bong Sang left an empty space. Now, there are only two great doctors, but people are more familiar with the idea of three. As they look to fill that spot, your name might come up.”
“It seems the Divine Doctor lived a full life.”
The martial artist shook his head.
“A full life? No, I’m not sure of the exact timing, but before winter started, the Divine Doctor was murdered. His house was half-burned, and they say it was filled with dried bloodstains. The news hasn’t reached Luoyang, it seems.”
“This is the first I’m hearing of it. Do you know anything about the other two great doctors?”
“I don’t.”
Hearing the title “Divine Doctor” naturally made Tang Mujin think of the other great doctor, Gwi-ui.
Shaanxi borders Henan, and while Bong Sang is quite far, it’s not impossible to reach if one sets their mind to it. So far, nothing seemed out of place.
But the timing was unsettling. Gwi-ui had parted ways with Tang Mujin at the end of autumn, and not long after, the Divine Doctor was murdered.
He recalled Gwi-ui’s voice, offering advice as if saying farewell, and the assassins they had encountered in the fields.
’…The old master might have known something. Could something have happened to him?’
What if the black-clad men had continued to pursue the old master? What if he had gone to see the Divine Doctor and they were both attacked, leading to the Divine Doctor’s death?
The ominous thoughts spiraled endlessly. Some were baseless, others were weakly supported, but a few seemed disturbingly plausible.
Tang Mujin knew he was being overly cautious. Yet, once the seed of anxiety was planted, it wouldn’t settle until he confirmed things for himself.
That day, Tang Mujin finished his work a bit earlier than planned and returned to the inn to pack his things.