The Secret Book of the Heavenly Mechanism Blood Physician
The unpleasant encounter at the Azure Cloud Inn had clearly soured Heo Cho-ryeong's mood, yet Ouyang Qiangang himself wore a look of perfect unconcern.
Leaving the commotion of the inn behind them, they stepped back out onto the bustling street, where he was the first to speak.
"Sister, would you happen to know where the largest medicinal herb market in Nanchang is? I would be much obliged if you could guide me there."
Heo Cho-ryeong, still feeling apologetic over Hwa Do-reung's rudeness a moment ago, found his sudden request a little odd, but she nodded readily all the same.
"Of course. There's a medicinal street nearby that boasts the largest scale in all of Jiangxi Province."
Following her guidance, they turned down several narrow alleys, and soon a fragrance unlike anything before began to tickle the tip of his nose.
It was pungent yet fragrant, at times earthy, at once sweet and bitter—the thick, mingled scent of every kind of herb imaginable.
Before long, the source of that aroma sprawled out before Ouyang Qiangang: an enormous medicinal market.
Stalls stretched endlessly down both sides of the street, packed shoulder to shoulder with shops large and small dealing in medicinal materials.
The air was thick with the pounding of herbs in mortars, the rhythmic chop of herb knives, and the low murmur of merchants and customers haggling over their selections.
Unlike the shabby street stalls, the larger shops each hung ornate, antiquarian signboards above their entrances.
The people who visited such establishments were mostly physicians, martial artists of the Murim, or servants sent by wealthy households.
As they rounded a corner on the main thoroughfare, a massive three-story pavilion rose up, its grandeur overwhelming every other shop around it.
On its signboard, where a dragon and a phoenix had been carved with exquisite detail, the characters for Myriad Treasure Hall were embossed in gold leaf.
Heo Cho-ryeong could not quite hide the bitter note in her voice as she spoke.
"That's Myriad Treasure Hall—the finest medicine shop in Nanchang, run by the Hwa Clan Manor. It would be no exaggeration to say that most of the rare herbs out of Jiangxi Province pass through those doors."
Ouyang Qiangang's gaze lingered on the enormous apothecary for a moment.
The Hwa Clan Manor... So that's Hwa Do-reung's family. The scale of the place certainly befits the finest medicine shop in Nanchang.
He gave a careless nod and turned his steps toward the other stalls instead.
He peppered Heo Cho-ryeong with occasional questions, pretending to make conversation about the herbs, but his true interest lay elsewhere.
Again and again he picked herbs up from the stalls, and each time, Akasha swept through them, analyzing their medicinal compounds and the energy hidden within.
There was a reason Ouyang Qiangang showed such particular interest in Nanchang's medicinal market.
It stemmed from an insight he had gained over the course of three months of seclusion, spent raising the completeness of the Transcendent Formless Divine Art.
The Transcendent Formless Divine Art was a technique built upon the principle of absorbing the extreme yin energy that accumulated in the nine great acupoints of his Nine Yin Severed Meridians and converting it into the energy required to sustain his life.
Then one day, a thought had struck him.
If the Transcendent Formless Divine Art can process the extreme yin energy of the Nine Yin Severed Meridians, couldn't it also absorb and convert every other form of energy that exists in this world?
If that hypothesis proved viable, his desperate struggle for survival would enter an entirely new phase.
While staying at the Ouyang Clan Manor, he had at once begun cautious experiments under Akasha's precise analysis and her strict safety controls.
The first subject was the food he ate every day.
Without eating a bite, he attempted to operate the Transcendent Formless Divine Art and absorb the faint energy contained within the meal.
The results were astonishing.
The pure energy obtainable from food was only a vanishingly small amount, but he had managed to harvest it safely.
There was a risk of drawing in impure, chaotic energies alongside the useful ones, but Akasha's sophisticated energy-filtering system eliminated the danger entirely.
When he confirmed the success, his heart pounded with excitement.
The second subject was the medicinal herbs he had long taken for his Nine Yin Severed Meridians.
Sitting before the raw, unbrewed ingredients of his medicine, he once more ran the Transcendent Formless Divine Art.
"Doctor, the energy contained in medicinal herbs is far purer and more potent than that of food. In particular, the higher-grade the herb—the more densely the vital essence of nature has condensed within it—the more the purity and quantity of its energy increase by leaps and bounds. Absorption efficiency is incomparably higher than with food as well."
Just as Akasha had analyzed, he succeeded in absorbing from the herbs an energy far richer and purer than anything food could offer.
Those two successful experiments planted within him a deep conviction.
And so he had come to Nanchang's medicinal market.
Here, guided by Akasha's real-time analysis, he intended to find a special energy source—something capable of supplying him with a great volume of pure, refined energy.
If he succeeded, he could dramatically shorten the time needed to secure the vast reserves of internal power—no less than thirty years' worth at each stage—required to treat each of the nine great acupoints.
But as he roamed every corner of Nanchang's medicinal market with Heo Cho-ryeong, his expression grew darker by the hour.
Countless herbs passed before his eyes, yet Akasha's real-time analysis returned the same disappointing verdict every time.
Most were merely ordinary in their medicinal effect, and even the rarer among them showed no trace of the special energy—the spirit herbs that could propel his Transcendent Formless Divine Art forward by leaps and bounds.
"Doctor, among the herbs analyzed so far, no specimen containing significant high-density energy that meets your criteria has been found. Most do not exceed ordinary levels of biological activity."
The greater his expectations had been, the harder the disappointment crashed over him like a wave.
Herbs of this caliber fell hopelessly short of what he was trying to achieve.
At last, he turned carefully to Heo Cho-ryeong, who had been watching him with curious eyes.
"Sister Cho-ryeong, might I ask—does this market in Nanchang not deal in spirit herbs like century-old wild ginseng or hundred-year fleeceflower? No matter how much I look around, I haven't seen a single thing with that kind of energy in it."
At his specific question, Heo Cho-ryeong shook her head with a smile.
"Well, spirit herbs of that top tier are hard to come by in any market."
"Then where would one need to go to acquire them?"
"Even when such rare herbs surface in the world, they're traded quietly among those in the know before you can blink. There are far more people seeking them than there are things to be had, so the price is whatever the seller asks. More often than not, you can't get them even with money."
She paused for a moment, then added with a look of regret.
"What's more, most of the places where spirit herbs grow wild, along with the distribution of rare medicinal materials, are monopolized first by the great renowned sects or the imperial family—sometimes the herbs are claimed at the very source, before they ever leave the mountains. Only a truly minuscule amount ever reaches the general market, and even then, it's mostly what those powers have already used and discarded."
Disappointment carved deep lines between Ouyang Qiangang's brows.
Am I to go tramping through the deep mountains myself, hunting for spirit medicine like some herb-gathering recluse...?
Heo Cho-ryeong's words forced him to face reality.
Going about it this way, I'll have a hard time obtaining herbs of the caliber I want.
His mouth soured.
Was hoping to find a special energy source—one that could drive the Transcendent Formless Divine Art's growth forward by leaps—in the open market a fool's dream from the start?
Just then, a grand three-story bookshop caught Ouyang Qiangang's eye.
The characters Nanchang Book Pavilion were brushed boldly across its signboard.
"Sister, would it be all right if we stopped by that book pavilion for a moment?"
Heo Cho-ryeong, who knew full well how much he loved books, nodded.
"Perfect timing. I've been meaning to buy a book myself."
Inside, the pavilion was crammed full of books.
Ouyang Qiangang passed right by the shelves piled with classics like the Four Books and Five Classics and collections of poetry and prose without so much as a glance.
His targets were exclusively the practical volumes of this era—texts on commerce, distribution, production techniques, and the regional specialties of each province.
Information like that would enrich Akasha's database and go a long way toward fleshing out his plan.
As he browsed, his footsteps stopped abruptly before a bookshelf in one corner.
There, a hundred or so faded volumes on medicine stood wedged together.
Could it be...
He began flipping through the books at speed.
His hands turned the pages so rapidly that Heo Cho-ryeong, watching from beside him, could hardly tell whether he was actually reading the contents or merely riffling through them.
Of course, it never even crossed her mind that in those fleeting moments, Ouyang Qiangang's eyes and Akasha's systems were scanning and comprehending every last word of each volume.
Reading all hundred-odd books took Ouyang Qiangang less than half an hour.
Most of them merely parroted the contents of already well-known medical texts, but the records concerning the effects of a few rare herbs and several unique pulse-reading techniques proved valuable data for Akasha.
Having gone through everything on the shelf, Ouyang Qiangang turned his gaze toward a heap of several hundred battered old books stacked carelessly along the base of the wall.
These, too, were medical texts.
Then, strangely enough, one particular book seized his attention with unexpected force.
It was easily as thick as three knuckles of a grown man's finger, its cover yellowed and faded as if to testify to the long years it had endured.
Across the cover, an elaborate title was written, its characters nearly worn away: The Secret Book of the Heavenly Mechanism Blood Physician.
A strong curiosity seized him, and he picked it up.
A weighty heft settled into his palm.
The first dozen or so pages were blackened with the grime of countless hands, yet strangely, the latter portion was as clean as a brand-new book.
Which meant that nearly everyone who had gotten their hands on this volume had given up after reading only the beginning.
He turned past the cover, and the author's preface came into view.
I devoted my entire life to the art of medicine, yet I always yearned for some point of contact with the martial path.
But my innate talent was too humble, and I could never presume to set foot upon the road of martial learning.
Unable to cast off that lingering regret, I spent my whole life studying the harmony of medicine and martial arts—through theory and observation, and with the help of a friend whose martial arts had reached the realm of Needle Strikes Ten Times in Ten.
This book is the record of those imperfect realizations.
I say this plainly: to a pure physician who knows nothing whatsoever of the principles of martial arts, this book may prove a poison—do not attempt to read it.
Only one who is a warrior able to sense and command the flow of qi within his own body, while at the same time harboring a deep devotion to the art of healing, will be able to understand my lifelong research and carry it further still.
I beseech some wise soul of a later age to continue this unfinished pursuit.
As he finished the preface, Ouyang Qiangang's eyes lit up.
A book written by a physician who never mastered the martial arts—a book meant for physicians who do.
Feeling a premonition like fate itself, he chose The Secret Book of the Heavenly Mechanism Blood Physician without a moment's hesitation.
Heo Cho-ryeong shot him a puzzled look at the decrepit state of the book he had picked, but his expression of quiet satisfaction dissuaded her from pressing further.