If There Is No Way, Make One
Du Jin-seong asked in a heavy voice.
"Young Lord, I have heard that even divine physicians like Hua Tuo himself were helpless against this pestilence. Is there truly any way to stop such a terrible calamity?"
Ouyang Qiangang answered with his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his expression set in stone.
"If there is no way, then we will make one."
It was a short answer, but it rang with fierce resolve.
Ouyang Qiangang posed a question of his own.
"Brother Du, have you no thought of returning to the Poyang Du Clan Manor?"
Du Jin-seong burst out laughing and tossed the question right back.
"Hahahaha! And do you, Young Lord, intend to abandon your return to the Ouyang Clan Manor and flee to some land free of the plague?"
"Hahaha, of course not."
"Neither do I."
"Hyah!"
The crack of the whip tore sharply through the cold winter air.
Dagadak! Dagadak! Dagadak! Dagadak!
Their hooves beating like thunder, the two horses began to tear down the official road at a maddened gallop.
They rode with everything they had toward the Ouyang Clan Manor, as though racing an invisible shadow of death itself.
The cold winter wind sliced at their cheeks like a blade, yet cold sweat would not stop streaming down their spines.
By the time darkness had swallowed the land, Ouyang Qiangang and Du Jin-seong arrived at a safe house near the Ouyang Clan Manor.
Both horses were soaked through with sweat and lathered in white foam, and one of them even collapsed as its legs buckled beneath it.
It was the price of half a day of pushing the horses without a single moment's rest.
Tethering the horses in the back yard and stepping inside the house, Ouyang Qiangang spoke to Du Jin-seong.
"Brother Du, as far as everyone in and around the clan is concerned, I am known as 'a man dying of a worsened Nine Yin Severed Meridians.' What is more, spies from the Gold Pagoda Mountain Manor are watching my quarters day and night. That is why I cannot enter together with you. I will send someone for you shortly, so please wait here."
Only then did Du Jin-seong understand why Ouyang Qiangang had come here instead of going straight to the manor.
He nodded, his face grave.
"Understood, Young Lord. I will wait here until you send for me."
Ouyang Qiangang made for the wooded hills near the manor with Geum Wang.
The darkness shrouded him as he unfolded the Ghost Shadow Art.
'Akasha, how much time is left?'
Approximately 68 hours remain, Doctor.
His impatience gnawed at him until his mouth went dry.
Ouyang Qiangang opened the entrance of the secret passage hidden behind a dilapidated shrine and darted inside.
The passage led directly to Gu-yang Baek's training chamber.
With the dinner hour already past, Ouyang Qiangang thought his father might well be inside.
He was not wrong.
The passage door opened with a dull, heavy grind, and out stepped Ouyang Qiangang with Geum Wang riding on his shoulder.
Gu-yang Baek, who had been honing his fist arts alone in the center of the chamber, was thunderstruck—that passage was one no living soul was ever meant to discover.
His face hardening, he raised his power and fixed his gaze on the door.
But the voice that came through it belonged not to some unknown intruder, but to the person he had longed for more than anyone else in the world.
"Father, it is I."
"Gang-ah... is it truly you?"
At the sight of his son, Gu-yang Baek's eyes flew wide in disbelief.
He looked the young man up and down, then spoke.
"Your qi has grown so deep and tranquil that there is no comparing it to before you left the manor. What in the world happened out there?"
"I simply never stopped training."
Ouyang Qiangang answered with a long, formal bow.
"Rise."
As Gu-yang Baek took him by the shoulders and lifted him up, his voice brimmed with pride.
But Ouyang Qiangang was different.
His expression grim, he spoke quickly.
"I have found Old Master Zhu Biao, and restored our alliance with the Poyang Du Clan Manor as well. I have also given orders to seek out the heirs of the remaining three families, so we should have good news before long."
The waterfall of reports pouring from his son's mouth left Gu-yang Baek momentarily unable to gather his wits.
The burdens that had crushed his shoulders for decades—tasks he had long believed impossible—were flowing from the boy's lips as casually as if he were buying goods at a market.
"Heh heh, slow down. We have not even had the chance to speak of old times yet, and you begin with the results of your journey?"
And yet, despite his father's joy, Ouyang Qiangang's expression remained sunk in gloom.
"I would like nothing more, but there is no time."
The smile vanished from Gu-yang Baek's face.
A veteran of the martial world, he needed nothing more than his son's manner to know that something dire had occurred.
"Has something happened? Something bad?"
Ouyang Qiangang nodded.
When he answered, his voice had grown heavier still.
"On the road back to the manor, I saw village after village wiped out to the last soul by a plague."
Gu-yang Baek's complexion changed drastically, stunned beyond words.
"A plague? What on earth are you saying?"
Plagues make no exception for martial artists. Those of the Transformation Realm or higher might be spared, but anyone below that level was infected no differently from the commonest of commoners.
Ouyang Qiangang held nothing back—the carnage he had witnessed on the road, and everything Akasha's analysis had uncovered about the Black Death.
"This... this cannot be! The pestilence!"
Gu-yang Baek's face drained white.
Before he was a martial artist, he had been the patriarch of a clan and the magnate of these lands—fallen from grace, yes, but a patriarch nonetheless.
He understood only too well what it would mean for a plague to sweep over his territory.
His face rigid, he said:
"I must warn the Lord of Nanchang at once—tell him to close the city gates and tighten the defenses without delay."
"Naturally, you must. But I am afraid that alone will not be enough."
"What do you mean by that?"
Ouyang Qiangang fell silent for a moment.
The conversation he had shared with Akasha on the way here surfaced in his mind.
'Akasha, in the medieval East, when a large-scale plague broke out, what was the most common initial response from bureaucrats under central government control?'
Data analysis indicates 'concealment and underreporting' as the most likely response, at 76 percent. A classic bureaucratic reaction to evade responsibility.
Casting the memory aside, Ouyang Qiangang spoke to Gu-yang Baek.
"The moment word of an outbreak is officially reported to the imperial court, the court will be more likely than not to censure the local officials for incompetence and dereliction of duty."
"Hmm..."
The words were impossible to refute, and Gu-yang Baek's face contorted.
"I cannot say what kind of governor the current Lord of Nanchang is, but for most officials their own post weighs heavier than the lives of the people. The moment you speak to him of the Black Death, he will likely think first of the court's censure."
"It is true that the prevailing view holds the present Lord of Nanchang to be a self-serving careerist, blind to everything but his own advancement."
"In that case, he is far more likely to try burying this crisis than solving it. And that half-hearted response is exactly what will turn Nanchang into a true hell."
At his son's coldly precise assessment, Gu-yang Baek's gaze wavered.
"Then... then what are we supposed to do?"
"We cannot simply keep the truth from him. Tomorrow morning, as soon as day breaks, go to see him and warn him of the plague."
"And?"
"At the same time, I believe you should make a public proclamation, in your own name, that a plague is raging through the land. Once the rumor is loose in the streets, even the city lord will not be able to drag his feet."
"So you mean to get the people out."
"Those who can flee, must. You and Mother, Cheon-gi and Cheong-cheong too—you all need to flee."
Catching the subtle implication woven into his son's words, Gu-yang Baek creased his brow and asked:
"And you have no intention of running."
"I will find a cure for the pestilence and finish it for good, before it can spread any further."
Gu-yang Baek's eyes widened.
"Is that even possible? Did you not just tell this father that the plague would arrive here in two or three days' time?"
"It is possible. No—it must be made possible. Only then will our family, and the people beyond, be safe."
"Hmm..."
"Father, take Mother and my younger siblings and leave the manor for a time."
"We cannot evacuate and leave you behind."
"I may not find a cure before the deadline."
Gu-yang Baek shook his head, his expression final.
"Your mother, Cheon-gi, and Cheong-cheong I will send away. But I am staying."
"Father..."
"This is decided. Say no more."
Realizing his father's mind was made up, Ouyang Qiangang swallowed a sigh and said:
"As you wish. Tonight I will return to my quarters. To search for a cure in earnest, I must first 'rise from my sickbed,' after all."
A trace of bitterness crossed Gu-yang Baek's face.
"All this while, Bamboo Forest Manor and Lady Sangguan have been sending us the profits from the Yang Dragon Pills and Yin Dragon Pills, just as the contract stipulated. Thanks to them, the clan's coffers have grown astonishingly rich—and yet we have not had a single moment to properly share the glad tidings."
"There will be time aplenty for that once we have defeated the plague, Father."
"Yes... that is all I can hope for."
"I will head to my quarters now."
"Hwang Nodae will be overjoyed."
After bidding his father farewell, Ouyang Qiangang unfolded the Ghost Shadow Art and slipped out of the training chamber.
When he reached his quarters in the detached annex, he found Hwang Nodae sitting before his door, gazing up at the night sky.
He slipped into his room through the window and sent his voice in a secret transmission.
[Nodae, it is I.]
A gleam of divine light, swift as a lightning bolt, shot through the eyes of Hwang Nodae where he sat.
[Young Master? Is that you?]
[Yes.]
[Where are you?]
[Inside the room.]
[I beg your pardon?]
Shock spread across Hwang Nodae's face.
What stunned him was that he had sensed nothing at all—not even when Ouyang Qiangang had infiltrated the room and sent his voice.
His face glowing with emotion, he said:
[You have achieved something truly extraordinary.]
[I would love to trade stories, but something urgent has come up. I am afraid it must wait.]
[Something urgent?]
Ouyang Qiangang told Hwang Nodae about the plague.
Hwang Nodae's face turned to stone.
Ouyang Qiangang said:
[I will create a cure for this plague—no matter what. So do not worry yourself too much. Nodae, tomorrow morning, go to the safe house and bring Du Jin-seong back with you. By tomorrow morning, there will be no need to worry about the watchers' eyes.]
The words were clipped at both ends, difficult to make sense of.
But Hwang Nodae, already deeply awed by the young man's genius, nodded without question.
He trusted that Ouyang Qiangang had some plan hidden up his sleeve.
[It shall be done.]
[As for me, I will 'wake up' tomorrow morning. Until then, please pretend you know nothing.]
[Understood, Young Master.]
With the conversation over, Ouyang Qiangang let his gaze wander around the dark room.
A doll in the shape of a person lay on the bed, buried beneath the covers.
A wry smile rose to his lips at the sight.
Compared to the day he had left, the room had not changed in the slightest—and it was spotless.
One glance was enough to show how devotedly Hwang Nodae had tended it.
Settling into a chair, Ouyang Qiangang called for Akasha.
'Akasha, tell me the standard treatment for septicemic plague.'
By 21st-century standards, treatment relies on intensive administration of specific antibiotics such as streptomycin and gentamicin. However, synthesizing those drugs with this era's technology and materials is impossible. At the very least, it would require a laboratory capable of molecular-scale synthesis.
Ouyang Qiangang knitted his brow.
It was the answer he had expected, yet having it confirmed weighed on his heart all the same.
Though he had come to the Murim and obtained the Samsara Path of Life and Death, he was an engineer at his core, not a physician.
Naturally, when it came to modern medicine, what he did not know far outweighed what he did.
'Is there no way to cure the Black Death with this era's medicine and your abilities?'
There is a method that should work in theory. Though I cannot guarantee the results, as it has never been clinically tested.
Ouyang Qiangang's eyes sharpened.
'What method?'
First, analyze the Samsara Path of Life and Death to identify every herbal compound capable of a direct antibacterial effect against the plague bacterium. Second, deploy the nanobots to deliver those compounds into the patient's body with maximum efficiency, striking only the pathogen with absolute precision.
'Start researching that theory right now and find me the optimal treatment.'
Understood, Doctor.