Do-hwang, Truly (1)
The past three years.
While staying at Moyong Sega, I treated all sorts of patients. I'd come here to cure Moyong Seol's illness, but that didn't mean I spent every waking hour—minus meals and sleep—focused solely on her. I wanted to, sure, but I had to dedicate some time to Moyong Sega, her family. After all, both my master and I were renowned as exceptional physicians, so while living in the Medical Hall building, I saw many patients and healed them.
We cured nearly every disease except the supposedly incurable Jeolmok Jeong. One in five people inside Moyong Sega had passed through my hands. From simple stomachaches to headaches, toothaches, even menstrual cramps. Prescribing the right medicine eased their pain, and for those treatable with drugs, proper dosing did the trick.
Even before Moyong Seol's death loomed so close, plenty of them came to me, grasping my hand and urging me not to grieve. Right now, with things as they are, they couldn't visit, but if we met again, they'd rejoice like it was their own victory that I'd saved her.
One of them once joked about it.
"Physician, is baldness a disease?"
I replied that it wasn't. As humans age, wrinkles form on the skin, muscles weaken, backs hunch—hair loss is just a natural part of that. It's merely accelerated on the scalp. At best, medicine could delay it, though side effects cropped up now and then. Some bore them gladly to cling to their locks.
"Body, hair, skin—these we receive from our parents." Confucianism holds that mistreating your hair is like abusing your inherited body. So, is baldness filial impiety? If someone shaves their head and scars the scalp to prevent regrowth, maybe. But if they're just living life diligently and it falls out anyway? Hardly.
Not a disease, yet the world treated it as one. Most gave up restoring their original hair. They hid under hats or glued on others' strands, praying they'd take root. But wind would scatter them, exposing the fraud. Once follicles died, regrowth was rare.
So the bald hid their scalps, even if renowned in society. A few flaunted it proudly, but they had their own burdens.
What if Do-hwang, one of the Ten Great Masters, went bald? Mockery would target his hair before his skills or character. "Years in seclusion, polishing not martial arts but a shiny scalp?"
No nameless wanderer, but the Supreme Family Head of Ha-buk Paeng-ga? Unthinkable. Isn't honor what murim folk prize above life?
"Become a Ten Great Master, or go bald?" Some pondered this seriously. Baldness was a grave social ill, born of perception.
And now, here, a miracle unfolded.
"......Hoho."
Do-hwang laughed.
"Not even breaking into the Hyeongyeong thrilled me like this. Today, this seat welcomes a second—no, third—life."
He'd swallowed the Geukyang Jihwan refined from my blood and slathered his scalp with herb-infused oil. I watched: dead follicles revive with potent vitality, sprouting long hairs. Not just the head—beards lengthened elsewhere too.
"Hm."
It resembled clouds blanketing a mountaintop, billowing and settling. Why clouds? The hair was grayish-white, not black.
"This...!"
Do-hwang gaped at the mirror. It wasn't mere regrowth.
"What's wrong, Lord Do-hwang?"
"Physician Seok."
My title had shifted to "physician."
"Have you seen the likes of this?"
"First time."
"Thought so. It resembles the one I revere most... from the generation before Geomhu, who pacified the Central Plains with the sword alone."
A lion's mane of long hair. Silky yet wavy. Thick brows sweeping sideways. Coarse beard framing the mouth.
"Up to here, it's like Do-seong Paeng Seong-pung, my father in his living days."
Especially the chin beard flowing like hair down to his solar plexus.
"And this beard matches Mu-sin Gwan Un-jang of the Three Kingdoms, famed warrior."
Do-hwang stroked his silken mane and beard, then yanked hard.
No snap. But gray-white strands clutched in his fist.
"Heh, hoho...."
Despair at loss? Yes. But not from alopecia.
"Such vigor. Overflowing so much that... weaker hairs fall out."
Everyone sheds hair. These, carried by breeze from his hand, were the relatively frail ones plucked naturally. Or perhaps from sheer abundance.
"Physician Seok."
Do-hwang approached.
"This seat knows you're a Magyo spy."
"......."
"But also why you joined Magyo."
He halted ten paces away, hands behind back, head skyward.
"Tragic, truly. Children abducted across the Central Plains, yet orphans or rootless drew no rescuers."
"In the end, it worked out for the best," I said clearly, for Do-hwang and the distant Sword Saint listening.
"Origins and registry may bear dark stains, but they led me to Moyong Sega, healing countless pains."
"Hoho...."
"Regrettable as it was, now I'm simply happy. Before Moyong Sega, my life was dodging death in pitch darkness. After her, I found hope to live with passion."
Until the miracle.
"And now, I'll exhaust every effort to never lose this happiness."
"What life do you seek? Any wishes?"
"As a physician, to cure incurables like Lady Moyong, granting them hope. As a man..."
I cleared my throat, stepped forward boldly.
"To spend a century with my beloved, devoting all to her and our family till death."
"......Truly tragic."
Do-hwang lamented heavenward, voice laced with regret.
"The Heavenly Way's titan—no, murim's hero—questioned by Cheonma himself."
"......."
Embarrassing phrasing, but "Cheonma asked" rang true.
"Good. Then, what do you seek from this seat or Ha-buk Paeng-ga right now?"
"As a Moyong Sega member, my request to Lord Do-hwang is..."
I formed a fist salute.
"Lord Do-hwang..."
A moment later, before Moyong Sega's main gate.
"Let us in too!"
A band of men pounded on Moyong Sega's gate.
"The Yodong Chil-hyeop have arrived—how dare you bar us like this!"
"......."
No matter how the self-appointed spokesman of the seven raged, Moyong Sega's guards stood firm.
"Begone. Moyong Sega receives no uninvited guests."
"I saw Ha-buk Paeng-ga enter an hour ago! No guests? Do you discriminate?!"
The guards' faces darkened. This man—one of Yodong Chil-hyeop—
"Even lowly Jin Sang-in is a Chojeoljeong master, and our chief, Dae Tae-do Seon Il-ho, Hwagyeong at least!"
"......."
"Ha-buk Paeng-ga's head is Chojeoljeong, you took him in—why snub us?!"
"Because..."
"We're Ha-buk Paeng-ga."
Whoosh. Wind rose, a deep middle-aged voice dominating all.
"Mere ronin causing such a racket?"
"W-what?!"
The crowd parted. A white-clad man in a bamboo hat strode forward. His bountiful hair peeked beneath, like a mountain hermit bearing clouds.
"Think Chojeoljeong lets you bang on a Five Great Families' gate?!"
"Insolent cur!"
Jin Sang-in lunged, sword qi surging from his waist sheath. Bystanders scattered in alarm.
"Hoo."
The man raised one finger calmly. Flicked it upward like wielding a blade. His fingertip launched Jin Sang-in's sword qi skyward.
Bwoom!
Chojeoljeong sword qi soared. Clashing energies fluttered the man's hat back.
"......What?"
"!!!"
The hat tumbled. His lush hair whipped in the wind.
All beheld it.
"Do, Do-do...!"
"Do-hwang Paeng Wol!!"
The recluse unseen for years.
"Shh."
Do-hwang flicked his finger at the blocked sword, like snapping a forehead.
"Quiet."
Crack. Jin Sang-in's blade shattered to powder, scattering earthward.
"Don't raise your voice before my friend's home."