Tian Ailang's Question
Tian Ailang's question gave Iljang pause for deep thought.
His tenant-farmer parents had been beaten to death by the brutality of their landlord. When he appealed to the authorities out of righteous anger, all he got in return was a thrashing. The landlord and officials were thick as thieves—he'd seen soldiers loitering around the landlord's estate ever since. Time nearly swept it all under the rug, until Iljang stumbled upon a crucial fact: the landlord was trying to frame his brothers for crimes he'd committed elsewhere. With no experience in fighting, just farming, he and his brothers couldn't shake the false accusation or find a path to vengeance. So they fled into the mountains. Even slash-and-burn farming proved impossible amid the hostility of established settlers and run-ins with bandits. They were driven all the way to this remote peak where no one ventured. Starving on roots and bark, they'd reached their limit and decided to turn bandit—and Tian Ailang was their first target.
Iljang relayed his tale to Tian Ailang with calm composure.
"I know this is wrong. If you're here to punish us, young master, please make an example of me alone and spare my brothers—"
"What are you talking about? I just shared some steamed buns because you looked hungry. You haven't harmed anyone else yet, so all I want is to give you a chance to start over."
"A chance, you say...?"
Iljang knelt politely, assuming a posture ready to receive Tian Ailang's wise counsel. In these times, the powerful could punish or kill the weak like them and bury the truth without consequence. No one ever stepped forward. Yet here was someone—a nobody like them—going out of his way to care. This was a first.
Seeing their eldest brother's example, the other brothers followed suit, kneeling respectfully before Tian Ailang. He gave a small nod of approval. He could empathize with their anguish at losing their parents unjustly. Perhaps it wasn't just his kind nature that kept him from vengeful bloodshed despite being prepared to die; maybe it was fear not of death itself, but of surviving to watch his brothers suffer. It was a different path from his own thirst for revenge, but fleeing for their sake took tremendous courage.
In Iljang's demeanor, Tian Ailang glimpsed a flicker of Nidae-hyuk—that quiet acceptance of death to save his siblings, echoing memories of Baekdu Mountain. And their willingness to kneel before a stranger and heed his words marked them as people with real potential for growth and improvement.
Tian Ailang pulled every money pouch from his robes and set them down before Iljang. The jingle of silver echoed through the silent mountains.
The ten brothers stared in bewilderment at Tian Ailang and the pouches. He shrugged.
"It's everything I have. Might not be much, but use it to build a new life. Whatever path you choose, as long as it harms no one else, you've got my blessing."
Not waiting for a reply, Tian Ailang brushed off his backside and stood. Iljang scrambled forward on his knees, blocking his way with a frantic expression.
"Y-young master! Why would you do this much for us?"
Tian Ailang glanced skyward for a moment, then met Iljang's eyes with a wry smile.
"Call it a small atonement for the blood on my hands—and the blood yet to come. And it's getting cold out; at least buy some warm clothes. Health first, always."
As he'd wandered endlessly through those caves, Tian Ailang had pondered many things, especially fate and karma. His grandfather in life had fretted over the karmic debt of a bloody path. Dam Sohyeop's words from before came back to him: If you've chosen the unavoidable road of blood as a murim warrior, cherish your bonds and dilute that karma through acts of sincere remorse. That's what defines the upright sects—not innate goodness, but shouldering responsibility and atonement worthy of their actions. That's why they earn respect under that banner.
Tian Ailang had no desire to become an upright sect member, but he'd wanted to emulate those practices to some degree. And now opportunity knocked, so he simply acted. The uncertain road ahead would surely stain his hands with the blood of countless Demonic Cultists. Whenever chances arose, he'd stack good deeds to balance the scales.
With no way to know his inner turmoil, Iljang and his brothers wept tears of gratitude, prostrating themselves before Tian Ailang. He felt awkward, but not unhappy—quite the opposite. Their joy made him wish he had more to give. Pity he was tapped out. To him, this silver was lucky spoils from the wolf pack, but to them, it might be the first they'd ever held.
Wiping away tears and snot, Iljang bowed deeply.
"Young master, may we know your name? We may never repay you, but we'll engrave it in our hearts and live by it always."
Tian Ailang replied with quiet satisfaction.
"Tian Ailang. Live well. And take that tray of steamed buns too—sell it at an inn for a few coins at least."
Fresh tears of emotion welled up among the brothers. For them, it was the first warmth from another soul they'd ever known.
Tian Ailang hurried onward, leaving them still bowing in his wake. He'd glimpsed why people performed good deeds, but such effusive gratitude still made him squirm.
* * *
"Five Rock Peaks... and Turtle Rock."
Tian Ailang had found the location Seol Dong the physician described. The vague directions had him doubting, but the peaks were so striking—sharp and treeless at the summits, like bald heads clustered together—that he spotted them easily. Less gentle hills than jagged spires, they matched the tale perfectly. He located the peaks, then Turtle Rock at the base, ignoring the eerie flows and twisting paths hinting at a formation. He paused there for rest.
Hunger gnawing, he popped the last tonic pill into his mouth and chewed. Bitter yet subtly sweet, a fine flavor despite its shit-like appearance. It even filled him up decently, perfect for long treks. And whatever real benefits it held, he hadn't felt overly fatigued on the journey here.
"If I see her again, I should ask for a big batch."
As Tian Ailang munched, a shimmering mountain breeze stirred from somewhere. The formation wavered, and sure enough, a figure emerged from the trees—a woman in white medic robes, small cap atop her head, thin cloth masking her face.
She stood silently appraising him. Tian Ailang drew the paper from his bosom and offered it: Seol Dong's letter of recommendation.
She eyed his hand briefly, then approached to take and read it.
"Follow me."
Her voice rolled like jade beads, evoking birdsong by a dew-kissed morning brook. Tian Ailang stared, mesmerized that sound could be so beautiful.
Without waiting, she turned and walked ahead. He snapped to and followed.
She trod a strange footwork pattern. Related to the formation, maybe. Tian Ailang trailed calmly, unaffected. She glanced back with evident curiosity.
"Unaffected by the formation, are you?"
"Yes. My arts keep me close to nature, so it doesn't touch me."
"Impressive. I'll pick up the pace, then."
After about a li, the trees parted to reveal a broad clearing dotted with modest thatched huts. No fences for defense—they must rely on the formation. Roughly twenty people milled about, all quite young for a secretive medical sect. Small-scale indeed.
"This way."
Trailing her across the village, Tian Ailang drew stares—not wary of an outsider, but brimming with curiosity, like they were guessing his ailment.
"Here. Wait a moment."
He stopped as instructed, surveying the hut before him. Same size as the others he'd passed—no hierarchy by grandeur here. He'd expected the village head's abode, but status seemed unmoored from buildings.
The woman opened the door.
"Come in."
Tian Ailang entered at her guidance. There sat an elder with flowing white hair, brows, and beard, elegantly arranged. Despite the years he emanated, he looked remarkably youthful up close.
Tian Ailang stared. The elder smiled warmly.
"Am I that fascinating?"
He shook his head and bowed politely.
"You look so much younger than you feel—my apologies for staring. I'm Tian Ailang. Seol Dong the physician recommended your place."
The elder's eyes lit with interest at the greeting.
"Haven't used my name in ages; folks called me Ma Physician back then. Call me that, or just Elder."
"Yes, sir."
"Sharp eyes on you, young man. I'm about 120 this year."
"...?!"
"Hohoho, no need for such shock. Breathe good air, eat well, shun the world's chaos for a life of peace and plenty—you could end up like this too."
"Still astonishing."
Ma Physician smiled.
"Speaking of, Seol Dong sending you here is rare. Some deep bond between you?"
The woman beside him glanced curiously too. Tian Ailang shook his head and briefly recounted his time with Seol Dong.
"After taking my pulse, he wrote the letter right then. Said your medical arts are exceptional, with ample clinical data—might get advice here."
Ma Physician looked intrigued.
"Did he now... Mind if I take your pulse?"
Tian Ailang nodded readily and extended his wrist. He knew murim folk often bristled at such requests, but it didn't faze him. Ma Physician grinned delightedly.
"Hoho, now I see why Seol Dong did what he did. Let's have a look."
Eyes closed, Ma Physician pulsed him. Tian Ailang felt the alien qi probe his body—gentler, more refined than Seol Dong's.
"Th-this...?!"
Suddenly, Ma Physician's eyes flew wide like a startled rabbit. He gaped at Tian Ailang in disbelief.