Chapter 108
Chapter 108
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 108
Chapter Title: Northern Capital Lieutenant
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Dang Mujin and Namgung Myeong arrived in Chengdu at a somewhat early evening hour.
Physician work typically wrapped up around dinnertime, so once the sun set, patients no longer streamed into the clinic.
If someone showed up after dinner, it meant their condition was truly dire.
Dang Mujin’s father, Dang Jesun, would emerge from the treatment room as evening approached and sit on the porch veranda, keeping an eye out for patients. Having been cooped up in the stuffy room all day, it was a chance to catch the cool evening breeze and check for any more arrivals.
That was exactly the scene now. Dang Jesun sat on the porch, examining Neighbor Old Lady Wang’s condition, while Dan Seolyeong perched there too, swinging her legs.
That was when Dan Seolyeong spotted Dang Mujin and Namgung Myeong.
"!"
The moment she saw Dang Mujin, Dan Seolyeong sprang to her feet and rushed over to him.
Without so much as a greeting, she threw her arms around him and buried her nose in his chest, taking a deep breath.
Dang Jesun, Old Lady Wang, and even Namgung Myeong—all three watched the pair as if enjoying a delightful spectacle.
Dang Mujin felt pleased deep down, but the situation embarrassed him.
". . . I must smell like sweat."
"It’s fine."
After a brief moment like that, Dan Seolyeong gently pushed him back and met his eyes.
Unlike her frantic rush just seconds ago, her gaze was now quite composed and rational.
Dang Mujin felt a faint chill. He had a hunch about what was coming next.
". . . Didn’t you say it’d take ten days, maybe half a month at most?"
That was exactly what he’d said. But Dang Mujin had been gone for well over three months—nearly four.
". . . Things just dragged on."
"Out."
Dan Seolyeong pointed toward the outside, mimicking an angry wife scolding her husband. Then she immediately regretted it.
Dang Mujin was sharp enough at times, but other times he was so oblivious it was baffling.
In other words, he might take her literally and actually leave.
Dan Seolyeong quickly changed tack.
"No, wait—not that. Stay locked in your room. You’re grounded. Got it?"
". . . Got it."
Without argument, Dang Mujin headed inside. He felt relieved that her anger ended there.
Dan Seolyeong turned her unresolved fury toward the next target.
"And you, Myeong—!"
But by the time she spoke, Namgung Myeong had already vanished.
*
Days passed with him not even leaving the courtyard, and Dan Seolyeong’s mood soon softened.
Dang Mujin found his range of movement frustratingly limited, but at the same time, he derived an odd satisfaction from her possessive attitude. It was a cute kind of possessiveness that warmed his heart.
After ten peaceful days like that, a familiar official visited the Dang family clinic.
The Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant—the same man who had once grumbled endlessly about being unsatisfied with Dang Jesun’s acupuncture.
It wasn’t too late in the day, and with no other patients around, Dang Jesun rose to greet him.
"You’re here, Adjutant."
"Yes, long time no see."
His rank wasn’t particularly high, but he held considerable standing at the Dang clinic.
The days of his complaints were old news. Now he dropped by regularly even without ailments, chatting idly or picking up medicine, which brought in decent revenue.
More importantly, he had wide connections. Whenever someone in official robes visited the clinic, nine times out of ten it was on the Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant’s recommendation.
"What ails you today?"
"Do I have to be sick to visit? I’m not here for my health this time."
"Then . . . ?"
"There’s someone with an illness who’s seen other physicians without improvement. I told them I’d recommend a skilled doctor."
"Does this require going to the yamen?"
"Indeed."
Dang Jesun tensed. Until now, everyone the Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant had referred had come directly to the clinic.
But if they needed to examine symptoms at the yamen, it was one of two things: the patient was too grave to move, or they were so powerful that the physician had to come to them.
"Is the condition life-threatening?"
"Not at all. I hear the symptoms have persisted for years."
Then it must be someone powerful. Dang Jesun grew even more tense.
"May I know who it is?"
"Lord Northern Capital Lieutenant."
Now even Dang Mujin, listening from the side, tensed up. The Northern Capital Lieutenant was an extremely high post. Though a military official, his prestige surpassed most county magistrates and rivaled a provincial governor.
The Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant waved it off.
"No need to worry too much. Curing it would be great, but failure won’t cause issues. Plenty of physicians have examined Lord Northern Capital Lieutenant already, and none succeeded."
"I see."
Fortunately, he didn’t seem petty. Dang Jesun and Dang Mujin both sighed in relief.
"In any case, Physician Dang—can you come to the yamen with me now?"
"Of course. Mujin, handle any patients who come today."
"Understood."
Dang Jesun packed simple herbs and his needle case, then set off with the Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant.
*
It was an unusually quiet day with no patients. Dang Mujin and Dan Seolyeong holed up in the treatment room, fiddling with each other’s hands and playfully passing the time.
He imagined they’d live like this once they took over the clinic someday. A pretty satisfying future.
Then, at an early evening hour, Dang Jesun returned to the clinic.
The Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant was with him. The man’s home wasn’t far from the Dang clinic to begin with.
Dang Mujin stepped out of the treatment room and asked his father,
"Was it a familiar condition?"
Dang Jesun shook his head gravely.
It was familiar, but it had been quite some time since he’d last felt this sense of defeat. Ever since mastering the Divine Physician’s Compendium of All Diseases, he’d been able to diagnose and treat incoming patients with ease.
"I knew something was off, but it wasn’t a condition I could precisely diagnose and treat."
The Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant consoled him.
"Don’t take it to heart. Your family’s medicine is renowned, but no one cures every patient. Even Hua Tuo couldn’t. Forget it and rest well."
As the Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant turned to leave, Dang Jesun had no intention of giving up here.
"Mujin."
"Yes, Father."
"Go with the Adjutant and examine Lord Northern Capital Lieutenant’s condition."
Hearing this, the Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant looked dubious.
"No need for that. If you couldn’t handle it, how could young Mujin?"
"You have it backward."
"What do you mean?"
"Mujin’s medical skill surpasses mine."
It was a difference in the medical texts they’d mastered. Dang Jesun had only learned the Compendium from the Three Great Physicians of the Realm, while Dang Mujin had also studied the Strange Physician’s texts and the Demon Physician’s poison manual.
Of course, the Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant didn’t know this. He didn’t even know who Dang Mujin had apprenticed under—assuming it was just some mediocre physician.
Those who knew he’d followed the Strange Physician were back-alley thugs or Qingcheng Sect warriors—people with one foot in the martial world.
"I understand wanting to boast about your son, but how could Mujin, trained by you, surpass you?"
"It’s not mere fatherly bias. Any illness I can treat, Mujin can too—but not all that Mujin can treat can I manage."
"But you represent the Dang clinic, don’t you?"
"That’s because I can handle most conditions, and I’m still too young to retire to the back room."
"Hmm . . ."
Dang Jesun spoke with such conviction that the Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant soon nodded.
*
Dang Mujin followed the Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant into the yamen.
The buildings were far larger and grander than those of any major sect, and even at this late hour, several officials in robes were visible.
The Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant led him to a building bustling with military officers—the Northern Capital Lieutenant’s quarters, it seemed.
They opened an ornate wooden door and entered a spacious room.
A stern-faced middle-aged man with sharp eyes sat at a desk, his complexion poor. It was the telltale expression of someone plagued by chronic pain gnawing at their nerves.
He spoke in an irritated tone.
"It’s late— what is it?"
The Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant bowed low.
"My lord Captain, may we examine your condition once more?"
"That young man’s going to look at my illness?"
It was a familiar look of disbelief directed at Dang Mujin.
People generally thought a physician needed gray hair to be credible.
"Yes. Physician Dang said his son is far more skilled than he is."
"His son? The father couldn’t cure it, but the son will? Ridiculous . . . No, never mind. He’s here now—what’s the point of arguing? Take a look."
Even amid his pain-induced irritation, he roughly accommodated Dang Mujin’s position, suggesting a decent character.
Dang Mujin observed the Northern Capital Lieutenant. As a martial official, he’d learned some martial arts, but nothing impressive—barely second-rate, perhaps.
"Pardon the intrusion."
Dang Mujin sat before him and took his wrist. Pulse and breathing seemed fine.
'Hmm.'
Yet his face was sallow, and his frame was gaunt compared to his bones. It didn’t look like sudden weight loss from a day or two.
'Stomach ailment?'
Dang Mujin sent a thread of internal energy into his body. It was so fine and faint that, despite his martial training, the Northern Capital Lieutenant didn’t detect it.
Dang Mujin nodded as if he understood the condition.
As expected, it wasn’t simple medicine—it involved martial arts, which was why other physicians had failed.
"You haven’t overeaten, yet abdominal pain strikes occasionally, and you sometimes vomit up food."
"Correct."
Perhaps others had pinpointed this much, as the Northern Capital Lieutenant responded calmly.
What surprised him came next.
"When you were young, didn’t you suffer a deep abdominal wound?"
"Did your father tell you? No . . . Physician Dang wouldn’t have known that."
As a young man, the Northern Capital Lieutenant had taken a spear to the gut on the battlefield. The blade had pierced straight through, emerging from his back—a wound that killed eight out of ten.
By heaven’s grace, he’d barely survived.
Of course, plenty of physicians knew about the abdominal scar.
But none had divined the abdominal injury from a brief pulse diagnosis before he even removed his robe.
Dang Mujin continued the inquiry.
"The wound healed without issue at first, but symptoms appeared later after you began practicing martial arts—not right away, but well after you’d advanced."
". . . Astonishing. It took over a decade after healing for this pain to start. What exactly is it?"
"It’s not a disease with a specific name. But I can explain the cause and symptoms."
"Go ahead."
The Northern Capital Lieutenant leaned in with keen interest. The Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant also looked shocked, not expecting Dang Mujin to diagnose so precisely.
"The abdominal wound healed over time, but the qi and blood at the Sliding Flesh Gate and Celestial Pivot became tangled and hardened. They fused together, essentially. A normal person wouldn’t have issues, but as you cultivated more internal energy flowing through the points, problems arose."
Whether convinced or not, the Northern Capital Lieutenant nodded lightly. Dang Mujin continued.
"The points are abnormally swollen, interfering with your intestines. Your internal energy stagnates and blocks the gut, causing symptoms like blockages or ruptures at random—like what martial artists sometimes experience."
"Young as you are, mastering both medicine and martial arts. A prodigy."
Dang Mujin humbly deflected.
"My insight isn’t deep. Just some minor tricks."
"How do we treat it?"
"This isn’t for medicine—it requires True Qi Guidance. Will you entrust your body to me?"
"You can even do True Qi Guidance? That’s beyond minor tricks."
"It’s nothing special. As a physician, I’ve practiced a lot."
". . . Very well. Let’s do it."
Allowing another’s internal energy into one’s body was risky, but the Northern Capital Lieutenant didn’t hesitate long.
This was the first physician to diagnose his long-standing ailment. Refusing now might mean carrying it forever.
As the Northern Capital Lieutenant lay prone, Dang Mujin placed a hand on his back and infused internal energy.
Finding the cause was the hard part—treatment was straightforward. He knew exactly which channels were problematic and how to fix them.
Since the two weren’t fully fused, creating a gap between them and gradually widening it sufficed.
As Dang Mujin worked to restore the original separation, the intensified pain made the Northern Capital Lieutenant groan occasionally.
Yet he never opened his mouth fully. Unless practicing a special breathing method, carelessly parting the lips while circulating energy could cause issues, whether voluntary or not.
After about an hour, the Northern Capital Lieutenant felt whatever had clogged his gut burst open refreshingly.
The alien sensation and pain that had lingered for over a decade vanished in an instant, leaving him feeling reborn.
He let out an involuntary exclamation.
"Hah . . ."
"It’s done. Just in case, refrain from circulating internal energy for the next three days."
"Incredible. I thought I’d carry this for life. Cured so simply."
The Northern Capital Lieutenant’s face brightened unrecognizably.
"What do you need? I’ll reward you as best I can."
"No need. It didn’t take long, and no expensive herbs were used."
From experience, Dang Mujin knew it was better to modestly decline than greedily demand payment upfront.
A truly shameless person might brush it off, but the Northern Capital Lieutenant seemed generous enough to offer plenty.
Sure enough, he wouldn’t back down.
"Nonsense! I need to reward you to feel right. Tomorrow, I’ll send a horse loaded with goods—take the horse and cargo as payment."
"That’s too much."
"Haha, no refusing."
". . . It’s not that—the clinic has no stable."
The Northern Capital Lieutenant burst out laughing.
"I didn’t think of that! Then I’ll load up more goods—no horse. Send it back empty. That work?"
Dang Mujin smiled, clasping hands in a fist salute and bowing. He’d scored big.
Beaming with excitement, the Northern Capital Lieutenant chattered on.
"I figured I’d carry this damn gut pain forever. Even eating a bowl of porridge meant trembling in agony. As a kid, I could devour a whole cow."
"Still, avoid overeating for three days. Too much food suddenly could upset your stomach."
"Right, right. Got it. I can’t remember being this happy. I saw every renowned physician out there, but never dreamed a young one would cure me outright. Even that famous Strange Physician couldn’t."
". . . The Strange Physician?"
A familiar name dropped out of nowhere. Dang Mujin pressed.
"Yes! Yi Chung, the so-called master. Couldn’t fix my pain."
That couldn’t be. The treatment Dang Mujin had just used was one Yi Chung had taught him.
After brief thought, Dang Mujin pieced it together. He must have met Yi Chung before his skills fully matured.
"You met the Strange Physician long ago, then."
"Hm? No. It was this spring—before my posting to Sichuan."
Impossible. Dang Mujin had buried Yi Chung’s body under a walnut tree last winter.
Dang Mujin’s expression turned deadly serious.
"Could you tell me more about that encounter?"