Chapter 317
Chapter 317
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 317
Chapter Title: Physicians
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The next morning, Dang Mujin shared his suspicions with his friends.
"...That's the Demon Physician's handwriting?"
"Yeah."
"You're imagining things, right? There are plenty of people with similar handwriting in the world."
"I doubt it. The Demon Physician had a few distinctive characters he wrote oddly. Plus, there's talk he studied medicine."
Dang Mujin had never met the Demon Physician. All he knew were scattered facts.
He'd researched poisons in the Demonic Cult, and Mok Wan-ah had been one of his test subjects.
Comparing the timing of when the Poison Classic was delivered to the Strange Physician and Mok Wan-ah's account of the Demon Physician's disappearance, it seemed almost certain he'd been killed by the Strange Physician.
Mok Wan-ah rarely spoke of the Demon Physician.
It wasn't that he didn't want to talk; he just didn't know much. Even what he did share was mostly speculation.
'Oh, right.'
One story from Mok Wan-ah stuck in his mind.
The Demon Physician despised Green Forest bandits and had caused serious trouble because of it once.
When Dang Mujin showed interest in the Demon Physician's whereabouts, Namgung Myeong grew anxious.
'We can't dawdle here...'
The distance from Suk-song to the Namgung family estate was five or six days' walk for an average adult.
Far enough to relax a bit, but close enough to stay on edge. Namgung Myeong half-expected Namgung Jin-ya to show up any moment and drag him back home.
In an uneasy voice, Namgung Myeong said,
"Forget that stuff. Let's just find those physicians quick and get out of here. We didn't come to Suk-song to dig up the Demon Physician's past."
But Dang Mujin couldn't let it go.
"True... but still..."
Mastering poison arts was far harder than learning medicine.
Medicine was widespread enough, but dedicated poison experts? Dang Mujin knew of only three: the Strange Physician, the Demon Physician, and the folks from the distant Southern Barbarian Poison Sect.
With the first two dead and no plans to trek to the south, he'd have to figure out poisons on his own.
In this situation, he couldn't ignore even a faint lead.
'The Demon Physician's poison arts might all be in the Poison Classic. But what if...'
As Dang Mujin clung to his interest, Namgung Myeong shot up from his seat.
If the best option wasn't viable, settle for the next best.
"You stay here then. I'll check the nearby villages for those two elders."
"Do what you gotta do."
Namgung Myeong dashed off to the nearest village.
*
The group split up, one by one, inquiring about the Demon Physician's traces.
"Excuse me, could I ask you something?"
"What?"
"About that house. Do you know anything about the previous owners?"
"I don't know nothin'."
But by lunchtime, Dang Mujin had learned nothing.
It wasn't that the villagers were clueless.
They treated Dang Mujin's group like plague carriers, rejecting them outright. Their attitudes were so hostile he couldn't even exchange three words with anyone.
Plenty of folks disliked outsiders.
Even in normal villages, those wary of strangers outnumbered the welcoming ones. And with weapons, Dang Mujin's crew stood out more.
But a village where everyone shunned outsiders so uniformly? This was a first.
After seven or eight brush-offs, a crooked thought bubbled up in Dang Mujin's mind.
Why hunt for kind souls when he could grab an unfriendly one and make them kind?
Of course, he didn't act on it. That wasn't his way.
Around lunchtime, as Dang Mujin trudged home for a quick bite, Seolhwa approached him.
"Outside! Go outside!"
"Why? What's up?"
"Merchant!"
"A merchant? What about him?"
Seolhwa seemed eager to say more but struggled with the words.
Instead, she gestured wildly: arms wide for something huge, then mimed carrying a child on her back.
Peddler. Outsiders might know something. Dang Mujin nodded thanks and bolted toward the village edge.
He spotted the peddler soon enough.
Dang Mujin started to approach but held back, tailing him instead. Villagers might try to shut the peddler up.
Once the peddler was well clear of the village, Dang Mujin closed in. The man looked on in years.
"...Elder. Mind if we talk a moment?"
"Hup!"
The peddler startled, gasping. No warning of Dang Mujin's approach.
Spotting the sword at Dang Mujin's waist, he paled further, but relaxed upon seeing his face.
Reassured by a stranger? Odd.
"...I mean no harm. Don't worry."
"Right. You don't look the type to swing that thing out of nowhere. Where'd you come from?"
"From that village back there."
The peddler's reaction was subtle. He seemed ready to clam up.
Dang Mujin blurted hastily, whatever came to mind.
"I'm a martial artist, but also a physician, so I don't harm folks lightly. We only arrived yesterday..."
That eased the peddler's expression a bit more.
"Ah, I get it. Had my doubts, but you're not local. From the west? Sichuan? Or Guizhou?"
"Sichuan's Chengdu. You get around."
"Not tied to fixed routes, so I've hit most spots... Anyway, not the time. You didn't leave valuables in the village, did you? Run while you can."
"Pardon?"
Dang Mujin blinked, and the peddler scowled.
"Figured as much. You don't know what kind of village that is."
"I noticed the weird vibe. Not your average spot, huh?"
"Bandit nest. Tied to Green Forest bandits. Ever hear of the Latent Mountain Stronghold?"
Of course not. Dang Mujin had never tangled with bandits, nor they with him.
He knew some famous strongholds by name, but not this one. Local small-fry, probably.
Oblivious, the peddler clucked his tongue.
"You really don't know. That village is under the Latent Mountain Stronghold's thumb. Half the folks are their bandits, the other half in cahoots."
Now it clicked why everyone was so prickly—and wary of his group.
Five armed strangers camping out? Bound to raise alarms.
"First I've heard. How do notorious bandits like that avoid a purge? Namgung family estate's not far, right?"
"Rumors say they've got official connections despite being bandits. Probably bribing high-ups... Anyway, you spent the night clueless."
"Lucky me."
"Abandon any gear you left. No item's worth your life."
Rummaging his pack, the peddler handed over a few coppers and a fistful of dried grain.
"...Head east briskly, and you'll hit a village by tomorrow evening. Ration it. Those coins'll cover a meal or two there."
Reluctance tinged his giving—peddlers weren't flush.
But that made the gesture weightier.
Dang Mujin took the coins left-handed, slipping a few silvers into the pack right-handed. Feigning ignorance, he said,
"Much obliged. Anyway, a question."
"What?"
"Know any physicians from that village?"
"Master Jang? Dealt with him sometimes. Heard he left recently."
"Anyone way before him?"
The peddler pondered long, then spoke.
"...Yeah. Ancient history, though."
"How long ago?"
"When the Latent Mountain crew first took over—got roughed up then. Nearly twenty years. Remember he had a daughter."
"Was her name Yeo Hye by chance?"
"Dunno the name. Too long ago."
No certainty, but no one else to ask.
Dang Mujin pressed on the Demon Physician.
"Wasn't there a young physician at that house?"
"Physician? Nah, a handyman. Ah, now I recall."
"Recall what?"
"Said the handyman was sharp and hardworking, so Master Shim planned to marry him to his only daughter. Pass the clinic to his son-in-law. But he died in the chaos."
Yet contrary to that, the Demon Physician survived, fleeing west to the Demonic Cult.
'So that's how it went.'
He nearly let it drop, but something nagged. Wasn't the Demonic Cult a haven for those fleeing central plains crimes?
The peddler's tale mentioned no crime by the Demon Physician.
'The stronghold stirred trouble, Demon Physician committed some offense, then fled west.'
Peddler knew nothing more, no leads for Dang Mujin. Brooding alone wouldn't help.
Dang Mujin started to thank and send him off, then paused. One more thing.
"See two other physicians enter the village recently? Both around sixty, within the last month."
"No clue. I hit that village once every two months. Profitable, but dealing with bandits rubs me wrong."
"Got it."
The peddler knew nothing of Physician Yang or Yeom.
But he'd said Master Jang lived there till recently leaving.
Physicians rarely abandon villages, so the one they met en route to Namgung estate was likely him.
Thus, Physicians Yang and Yeom must've come here to fill his spot.
So where'd they vanish to? Dang Mujin's chest tightened like a stone atop it.
As he turned back to the village, the peddler startled.
"Heading back? Don't, if you value your skin."
"Left valuables."
The peddler stammered,
"I... can't help that far. I warned you fair and square."
More self-assurance than advice to Dang Mujin.
If some nameless youth died to bandits, it wasn't his fault.
Seemed cowardly at first glance, but it was a decent man's max kindness to a stranger. And truly, no fault lay with him.
Just spilling about the stronghold bandits couldn't have been easy.
"I get it. If trouble hits, your name stays out of it."
Dang Mujin replied.
But the peddler lingered, shaking his head, reluctant to unload his worry. Heavy regret slowed his steps to a turtle's crawl.
Dang Mujin watched him go, then headed to the village.
*
Back in the village, Dang Mujin found villagers milling about the house, clutching crude swords and clubs. Just over ten heads.
Distant, but their talk rang clear in his ears.
"That yellow-haired foreigner woman's alone in there now, right?"
"Yeah."
"Huh."
A hairy-backed man chuckled shortly. His bulging crotch betrayed his thoughts.
Dang Mujin frowned.
'They held off with all five of us here, but now she's solo, they pounce.'
No real worry. Seolhwa was a top Western martial artist.
Even if those rabble swarmed, she'd decapitate them before a tea cooled.
Oblivious to Dang Mujin behind, the men snickered.
"First yellow-hair for me. Nothing special down there, probably?"
"Heard once: yellow-headed guys are yellow down under too. Guy talk, though."
"Yeah? Same for women. Souvenir time."
They burst into raucous laughter.
Hoo—Dang Mujin approached, sighing deeply.
Hearing it, the men turned.
"Shit. One's back."
"Just one. No biggie."
Two men grinned, advancing on Dang Mujin. Both bigger, swords at waists. Confident in their skills, apparently.
Assuming he hadn't overheard, they pasted on friendly faces.
"Heard you're asking about the old house physician."
"That's right."
Dang Mujin and the two closed in. He ignored their words, eyeing their hands near sword hilts.
At five paces, they gripped handles.
"Know a guy who knows about him. Need an intro?"
Dang Mujin answered with a sword swing.
Third-rate? Second? No need to gauge. They died hiltless, heads rolling, blood spraying.
Only after the headless corpses hit dirt did the watchers react.
"Damn, expert!"
"Rush him together—we can take him! Kill!"
But no one charged. Just hoping someone else would fight. Bandit loyalty ran shallow.
Against most martial artists, scattering might work.
Not against Dang Mujin.
Sheathing his sword, he said,
"Kill the runners first."
The Latent Mountain bandits ignored him, bolting. Past experience: feet were all you could trust.
As Dang Mujin warned, the first to flee paid sequentially.
Four flying rings whirled through air. Lead runners died unknowing.
Front-runners' heads fell first.
Panic froze legs at first, but quick thinkers wheeled, charging back at Dang Mujin.
Not to attack—just realizing fleeing meant death.
Deserters for survival now rushed back for it. Fast-diers before; now slow-diers.
Finally, one survivor reached Dang Mujin, legs quaking, half-crawling.
Dang Mujin said,
"Two physicians entered recently. Right?"
Ironically, this was the morning's door-slammer.
Now, he could only nod.
"Y-yes..."
"Lead the way."
The lone survivor rose on trembling legs and shuffled off.