Chapter 59
Chapter 59
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: The Inn's Physician
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It's a harsh world where making ends meet is tough. To ordinary folks, even the threshold of a physician's door seemed awfully high.
To make matters worse, there wasn't a single physician in this town, so people couldn't even find a threshold to cross.
Then one morning, word spread that a young physician had saved someone who was half-dead.
The villagers rushed to the patient's house to see for themselves.
It wasn't just idle gossip.
A man who had been so swollen he couldn't even get out of bed was now hobbling around, his swelling noticeably reduced after just one night.
It was only natural that patients suffering from all sorts of ailments flocked to the inn.
The innkeeper generously cleared out space for the influx of patients. Of course, he didn't suffer any losses. He steamed up a huge batch of dumplings and started selling them to the line of waiting people.
When there's only one type of dish, even running the place solo becomes manageable.
As patients gathered faster than Dang Mujin could treat them, Yi Chung—who had only been watching until now—naturally began tending to some as well.
Dan Seoryeong whispered to Dang Mujin in a voice full of worry.
"This old man... is it okay for him to do that?"
"Why not?"
"He's suddenly treating patients right next to you."
"...Do you remember the old man's name?"
"Of course. Yi Chung, right?"
That was the extent of Dan Seoryeong's reaction. She clearly had no idea about his nickname.
"What? Is he famous or something?"
"Yi Chung the Strange Physician. He's one of the Three Great Physicians of the world."
A few sharp-eared people overheard, and they slipped out of Dang Mujin's line to join Yi Chung's. Yi Chung shot Dang Mujin a glare as he suddenly inherited several more patients.
Dan Seoryeong shook her head.
"People really can't be judged by appearances."
"What's that supposed to mean about me?"
Yi Chung lodged a light protest at Dan Seoryeong before resuming his treatments.
He administered acupuncture, and whipped up simple pills on the spot.
But there was no time to boil decoctions, nor any setup for it. For patients who absolutely needed them, he simplified the recipe and ingredients as much as possible, told them how to make it themselves, or directed them to another physician.
As if they'd coordinated in advance, Dang Mujin and Yi Chung collected fees the exact same way: an empty plate on the table, where patients put whatever they could spare.
Of course, the money piled up agonizingly slowly. One coin felt stingy, two felt empty, and three was about average.
"Is this even covering the medicine costs?"
"Probably not. But it's fine. We're not strapped for cash."
Through their travels, Dang Mujin had realized he didn't need to scramble for money.
Plenty rolled in without him trying.
The purse from the Nangong family steward had been hefty, as was the one from the Shaolin pursuit squad leader. And there'd been extra loot from ambushing those ore miners.
Now Dang Mujin understood why Yi Chung spent money freely and didn't cling to it.
With real skill, money came naturally. If he needed quick cash, he could just forge a sword and sell it to a martial clan.
Dang Mujin's plate had at least started accumulating a bit, but Yi Chung's kept hitting bottom regularly.
"I'm hungry but have no appetite. No strength in my arms or legs, exhausted from the moment I wake until I sleep. That's all because you're not eating properly."
"But I have been eating..."
"You scrimped on food costs and just shoved fruits and watery slop down your gullet? That doesn't count as eating."
Yi Chung called over the innkeeper, shoved a handful of coins into his palm, and told the patient,
"For the next five days starting today, no work. Eat meat dumplings for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I already paid the innkeeper."
"What about thin noodles?"
"If you don't want to get better, then just eat whatever you want instead of the dumplings."
They continued treating patients like this until a burly man entered the inn and joined the line.
His dark complexion suggested he was tough as nails, even if he had health issues.
But the man's symptoms weren't the point. The other patients were shooting him covert glances.
One of the patients being treated first whispered to Yi Chung.
"That guy who just came in at the back... can't you skip treating him?"
"Why's that?"
"He's the biggest troublemaker around here. Gets drunk, steals stuff, beats people for no reason. Does everything he's told not to. That limping guy from earlier? He smashed his ankle. Looks like the ghosts are finally coming for him..."
Yi Chung just shrugged lightly without answering. And as if it were the most natural thing, he treated the man and sent him on his way.
As evening fell, the crowd thinned, and once it got dark outside, the innkeeper shooed the patients away.
Even without the group asking, the innkeeper served them food and drink for three.
It was a generous spread, dishes that must have taken quite some time to prepare, timed perfectly for the end of their work.
Once the three had eaten their fill and Dan Seoryeong—unable to fight off sleep—nodded off and thunked her forehead on the table, Dang Mujin asked Yi Chung,
"I figured you'd just pretend to treat that guy earlier. But you ended up giving him proper care."
"I did."
No lengthy explanation needed; "that guy" said it all. There'd only been one such patient worth debating.
"What if you hadn't treated him?"
"Why?"
"It feels off, you know? He's not some one-off offender. He crippled an innocent person's ankle."
Some people are like that. You get this gut feeling that treating them will just create more patients elsewhere. And that instinct is never wrong.
"Have you ever seen me play favorites with patients?"
"No, but that one was different. Fixing him up might mean more people get hurt."
Yi Chung refilled his cup as he spoke.
"When I was still young, not even a year after starting to learn the physician's trade from my master, I got into it with some martial artists."
It was the first time Yi Chung mentioned his master. Makes sense—a martial artist turned physician must have learned from someone.
Dang Mujin was curious about the master, but that wasn't the main point of the story Yi Chung was sharing.
"What started the trouble?"
"They said I'd treated a vicious black道 cultivator. Claimed he'd killed eight innocent people."
The Dang family clinic had never dealt with such issues. Treating Qingcheng Sect members in their shadow meant they rarely even encountered black道 types, let alone treated them.
But he'd heard stories from physicians elsewhere. Martial artists storming in, furious over treating their enemies.
The worst time for that was during the Righteous-Demonic War, no doubt.
When Dang Mujin was a kid, there'd been a huge fuss about the war breaking out. Chengdu was safe, but things were different up in the Dalju region northeast of Sichuan Province.
From what his father Dang Jesun had told him, one physician living there got killed by a demonic cultivator for treating a righteous one during the war.
Back then, he'd just thought demonic cultivators were scary and moved on. But now, it didn't seem so strange if the factions were swapped.
Rage blinds reason and turns the world into enemies and allies.
"So what happened?"
"I just said I didn't know any better, and somehow it blew over. It was my first time dealing with that, and a huge crowd showed up—more than a bit over the top. After that, I started reading the room and only treated people who wouldn't cause problems."
It wasn't like Yi Chung at all. He must not have been as strong back then, or as bold.
But the story didn't end there.
"A couple years later, trouble hit again. This time they accused me of treating some demonic bastard's kid, so they tossed the boy I'd treated that day at my feet. Beat him half to death."
"So you apologized again?"
Yi Chung grinned.
"Like hell. I drew my sword and turned the place upside down. No thought of apologizing, or of avoiding kids like that in the future. As I caused chaos and fled, I wondered: Why had I acted differently that first time? What standard was I even using?"
Dan Seoryeong, whom they'd thought asleep, stirred and slurred,
"You're a physician, but you started a swordfight? Wasn't it just for show?"
"I'm not the best physician out there, but my swordplay's the finest among them."
"Like the innkeeper with the strongest arm-wrestling grip?"
"Something like that... Nah, forget it. Go back to sleep."
Her sleep had lightened a bit; she cracked her eyes open and leaned crookedly against her chair.
Dang Mujin urged Yi Chung on.
"Anyway, keep going."
"Where was I?"
"Why you acted differently. Wondering about your standard."
"Right."
Yi Chung tossed back the liquor in his cup.
"The reason for acting differently was easy to figure out. I hated that they'd half-killed a child, hated that they'd turned my patient back into one. But the standard was something else. I didn't even know what mine was."
"Even if it's a demon's kid, you have to treat a child. Something like that?"
"What's the cutoff for 'child'?"
"Uh... around a bit over ten?"
"How old do you treat, and from what age do you skip? Save the eleven-year-olds and let twelve-year-olds die?"
Strange question. Dang Mujin scratched his chin.
"That feels off."
"Suppose you decide not to treat demon spawn. A demon who's killed multiple people brings a kid begging for treatment—would you?"
"No."
"What if the demon says it's not his kid?"
"Then yes."
"But what if the face looks like the demon's?"
"Uh..."
Without waiting for an answer, Yi Chung bombarded him.
"What if the eyes match but the nose doesn't, so you're not sure if it's blood? What if it's not blood but a recent adoption? What if the demon's infamous for lying? What if it's a reformed demon?"
Yi Chung broadened the topic, unleashing examples.
"How many people does someone have to kill to be evil? Does committing murder make you evil? What if it was unavoidable? One killer versus someone who crippled ten—which is worse?"
Dang Mujin fell deep into thought. Yi Chung rattled off cases breezily, but none had clear answers. They weren't that kind of question.
After agonizing a while, Dang Mujin turned it back.
"So what did you decide, old man?"
"Couldn't find the best standard, so I picked the clearest one: Treat every patient without exception. Age? Good or evil? Reputation? What others want? None of it matters. After that day, my world got clear again."
Dang Mujin refilled Yi Chung's cup as he replied,
"Simple, but I bet it caused a ton of problems."
"It did. A promising righteous martial artist turns demonic, trades a cool nickname for something ridiculous like 'Strange Physician.'"
"What if that standard clashes with another?"
Dan Seoryeong, listening quietly, asked. It was a sharp, very her kind of question, but Yi Chung cut it off cleanly.
"Won't happen. I only have one standard."
Silence fell.
Yi Chung fiddled with his cup, thought long, then shifted topics.
"Dang Mujin. So far, what I've given you versus what you've given me—which do you think is bigger?"
No need to ponder long.
What Dang Mujin had given Yi Chung? One needle case and one sword.
What Yi Chung had given him? Travel funds, Black Peony, martial arts teachings. Medical knowledge, endless advice. Countless other things.
Coldly put, everything Dang Mujin had achieved since leaving Sichuan hinged on Yi Chung.
"I'd love to say otherwise, but you've given way more."
Yi Chung smiled in satisfaction.
"Right. You owe me."
"Want a new sword? Something shiny and cool? I still have that magnetic iron Hong Geolgae picked up last time."
"Nah. Don't need it."
"Then what do you want?"
"Nothing. Just remember you owe me."
Dan Seoryeong said to Dang Mujin,
"I think I've teamed up with a weird old guy."
"Good you realized it quick."
Yi Chung teased.