Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: The Strange Physician Yi Chung
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"How can I just throw this away?"
Seok Jiseung holed up in the forge, staring at the dagger blade Dang Mujin had left behind. Its shape was plain and unfinished.
It was barely past forging. He'd dunked it in the water trough before it fully cooled, but that hardly qualified as tempering. Just a careless cooling of the steel.
The step of reheating after tempering and cooling it slowly—annealing—was naturally omitted. Once Dang Mujin pulled the dagger from the trough, he'd washed his hands of it entirely.
Anyone with a passing knowledge of smithing might have wagged a finger at Dang Mujin as some green novice who didn't know the proper sequence.
But Seok Jiseung had the eye to judge Dang Mujin's skill.
An unfinished dagger like this said nothing about his true talent.
Seok Jiseung flicked the flat of the blade with his finger.
Ting. The sound was faint but pure. The subtle rebound vibrating through his fingertip whispered of the blade's even density and the promise it held.
Seok Jiseung roughly fitted the blade into a wooden handle, then balanced it across his finger. The center of gravity sat perfectly shifted just a touch toward the handle from the midpoint. Flawless, as if by design.
"Insane."
This wasn't some flawed piece. It was simply incomplete.
Not discarded midway on the road to perfection, but something that had chosen to halt on its own.
Seok Jiseung recalled his father's words. There was no such thing as perfection on a blacksmith's path. Relentless effort brought endless growth—that was the gist.
Yet Dang Mujin had shown him the very process toward perfection. He just hadn't bothered to cap it off spitefully.
A spark of greed ignited in Seok Jiseung's chest. He wanted to finish this dagger himself.
The foundation was already rock-solid. Even his own middling skill would turn it into something exceptional.
Imagine slipping the finished dagger in among the others, propping it up carelessly out front.
The Qingcheng Sect Taoists, who never failed to invoke the late Master Seok at the sight of Seok Jiseung's face, would surely ask if this blade was his father's work too.
He'd shake his head lightly and reply.
"My father's hands never touched it. This is the product of my own lacking skill—I forged the edge."
What faces would those arrogant Qingcheng Taoists make? The mere thought sent a thrill through him.
Seok Jiseung scooped up the dagger Dang Mujin had left. Toss it in the furnace, cool it slow, hone the edge, and it'd be a masterpiece. The moment people started seeing him anew.
But after a moment's hesitation, Seok Jiseung set it down once more.
The guilt of botching something so near perfection loomed too large. He dreaded rushing the finish and ruining it all.
Seok Jiseung stowed the dagger deep in the forge's recesses, resolving in his mind.
Once his skill reached the point where he wouldn't mar it in the final stages, he'd complete it. End of this year, next year. Soon enough, he'd see it done.
The world had slipped into darkness unnoticed. The hour when he'd normally turn in.
Yet Seok Jiseung barred the forge door and stoked the furnace anew. Replaying the day's scene in his head.
*
Unlike Seok Jiseung—who steeled his resolve replaying yesterday's memory—Dang Mujin returned home, slotted fresh needles into the treatment room's case, and promptly forgot about them. Needles held no special allure for him. He'd even handed off the finishing to someone else.
So what lingered in Dang Mujin wasn't satisfaction, but regret.
"If my body had been trained enough, I could've made something even better."
Not quite the dwarfs' burly, iron-hard forearms, but even Seok Jiseung's stamina would have yielded far superior results.
Still, tempering Dang Mujin's arms and shoulders to Seok Jiseung's level would take years at minimum.
And that assumed full devotion to smithing. Juggling clinic duties while dabbling casually? He'd likely never catch up in a lifetime.
"Is there no way around it?"
The sole idea surfacing was cultivating inner power like a martial artist to harness greater strength.
Absurd, of course. Building qi for forge work.
*
The next day unfolded much like any other for Dang Mujin.
He roamed the area, boiled decoctions here and there. Delivered ointments to those in need.
Come evening, Dang Jesun summoned him.
"Mujin."
"Yes, Father."
"The needles got swapped out. Your doing?"
"Right. Any issues? Breakages or bends?"
"Issues? No such thing. Just surprised by the sudden quality—had to ask."
"I see."
"Where'd these come from? Not Seok Jiseung's work. Master Seok back at the forge?"
Dang Mujin nearly blurted, "I forged it, Seok Jiseung assisted," but caught himself.
That would invite "Where'd you learn smithing?" Then out would spill Jonggwak, the mushrooms, the dream.
So Dang Mujin opted against the truth with Dang Jesun.
Forget whether his father would buy the dream tale—the Jonggwak and mushroom bit was off-limits entirely.
Dang Jesun despised anything mind-clouding. He shunned Wuseoksan unlike other physicians, and wouldn't touch even everyday liquor.
Confessing to suspicious shrooms, dream-tripping, then popping another handful from sheer regret? The backlash was predictable as fire.
"...No matter how I looked, they didn't satisfy, so I griped to Seok. He poured all day into these. Pride stung, I guess."
No amount of effort conjures such work—pure nonsense.
But like most folk, Dang Jesun knew little of forges.
He nodded, pleased.
"A treasure I've never laid eyes on in decades of physicking. Pass on my thanks, and boil him some prime licorice root decoction as a gift."
"Got it."
Conversation over.
Dang Mujin brewed the licorice decoction, delivered it to Seok Jiseung—who insisted on paying, forking over five, ten times the standard fee.
Flush with unexpected coin, Dang Mujin pocketed the medicine money, content.
He figured that wrapped it up.
*
But matters didn't conclude so neatly, against Dang Mujin's expectations.
It began when the Provincial Adjutant voiced doubts after hearing the Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant's tale.
"The Dang Clinic's needles hurt that bad?"
"Don't get me started. Inserting needles or drilling my back? Without your referral, I'd have raised hell proper."
He'd already vented to Dang Jesun, but from Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant Gwak Hoe's view, that was mercy. The man was prickly beyond measure.
The Provincial Adjutant, though, struggled to buy it.
"No chance. Over twenty physicians I've seen—none topped the Dang Clinic's acupuncture."
"Not as many sticks as you've taken, but hardly praise-worthy. Not by a long shot."
"Hmm."
That evening, curiosity piqued, the Provincial Adjutant dropped by the Dang Clinic. Mild headache anyway—perfect excuse for needles and pills.
The Provincial Adjutant's treatment skipped the thick needles Gwak Hoe endured. Hair-fine things; he barely registered their entry.
Placebo or not, a few pricks and the pain melted away clean.
Next day, he told Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant Gwak Hoe.
"Visited Dang Clinic yesterday—their skill's improved, even. A toddler wouldn't fuss over those needles."
"Impossible! Blood speckled my robe."
"Drama queen. I went yesterday. Acupuncture so masterful, I couldn't tell needle from skin."
Branded a whiner overnight, Coordinating Lieutenant Adjutant Gwak Hoe stormed back to the Dang Clinic.
Dang Jesun applied himself with extra focus this time. Gwak Hoe felt no pain at all.
Dang Jesun's technique remained unchanged, truth be told. The needles made all the difference.
The ones now in Dang Jesun's grasp? A novice could've jabbed them pain-free.
Master craftsmen scorn poor tools—but now and then, the tool elevates the master.
"No pain at all. Shoulders and back feel airy somehow. Muscles unknotting."
"Excellent. Here's a decoction—take before bed. You'll mend in a fortnight."
Gwak Hoe's chronic lumbar ache vanished like mist soon after.
Years of torment lifted, elated, he blabbed far and wide.
Rare endorsement from such a fusspot. His official chums figured what the hell, paid the Dang Clinic a visit.
Foot traffic swelled till reservations loomed necessary.
That's when a physician traversing Sichuan caught wind of the Dang Clinic's buzz.