Chapter 83
Chapter 83
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 83
Chapter Title: Chengdu
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It had been a long time since he returned to his hometown, so he expected warm blessings to be exchanged, but unexpectedly, his father Dang Jesun seemed a bit displeased.
"It's good that you came back safe, but what kind of behavior is that for a grown man?"
"Pardon?"
"When I was your age, I carried your mother on my back wherever I went. I'm not saying you have to go that far. But making a young lady come all the way here alone? You fool."
...Young lady?
Dang Mujin was taken aback, but Dang Jesun continued with feigned dissatisfaction.
"What do you have to look so smug about? You told Seolyeong to go home, didn't you? You sweet-talked a marriageable girl and now you're trying to weasel out of it?"
Dang Mujin racked his brain.
'I don't remember sweet-talking her like that.'
The first one to say she wanted to go to Sichuan Province had been Dan Seolyeong. She was sick of Songshan and wanted to see the rivers of Chengdu or something like that.
But soon after, all other thoughts vanished from his mind, leaving only the idea of taking Dan Seolyeong to Sichuan. That was why, when they parted at the council hall, he had told her to go to the Dang Clinic.
Dang Mujin glanced at Dan Seolyeong. She widened her eyes round, then slowly averted her gaze.
Whether she truly didn't understand the situation or was pretending not to.
'...It wasn't planned, was it?'
Of course not. It had been Dang Mujin's unilateral decision to send Dan Seolyeong home first.
In truth, even if that had been her intention, he wouldn't have minded. Dang Mujin hadn't wanted to part with her either.
On the contrary, when Dan Seolyeong said she was leaving Songshan for Chengdu, Dang Mujin had been secretly pleased. He just hadn't shown it.
Dang Jesun didn't drag it out and changed the subject.
"Anyway, who's that person outside? Doesn't look like a guest."
"He's Ming from Anhui Province. We ended up traveling together by chance, and he'll be staying around here for a while."
"Why stay around? We have an empty room, so tell him to come in and stay. Young lady, go guide him."
"Yes!"
Dan Seolyeong darted out of the room as if she had been sitting on pins and needles.
Now only the Dang father and son remained in the room.
Dang Jesun finally relaxed his posture. He must have wanted to maintain a stern front in front of Dan Seolyeong.
"So, how was the journey? I heard Yi Chung the Strange Physician is quite the controversial figure, so I worried belatedly."
"It wasn't always pleasant, but I met many people and saw many things. And I have something to show you."
"What?"
Dang Mujin pulled three books from his bundle. Dang Jesun checked the titles and furrowed his brow.
They were clearly medical texts just from the titles, but medical texts weren't something that circulated freely. They were the history and pride passed down through physician families, and also their livelihood.
It was like martial arts manuals from sects circulating outside.
"Where did you get these? You shouldn't covet other families' medical arts recklessly."
"I received them from Elder Yi Chung. And these aren't ordinary medical texts."
"Is there any medical text in the world that's common and worthless? Each one contains methods to save lives."
"That's not what I mean. These are the medical texts of the Three Great Physicians of the Realm. The Divine Physician's Myriad Diseases Manual. The Demonic Physician's Nine Poisons Codex. The nameless one is Elder Yi Chung's. The three most precious medical texts in the world."
Dang Jesun stared at Dang Mujin. He couldn't tell if his son was serious or joking. The content was absurd, yet the expression was too earnest.
"...You're serious?"
"Yes."
Dang Jesun opened the medical texts with a grave expression and skimmed through them. He flipped through quickly, but their volume meant it took considerable time.
Having spent his life studying medicine and texts, Dang Jesun immediately recognized their value.
"...Treasures. True treasures. But beyond the grasp of ordinary mortals."
Of the three texts, the medical knowledge Dang Jesun could comprehend and master was less than half. Parts of the Divine Physician's Myriad Diseases Manual and the Strange Physician's text.
Half of the Strange Physician's content required internal energy manipulation, so it was beyond Dang Jesun's capabilities.
Meanwhile, the Demonic Physician's Nine Poisons Codex was more a book on poison arts than medicine, so no reason for Dang Jesun to touch it.
Dang Mujin spoke for his father's sake.
"Fortunately, I've already studied the contents, so I can help you master them."
Help.
Dang Jesun belatedly realized his son's skills had surpassed his own.
He stared at Dang Mujin for a long while, then slowly shook his head.
"...No. Not now. I'll tell you if I need to."
Dang Mujin's words also meant that the son he thought would live as an ordinary physician on the edge of the Central Plains had stepped beyond ordinary bounds.
A crane among chickens, as they say.
With incomparable talents, Dang Mujin would eventually make his name known across the Central Plains, sooner or later.
Dang Jesun was proud and impressed by his son's achievements.
But more than joy, he felt a pang of unease.
The path of the extraordinary comes with extraordinary hardships.
*
Some time had passed since returning home.
Though Dang Mujin's medical skills surpassed Dang Jesun's, the Dang Clinic's representative physician was still Dang Jesun. Dang Mujin merely assisted alongside Dan Seolyeong. There were two main reasons.
First, physicians peak late.
Unlike jobs requiring physical labor, around thirty or forty was considered too young for a physician, and patients viewed it unfavorably.
Patients preferred the experienced Dang Jesun over the young Dang Mujin.
Moreover, with the Divine Physician's arts now under his belt, Dang Jesun could treat most patients sufficiently.
With ample skill and patients seeking the familiar, experienced father first, there was no need for Dang Mujin to force himself to the front lines.
Pushing forward would be tantamount to shoving his father to the back room. Dang Mujin hoped his father wouldn't grow idle at a young age.
Second, Dang Mujin was too busy to devote himself solely to clinic work.
Even sitting still at the clinic drew all sorts of visitors. Right now, a blacksmith was pleading with him.
"Come on, spare a moment. The decoction can simmer later."
"Cooling half-heated iron ruins it like bad steel; once you start boiling herbs, you must see it through."
"Herbs aren't that expensive. I'll cover the cost, just come for a bit."
Dang Mujin glared unpleasantly at the blacksmith, who realized his slip and hastily apologized.
"Aigoo, I misspoke. Sorry. I'm just desperate. It won't take long. Can't you spare a little time?"
Dang Mujin kept his seat glued down and poked at the fire under the decoction pot with a poker.
This wasn't the first time blacksmiths had coaxed him like this.
They'd ask for just one ke (about 15 minutes), but once inside the forge, things changed. The blacksmiths would surround him, forming a wall of favors.
One ke became one sichen (about 30 minutes), which dragged into one shichen (two hours), then two.
Dang Mujin, like them, couldn't rest until seeing red-hot iron finished, so entering the forge often meant leaving at sunset.
He had to cut it off without even standing or entering.
"I was at the forge the day before yesterday. I said I'd rest two days and go tomorrow."
"It'll really be quick. Song the blacksmith brought some precious stuff from his hometown yesterday—usha powder or whatever, mixed into selected ore iron. But it's acting strange."
Dang Mujin snorted midway through the story.
"Strange? With usha mixed in, of course it didn't melt properly."
Pointed out like he knew everything, the blacksmith rolled his eyes.
"Uh... you know about usha?"
"The black powder twice as heavy as iron? Collected by grinding down the edges of heavy ores common in Yunnan. It doesn't melt in ordinary fires."
"Not ordinary? You know how to melt it?"
"To melt usha, go to the sandbars in Hubei and buy their charcoal."
"Their charcoal's special?"
"Unlike regular wood charcoal, sandbar charcoal burns with yellow flames, not red. And the flames clump together without scattering."
As Dang Mujin explained, the blacksmith nodded slowly, absorbed.
"Never heard of that."
"Yes. Build a good furnace, burn the charcoal generously, and bellow until you collapse—then you can melt usha decently. Melt selected iron in a side furnace, add two fen of molten usha, hammer well, and you get superior steel. Harder than regular steel, less brittle."
"Two fen? That little?"
"Excess spoils, as they say. More isn't better."
Laymen think all blacksmithing is the same, but specialists divide fields finely.
Not just swordsmiths versus farm tool makers.
In big cities like Luoyang, some only select ore with giant sieves downstream on the Yangtze, filtering impurities. Others spend days hammering refined metal to temper it.
How to select ore well, how to make good metal—all lifetimes of craft.
Warriors remember swordsmiths, but those smiths grovel before others for better iron.
Great swords need skill and iron; without good iron, skill fades.
If asked what set Dang Mujin apart, hand skill first—but knowledge from ore to finished sword was nearly as vital.
The visiting blacksmith, knowing how impressive that was, exclaimed openly.
"...I thought you just had nimble hands. Where'd you learn to make such steel?"
Dang Mujin brushed it off vaguely.
"Like meeting physicians across the Central Plains, I eavesdropped on that many smiths. Anyway, forge tomorrow—go home today. If you're overflowing with energy, try melting that usha yourself."
"Uh, alright."
And as many blacksmiths came, so did physicians wanting new needles and warriors craving new swords.
Dang Mujin prepared batches of needles, handing out a dozen or so gladly to visiting physicians. Each face reminded him of his mentor.
Thinking one might save a life made staying up all night to make and distribute worthwhile.
But swords for warriors were trickier.
Pre-making without user in mind couldn't yield the best, and forging took time.
Dang Mujin refused nearly all, but Qingcheng Chengdu Branch orders were hard to decline.
In the end, he forged one sword for Branch Leader Yellow Spirit Master.
Next was Chief Instructor Jin Song, second-in-command—but Dang Mujin dragged his feet.
Bad timing for forging. Poor iron. Humid days ruin blades, etc.
Yet he promised Jin Song a sword by year's end no matter what, letting Jin Song wait patiently.
Learning even Jin Song's order was backed up deterred others from asking.
Using Jin Song as a shield to delay.
Clinic and smithing left no breathing room, yet Dang Mujin trained martial arts in secret too. Days felt half as long.
Thus, Dang Mujin's routine harmed no one, but a few resented him for it.