The Strange Doctor Yi Chung
"Huh?"
When Tang Mujin turned, the face of the Strange Doctor Yi Chung was before him. Mujin stiffened at once.
Just a short while ago, he had seemed merely a martial artist interested in medicine and herbs.
But after hearing the name Strange Doctor, he appeared like a different man altogether—a murderer said to have slain dozens of physicians despite not being one himself.
Tang Mujin glanced toward the treatment room. His father, Tang Jaeseon, was straightening his robe and preparing to receive the next patient.
Fortunately, his father was safe. So Yi Chung did not kill every physician he encountered.
Mujin answered in a trembling voice.
"What do you wish of me…?"
"I heard from Doctor Tang that there's a forge nearby."
"Yes, that's right."
In truth, there were a couple of small smithies around, but it seemed unlikely that someone like Yi Chung had come to buy a hoe or plow. There was only one forge he would be interested in—Seok Ji-seung's forge.
"Guide me there."
"As you wish."
Fearing to offend him, Tang Mujin forced a calm expression and started walking.
When they entered the forge together, Seok Ji-seung looked curiously at Mujin, as if to ask who this man was.
Mujin began to introduce him as the Strange Doctor, but faltered.
If it had been a grand and dignified title, that would have been fine, but the epithet Strange Doctor hardly sounded flattering. If Yi Chung found it displeasing, Mujin's head might fall right then and there.
Since he had grown rather close to Seok Ji-seung through frequent visits, Mujin spoke casually.
"…This is Master Yi Chung. He said he had business at the forge, so I brought him."
Then, with just his lips, he mouthed the word martial artist. Whether Seok Ji-seung understood was uncertain.
Seok Ji-seung gave no special reaction.
Though Yi Chung was famous, not everyone in the world knew him. And even if one had heard the name Yi Chung, the Strange Doctor, there were surely hundreds, even thousands, in the world with the name Yi Chung.
"What brings you here? Everything I've made is displayed out front."
"I came to place an order."
"What kind of item do you require?"
"I heard from Doctor Tang that you crafted his needles."
"Needles, you mean?"
"Yes. I sought out the Tang physician because of his famed reputation, but while his medical skill was ordinary enough, he possessed extraordinary tools. Make me some as well. About thirty—half long, half short. You may make more if you like; I'll pay extra for additional sets."
Yi Chung drew a small object from a silk pouch and flicked it with his thumb. The object spun through the air and landed neatly in Seok Ji-seung's palm.
Mujin had assumed it would be silver, but its yellow gleam widened his eyes.
"Gold…?"
He thought he was mistaken, but Seok Ji-seung's widened eyes confirmed it. It truly was gold.
It was only about the size of a fingernail, yet Mujin had never before seen gold used in any real transaction. In everyday life, nine times out of ten, people used copper coins. Silver was rare enough; gold was almost unheard of.
Seok Ji-seung was too shocked by the sudden gift of gold to speak.
Yi Chung misread his silence.
"Is it not enough?"
"What?"
"That's all the coin I have on hand. Consider it a deposit. Once you've made the needles, I'll pay the balance upon receiving them. Can you finish them before the year ends?"
His manner was surprisingly courteous. From the rumors, Mujin had half expected him to flip the forge upside down and threaten death if the items weren't handed over.
And the deadline he gave was generous. Spring wasn't even over; to speak of year's end was far too early.
It seemed Yi Chung believed the needles required an arduous process to craft.
But before price or timing, Seok Ji-seung had to clarify something else.
"The payment is not lacking—in fact, it's too much. And the deadline is generous. But those needles… I didn't make them."
Yi Chung frowned slightly.
"Doctor Tang said you did."
"I helped a bit, but the one who truly made them was Mujin."
"And who's Mujin?"
Seok Ji-seung pointed a finger at Tang Mujin, who stood behind Yi Chung. The doctor's expression shifted curiously.
"This boy? He claimed he was Doctor Tang's son. I even saw him brewing decoctions at the clinic."
"That's right."
"And you expect me to believe he made those needles? Where would a physician's son learn forging?"
"…That, even I don't know. But of everyone I know, Tang Mujin is the most skilled with metal."
Yi Chung burst into laughter.
"They say all manner of strange things happen in Sichuan, and I see it's true. In Sichuan, even physicians hammer iron!"
With that, Yi Chung turned his gaze upon Tang Mujin.
"I don't care who made them. Tang Mujin, was it? Make the needles for me. I'll pay you with that gold."
Gold. An immense windfall.
In an instant, Yi Chung no longer seemed a murderous fiend, but rather a generous client who offered gold freely and gave a relaxed deadline.
After all, the world was full of rumors. Most of those surrounding Yi Chung were probably baseless.
Tang Mujin quickly bowed low.
"I will gladly make them for you."
"When should I return? Would next spring do?"
"No, please stay and have a meal. They will be ready before sundown."
"Before sundown? Today?"
Yi Chung's face twisted in disbelief, as though hearing nonsense.
"I don't want crude work. I need needles as fine and strong as the ones Doctor Tang uses."
"If anything, mine will be better, not worse. You needn't worry."
"Have you already prepared some in advance?"
"I will make them now."
Mujin spoke with confidence, but Yi Chung remained skeptical, taking it as the bluff of a tradesman.
"How could that be possible? To make such fine needles, one must draw out hundreds of thin wires, grind them one by one, and keep only those that neither bend nor break. That could never be done in a single day."
Of course, that was the normal way. But Tang Mujin was no ordinary smith.
"I can do it."
"…Then I must see it with my own eyes."
At Mujin's signal, Seok Ji-seung hurried to the hearth and stoked the flames.
He pumped the bellows vigorously until the furnace roared, then placed a fist-sized lump of iron into the blaze.
Though needles could be made from less, using too small an amount made the work more troublesome.
Tang Mujin gripped a hammer resting in the corner. The cuts on his palms had long since healed.
Frequent visits to the forge had even put a bit of muscle on him.
Still insufficient, perhaps, but at least enough now that he needn't rely on Seok Ji-seung to finish the work.
Before long, the iron glowed bright yellow. Seok Ji-seung lifted it out with tongs, set it on the anvil, and braced it so the lump wouldn't bounce away.
He's gotten deft at assisting, Tang Mujin thought.
Raising the great hammer, he brought it down with a resounding strike.
Sparks burst outward like fireworks, too many to count.
It was the fire that stripped away the ashes and impurities clinging to the iron as it came out of the furnace.
In his dreams, the dwarf Grombel had loved this fire. After spending so much time in the forge lately, Mujin now understood why.
The hotter the iron, the harder the strike, the more sparks would fly.
These sparks resembled those who seized a single chance and burned their entire lives in it. What blacksmith could dislike such fire?
As Mujin hammered, the sparks gradually lessened until they died down.
Thud. Thud. Thud. The lump of iron flattened.
Seok Ji-seung used a chisel and a hand hammer to carve a groove into the flattened iron, then folded it over with force.
Mujin struck again over the folded iron. Strike after strike, fold after fold.
When the metal cooled to a dull red, it was returned to the furnace, then struck again.
So the iron was folded seven times. By then, Mujin's body was drenched in sweat, his slender upper-body muscles glistening in the firelight.
"The folding should be enough. Let's draw it thin."
"Right."
Thud, thud. The iron grew flatter and thinner.
At last, the lump revealed what it had concealed: strands of iron wire.
Through it all, Yi Chung, the Strange Doctor, watched in silence.
Beautiful.
He had seen many blacksmiths at work during his travels, and more than once he had watched craftsmen fashion acupuncture needles.
The process Mujin and Seok Ji-seung followed was no different from any other smith's: fold, press, draw out, cut short, grind thin. That was all.
Yet within their work lay a peculiar beauty.
It was the aesthetics that only those who had reached a realm beyond their craft could show.
Just as even a peak-level martial artist might care nothing for beauty, yet those who beheld the arc of his sword would still find it beautiful—so too here.
This was not something a third-rate swordsman could mimic, nor a bungling blacksmith imitate.
And at the center of it all was Tang Mujin.
Seok Ji-seung knew it too. That was why he concealed his own presence as much as possible, devoting himself entirely to assisting. Rather than reveal himself, he hid his own traces.
Soon they began grinding down the cut strands of iron.
Ordinary wire would have bent or broken countless times, forcing it back into the fire. But the wires they produced neither bent nor snapped, gradually taking shape.
"All done."
Time passed, and about thirty needles lay finished. As Mujin had promised, the sun was just touching the horizon. The speed was unbelievable.
"Hm."
Yi Chung received the needles and examined them closely.
As fine as a badger's hair, as strong as a boar's bristles, and as supple as a horse's mane. Compared with Doctor Tang's set, they were not inferior—indeed, they were even finer.
The grinding had no shortcuts. The difference lay in the making of the wire. Because it was drawn so thin, grinding took little time, and because the quality was high, the needles could be completed without breaking.
Thick things are strong, thin things weak—that is the world's law.
But Tang Mujin had defied that law, producing something both thin and strong.
Of the three men present, not one failed to recognize how difficult it was to achieve such contradictory perfection.
Mujin received the small gold ingot from Seok Ji-seung.
He had already made good use of the coppers he'd earned from brewing decoctions, and even silver was rare in his hands. But gold? This was an unexpected windfall.
As he wondered how much to share with Seok Ji-seung, Yi Chung spoke.
"I asked for good tools, and I got them—along with a fine spectacle, and quickly done besides."
Mujin's heart skipped. He worried Yi Chung might think he had finished too quickly.
Too often people argued, "If you worked quickly, you must not have labored much. If you did not labor much, the price should be less." Such nonsense was why doctors often prescribed decoctions that took a long time to brew, to forestall such disputes.
But fortunately, Yi Chung was no such fool.
He looked to Seok Ji-seung.
"The work is finer than I expected, and the sight was more than I bargained for. So it is only right I pay more. Next time I pass through Sichuan, I will give you gold as well."
"Thank you, Elder."
Seok Ji-seung bowed deeply. From beside him, Mujin caught sight of the blacksmith's lips curling upward in a broad smile.
"And you, Tang Mujin."
Mujin's heart raced. If Yi Chung had rewarded Seok Ji-seung so generously, perhaps he too would receive a share.
Maybe a couple of silver ingots? he thought.
But what Yi Chung said next was wholly unexpected.
"You are not a boy destined to spend his life in a backwater of Sichuan brewing decoctions until you grow old. Would you be my disciple?"