The Strange Doctor Yi Chung
A strange proposal indeed.
It wasn't as though Yi Chung had been impressed by Mujin's skill at brewing decoctions behind the clinic—no, it was ten to one because of his talent as a blacksmith.
The problem was that Yi Chung was a martial artist and physician, not a smith.
Was he offering to teach martial arts, or medicine? Either way, there seemed little reason for such a proposal now.
As Tang Mujin hesitated in thought, Yi Chung spoke.
"There's no need to decide immediately. I'll be leaving Seongdo tomorrow evening. Decide by then."
"Before that, may I ask you something?"
"What is it?"
"I don't even know exactly what you intend to teach me, nor why you would make such an offer."
"What I can teach you are two things: martial arts and medicine. You'll learn whichever you wish."
Martial arts. Mujin's chest stirred with excitement.
When he was much younger—back in the days when he would dash into the alleys as soon as he opened his eyes and roll about in the dirt—
the most influential kids were always the ones learning martial arts at Cheongseong Sect's Sichuan branch school.
They weren't even third-rate, hardly martial artists at all. But that much was more than enough to dominate the alleys.
Those boys were quicker on their feet and far stronger than others. With a wooden sword, one of them could take on two kids at once, and in fistfights, they dealt out beatings as often as they pleased.
Whenever they played war games, those outer-disciples of Cheongseong always got to be the generals. The rest were just foot soldiers.
It had been well over ten years since then. Tang Mujin no longer cared a whit about such childish glories.
Yet somewhere deep inside, the envy from those days remained. Childhood memories are like that.
The instructors who had taught those boys were first- or second-rate martial artists.
A master of the peak realm might serve as branch leader, but branch leaders only taught instructors or pursued their own cultivation—they did not stoop to training outer disciples directly.
Suddenly Jin Song came to mind—the man Mujin had just met outside the clinic. A disciple of Hwang Ryeongja, the branch master. A first-rate martial artist.
Even the children taught by men no better than Jin Song had strutted around so proudly. What if Mujin were taught by someone greater than Jin Song—by Yi Chung himself?
The wall between first-rate and the peak realm was enormous. A peak master could serve as sect leader of a mid-tier school, and would be respected even in great sects.
To learn martial arts directly from such a man—this was certainly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Compared to scraping by as a back-alley physician under Cheongseong Sect's shadow, isn't this the very road to greatness?
He imagined himself wearing a long sword at his waist, striding proudly through the streets, a martial artist of stature.
Perhaps even the next village over, people would nod at the mere mention of his name. If fortune smiled, perhaps he too could become a peak master like Yi Chung.
A peak master…
In his mind's eye, he no longer lived in a small clinic, but a grand estate.
Above the main gate hung a bold plaque reading: Tang Clan of Sichuan. Servants by the dozen bustled about in quick steps.
And his father's face beamed with pride every time he looked at him.
Just then, Mujin realized Yi Chung had only answered one of his two questions.
"Why are you making me such an offer? From what I've heard, you are a peak-level master… Surely there are countless people eager to become your disciple."
Mujin waited eagerly for the reply, expecting some fine-sounding praise.
In truth, your physique is a heavenly vessel. I only refrained from saying it earlier.
Or: your eyes shine with brilliance; clearly you are destined to be the greatest under heaven.
But Yi Chung's answer was entirely different.
"Why? Because if I take you with me, whenever I need something crafted, you can make it for me."
"What?"
…Had he misheard? Mujin doubted his own ears.
"Other smiths can't forge what I want. And if they do, the quality never pleases me. Worse, they drag it out for half a month or more. But you—you're quick, and your work is good. That alone qualifies you as my disciple."
Mujin narrowed his eyes. As expected, with a nickname like Strange Doctor, the man was far from ordinary.
"…Elder, that doesn't sound like the mindset of a master taking on a disciple."
"And why not?"
"That sounds more like a business arrangement than a bond between master and pupil."
"And what law forbids master and disciple from making transactions?" Yi Chung countered boldly.
Indeed, there was no such law. It was simply an idea that ran against all common sense.
"Not exactly… but isn't it strange? Traditionally, a master teaches without expecting payment, and a disciple serves with true devotion. Isn't that the usual way?"
"Is it? Don't the instructors at Cheongseong's branch school take fees to pass on martial arts? Or am I wrong?"
It was true. One reason Tang Jaeseon had never sent Mujin to Cheongseong as an outer disciple was because of the cost.
"But still…"
"No need to fuss over details. If you dislike the idea of being my disciple, then don't. You don't need to call me Master. I'll teach you martial arts and medicine; you'll make me what I need. Sounds like a fair deal, doesn't it?"
Mujin was left speechless.
Wasn't it the way of martial artists to carefully select disciples and cautiously hand down their sect's treasured arts?
Yet Yi Chung spoke of his skills as though they were mere bargaining chips. To anyone, it seemed absurd.
Yi Chung tilted his head with a crooked smile.
"Master, disciple—what does it matter? As long as both sides get what they want, that's enough."
Not entirely wrong. There was no rule that martial arts could only be taught through formal discipleship.
Perhaps it was even better this way. With someone so eccentric, being a disciple might only mean endless servitude.
"But even so… I don't know if I could learn well. I've never trained in martial arts before."
Mujin spoke with some hesitation, voicing his concern.
Yi Chung folded his arms.
"Your body's whole and sound, so that's fine. How much medicine have you studied? Have you read the classics?"
"I've studied the Inner Canon and the Treatise on Cold Damage."
The Huangdi Neijing (Yellow Emperor's Inner Canon) and Shanghan Lun (Treatise on Cold Damage) were the two great texts of medicine.
Their content was vast and complex, difficult to read and master, yet indispensable for anyone aspiring to be a true physician.
Yi Chung suddenly threw him a question.
"If a patient suffers from external evil qi seeping in, causing their qi to stagnate, and thus falls into collapse and coldness with palpitations, how should it be treated?"
Tang Mujin did not hesitate before answering.
"Since the problem lies with water, it must first be regulated. I would prescribe Poria-Glycyrrhiza Decoction."
At his response, the Strange Physician nodded with a satisfied expression.
"With the wit to study Treatise on Cold Damage to that degree and even recite from memory, you will have little difficulty in learning martial arts."
So it wasn't a medical test—it had been a question to judge whether Tang Mujin had the capacity to learn martial arts.
"Does cleverness really matter for learning martial arts? Aren't martial artists just people who fight well? Wouldn't being strong and sturdy be more important?"
"You'll understand once you try teaching a dullard. Even if enlightenment brushes their very shoulder, they fail to notice it. Such people swing swords in vain and remain forever second- or third-rate. To a martial artist, quick wit is more important than a strong body."
It was a persuasive argument. Unconsciously, Tang Mujin found himself nodding.
"Then… does that mean I can become a first-rate master?"
"First-rate?"
The Strange Physician scoffed.
"To call oneself a teacher, one must be able to do two things: raise the student to one's own level, and point out the path beyond it."
Arrogant words—but ones that could not be dismissed.
If he could truly raise his student to his own level… that meant he intended to bring Tang Mujin to the realm of the pinnacle.
"…Is that even possible?"
"As long as you follow me well."
The Strange Physician grinned. He added no explanations, no boasts.
Because he truly believed it.
Back home, Tang Mujin sat deep in thought.
The possibility of becoming a pinnacle master shone dazzlingly bright.
In the eyes of the Qingcheng Sect, his father Tang Jeseon was beneath even a second-rate fighter. So had his grandfather been.
Even without mentioning Chief Instructor Jin Song, the younger instructors were enough to make his father bow and scrape. If their mood was offended, one had to act as though one's very life were at their mercy.
In fact, many of them were exactly that sort—picking fights over trifles, trampling others just to satisfy their own petty egos. To them, physicians were the easiest prey.
The world paid lip service to medicine as "the art of benevolence," but in truth, they gave it little respect. Hadn't even the Assistant Commander recently humiliated his father in public?
Out of every ten hardships a physician endured, seven or eight came from dealing with such people.
Tang Mujin respected his father deeply. And precisely because of that, he never wanted his own children to see him live in such a manner.
And if he accepted the Strange Physician's offer, perhaps things could truly be different.
If I became a pinnacle master…
First- or second-raters would not dare to swagger before him—they would lower their heads and scurry away.
No—he didn't even need to reach the pinnacle. If he could inherit even a fraction of the Strange Physician's martial arts… If he could merely boast of being his disciple… that alone would command respect.
No one would dare treat Tang Mujin lightly, for fear of the master standing behind him.
Even aside from that, martial training promised countless benefits. His body would grow strong, free from sickness.
And once I build internal strength, I'll have greater power for smithing—the hammer will feel lighter in my hand.
Only two doubts weighed on him.
That he would have to leave his hometown.
And that he did not yet know if the Strange Physician could truly be trusted.
But a man's life demanded, at least once, a leap of faith—a wager.
Tang Mujin felt that now was the moment.
The following evening, he sought out the Strange Physician and declared:
"I will follow you."