Black Peony
The Black Peony slid down his esophagus into his stomach.
It had no particular taste, but a faint fragrance lingered in his mouth and throat.
To think I'd ever eat an elixir myself…
In truth, when he first held the Black Peony in his hand, he had thought more about selling it than taking it. Tang Mujin's identity as a physician was still far stronger than that of a martial artist.
But two things held him back: the mood, and the risk.
If he said he wanted to keep it and sell it later, the eccentric old man might just snatch it back.
Or worse, by evening he might suddenly say, "You still haven't taken that Black Peony, right? Just hand it back."
That old man could change his mind at any time.
Like spending found money immediately, the right answer with an elixir stumbled upon by chance was to consume it at once—especially since the old man had said there would be no side effects.
Perhaps because he had taken such a rare elixir, Tang Mujin already felt as if he had become a master. He savored the faint fragrance of the Black Peony and lifted his head.
And saw a suspicious sight.
The old man, who had been so solemn just moments ago, was now staring at him with an expression brimming with amusement and expectation.
"…Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Let me just say this first—I never told you to eat it right away."
The moment he finished speaking, Tang Mujin felt something strange in his stomach.
Like ink dispersing into clear water, something began to spread inside him like mist.
There was no need to check. At the center of that mist was the Black Peony, and what spread outward was the internal energy contained within it.
A vast reservoir of inner force—the dream of every martial artist.
But Tang Mujin couldn't simply rejoice. There was too much of it.
"Hrrngh!"
He clutched his stomach and doubled over.
The line between medicine and poison is dosage.
Even the deadliest poison, in small enough measure, does little harm.
Conversely, even a healing medicine, taken in excess, becomes poison. That was precisely his situation now.
The Black Peony was releasing far too much energy. It was as if he had swallowed poison rather than an elixir.
The flow of inner force grew stronger and stronger, and the pain in his belly worsened.
What had begun confined to his stomach now spread outward, flooding into his meridians in search of release.
The situation was dire. It was like trying to pour the waters of the Yangtze into a child's play stream.
His still-undeveloped meridians swelled to the brim with energy.
It felt like his veins would burst; his head throbbed with unrelenting pain.
With effort, Tang Mujin raised his head to glare at the old man.
"Damn it… Elder! You said there were no side effects!"
"Ever heard the saying, 'You grow as much as you hurt'?"
"I have, but what's that got to do with this?!"
"It means pain isn't a side effect at all."
"What kind of nonsense—"
"I'm not joking. There's growth without pain, but no growth without pain."
"I'm about to grow myself into the grave!"
Tang Mujin fell to his knees, palms on the ground, panting desperately.
Surely this old man didn't feed me the Black Peony just to kill me…
He knew it was a ridiculous thought, but the pain was so intense that it crossed his mind.
"Don't worry. You won't die. Do you feel any of your meridians tearing? No? Exactly. The Black Peony isn't a prized elixir for nothing."
Tang Mujin probed his meridians.
The old man was right: none had ruptured. They only swelled to the verge of bursting, held in a razor's-edge balance—one more drop of inner force and they would surely tear apart.
But knowing he wouldn't die didn't make the agony any less.
Pain was pain.
The old man mocked him from the side.
"You don't even know a proper cultivation method, and the best you can do is circulate a bit of qi along the meridians—yet you shoved an elixir into your mouth straightaway. Why'd you take it now?"
"You gave it to me to eat!"
"Did I say right now? I only gave it to you in advance because I didn't want to risk losing it later."
"…"
He had no rebuttal. Tang Mujin only felt a strange sense of defeat.
"Anyway, do something! I really feel like I'm going to die here…!"
"Haah… You seem clever, but sometimes you act like an idiot. Can you sit in lotus posture?"
Lotus posture.
Tang Mujin's body was naturally stiff. Even in normal times, crossing his legs fully was difficult.
And now, in this agony—could he possibly sit like that?
Impossible. Strictly speaking, he could, but he wanted to avoid it. Doing so might rupture the meridians in his thighs.
"I don't think I can."
"Then we have no choice. The order's a little off, but let's skip ahead and start with moving cultivation. You can handle it."
"Moving cultivation?"
"Exactly what it sounds like—circulating qi while moving."
That went against everything Tang Mujin thought he knew. Was that even possible?
"Qi circulation is supposed to be done sitting cross-legged, isn't it?"
"No. That's seated cultivation. It's only one method. For still cultivation, there are three forms: standing, sitting, and lying down. On the other hand, circulating qi while moving is lumped together as moving cultivation. It's less efficient than sitting, which is why it's rarely used."
Even in his haze, Tang Mujin thought standing or lying down sounded far more appealing than moving.
"…Can't I do standing or lying cultivation instead?"
"No. The method I'll teach you doesn't suit standing. And lying down? You'd dare flop down in front of your elder and try to cultivate like that?"
It was petty reasoning, but Tang Mujin had no strength to argue.
With trembling hands, he begged:
"Fine, then moving cultivation…!"
"I was planning to teach you that anyway. Listen well, and watch closely."
He feared some bizarre contortions were coming, but to his relief, the old man simply began to walk slowly.
"Keep your pace steady. Heel to big toe, every part of your sole must touch the ground in order. From the Yongquan point at the sole, through the Sanyinjiao at the shin, the Xuehai at the knee, then draw the qi up to Daheng…"
"Keep it short!"
Tsk. The old man clicked his tongue. He would've liked to toy with him longer, but seeing the sweat beading on Tang Mujin's forehead and the bulging veins, it was clear the pain was no joke.
Had it been anyone else, he would have given a long, drawn-out lecture. But Tang Mujin's knowledge of medicine and meridians was sufficient—he could follow a condensed explanation.
"For now, just guide your energy along the Spleen Meridian as you walk. Make sure your whole sole touches the ground. No need to rush."
Tang Mujin began to walk slowly. But even drawing the qi up from his legs to his abdomen, the pain did not lessen.
"Are you sure this works?"
"It will. I hadn't finished explaining yet. For breathing: take one deep inhalation, then exhale it in three short breaths. Think of keeping as much of the inhaled breath within your body as possible."
As he followed the instructions, strangely enough, Tang Mujin began to feel the pain ease just a little. The old man's explanation continued.
"Entwine the energy drawn from your lower body with the breath drawn into your lungs, and form a pillar by connecting three points: the Shenzhu, the Jizhong, and the Yaoyangguan. These three acupoints are the foundation—the immutable axis—of the Black Tortoise Divine Art. Everything else is changeable."
"Black Tortoise Divine Art…? Divine Art…?"
"Don't mind the name. Just calling it 'Black Tortoise Art' sounded too plain, so I stuck an extra word in."
The old man answered lazily.
From the way he spoke, the origin of this cultivation method seemed highly dubious. But there was no other path to rely on.
"Use that immutable axis as your firm pillar, and guide the Black Peony's energy into your dantian. Patiently, and slowly."
Tang Mujin turned his focus inward, shifting his attention away from the pain, and began to circulate the energy. The pain was so overwhelming that, paradoxically, it left no room for stray thoughts.
The energy within the Black Peony was immense, far surpassing Tang Mujin's own internal strength. Yet it moved more gently than expected—obedient, like a kite drifting on a breeze.
As time passed, the overwhelming surge of energy subsided, and the pain gradually eased.
Only after he had guided the Black Peony's energy into his dantian did Tang Mujin finally stop walking. From stomach to dantian—barely a span of three inches, but his whole body was drenched in sweat.
It feels like my dantian is bursting at the seams.
A satisfying pressure filled his core, and beyond that, his body felt lighter than before he had taken the Black Peony.
He clenched and unclenched his fists several times. He felt as though strength was welling up from within.
"This is the tremendous power of the Black Peony…!"
"What nonsense. You've absorbed only the tiniest fraction of its energy. It's like licking an apple without even peeling it."
"Hmm. Even so, I can feel the difference."
"That's because you've never even licked an apple before. Up until now, you've only smelled them from afar."
If just that tiny portion of its energy made this much difference, how powerful would he become after absorbing the Black Peony completely?
Tang Mujin's chest swelled with expectation. If he returned to the capital as a true martial artist, how would people look at him then?
"To take in its full energy will take considerable time. Whenever you can, diligently practice the Black Tortoise Divine Art."
"Yes, understood."
"Now, tend to the corpses."
The three of them dragged four bodies down the mountain.
By the time they returned to the village, the sun was already setting. Clouds in the sky burned red with the glow.
The flames that clung to the clouds seemed to have spread to the village itself—the tiled eaves and thatched roofs were dyed a deep scarlet.
Unlike their first arrival, now thin smoke rose from here and there in Jueul Village. People, a little more lively than before, seemed to be preparing their evening meals. A few strolled about slowly.
As they walked, villagers cast furtive glances toward the stream.
All of Jueul's people had their eyes on Tang Mujin and the old man, and none were ignorant of the fact that they had gone toward the creek.
From the west, figures emerged. As expected, it was Tang Mujin and the old man. Beside them was Hong Geolgae.
But not everyone could walk back on their own. On Hong Geolgae's back was the corpse of Ma Jeonggae, while the bodies of Ja Yangssangsal and Physician Yeom were dragged along the ground.
The villagers' joy at seeing the two physicians return quickly faded when they saw the faces of Ma Jeonggae and Yeom.
Strangers' corpses were one thing, but two men who had lived among them for decades had returned as lifeless bodies. Something terrible had clearly happened.
Only then did they notice the sword hanging from the old man's waist. Until now, in the confusion, it hadn't seemed worth noting—just a physician carrying a blade, perhaps because the outside world was dangerous.
A few keen-eyed villagers also saw the blood on Hong Geolgae's club.
No one dared ask what had happened. They simply followed the three men and four corpses until they reached the village well. There, Tang Mujin and Hong Geolgae set the bodies down, and dust rose into the air.
The villagers hesitated, each waiting for someone else to ask first. Even a simple question seemed hard to voice.
Tang Mujin finally spoke.
"You must be wondering what happened."
No one answered; all eyes were fixed on his lips.
It was the first time in his life Tang Mujin had ever felt so many eyes on him.
"The plague that struck Jueul Village is gone. Tomorrow, I will prepare herbal decoctions for you. If the patient is still breathing, within three days they will rise from their bed."
This was the one thing the villagers most desperately needed to hear. His words carried the weight of finality, and their faces brightened with joy.
Their attention then shifted to the four corpses.
"And all of this was orchestrated by Physician Yeom."
"What on earth happened?"
Unable to contain himself, one villager asked. Tang Mujin only shook his head slightly.
"I will only say it was the result of greed. These two outsiders were brought here by Yeom, and Ma Jeonggae—Master Honggeon's disciple—fell in battle against them. His death was a sacrifice to protect the village."
A shadow passed over the villagers' faces.
It was both a moment of great grief and great relief. For a time, the people hesitated, but sorrow did not linger long.
The joy of knowing that no one else would die outweighed even the pain of Ma Jeonggae's sacrifice. Every household had the sick, and so this mattered most of all.
Some wept, but most smiled. Then someone stepped forward, tugging at Tang Mujin's sleeve.
"Thanks to you, great hero, we are all saved. Please, spend the night at my house. I will slaughter a chicken in your honor."
"A chicken? Bah! Step aside! I'll slaughter a cow! Elders, this way! I'll spend every coin I own to set a feast fit to break the tables!"
"And may I have a bowl as well?"
"Do I look so miserly? Of course, everyone is welcome!"
Laughter burst among the people. Tang Mujin and the old man were swept away by the villagers, pulled this way and that.
But no one approached Hong Geolgae. It was as though an invisible wall separated him from the others.
Tang Mujin didn't notice. His limited perspective and the wall of bodies between them blocked his view.
But even as he was engulfed by the crowd, the old man glanced back at Hong Geolgae and gave a slight nod.
Hong Geolgae bowed deeply, expressing his gratitude to both the old man and Tang Mujin.
Then, watching them vanish into the crowd, he turned away, carrying Ma Jeonggae's body on his back as he left the village.