People on the Cliff
Traitor. One who plotted rebellion.
Just two characters, yet they pressed down on my chest like a boulder.
To become entangled with men accused of treason was no different than tossing one's life upon the gambling table. Succeed, and you might be a meritorious retainer. Fail, and your clan is doomed to ruin.
No—calling it "ruin" barely scratched the truth. It was not uncommon for an entire clan, even whole villages, to be wiped away.
There were plenty who, even centuries after a rebellion, were barred from holding office simply because their ancestors hailed from that region. The tax rates of rebel provinces were far higher than elsewhere. People starved in droves, but the officials did not care.
If things were that way, one could easily imagine how dearly those who schemed rebellion had paid.
That was why Tang Mujin could not answer right away. He hesitated.
The Three Swords of Mount Nogu did not press him. In fact, they seemed more surprised that he hadn't refused outright.
Namgung Myeong nudged him and whispered.
"If it's too heavy a burden, refuse. I'll devise the Goat Step myself."
Mujin almost retorted at the nonsense, but closed his mouth. Namgung's words carried another meaning: even if Mujin rejected the swordsmen's offer and they ended up trapped at the cliff, he would not blame him.
"…Well."
Mujin's hesitation stretched on. Perhaps an entire shigyeong (two hours) had passed.
The Three Swords eventually gave up waiting for an answer. They went back up the cliff and whispered among themselves. Mujin strained his ears but could not catch their words.
Then, after a moment, they dropped a rope down the cliff.
Neither Mujin nor Namgung could hide their bewilderment. They hadn't even accepted the offer—yet here was the rope.
One of the three, a broad-faced man, poked his head over the edge and called down.
"Just climb up. Forget the medicine."
"…What?"
"We'll just go with our first offer—haul you up for a small fee."
"…But didn't you say there were sick people?"
"It's fine. I don't want to twist young men's lives with reckless demands. Consider that second proposal as though you never heard it."
It was good news. Yet Mujin still found the situation strange.
"Then… what will happen to the patients?"
"Don't trouble yourself. Someone else will be coming soon to heal them."
"Then that's a relief."
Namgung, relieved of all burdens, grasped the rope firmly. The Three Swords pulled him up without any trickery, then lowered the rope again.
But unlike Namgung, who thought nothing of it, Mujin could not shake the unease.
Could men who asked him to treat traitors so easily back down? Impossible. If outsiders discovered traitors' whereabouts, the natural outcome should have been slaughter.
And why had Haryeong asked him to treat them? Did she mean for Mujin to be dragged into rebellion and die?
No—that couldn't be. Haryeong knew Mujin's medicine was no mere village doctor's skill. She knew that if he died, the art of medicine itself might fall behind by decades.
Two questions weighed heavy, but one bothered him even more. An answer he had to hear.
The rope swayed before him, the Three Swords and Namgung gazing down.
"What's on your mind? Come up already."
Mujin did not take the rope. Instead, he asked,
"This person you say will arrive soon—what's his name?"
The broad-faced man smirked.
"No need to fret. He's a far better physician than you."
"…Could it be—Physician Lee Chung, the eccentric?"
The man did not reply, only twitched his brow. Sometimes silence was assent.
At last, Mujin grasped the rope.
"I'll treat them. Take me to the patients."
The eccentric Lee Chung—who would never again return to Mount Nogu.
People waiting for the Elder.
What would the Elder have done?
The answer was simple. He would have treated them without hesitation.
Haryeong's request no longer mattered.
In all the vast Central Plains, if there was only one doctor who could go to them, that doctor had to be Tang Mujin.
Still, he could not pretend to be utterly detached.
"…But you mustn't spread word that I came here."
The Three Swords chuckled, amused at his caution.
***
The Three Swords introduced themselves. The broad, round-faced man was Pyochung—"Ladybug." The tall, gaunt one was Dangnang—"Mantis." The short, hairy, stocky one was Sanjeo—"Boar."
Ladybug, Mantis, Boar—clearly nicknames drawn from their looks, not true names.
But for Mujin and Namgung, that was all the better. Easy to remember.
They followed the Three Swords along a perilous path.
The plank road clung to the cliff as though it might collapse any moment, yet their steps were light, unafraid. They even turned casually to glance back as they walked. How many years had they trod this path?
"…So you mean they're not the kind of traitors I imagined."
"Yes, I understand."
Ladybug explained that the "traitors" were not the same as what Mujin feared.
They were not those who plotted rebellion, but those who had been banished to Mount Nogu because of it.
"You managed to survive."
"Not the ones who led the rebellion. They and their closest kin were all executed. The ones left here are distant relatives, people from the same or neighboring villages. That sort."
"Some men commit crimes and live long in comfort, while others suffer punishment for sins they never committed. Cruel world."
Namgung's words trailed off, pity in his voice.
Ladybug gave a bitter smile.
"No. The cruelest part isn't that. It's that most of these folk never even lived in the same village as the true rebels."
"…What?"
"The people we're going to see aren't the banished themselves, but their descendants."
"Descendants? Just how long ago was that rebellion?"
"I don't know. And neither do they, not exactly."
Mujin realized—he had never heard of any recent rebellion. True, he did not follow all the news of the Central Plains, but still.
Not knowing the time of the rebellion meant only one thing.
It had happened so long ago that no living person could clearly remember it.
"If no one remembers, then… it must have been before the founding of the current dynasty, mustn't it?"
"Most likely."
Pity welled in Mujin.
"Then, since it wasn't against the present imperial family, mightn't they be pardoned?"
Ladybug shook his head.
"Pardon? No. They're a warning. Proof that no matter how many dynasties rise and fall, rebellion cannot be forgiven. No—perhaps not even a warning. More like they've been forgotten altogether. The court has never sent a man to look for them. Likely they've been erased from memory."
Only then did Mujin realize.
He had heard plenty of tales of families banished or annihilated for rebellion.
But he had never once heard of them returning.
The Forgotten People of Mount Nogu
No one knew what had become of them, nor did anyone care.
And now, Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong were stepping toward that story left untold. Punishment handed down for generations—what a tragic tale.
Yet at the same time, Mujin felt a small sense of relief. If they were people utterly forgotten, then even if he treated them, there was little chance he would be punished.
Namgung asked Pyochung,
"If they are forgotten, wouldn't it be possible to petition for a pardon?"
"A pardon request? And how, exactly?"
"There should be an official nearby. I've heard there's a xianzhang (county magistrate) governing this region."
Pyochung chuckled as though he'd heard a funny joke.
"If you were the magistrate, would you risk sending a request to the emperor asking him to pardon rebels?"
"…"
It was an action that promised no reward, only danger.
Even if it was not a rebellion against the current dynasty, no magistrate would risk his own position to defend the descendants of rebels.
"Then what about hinting at it to others? There's a village called Nakseong at the foot of Mount Nogu. I happen to have some small connection with the village headman."
At Namgung's question, Dangnang cut him off.
"Nakseong village, you mean that settlement at the entrance to Mount Nogu?"
"That's right."
"Have you ever seen those people working?"
Everyone must work to live. Yet Mujin and Namgung realized they had never once seen anyone in that village doing any real labor. Thinking back, it was strange indeed.
"…No, we haven't."
"Then why do you think that village appears so wealthy?"
Namgung only blinked in confusion, unable to answer. Mujin asked Dangnang instead.
"Is there a connection between Nakseong's prosperity and the people trapped inside Mount Nogu?"
"Exactly. They exploit the fact that the people of Mount Nogu cannot leave. They buy herbs from them for a pittance, then sell them outside for a fortune. They're nothing but leeches."
Pyochung added,
"They treat the people inside Mount Nogu like livestock. Just as hens are kept in a coop for their eggs, they keep the mountain folk trapped inside, harvesting their herbs."
Mujin's eyes widened in disbelief.
"We must report this to the magistrate at once!"
"And half the profit Nakseong earns goes straight into that magistrate's purse. What meaning would reporting it have?"
As Pyochung spoke, Dangnang finished the thought.
"If the mountain folk ever tried to escape, the magistrate would find some excuse to drive them back into Nakseong. The rebels are fleeing, the simple villagers might be corrupted… A convenient excuse is all he needs. The magistrate and Nakseong are in collusion."
No one to help, and eyes everywhere to watch. A suffocating situation.
Mujin asked Pyochung,
"Then… the people living in Mount Nogu—must they live trapped here forever, without hope?"
"Hope?"
Pyochung tilted his head.
"There is hope. But whether you'd still call it hope when everyone has given up on it—that I cannot say."
***
Their group of five stopped at a relatively flat ledge halfway up a peak. At last, the village of Mount Nogu came into view.
"Welcome to Nogun Village."
The villagers lived in hastily built houses, patched together from whatever they could find. There were perhaps two hundred people in all.
But space was scarce, and the houses were scattered like spilled grains of rice, some clinging dangerously close to the cliff edge.
Following the Three Swords, Mujin and Namgung entered the village.
The people were all gaunt, as though they hadn't eaten for ten days. Their clothes were filthy and tattered, and their faces were devoid of will.
"…This is the most wretched, impoverished village I've ever seen."
"If Mount Nogu were fit for living, the rebels would never have been cast here in the first place."
Only the children's eyes held a spark of life. Some stared wide-eyed at the strangers, curious. Others, frightened, ran to hide behind their parents.
And yet, not a single child feared the Three Swords. For these swordsmen lived among the villagers as naturally as if they belonged. An odd sight indeed.
The Three Swords led them into a small hut.
"Are you hungry?"
They had chewed a few herbs on the way, but that was hardly a meal.
When Mujin and Namgung nodded, Pyochung stepped outside and returned with a handful of coarsely ground grain. Mixing it with water, he kneaded it into a rough dough, lit a small hearth, and baked it into flat cakes. The taste was nothing special, but hunger made it satisfying enough.
While the two filled their stomachs, Dangnang and Sanjeo took the goods they had seized from the seven brigands and distributed them to the villagers outside. It seemed they had robbed the bandits from the beginning with the intent to share the spoils.
Mujin asked Pyochung,
"Elder, why do you remain in Mount Nogu? From what you've said, it seems you aren't trapped here like the villagers."
Pyochung only grinned and stood.
"Those are stories for later. For now, shouldn't we attend to the patients first?"
Turning his head, Mujin saw that the hut's entrance was already crowded with people.
Though every villager looked unhealthy, these few were in especially dire condition—enough to draw a grim murmur from Mujin, who had seen no shortage of the sick.
Yet he betrayed no hesitation. A physician who lacked confidence could never win a patient's trust.
Instead, Mujin spoke in a bold voice.
"Well then. Where does it hurt?"
And perhaps it wasn't just bravado. For truly, if Tang Mujin could not heal them, then no physician in the world could.
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