The People on the Cliff
Tang Mujin received the patients and devoted himself to their treatment.
"It's nangchang (wolf sores)."
"…What is that?"
"The name of the disease. Symptoms vary by person, but usually the nose, cheeks, and tips of the hands and feet first turn red, then purple. The skin gradually hardens, sometimes cracking like dried farmland. After some time, the joints stiffen and will not bend easily."
"Uh… My fingers still bend fine, though."
"That's because it hasn't progressed too far yet. I'll prepare a decoction for you—come back again this evening."
Because their living environment was so different from that of people in the Central Plains, the villagers of Nogun suffered from illnesses quite unlike those seen elsewhere.
The patient he had just met was a case in point. Nangchang struck women in nine out of ten cases. Yet this time, the sufferer was a young man.
If it had been an elder, perhaps it wouldn't be strange, but seeing it in a young man was unprecedented. Even Goiyi (the Ghost Doctor) had once said young men never contracted nangchang. Had Mujin not remembered the clinical cases recorded in The Complete Medical Treatise of the Divine Physician, he would almost certainly have misdiagnosed it as another disease.
Many of the villagers' illnesses were things Mujin had only read about in medical texts, never encountered firsthand.
To make matters worse, some weren't even illnesses, but venomous insect bites or poisonous herbs ingested by mistake—making diagnosis all the more difficult.
Yet while venom made diagnosis troublesome, treatment itself was not. So long as the patient was not in immediate danger, expelling the poison was usually enough to cure them.
"This will sting a little. Stay still."
Mujin made a small incision on the young man's back, then gently loosened all the muscles of his body. Using his internal energy, he gathered the poison into one place, then expelled it through the incision. After letting the man rest, within moments his condition noticeably improved.
At first, many villagers had doubted him. Mujin was far too young to be a doctor, they thought.
But he neither wavered nor hesitated in his diagnoses. And before three days had passed, the villagers admitted his skill.
"He's better than the physician who came before."
"How can you compare them? The age gap alone is vast… But yes, this Doctor Tang does seem rather skilled. Perhaps when he reaches that age, he'll be even greater."
The people of Nogun were content as their symptoms eased, but Mujin himself was far from satisfied.
For while he could treat their ailments, there was one underlying problem he had no cure for.
Blood deficiency (血虛). A condition caused by lack of blood. Every single villager of Nogun showed its signs—even the Nogun Three Swords themselves.
Blood deficiency left the body feverish, digestion poor, and extremities cold. Day after day, sufferers endured muscle cramps and pain. Worse still, the deficiency often led to further diseases.
There were many known remedies—Sipjeondaebo-tang, Gamiguibi-tang, Dangguijagyak-san—all fairly effective at easing symptoms.
But none of these were true solutions. For blood deficiency arose from hunger. If people could not eat their fill, the illness would return with every passing season, no matter how many decoctions he prescribed.
In short, the real problem of Nogun Village was starvation.
Mujin explained as much to the Three Swords, but they only shook their heads.
"We know our people starve. But there's no way to feed them well. You can't farm here in Mount Nogu."
The mountain was steep, rainfall scarce, its soil choked with weeds. Not even slash-and-burn farming could take root here.
"What about hunting or foraging? I saw plenty of fruit-bearing trees."
"We hunt whenever we can—but there are too many mouths to feed. And most of the fruit here is tainted. Fruits that are harmless outside gain poison here, perhaps from the venomous insects and herbs they grow among."
Pyochung plucked a golden fruit from a wild pear tree nearby. It was plump and inviting.
"For example, this one. Elsewhere, children eat it freely. But here? Eat one, and you'll have stomach pains for three days. Eat three, and your face swells and your mind clouds. More than a few have died, unable to resist their hunger."
Mujin reached out, and Pyochung handed him the fruit.
After examining it briefly, Mujin simply wiped it on his sleeve and bit deep into it. Sweet and tart juice filled his mouth.
Pyochung nearly leapt in horror, trying to snatch it back.
"I just told you it's poisonous! You'll be suffering tonight, mark my words."
But Mujin calmly took another bite.
"It's fine."
"Stop this! If the physician falls ill, who will heal him?"
"Don't worry. My body doesn't take poison easily."
Sitting down, Mujin focused on the sensation spreading through his gut. The poison was subtle, but unmistakable, slowly seeping into his stomach. Indeed, if an ordinary man ate too many, his stomach would harden and fail.
This won't do.
He was about to toss the rest aside when a thought struck him.
The only difference between poison and medicine is dosage. Too little poison can act as a remedy, while too much medicine becomes poison.
That meant one could fight poison with poison—if handled correctly.
This might work…
Mujin began gathering fruits, roots, and leaves, stuffing them into his arms, then shut himself inside a hut to experiment.
Pyochung watched with a worried frown.
***
In Nogun, the people spent their days scouring the mountain for food, collapsing into stillness at night to save energy. Because of this, the villagers rarely gathered together.
"Everyone! Come, gather!"
But today, the Three Swords went door to door, calling everyone out. The villagers came eagerly, eyes bright with hope.
Whenever the Three Swords summoned them, it was almost always to distribute food: stolen grain from bandits, a sack of rice begged from nearby towns, or meat from a large hunt.
Adults carried small bowls and gourds, while children's mouths already watered with anticipation.
But today, in front of the hut, there was no sack of grain, no roasting boar. Only the young physician who had arrived days ago.
At last, the villagers understood.
Ah—this was just to bid farewell to Doctor Tang before he left.
A faint disappointment touched their faces, though they bowed with gratitude.
But then, Tang Mujin spoke—and what he said was wholly unexpected.
***
Would you like me to carry on with Mujin's announcement to the villagers (his plan for food and treatment using the mountain's poisons)?
Mujin's Lesson on Poison and Food
"The reason I asked you all to gather here today is to ease your hunger, even if only a little."
The mention of food was far more welcome than a farewell. The villagers' ears perked up.
"There are many fruit trees and vines bearing berries on Mount Nogu. Of course, the terrain is too harsh for them to provide full bellies for long. Still, they are enough to stave off hunger."
Namgung Myeong brought out a table and set it before the people. Upon it he laid all manner of fruits: crab apples, hawthorn berries (shanzhazi), hazelnuts, wild strawberries, late-season pomelos (wanbaeyu), fruits of the small-ear tree, and various leaves and roots whose names no one knew.
But the villagers' faces filled with disappointment. They had expected some great revelation, yet all they saw were fruits they already knew.
An old man spoke for them.
"We know Mount Nogu has many fruits. And we've heard that outside these mountains, they can be eaten safely. But here, we dare not touch them."
"I've gathered you here to teach you how to eat them."
"What do you mean?"
Mujin picked up a bright yellow crab apple and held it up.
"The poison in this fruit is cold in nature. If eaten, it causes water to linger in the stomach and makes the blood circulate too quickly. As a result, one suffers stomachaches and diarrhea."
He then raised a wild strawberry for them to see.
"But this fruit's poison is of the opposite nature. It is warm and drying, and if eaten in moderation, it can cure stomachaches. One crab apple and three wild strawberries will balance each other."
Mujin handed one crab apple and three wild strawberries to Namgung Myeong.
Without hesitation, Namgung Myeong ate them all. Though he had suddenly become the test subject, he showed no sign of worry—because he trusted Mujin completely.
The onlookers, however, were tense.
All of them had seen these fruits before, and more than a few had tried eating them in times of hunger. The results had always been agony—and for some, even death.
But Namgung Myeong merely dusted off his hands as if nothing had happened.
True, the poison would not strike immediately. Yet his relaxed expression gave the villagers an odd sense of trust.
This was the very idea Mujin had conceived days ago: to fight poison with poison.
Long ago, in these very mountains, the Flame Emperor Shennong had tasted countless plants, classifying herbs and poisons and recording their properties. Following in that spirit, Mujin had tested the plants around the village.
And he had reached the conclusion that, by pairing opposing natures, some of the fruits could indeed be eaten.
Not perfectly—no remedy ever was—but far better than starving to death day by day.
Mujin picked up another fruit and continued his lesson.
"When you eat shanzhazi (hawthorn berries), take one fruit of the small-ear tree with it. But children must only eat one per day, no more. Adults should never eat more than three. Beyond that, the heart races and dizziness sets in."
"When eating wanbaeyu (late pomelo), steep clean mistletoe in warm water and drink it together. The bitterness will be unpleasant, but your body will not suffer harm."
"When you eat the small-ear fruit, pair it with young shoots or roots of the paper mulberry. In fact, it's even beneficial."
As he explained, Mujin placed the fruits in his own mouth. Namgung Myeong, waiting at his side, casually grabbed other fruits and roots from the table and ate them as well.
But the villagers' reactions were far from good.
They trusted Mujin's skill, yes—but they trusted their own lifelong experience more.
After all, these were lessons carved into their bones through days of writhing in pain and nights hovering between life and death.
The villagers' faces were tense, their eyes fixed on Mujin and Namgung Myeong. By their experience, things might look fine now, but by evening, the two would surely be in agony. By tomorrow noon, corpses would need burying.
A few soft-hearted villagers, having grown attached to the doctor and his companion in such a short time, muttered nervously, "Oh dear, oh dear…"
Namgung Myeong only shrugged, as if to say: Just trust me.
Neither he nor Mujin had expected instant belief. That was why they had risked a demonstration in the first place. Mujin finished simply:
"If you're hungry, just do as I've told you."
With that, he bowed politely and returned to his hut. Not a single villager went to collect fruits.
***
The next morning, the people began drifting, one by one, to the hut where Mujin and Namgung Myeong were staying.
Most wore worried expressions, but in some eyes shone a fragile spark of hope.
At last, when the sun had climbed high, the door opened. The two men emerged.
They looked no different than yesterday. If anything, they seemed healthier, more refreshed, as though they had slept soundly through the night.
They showed no fever, no endless trips to the latrine, no doubled-over pain.
Only then did the villagers realize—
From this day forward, no one in Nogun would starve to death again.
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