People on the Cliff
Once the villagers were able to eat the fruits scattered around them, the mood of the village changed in many ways.
People's complexions noticeably improved, and instead of lying flat inside their houses in the evenings, many came outside to stroll around. With food in their bellies, it seemed their bodies finally had some energy again.
The symptoms that accompanied blood deficiency also noticeably subsided. At this rate, perhaps the number of those suffering from it would decrease in due time.
The situation had clearly improved compared to before. But Tang Mujin was not satisfied with the present.
It was absurd to think that a handful of fruit and root combinations discovered over the past few days could completely drive away hunger. Even after searching around, only a small portion of the surrounding fruits were edible.
Tang Mujin locked himself inside an abandoned hut, studying the fruits and herbs that grew on Mount Nogun—striving to find ways for people to eat more of them with less burden on the body, to stave off hunger more effectively.
He thought of it as research for the dietary needs of the villagers of Mount Nogun.
But in truth, it was research into medicine and poison in general—signifying that Tang Mujin was beginning to pioneer his own domain, moving beyond the level of knowledge he had merely inherited and learned. He simply had not realized it yet.
***
As Tang Mujin secluded himself in the hut, immersed in study, Namgung Myeong found himself with nothing to do.
Even when he watched Tang Mujin fiddling with fruits and roots, Namgung Myeong couldn't understand a thing. The most he could vaguely grasp was the principle that one toxin could suppress another.
When Namgung Myeong loitered nearby with the most bored expression in the world, Tang Mujin finally said:
"If you've got nothing to do, why not help the Elders of the Three Swords of Nogun?"
"The Elders? Why?"
"My research right now can help ease hunger, but it can't completely heal people. If someone only eats fruit or nuts, their body will eventually run into problems."
"Hmm."
"But the Elders manage to bring back all sorts of other foods besides fruit. Go along and help them."
"That sounds like a plan."
He had been itching for something to do anyway. Namgung Myeong immediately left the hut and went to find the Three Swords of Nogun.
As it happened, they were already preparing to head out.
Namgung Myeong approached them cheerfully and asked:
"Elders, where are you going?"
"To get some meat."
"May I come along?"
"It could be a little dangerous… but you seem trained in martial arts. You should be fine. What weapons can you handle?"
"I've only practiced the Fist and Palm techniques. Blades don't suit me."
Not that they didn't suit him—more like if word ever reached his father that he had been swinging a sword, his wrists would be forfeit.
Of course, even if he swung a sword at some remote corner of Mount Nogun, that rumor wouldn't reach Anhui Province.
But since he didn't even have a sword now, it was easier to simply say he practiced fist techniques.
"Fist and Palm, eh. Won't be much help in hunting, but you're young and sturdy enough to carry loads. Come along."
Namgung Myeong and the Three Swords walked down toward the base of the peaks, chatting along the way.
Mount Nogun was filled with needle-like spires stabbing into the sky, but between them were narrow patches of flat land—valley floors, of a sort.
When they reached the bottom, the dampness of dense forest air clung to their bodies. Animal scents and presences could be faintly felt all around. Some trees showed stripped bark, scraped off by large beasts rubbing or clawing against them.
The Three Swords climbed up into the trees, whispering to each other.
"Would be nice if we could catch a boar."
"Deer tastes better than boar."
"No point wishing for what's so hard to catch. All that follows is disappointment."
"Even if it's disappointing, can't I dream a little?"
They waited in the trees for who knows how long, until Pyo Chung signaled with his hand. At once, the Three Swords leapt down, charging like madmen—no regard for age or dignity.
No mere boar could withstand the combined assault of three first-rate masters. In the blink of an eye, the beast was brutally torn apart.
San Jeo, with a grim look, laid the boar on its side and slit its throat. Blood gushed out in torrents, far more than from its other wounds.
"Today's hunt ended quickly. Fortune's with us."
It wasn't the deer they wanted most, but in an instant they had acquired hundreds of pounds of boar meat. Watching, Namgung Myeong wondered:
If hunting was this easy and yielded this much meat, why were the people still starving?
"Why do the villagers live up on the cliffs? Wouldn't it be much better to live lower down? With all these animals around, meat would be easier to come by too."
Tang Rang replied:
"I thought the same at first. But this isn't a place for people to live. Too dangerous for ordinary folk."
"If beasts are the problem, wouldn't strong fences solve it?"
"That might work for boars and deer. But Mount Nogun is home to tigers and bears—creatures no fence can hold. And worse yet: poisonous insects."
As if on cue, Namgung Myeong was swatting away a bug biting at his ankle.
Its venom wasn't deadly, but if such insects bit ordinary people relentlessly, they wouldn't last long.
"And when it rains, things get even worse. Flooding is common, and rockfalls are constant. The cliffs up there were chosen because they were the least hazardous spot."
While they talked, the bloodletting was finished.
Like a butcher, the Three Swords sliced off portions of the boar.
They only took leg, back, and rump meat, leaving the rest of the flesh and hide discarded nearby. A pack of jackals soon closed in, tearing into the remains.
More than half of the meat went to the scavengers.
But Namgung Myeong quickly understood why.
The problem wasn't the hunt—it was carrying the meat back to the village.
The four of them packed dozens of pounds of meat each into sacks, then trudged up the narrow paths climbing the peaks. Their arms stiffened, muscles straining, the sacks biting deep into their grips.
Exhausted, they had to stop and rest several times along the way.
"…Poisonous bugs or not, it would be better just to live a little lower."
"All who argued that way ended up dead."
By the time they hauled the sacks up the peak, more than half a day had passed.
Namgung Myeong collapsed from fatigue, while the Three Swords went door to door, handing out handfuls of meat to each family. The people grinned from ear to ear, even at the rank smell of boar flesh.
When Namgung Myeong returned to the hut, he recounted the day's events to Tang Mujin—how hunting the boar was easy enough, but hauling it back had been the true ordeal.
To that, Tang Mujin replied:
"The Elders and you should focus on the hunt, and let the villagers carry the meat."
"Even now, things are only slightly better. How could those weakly villagers manage such labor? They'd collapse foaming at the mouth before long."
"Then use a cart. The paths up that peak are in far better shape than the others—smooth enough to manage."
"You need a cart to use one. Besides, the paths are so narrow a cart couldn't fit."
"Then build a cart suited to the paths."
Stretching his arms after a day of sitting, Tang Mujin rose.
He wandered the village until he procured a crude axe, then returned.
Nearby he cut down a short, thick shrub.
Dragging the leafy shrub, he drew curious onlookers.
Ignoring their stares, he casually hacked off the branches and tossed them over the cliff.
Then, with broad strokes, he split the trunk into chunks, leaving behind several hefty logs like firewood.
"You're really going to build a cart?"
"I'll cobble one together and see how it works. If it's useful, we'll make a proper one."
As Tang Mujin chopped and shaved the wood with the axe, several villagers stepped forward to help.
"Can you really make a cart with just wood and an axe? Should I at least make some wooden pegs for you?"
The One-Wheeled Cart
"It's fine. Making it without nails makes it sturdier."
"Without nails? You're building a cart like that?"
"Yes."
Tang Mujin cut the wood blocks into suitable sizes, then pulled out a dagger.
The moment he gripped the dagger, his work sped up several times over. In the blink of an eye, solid chunks of wood were shaved into perfectly round wheels, and soon after, countless pieces of wood whose purposes were hard to guess piled up beside him.
Though his hands moved quickly, there was simply too much to make, and since he refused outside help, the wooden pieces were only completed by the time the sun was almost set.
Then Tang Mujin silently began to fit the pieces together. Whenever joints didn't align, he trimmed them down further. If he realized he had missed or lost a piece, he carved another on the spot.
As mentioned before, not a single wooden peg was used.
By the time the work was nearly done, night had fallen completely. Yet no one in the village left—the sight was too strange and fascinating to miss.
Villagers sat and munched on nuts or fruit, quietly watching Tang Mujin craft his cart.
There was something mesmerizing in his practiced hands, something that seized people's eyes and refused to let go.
And at last, when the darkness was absolute, a peculiar cart took shape.
Watching it, Pyo Chung remarked:
"You said you were a physician, but your true gift seems to be carpentry."
"I hear that often."
But neither Pyo Chung nor the other Two Swords of Nogun, nor the villagers, nor even Namgung Myeong could understand what Tang Mujin had made.
It was shaped like a large square box resting on wheels. A cart, without doubt.
But no one would call it an ordinary cart—because it had only one wheel.
The thing couldn't even stand upright on its own; it leaned awkwardly to the side.
People shuffled uncertainly, reluctant to voice the obvious question. Finally Namgung Myeong spoke for them all:
"What use is a cart that can't even stand by itself?"
"I thought the same at first. But surprisingly, it's useful."
Tang Mujin called Namgung Myeong over, handing him the cart's handles, then loaded the remaining scraps of wood onto it.
"Grip with your arms and waist. Try pulling."
Namgung Myeong, doubtful, gave it a tug. It required some arm strength, but compared to hauling a load on his back, it was vastly easier.
"…Incredible. It's lighter than I thought."
True, it wobbled and felt a little unstable, but compared to carts with two or four wheels, this one had advantages.
It was narrow enough to fit on the cliffside trails, and most of all, it turned with ease. On winding paths, such a cart was far more practical.
"This could actually work on the trails."
"Seems so. How did you even come up with this?"
"I didn't. The first to make it was Dan Seolyeong. I only imitated him."
Back in Luoyang, when Tang Mujin had lived with Dan Seolyeong, the man was constantly building odd contraptions. Among them was this one-wheeled cart.
Ordinary carts had two or four wheels. Cartwrights might innovate in other ways, but never in the number of wheels.
Dan Seolyeong, however, once said it might be fun to make a three-wheeled cart. But it turned out little different from a four-wheeled one.
So he changed the idea: instead of adding more wheels, he reduced it to just one.
It hadn't been a serious project, but surprisingly, the small one-wheeled cart was useful. By adding handles on both ends so two people could pull, it even gained stability.
The villagers, curious, took turns pulling the cart. Even with wood weighing at least fifty jin piled on, it moved forward without much trouble—though it rocked side to side.
Now, the Three Swords of Nogun could focus entirely on hunting, while the villagers took turns hauling meat with the carts. Perhaps they might even eat their fill of meat for once.
Pyo Chung gave his assessment:
"Excellent. Novel and practical."
But Tang Mujin only shrugged.
"It's made from unseasoned wood. After a bit of use, it will warp and break. Still, it should last half a month to a month."
To think such a contraption would last only a month! Pyo Chung felt it a terrible waste.
"What a pity. You should've used dried wood from the start. Nogun Village is poor, yes, but we still keep plenty of firewood."
"If I'd made it from seasoned wood only to find it useless, that would've been the real waste. Well… then again, since it'd be firewood anyway, maybe it doesn't matter."
At that, Tang Rang and San Jeo exchanged strange looks.
The way Tang Mujin valued seasoned firewood above a finely crafted one-wheeled cart was utterly bizarre.
"In any case, this one is just a prototype. Use it first, and if it proves practical, we can make more later."
Every person sees the world differently.
And Tang Mujin's skills were unlike ordinary men's. Naturally, the way he looked at the world could not be the same as theirs either.
Yes—unlike them, Tang Mujin was someone destined to leave his mark upon the world.
The Three Swords of Nogun felt a great surge of envy. But alongside it came another feeling, one they could not suppress—pure exhilaration.
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