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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: The Strange Physician Yi Chung
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"Huh?"
Turning around, he saw the face of the Strange Physician Yi Chung. Dang Mujin froze stiff.
Just moments ago, to Dang Mujin, he had been a martial artist interested in medicine and herbs.
But upon hearing the name "Strange Physician," he suddenly looked like an entirely different person. Not just any martial artist, but a murderer who had slain dozens of physicians.
Dang Mujin glanced quickly inside the clinic. He could see his father, Dang Jesun, straightening his robes to receive the next patient.
Fortunately, his father was unharmed. It seemed he didn't kill every physician.
Dang Mujin replied in a voice that sank into a crawl.
"What do you need from me...?"
"I heard from Physician Dang that there's a forge around here."
"That's right."
There were actually a couple of forges nearby, but someone of the Strange Physician's caliber wouldn't visit a small village smithy to buy a hoe or plow. There was only one forge that might catch his interest: Seok Jiseung's.
"Take me there."
"Understood."
Fearing he might offend the Strange Physician, Dang Mujin moved his steps with a deliberately calm expression.
*
Entering the forge with the Strange Physician, Seok Jiseung looked at Dang Mujin with an expression asking who this person was.
Dang Mujin started to introduce him as the Strange Physician but hesitated.
A flashy, impressive nickname might be one thing, but "Strange Physician" had a poor ring to it. The man might take offense, and Dang Mujin's head could roll on the spot.
Having frequented the forge lately and grown close to Seok Jiseung, Dang Mujin spoke casually.
"This is Yi Chung. He had business at the forge, so I brought him."
He mouthed the words "martial artist." He wasn't sure if Seok Jiseung caught it.
Seok Jiseung showed no particular reaction.
The Strange Physician might be famous, but not everyone in the world knew of him, and even if they knew the nickname and name, there had to be hundreds or thousands of people named Yi Chung in the world.
"What do you need? Everything we have ready-made is displayed up front there."
"I've come to place an order."
"What kind of item?"
"I heard from Physician Dang that you made his needles for him?"
"Needles, you say?"
"Yes. His reputation drew me here, but while his medical skills are ordinary, he has these rare needles. Make some for me too. About thirty of them. Half long, half short. More is fine if you can. I'll pay extra if there are more."
The Strange Physician pulled something small from a tiny silk pouch and flicked it with his thumb. The small object spun through the air and landed neatly in Seok Jiseung's palm.
From its size, it naturally seemed like a silver coin at first glance, but surprisingly, it was yellowish. Dang Mujin's eyes widened.
"Gold...?"
He thought he might have seen wrong, but Seok Jiseung's eyes were equally round. It was real gold.
It was a bit larger than a pinky nail. But Dang Mujin had never seen gold used in an actual transaction before. In daily life, nine out of ten payments were in copper coins. Silver was rare enough; gold was unheard of.
Seok Jiseung was so startled by the sudden gold coin that he couldn't continue speaking.
But the Strange Physician interpreted the silence differently.
"Not enough?"
"Pardon?"
"That's all the money I have on hand right now. Consider it a down payment. I'll pay the balance when I pick up the goods. Can you have them ready before the year ends?"
The Strange Physician's demeanor was surprisingly polite. Based on rumors alone, Dang Mujin had expected him to cause a scene and demand the items on threat of death.
Moreover, the timeline he proposed was generous. Spring hadn't even ended yet. It was far too early to speak of the year turning.
From his manner, it seemed the Strange Physician believed the needles underwent an enormously complex process.
However, Seok Jiseung had something to clarify first, before price or timeline.
"The payment is more than enough—overly so. The deadline is generous too. But I didn't make those needles."
The Strange Physician frowned slightly.
"Physician Dang said you made them for him."
"I did help, but those needles were made by Mujin, not me."
"And who's Mujin?"
Seok Jiseung pointed with his finger at Dang Mujin, who stood behind the Strange Physician. The man's expression turned peculiar.
"This kid said he was Physician Dang's son. I saw him decocting medicine behind the clinic earlier."
"That's correct."
"But how could a kid like him make needles? Where would a physician learn smithing?"
"...I don't know the details myself. But among the people I know, no one handles metal better than Dang Mujin."
The Strange Physician burst into hearty laughter.
"They say the world's strangest things happen in Sichuan. Do physicians hammer iron here in Sichuan Province?"
With that, the Strange Physician looked at Dang Mujin.
"It doesn't matter who makes them. Dang Mujin, right? Make the needles. I'll pay with that gold coin."
A gold coin. An enormous windfall.
To Dang Mujin now, the Strange Physician was no longer a terrifying murderer. Just a generous client offering a relaxed deadline and handing over gold without hesitation.
Come to think of it, there were plenty of baseless rumors in the world. Most of the talk surrounding the Strange Physician was probably the same.
Dang Mujin quickly bowed at the waist.
"I'll make as many as you need."
"How long should I give you? Will next spring do?"
"No, sir. Have a meal first. They'll be ready before sunset."
"Before sunset? Today?"
The Strange Physician's expression grew strange, as if he'd heard something absurd.
"I don't need shoddy work. I need them thin and sturdy, like Physician Dang's."
"If it's better, then it's better—no worse. Don't worry."
"You have some pre-made ones?"
"I'll make them now."
Despite Dang Mujin's bold assurance, the Strange Physician's face remained serious. He seemed to take it as the empty boasting of a merchant.
"How is that possible? To make needles that thin, you'd have to draw out dozens or hundreds of wires, grind each one down, and select only those that don't bend or break. No way it can be done in a day."
Of course, that was the standard method. Dang Mujin simply wasn't a standard smith.
"I can do it."
"...I'll have to see it with my own eyes, then, how you plan to make them."
At Dang Mujin's glance, Seok Jiseung rushed to the furnace and lit the fire.
Then Seok Jiseung pumped the bellows handle busily. Once the furnace was sufficiently heated, he tossed in a fist-sized lump of iron.
For making needles, a smaller amount would suffice, but too little material made the work fiddly and strenuous.
Dang Mujin grabbed a hammer from the corner of the forge. The torn blisters on his palms had long since healed.
Thanks to dropping by the forge whenever he was bored, he'd built up some muscle.
Still not enough, but now he wouldn't need to leave the finishing to Seok Jiseung like last time.
Before long, the iron glowed bright yellow. Seok Jiseung clamped the heated iron with tongs, placed it on the anvil, and secured it so it wouldn't bounce away.
"He's gotten good at assisting already."
Dang Mujin hefted the large hammer and brought it down with force.
Sparks erupted in all directions like fireworks, too many to count.
It was a blaze shaking off the ash and impurities clinging to the iron from the furnace in one go.
In his dreams, the dwarf Grombel loved these sparks. Frequent visits to the forge had taught Dang Mujin why.
The hotter the iron, the harder you struck it, the more sparks flew.
These sparks resembled those who seized a single chance and burned everything they had in pursuit of it. How could any smith hate such sparks?
As he swung the hammer, the scattering sparks dwindled, then stilled.
Thud, thud, thud. The lump flattened.
Seok Jiseung used a chisel and one-handed hammer to carve a deep groove in the center of the flattened iron, then folded it in half with force.
Dang Mujin swung the hammer over the folded iron again. Swing, swing, fold.
The iron, cooled to a reddish glow, went back into the furnace and out again. Swing the hammer once more.
Thus the iron was folded seven times. Before long, Dang Mujin's body was drenched in sweat. The lean muscles of his upper body glistened.
"Folding's good enough now. Time to draw it thin."
"Right."
Thud, thud. The iron grew flatter, thinner.
The lump revealed the wires it had hidden until now.
While the two smiths worked, the Strange Physician watched silently.
Beautiful.
Yi Chung had wandered the world and often seen smiths at work. He'd watched skilled smiths make needles several times.
The process Dang Mujin and Seok Jiseung used to make the wire was no different from any other smith's: fold the iron, press it, draw it long, cut it short, grind it thin. That was all.
Yet there was a subtle beauty in the process of making the wire.
It was an aesthetic that anyone who had transcended experience and specialization to reach a profound realm could display.
Even if a supreme martial artist cared nothing for aesthetics, the arc of his sword would move onlookers to awe.
This was a sight no third-rate swordsman could mimic, no novice smith imitate.
And leading the entire process was Dang Mujin.
Seok Jiseung knew it too, which was why he minimized his presence, focusing solely on assisting—nay, actively hiding his own traces.
Soon the two began grinding the short-cut wires.
Any other smith's wires would have bent and snapped countless times, returning to the furnace, but these held firm without bending or breaking, slowly taking shape.
"All done."
In time, over thirty needles were complete. Just as Dang Mujin had said, the sun rested atop the horizon. An impossibly swift pace.
"Hmm."
Yi Chung took the needles and examined them meticulously.
Thin as a badger's hair, tough as a wild boar's bristle, flexible as a horse's mane. They were in no way inferior to Physician Dang's—nay, superior.
'No polish skill here. It's the wire-making expertise. Thin wires mean less polishing time, and high-quality wire lets him finish without ruining them.'
Thick things are sturdy, thin things frail—that's the way of the world.
But Dang Mujin had upended that logic somewhere along the way, creating something thin yet tough.
None of the three present were ignorant of how difficult it was to combine the strengths of opposing traits.
Dang Mujin received a small gold coin from Seok Jiseung.
The copper coins he'd earned last time for decocting medicine had served him well. But silver was one thing—gold?
An unexpected boon.
As he pondered how much to share with Seok Jiseung, the Strange Physician spoke.
"I asked for fine work and got a fine show besides. And swiftly done."
Dang Mujin inwardly winced. He'd finished too quickly, he thought.
Plenty of fools in the world argued nonsense like, "You finished fast, so less effort—less effort means less pay."
Prescribing long-simmering decoctions was partly a trick physicians used to avoid such quarrels.
But fortunately, the Strange Physician wasn't one of those idiots.
Looking at Seok Jiseung, he said,
"It's better than expected, and I got an unexpected show, so more pay is in order. Next time I pass through Sichuan, I'll give you a gold coin too."
"Thank you, sir."
Seok Jiseung bowed deeply. From the corner of his eye, Dang Mujin, standing nearby, caught the high curl of Seok Jiseung's lips.
"And you—Dang Mujin, was it."
Dang Mujin's heart raced. If he was promising Seok Jiseung separate payment, surely some scraps would fall his way too.
'Maybe a couple silver coins extra?'
But what the Strange Physician said next was utterly beyond Dang Mujin's expectations.
"You're no one destined to grow old in some Sichuan backwater decocting medicine forever. How about becoming my disciple?"