Chapter 5: This is Sane (4)

Diling.

The black-haired woman playing the lute glances down, subtly scanning the banquet hall.

The Nine Great Sects, the Five Great Clans, the Martial Alliance, and even a few from beyond the Central Plains, known as the outer martial world.

Virtually every notable faction in the martial world has sent one or two representatives to this gathering.

If the people gathered here were to unleash a massacre in the city hosting the Moyong Clan, ten thousand would die within an hour—such is the strength of these martial artists.

Diling.
The musician, Yeo Cheong, plucks the lute strings carefully to avoid revealing her identity.

“What a beautiful sound. That woman…”
“She must be from the imperial palace orchestra. Perhaps we can invite her to perform at a future banquet.”

Fortunately, no one has noticed her.
The fact that men from prominent clans see her merely as a banquet musician is proof.

‘There won’t be any trouble tomorrow. I’m here.’

Except for the clan leader, Moyong Cheon, the greatest under heaven.

[Yeo Cheong, the Imperial First Sword. If I lose control, you must kill me.]

Musician Yeo Cheong.
One of the imperial inspectors, known in the martial world as the [Formless Sword], a transcendent master.

Only Moyong Cheon knows her true identity.
Thus, with his implicit permission, she infiltrated the banquet hall safely under imperial orders.

Her mission consists of three objectives.

“Alliance Leader, this time…”
“Ah, it’s been a while. How’s Sichuan…”

First, to observe the dynamics of the martial world.
Though it’s a funeral, gatherings of such distant figures are rare opportunities.

With the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Eastern Depot recently rebuilt, a gathering of such key martial figures cannot be overlooked.

“Did the Moyong Clan fail to find a solution after all?”
“Unless they found the legendary Sunfire Carp, there’s no way.”
“Ah, the carp imbued with sun-like yang energy? If that existed, someone would’ve already cured severed meridian syndrome.”

Second, to gather information on the incurable severed meridian syndrome.

“I heard the palace is tirelessly searching for a cure.”
“Shh, quiet. There are no severed meridian patients in the palace.”
“But the current empress…”
“It might or might not happen. Tsk tsk. That’s why the officials shouldn’t have taken a woman from the Pang Clan…”

The palace is seeking its own solutions for severed meridian syndrome.
The current, and only, empress—who is with child—hails from the martial world.
Though officials and martial artists don’t cross paths, how can there be a clear divide when men and women live under the same sky?
Especially when they’re comrades who’ve shared life and death.

“Severed meridian syndrome is a matter of luck. Maybe one in a hundred gets it… but if you do, it’s a death sentence.”

Yeo Cheong recalls.
Officially, the number of girls from martial factions afflicted with severed meridian syndrome, including the Nine Great Sects, Five Great Clans, and minor sects, is—

108.
If you include those hidden or already dead, how much higher would that number be?

“Well, the empress wouldn’t give birth to a child with severed meridian syndrome, would she? And… you can always have another child.”

Diling.
The lute string trembles momentarily, but Yeo Cheong smoothly conceals the mistake within the wave of music.

“If the Moyong Clan’s precious daughter dies… what happens to the Medicine Dragon?”
“Who knows.”

Third, to secure the one called the Medicine Dragon.

“He couldn’t conquer severed meridian syndrome, but hasn’t he treated every other illness with medicine and skill?”
“Three years ago, he won the physician’s competition and became famous for curing the empress’s illness. That fame ends today.”

Though he detests the title, the world has already dubbed him the Medicine Dragon.

Having a title attached to one’s name is a great honor in the martial world.
Even more so if that title is recognized across the vast heavens.

“Should we recruit him to our clan?”
“Calm down. You want to bring that up today and get into trouble? Look at him, drowning in ‘defeat.’”

Yeo Cheong shifts her gaze to the corner.
There stands a black-haired youth in pristine white robes.

Not objectively a stunning beauty, but his appearance is certainly likable.
Taller than average, his build is slightly lean compared to the muscular martial artists, though clearly trained to some degree.

Not a universally acknowledged handsome man like the Sword Saint, nor with the thick brows and rugged features of many warriors here, but if you lined up a hundred men, he’d rank somewhere between thirty and forty.

“…Tch.”

No.
If he dressed up properly, he could easily climb to the top twenty.
With a little effort, he could outshine many in various ways.

The reason for this assessment is the youth’s ‘ability,’ which overshadows his above-average looks.

He failed to cure severed meridian syndrome.
But he’s never failed with any other illness.
Even when ingredients were hard to obtain, with the right materials, he could alleviate or cure any condition.

While such medical skills may be undervalued in the martial world, they’re different in the imperial realm.

The imperial physician.
A doctor for the royal family.
Yeo Cheong received orders from the palace to ‘bring him if necessary.’

Not mandatory, but if necessary.

“If Miss Moyong dies, would that physician stay with the Moyong Clan?”
“That’s why we need to probe. At least after the banquet, or the funeral.”

As Yeo Cheong and others begin to gauge the situation—

“Excuse me.”

Diling.
A woman in Jeomchang Sect robes approaches the youth.

Yeo Cheong hadn’t expected anyone to invite him to their side before the banquet even started, but she perks her ears to listen—

“…!!”

She accidentally snaps a lute string.

Step, step.
Footsteps like walking on ice.
Yet so light and stealthy that only a master—or a sect leader—would notice.

Even—

[Clang!]

“!!”

The head disciple of Jeomchang, So Yeonjeok, tries to draw her sword, but a single finger forces it back.
The opponent suppresses her with ‘inner energy,’ preventing her from even unsheathing it.

“Huh.”

Yeo Cheong sighs.
As expected of the greatest under heaven’s daughter, to have such skill without specifically training in martial arts.

“What are you talking about?”

If she had trained from a young age, without the severed meridian syndrome, she might have rivaled Yeo Cheong, the Imperial First Sword, by age twenty.

“Taking ‘my physician’ somewhere?”
“…!”

Yeo Cheong nearly releases her sword aura.

That fighting spirit.
For a brief moment, the sharp killing intent directed at So Yeonjeok.

It was far too intense for someone with severed meridian syndrome to emit…

“?”

Severed meridian syndrome patient?

“???”

Yeo Cheong doubts her eyes.
And likely, other ‘transcendent masters’ feel the same.

“Why…”
“Her vitality…?”

A severed meridian syndrome patient is alive.
Radiating vibrant life, channeling it into fighting spirit and jealousy toward someone.

The characteristic broken flow of qi from the syndrome is completely absent.
A woman who should exude a corpse-like chill instead radiates human warmth, even a clear complexion, bursting with more vitality than anyone.

There’s no trace of severed meridian syndrome.

“!!”

As if… the syndrome is completely cured.

Half an hour ago, after Sword Saint Moyong Cheon returned with the wooden box.

‘Listen carefully, both of you. Whether temporary or permanent, the fact that your severed meridian syndrome is ‘cured’ will inevitably spread.’

Moyong Cheon had declared.

‘Severed meridian syndrome is a disease of the blood vessels and inner energy. And there are many masters at the banquet with at least sixty years of inner energy. They’ll notice immediately.’
‘Can’t I pretend to be sick?’
‘Impossible. You might fool one or two, but even peak masters will see through it. You’re too… healthy.’

Despite Moyong Cheon’s assertion, Moyong Seol wanted to hide her recovery.

‘Or I could fake my death. Avoid appearing in public and hold a fake funeral.’
‘No way. Then others will throw themselves at the physician.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Absolutely not. No way… Ugh, there’s no solution.’

There was no way to hide it.

‘They’ll definitely try to take the physician, won’t they?’
‘Yes. There’s no reason for him to stay with the Moyong Clan.’
‘…At least for the past three years, thanks to him, I lived with less pain. Others with daughters suffering from the syndrome will want the same—to ease their pain and leave smiling until the end. …I can’t let the physician go.’

Neither Moyong Seol, Moyong Cheon, nor I wanted the situation that would arise if we hid it.

‘Sigh… I didn’t want to tell others that spending a night with the physician cured my syndrome…’

I had a fleeting thought, but Moyong Cheon didn’t catch her true intent.

‘…May I ask why? If it’s because you’re embarrassed—’
‘It’s not that. Other women… ahem, other ladies might get strange ideas.’

Correction.
She didn’t want to hide spending a night with me.

‘What if those women, in some delusion, think sleeping with the physician will cure their syndrome?’

Moyong Seol seemed to want to prevent any scenario where I’d spend a night with another woman.

‘…Physician Seok. Is that true?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Is spending a night with you really a cure for the syndrome?’
‘How would I know?’

I didn’t know.
But in that moment, I knew exactly what I needed to say.

First.

‘If I’d known it was a cure, even if it meant being stabbed by your sword, I’d have treated Miss Moyong’s syndrome a year earlier.’
‘Physician…’

The mindset of a physician.

Second.

‘To test it by embracing another woman with the syndrome? Preposterous. It’s disrespectful to her and even more so to Miss Moyong.’
‘Physician…!’

My relationship with Moyong Seol.

‘Understood. I see your resolve, so act with confidence no matter what happens.’

Pleased with my response, the Sword Saint, as the Moyong Clan Leader, gave his advice.

‘The Moyong Clan never retreats or flees in the face of hardship.’

The mindset of a Moyong Clan member.

So I pondered.
If other masters saw Moyong Seol cured of her syndrome, how would the martial world fall into chaos?

“Step back, Jeomchang.”

For now, I understand we’ve gotten into a conflict with the Jeomchang Sect.

“The physician was my beloved.”
“Beloved…?! And ‘was’…?”

Cracks appear on So Yeonjeok’s cold face.
Her gaze shifts to the hairpin in Moyong Seol’s hair, nestled against my arm tucked into her chest.

“No way…!”
“That’s right. Now he’s my lover.”

Grip.
Moyong Seol buries my arm deeper into her chest.
I try to pull my hand away, but her thigh presses it down, keeping our bodies close.

“!!”

My hand happens to touch an awkward spot, but Moyong Seol holds her head high, clinging to me even more tightly.

“Right, Physician? Or should I call you… ‘darling’?”
“This…”

So Yeonjeok and many others look around in confusion.

Some at Moyong Seol’s declaration.
Some at her condition.

“…”

Suddenly, I feel the gazes of young men directed at Moyong Seol.

Those who previously showed no interest, seeing her as a ‘dying woman,’ now look at her with intensity as she radiates vitality.

“I prefer the title ‘Physician.’”

So I turn toward Moyong Seol, bowing slightly.

“And since we haven’t held the ‘ceremony’ yet, can you wait until then?”
“Well said.”

Step, step.
Sword Saint Moyong Cheon enters the center of the banquet hall.

“As everyone is gathered, I, as the host, will speak.”

Moyong Cheon stands before Moyong Seol and me, turning to face the crowd.

“Today’s banquet is to announce the engagement of my daughter, Moyong Seol, and my… my…”

Hum—

“…my daughter’s engagement.”

“Engagement?”

The bearded Taoist, the Martial Alliance Leader, steps forward.

“Look here, Sword Saint! What’s this about? There was no mention of this!”
“Thirteen years ago, when my daughter was first diagnosed with severed meridian syndrome, I declared to the martial world—no, to all under heaven.”

The Sword Saint extends his hand.

“I would give my daughter and everything I have to the one who cured her syndrome.”
“!!”

A brilliant blue sword aura flows like starlight from his hand, forming a blade.

“I will fulfill that promise. I declare the engagement of Physician Seok Muwol and my daughter…”
“No way!!”

So Yeonjeok shouts.

“Ho. What’s so absurd about it?”
“Physician Seok Muwol is the Medicine Dragon with a bright future! Would you bind such a man to a woman who’ll soon die?!”
“Hey, Miss So!”
“It’s fine, Alliance Leader. It’s a joyous day, so I’ll forgive the rudeness.”

Others turn to So Yeonjeok, but I clearly feel the Sword Saint’s slight gratitude for her interruption.
Otherwise, that sword aura would’ve aimed at her neck, Jeomchang or not.

“I declare the engagement of Physician Seok Muwol, who cured my daughter, and…”
“Sword Saint.”

This time, the old monk, the Divine Monk, steps forward.

“I know you hate interruptions, but my common sense is crumbling, and I must ask for clarity. Please forgive me.”
“Speak freely, elder.”

He keeps dodging the word ‘son-in-law,’ as if it’s easier to address the situation directly.

“Pure Jade Oil, Human-Shaped Ginseng, medicinal herbs, even… Shaolin’s Great Restoration Pill couldn’t cure severed meridian syndrome. How was it treated?”
“Well—”
“We slept together.”

Moyong Seol is no ordinary woman.

“Spending a night with the physician cured my syndrome.”

Some react with shock, others with hope.

Slurp.
Ugh…
And some with the urge to gouge out their eyes.

“Right, Physician?”

And I, too.

“Well.”

I’m not the type to back down or leave room for those lusting after Moyong Seol.

A Moyong Clan member neither retreats nor flees.

“I’m certain it’s a miracle born of our love.”

I lift my hand to cup Moyong Seol’s chin.
She quietly closes her eyes, rising on her toes toward me.

Chup—

Crash!

With the kiss, the sound of a porcelain cup shattering on the floor echoes through the banquet hall.

That day.
Those gathered for someone’s death witnessed a miracle.

The Sword Saint, not swinging his sword to behead the man kissing his daughter—

That, too, is a miracle, but.

They saw.

Chup, chup, ha…

A woman cured of severed meridian syndrome, her face flushed with life, kissing her lover.