Money is a virtue.
The Nine Great Sects and the Eight Great Clans—were they truly as magnificent as their titles suggested? What had cemented them as the titans of this era was a foundation built on two things: their jealously guarded divine arts and the mountains of gold passed down through generations.
Jin Cheon-hee grinned. It was the same benign, good-natured smile he had offered Namgung Woon.
If they covet martial arts with such voracious hunger, then who am I to deny them? I shall feed them. The Zhuge Clan was generous; it gave anything and everything. But this gift would not be exclusive to the elite. He would scatter it to the winds. Let’s see if they can tear it apart and dissect it with the same cruelty they showed ‘back then.’
Whine?
Hwanggu, sensing the sudden shift in his master’s mood, let out a low, worried sound.
“It’s okay. I’m okay, Hwanggu.” Jin Cheon-hee reached down, stroking the dog’s head to soothe him.
Woof?
“Really. I just… want to make a lot of money. I was lost in thought about how to fill our coffers.”
Grrrr.
“Alright, fine. I was thinking of other minor things, too. In the Gangho, there are things far more frightening than the edge of a sword.”
Yip?
“Don’t worry. It will be fine. They’ll probably… think it’s fine, too. People rarely understand the value of what they possess until it slips through their fingers.”
So, I shall give it to them in abundance. The martial arts of the Zhuge Clan, which the Orthodox, the Unorthodox, and the Demonic factions had so desperately craved. Just try not to choke on the feast.
A slight sting pricked his chest. Looking down at Hwanggu’s innocent eyes, the phantom pain subsided. It wasn’t a physical ailment, but a sickness of the heart.
How long had he walked? The steps leading to the White Qilin Medical Pavilion finally came into view, and there, standing at the entrance like a statue of welcoming grace, was his master.
“You’ve returned safely this time, without a scratch on you.”
“Am I a child, Master? Do you expect me to get hurt every time I step outside?”
“I don’t know. Shall I tally how many stitches I’ve had to sew into your skin?”
“Ugh… Master, please.”
Looking troubled yet unable to suppress a bright smile, Jin Cheon-hee walked inside with him.
“Come to think of it, I’ve acquired a fine piece of art. It seems its value is destined to skyrocket.”
Collecting paintings and calligraphy was a modest hobby of Zhuge Rin’s. He was a man of discerning taste who rarely made purchases, but when something caught his eye, it was invariably a masterpiece. Even a painting by a nameless, unknown scholar would, after a few years in his possession, become a treasure that a fortune could not buy.
His master led him to the study.
What kind of painting will it be this time? Now that I think of it, he mentioned he was growing weary of orchids.
Jin Cheon-hee stepped into the room. There, hanging proudly in the center of the study, was a portrait of a breathtakingly beautiful princess.
The inscription read: Princess Seon-hee.
The meticulously rendered portrait was so lifelike that every strand of hair seemed ready to sway in a breeze. It possessed a depth and realism that traditional ink paintings lacked.
“The artist is from the Western Continent. He was originally a sailor who drifted to the East after his ship went off course. He calls himself James Miller. I specially commissioned this painting from him. What do you think? Does it not look like an investment whose value will only rise?”
“…”
A cold sweat trickled down Jin Cheon-hee’s spine. Master and disciple locked eyes—blue staring into blue.
A wide, mischievous smile spread across Zhuge Rin’s face.
“It cost a considerable sum to commission. But surely a master is allowed at least one indulgence, don’t you think, Hee-ya?”
“…”
Thud.
His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor.
Zhuge Rin snapped his fan open with a flourish. “It saddens me so, that my disciple keeps secrets from his master.”
“Master… about that.”
“Speak, Princess.”
“…”
What could he say? He could only grip the floorboards with a pale, mortified face.
***
What is the measure of a life?
Jin Cheon-hee decided to repress the memory of the princess for a while. In any case, that three-dimensional, Western-style portrait now hung proudly in his master’s study. Fortunately, the only ones permitted entry were Yoo Ho and the Four Great Department Heads. Even if another physician from the pavilion saw it, they would merely remark, ‘What a portrait of a peerless beauty. It looks as if she could step out of the frame.’ They would never know the painting’s horrific context.
This… son of a bitch. I’ll forget the princess, so I pray my master forgets her too.
But his master never forgot. Whether he was teasing him or genuinely admired the aesthetic, he displayed the painting prominently for all to see.
And so, Princess Seon-hee became his master’s souvenir.
Several months drifted by. Jin Cheon-hee spent his days in a rhythm of leisurely training, enjoying his hobbies, and researching methods to reduce the production costs of streptomycin and aspirin. Even though the portrait of Princess Seon-hee haunted the study, the disciple had returned safely from a dangerous mission. There were no major crises, and he hadn’t ignited any scandals in the Gangho.
I think my master’s trust in the Gongsun Clan has gone up by about 100 points.
Since they had borrowed his disciple and returned him in one piece, Gongsun Hyeon would likely enjoy Zhuge Rin’s favor for the foreseeable future.
As for his martial cultivation, he was studying the secret manual of the Heaven-Conquering Supreme Divine Art, attempting to adapt its principles to his own body. It was progress at the agonizing pace of a crawling ant.
“The Heaven-Conquering Supreme Divine Art possesses superior principles befitting one of the Eight Great Arts. Its essence can be summarized in a single word: explosion.”
“Explosion.”
“Its core principle is to mix opposing forces to create a detonation, wiping out everything with the resulting release of energy.”
The manual claimed that at its peak, the art possessed destructive power comparable to a modern hydrogen bomb.
Wait… setting aside the sheer difficulty of mastering it, should a single individual be allowed to wield this much power?
Of course, the manual also warned that mastery was incredibly difficult. Even if one achieved it, if their mind, qi, and body were not in perfect harmony, the user would be consumed by the blast.
But… a hydrogen bomb? Even if it’s a tactical mini-nuke, why doesn’t this era have a nuclear non-proliferation treaty?
Then again, it was said that a master at the level of the Three Supremes could wipe a city off the map with a gesture. Modern Earth would have riotously objected to a single individual possessing such unchecked power; he would have needed to pass a national referendum every time he wanted to unleash an ultimate technique.
Wait. And after all that power, they don’t even consider the ethical responsibility? They just hope the user has a ‘righteous heart’?
The Orthodox, Unorthodox, and Demonic factions had shed rivers of blood over this single manual. He had earned the moniker of the Blue-Eyed Mad Physician trying to stop them. If the last man standing had been a purely evil creature from the Demonic Cult—someone like Cheong-yeon—how would the world have dealt with the aftermath?
He laughed hollowly. “Master… this is a martial art that has no need for a physician. It results in instant death.”
“Indeed. It is an art that requires an undertaker rather than a Physician. That is, if a corpse can even be recovered.”
“At a glance, it seems similar to the Five-Elemental Destructions Extremes of the Five-Elemental Divine Art, but if you look at its core more closely, it is completely different.”
“Hoh, you’ve discerned that much?”
“In terms of pure destructive power, it’s several levels stronger than the Five-Elemental Destructions Extremes. Though the cost to wield it must be exponentially higher.”
Zhuge Rin nodded. “It is a purely offensive martial art, stripped of even the minimum consideration for self-preservation.”
“That’s right. The greatest destruction one can achieve with the secrets of the Heaven-Conquering Supreme Divine Art is the explosion of an Aura Sphere. You create two Aura Spheres and force a collision. The Five-Elemental Divine Art uses the cycle of five elements to increase stability, but this art forces two extreme, opposing energies to crash into one another.”
“Yes. If it were a simple collision, the Wudang Sect has arts that utilize Yin and Yang. But this goes a step further, completing the form of the Aura Sphere and then colliding them in a spiral trajectory.”
“Right. The Wudang arts collide them in a state of pure qi… but the minimum prerequisite for this is an Aura Sphere…”
Jin Cheon-hee massaged his temples. “It would be difficult to block even with a protective aura.”
“Indeed. I agree.”
“Compared to the Heavenly Demon Divine Art, in terms of pure destructive output, I believe this is superior.”
“Then will you give up on it?”
He shook his head. “I know you have already achieved a level far beyond mine, Master. What are your thoughts?”
Instead of answering with words, Zhuge Rin raised his hand. He manifested two Aura Spheres. They were tiny, barely the size of fingernails—so small it was almost embarrassing to give them such a grand name.
Flame and Ice.
The two minuscule spheres spun in a tight spiral within his master’s palm. Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, he threw them. They flew gracefully, dancing around each other until they collided in the center of the training ground.
KRA-KOOOM!
With a roar that tore at the eardrums, the section of the training ground where the spheres met simply ceased to exist.
Rumble…
“!”
Jin Cheon-hee’s eyes widened.
Wait, how could he do that so effortlessly? Without any preparation time?!
A chill ran down his spine as he witnessed the sheer scale of his master’s martial intuition. If his own progress was that of a crawling ant, his master was soaring like a dragon.
“This is not yet what you would call mastery.”
“…Uh… this isn’t mastery?”
“And there is no need to reach mastery, either.”
“Uh…”
Conversations with a genius were exhausting. Jin Cheon-hee had always considered himself quite intelligent, but in moments like this, he was left dumbfounded, wondering if it was even possible to walk the same path.
“My dear disciple,” his master said softly. “You are laboring under a great misunderstanding.”
“What…?”
“There is no need to master it. You need only extract the insights you require and utilize them for your own ends. Is that not the philosophy of the Profound Primordial Complete Foundation Divine Art?”
“That’s… true, Master. It is, but…”
“Why did you delve into the hidden archives of the Imperial Palace? Was it not to obtain such divine arts? Yet you do not train religiously in every single one of them, do you?”
“No. That’s right. I don’t.”
With the exception of the Seven Demonic Zither, which was his primary weapon, he only learned the essence of other arts. Of course, distilling that essence was no simple task. In the end, a martial artist naturally becomes most proficient in their primary discipline.
“Then you need only take what you need. Like this.”
“…”
Jin Cheon-hee stared at the vast crater that had once been the training ground. It seemed impossible for him to replicate what his master had just done.
“Uh… I will keep that in mind.”
That was all he could say. Even if he moved at the speed of a crawling ant, he was still moving forward. Perhaps that was enough.
***
“Let’s have a look, son. Yes. The bone has set well.”
“Waaaaah!”
“There, there. We’ll watch you for a few more days, and if you’re okay, I’ll let you go home with your dad. Just wait a little longer. Oh my, why are you crying? We’re going to have a delicious snack later, hmm?”
“Waaah! Waaaaaah!”
Jin Cheon-hee smiled gently as he checked the sobbing child’s pulse. The child’s father watched him with eyes rimmed red from worry.
“The child…”
“He’s fine. The poison treatment is progressing well.”
The father let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. When they had first arrived, he hadn’t been sure if his son would survive the night. Although they had received emergency treatment at a branch, the poison used by the Unorthodox Faction was so virulent that detoxification had been a nightmare. An adult could suppress it with internal energy, but a child was fragile.
Pediatric head trauma.
It was a surprisingly common emergency. Since the patient was a child under two, diagnosis was notoriously difficult. At that age, even a minor injury could cause a fracture or a lesion. Even with the aid of modern medical imaging, finding lesions could be like searching for a needle in a haystack. That was why the history of the injury was paramount—was it a fall, a collision, or abuse? If it was a fall, from what height? If it was a collision, where and how did the impact occur? If it was abuse, what was the weapon?
The last scenario was rarely admitted by parents, leaving the doctor to deduce the grim truth. Babies cannot speak, and even if they are old enough, they are often coerced into silence by their abusers.
The Gangho was similar, yet distinctly different. Here, injuries often came from ambushes. In this brutal world, the bastards of the Unorthodox factions didn’t spare the children of martial artists. His heart had sunk when this child, not yet two years old, had arrived strapped to his father’s back, reminding him of when Wang Gak-yeon had been brought in.
I’m glad he’s healed. I’m so glad he’s healed.