“It’s a kind of strategy for surviving in an organization or a group. Humans are creatures of emotion. A small gesture can solve a great many things.”

“Is that the wisdom of those who have not learned martial arts?”

“It’s wisdom that’s necessary whether you have martial arts or not. This is the problem with you Murim people. The moment something happens, you draw your swords and start stabbing each other. Kid, you won’t live long like that. Let’s say a doctor works his ass off to save you in that moment. Do you have any idea how fatal it is for air to get into your intestines?”

“Um…”

“A person isn’t some game character. Do you think your body just goes back to the way it was after being stitched up? Those are the guys who come back to the hospital later with intestinal adhesions.”

“…I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Hyung. Is a ‘doctor’ the same as a physician? And what is a ‘game’?”

“Ah, that was a slip of the tongue.”

“…”

Yeo Ha-ryoon gave his hyung a suspicious look but ultimately just shrugged.

“Anyway, if you feel the need to draw your sword, count to three first,” I said. “And if you absolutely have to use it, think about where the nearest physician is and stab them in a way that at least keeps them alive.”

“…What if it’s someone who must be killed?”

Those were not the words of an ordinary child. And they certainly weren’t the words one would expect from someone stuffing their face with a fried honey-filled rice cake skewer without even a sip of water.

I answered his question. “Then kill them cleanly, right then and there. So cleanly that a physician has no room to even try. You’ll never know the feeling of trying to fix someone you know can’t be saved.”

Yeo Ha-ryoon frowned, lost in deep thought. Finally, he spoke.

“Twice.”

“What?”

“I’ll think twice. Because you said so, Hyung. Three times is too slow, no matter how I think about it.”

“Too slow for what?”

“…”

Instead of answering, Yeo Ha-ryoon just diligently ate his skewer. It was a clear sign he didn’t want to answer, so I didn’t press him further. The fact that he would think twice before killing someone was a significant achievement. The sword could solve some problems easily, but it could also make things much more difficult. This kid never ran into trouble because he was too weak, or because he let someone live who should have died. On the contrary, his problems usually arose because he killed someone he shouldn’t have, or because his madness threatened to swallow him in the process. This small change alone would surely improve his path forward.

“I’m not telling you not to kill. I’m just telling you to think about it first.”

“Mm.”

His lips formed a firm, straight line. “I will, Hyung.”

“Good boy. Anything else you want to eat?”

“What’s that dish over there, the one with braised pork intestines?”

“It’s pretty spicy. Can you handle it?”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Hyung.”

His tone was grimly determined, as if he were steeling himself for battle in the face of the cough-inducing spicy aroma.

***

That kid seemed to have a bottomless stomach. He ate endlessly. It was often mentioned in the novels that martial artists ate more than ordinary people. And it made sense. Unless you were a master who had achieved a state of agelessness and was on the verge of ascending to immortality, if you moved a lot, you had to eat a lot. It was the law of conservation of calories. Martial artists had a level of physical activity that far surpassed ordinary people. A sword is surprisingly heavy, and swinging one for just an hour will make your entire body scream. Your body would desperately pull calories from its fat cells, and your stomach would command your brain to find more. In other words, you get hungry. Repeat that process, and your stomach naturally stretches, allowing you to eat enormous amounts. The human body is, after all, a product of genetics and habit.

That’s why, when a man reaches forty, he really has to take responsibility for his own body. Even though I always said that… wait, that’s not it.

At any rate, Little Heavenly Demon was already a formidable glutton.

“Hyung, you don’t have to give me your food…”

“…No, really, I’m full.”

I passed him two more hotteok.

“Don’t be polite, just eat. Your hyung is giving it to you. You’re not supposed to refuse what your hyung gives you.”

“Hm, I’ve never heard that before, but thank you, Hyung…”

He stuffed the sweet pancake into his mouth. As he ate, the sun began to set over the marketplace. The two of them watched a troupe of performers. A massive dragon mask moved as if it were alive, breathing fire from its mouth in a jaw-dropping display.

In a voice so quiet only he could hear, I asked, “You’ll be leaving soon, right?”

To the Demonic Cult.

At my words, Yeo Ha-ryoon’s playful expression vanished, replaced by a serious one. “They said the escort mission is being reassembled and will depart soon.”

“It’s going to be a hard road. Are you still going to go?”

“There is no other path for me.”

“I see.”

“…”

The dragon performer exited, and a tightrope walker came out. He leaped and jumped high above the crowd. There were, of course, no safety nets or harnesses. This was that kind of era. The crowd laughed and applauded, throwing coins.

“Why don’t you ask?” Yeo Ha-ryoon said. “Why I’m so obsessed with that place. Why I’m willingly walking into a place everyone calls hell.”

I smiled brightly. Seeing it, Yeo Ha-ryoon seemed to realize something, and his voice dropped.

“Do you… already know something?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied. “I just figured that since it’s your decision, you must have your reasons.”

Yeo Ha-ryoon’s lips pressed into a straight line. He was silent for a long time before he spoke again.

“Hyung.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll tell me what you’re hiding from me someday, won’t you?”

No, I won’t. Not ever. If I did, you’d just think I was crazy.

But I just smiled and replied, “Yes. Someday. You’re my little brother, after all.”

With that, I stood up. “Let’s go back.”

“Alright.”

“And today, I’ll tell you what you wanted to hear. You should know before you leave.”

The method for dealing with the Blood Gu. It was the final lesson.

****

Arc 2. Fated to Fall, but Not Yet

And so, Yeo Ha-ryoon left. After seeing him off, I let out a small sigh.

Now what do I do…?

I had done everything I could. The rest was up to our protagonist.

Still, it feels pretty neat to be called ‘hyung’ by the great Yeo Ha-ryoon.

It was nice, but that was all. Now, my own life remained.

Gongsun Hyeon had the Black Pine Cloud Sword sent over. She said that since Gongsun Yeong was still recovering, she wanted to be able to properly express her gratitude as soon as she woke up. Apparently, Gongsun Yeong had finally broken through the wall to the Peak Realm. A warrior from the Gongsun Clan told me with a grin that stretched from ear to ear that she would surely receive a great reward. From that and other things I’d overheard, it was clear they were serious about recruiting me into the Gongsun Clan.

The Gongsun Clan… that’s not a bad option.

In the original novel where Gongsun Yeong died, it was one of the three great hellholes you should never go near. But now, Gongsun Yeong was alive and well, and had even become a Peak Master.

A job as a physician for the Gongsun Clan.

If I could just create penicillin, I would have more than earned my keep. Blue mold. In all those stories where a doctor goes back in time, there’s a reason they always start by making penicillin. But it wasn’t easy to make. Mold is sensitive to temperature and environment, and even if I cultured it tirelessly, mass-producing it through fermentation would be difficult with this era’s technology. Still, I could probably make enough to protect a single clan.

The Cloud-Dragon Escort Agency isn’t a bad choice either.

I had successfully won over Chief Woon Jin-sang and the other elders. I was the “Benefactor Brat” of the Cloud-Dragon Escort Agency. An Escort Agency did many things. In modern terms, it was a courier service, a security company, and a mercenary guild all rolled into one. They were the middlemen for countless jobs, and they made a lot of money. In this Gangho, where the sword was faster than the word, people were constantly getting hurt. Naturally, the role of a physician was critical. I could even aim for a high-ranking position in the future. That wouldn’t be a bad life, either.

I lay on the main hall’s open veranda, and basked blankly in the sunlight. Until just a few days ago, I had been struggling for my life, fighting tooth and nail. Now, it felt as if a molar had been pulled, leaving an empty space.

“There you are.”

Silver hair entered my field of vision, followed by a pale face devoid of any color. A man who possessed the cool temperature of a snake rather than a human spoke to me.

White Qilin Divine Physician. The man people revered as a god of medicine.

“May I have a word with you?”

***

“What? Me, as your direct disciple…?”

“It would be stranger if you hadn’t noticed, after all the hints I’ve been dropping.”

That’s because you never took a single disciple in the novel! How was I supposed to know?

If I had read even a single line about him showing interest in a successor, things might have been different. He had simply lived a noble life, and died a noble death. He never seemed to feel loneliness, nor did he have any attachments. In a way, he seemed like a person purged of all desire.

Jin Cheon-hee’s eyes darted back and forth. This is a jackpot. This is a bigger jackpot than the Gongsun Clan and the Cloud-Dragon Escort Agency combined.

The Divine Physician. The character for “immortal” was in his title. The patients he saw were primarily martial artists, and among them, he treated those with illnesses that no ordinary physician could cure. Due to his profession, he also saw people from the Imperial Palace and the government, and even figures from the Demonic Cult. The more rare and unknown the disease, the more likely it was to attract his interest. Which meant that he didn’t just treat anyone, regardless of their wealth or fame. Prestigious clans who couldn’t survive without him were lined up at his door.

But there was just one problem. As the last descendant of the Zhuge Clan, he suffered from the Nine Yin Severed Meridians. He had reached the pinnacle of medicine, revered by all, but he could not cure his own body. No, if it were a disease, there might have been a chance. Strictly speaking, the Nine Yin Severed Meridians was a constitution. It was simply how he had been born. He had studied medicine in a desperate attempt to live, but ironically, he could not solve his own ailment.

By this point in the timeline, he should have more or less accepted his limited lifespan…

Why me? I wondered.

“Do you perhaps dislike the idea?” White Qilin asked.

“N-No! Of course not! It’s a tremendous honor! It’s just… all so sudden.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

White Qilin smiled faintly. It was still so strange. The sun was beating down, yet I couldn’t feel the slightest warmth from the man.

I thought, and thought, and finally asked, “If I become your disciple, what will I have to learn?”

“Everything I have,” he answered without a second of hesitation.

It wasn’t a joke. Nor was there any hidden meaning. He truly, genuinely wanted me to become his disciple.

“You seem to be hesitating about something.”

Wasn’t the Divine Physician himself a patient? Logically speaking, this was a golden opportunity. He would die soon. He had no descendants, so all his achievements and his legacy would become mine. But was that really all there was to it?