He turned his head and saw five women in monastic robes walking toward him. From each of them, he sensed an extraordinary aura, a presence that felt both gentle and immense, making him instinctively aware of the profound depth of their internal energy.

It’s a strange energy, one that reminds me of a temple… Is this the internal art of the Putuo Temple, famously described as one of the most reputable schools in Buddhism?

As he was wondering, they arrived and stopped before him.

“Amitabha.”

The five of them calmly raised a single hand in a palm salute. Seeing this, Jin Cheon-hee recalled a passage from the novel. It told of the great monk Hyega, who had cut off one of his own arms while seeking the Buddha’s teachings. To honor him, some Buddhist monks, especially those active in the Murim, performed this one-handed palm salute instead of the two-handed palms salute.

“Young benefactor. May we ask you something?”

“Ah, yes. What is it?”

“Judging by the crest on the medicine box you carry, and the dog accompanying you… are you, by chance, the Little White Dragon, Young Hero Jin of the White Qilin Medical Pavilion?”

“I am… Are you nuns of the Putuo Temple?”

Amitabha, how fortunate. Yes, I am Ahn Hyeon, a disciple of the Putuo Temple. With profound courtesy, she introduced herself. “The situation is urgent, which is why we have presumed to seek you out so rudely. We have a request, and we would be grateful if you could spare even a moment to hear our story. Would you have the time?” Her posture conveyed deep respect. It was the first time he had encountered someone like this since arriving in Gangho, and the feeling was quite refreshing.

Is this what a prestigious Orthodox Sect is really like?

His thoughts briefly drifted to Namgung Woon. The Namgung Clan was certainly one of the foremost Orthodox Sects, but Namgung Woon was… charmingly crooked. Pushing aside thoughts of his ‘bad influence’ friend, Jin Cheon-hee replied, “Of course. What is it?”

“It is a bit much to discuss on the roadside. Let us move to a more private place. This way.”

The Putuo nun then guided Jin Cheon-hee to a nearby inn. It was neither large nor extravagant. Once they were seated, the nun who had spoken to him, Ahn Hyeon, sat across from him while the other nuns stood behind her.

Something… the atmosphere is heavy. What in the world is going on?

[A strange disease began to spread within the temple several days ago. As you know, being a martial artist does not grant immunity to illness, but is it not true that the more profound one’s internal energy, the more easily one can shake off such afflictions?]

The voice echoed inside his head, not his ears. Jin Cheon-hee’s eyes flew wide in surprise. The nuns across from him smiled calmly, their lips trembling so faintly it was almost imperceptible.

[…The strange disease that has broken out in our temple is no ordinary one. That is why we have come so urgently to request your aid, Young Hero Jin. For a person of your stature to arrive in such a time… we can only think of it as the Buddha’s grace.]

Telepathy!

It was a special martial art that used True Qi to transmit one’s voice directly into the opponent’s mind. It was technically called Secret Sound Transmission, but most just called it Secret Transmission. It was almost always used for secret conversations. Jin Cheon-hee had also learned how to do it from his master.

[A strange disease? What are the symptoms?]

Strange disease. That was a euphemism. To put it bluntly, it was an epidemic. And if an epidemic was spreading on Mount Putuo, this was a serious problem.

I don’t remember reading anything about an epidemic on Mount Putuo in the novel… Did I change the future somehow? This should be before the Blood Cult even comes for the Heavenly Thunder Hawk…

A brief spike of anxiety hit him, but he dismissed it as a useless worry. The novel didn’t tell him everything, and this was during the period after Yeo Ha-ryoon had entered the Demonic Cult; a time when there wasn’t much description of outside events.

[No. Don’t bother answering. Let’s go right now.]

If it was an epidemic, the faster it was handled, the better.

Finding the Heavenly Thunder Hawk is important, but… this is about people’s lives. Many lives. The first priority is to assess the situation.

Can it be treated? Can it be contained?

Treating an epidemic was a different field entirely from the surgery he had been performing. People met, transmitted the disease, and the newly infected patient then carried it to their family. It required not just internal medicine, but a sociological perspective. In a closed society like this, an outbreak could become uncontrollable. And depending on the disease, it could board a ship, return to the Gangho, and sicken countless others.

Please let this be something I can treat…

Vaccines were the realm of science. Could he really handle this with the few tools he had?

Whatever it is, this is a race against time.

Martial artists were generally stronger than normal people and didn’t even catch colds easily.

A strange disease capable of felling even them.

Watching Jin Cheon-hee’s immediate resolve, Ahn Hyeon couldn’t hide her admiration.

The rumors of the Gangho were not false. They say the Little White Dragon is a man of strong and humble character, a true ‘Righteous Person’. I can see why he is so praised.

When she had first heard the tales, she assumed they were laced with some exaggeration. That was the nature of rumors in the Gangho. But meeting him in person, she wondered if the rumors had, in fact, been an understatement.

“Amitabha. We are deeply grateful to you, Young Hero Jin.”

Nun Ahn Hyeon rose from her seat and bowed deeply once more.

***

The guest room at the Putuo Temple was not luxurious, but it was immaculate. The scent of incense offered at the altars permeated the entire temple, which was quiet and still.

“I had heard that men are normally not allowed to enter the Putuo Temple.”

At his words, she smiled faintly. “That is correct. Entry for men is forbidden. However, physicians have traditionally been the sole exception. There is nothing more important than saving the lives of our sisters.”

“I understand. In that case, I will also be careful with my conduct.”

Aversion to lust or worldly desire was one of the most important virtues in Buddhism. Jin Cheon-hee was worried his very presence might interfere with their training.

“It is truly fascinating. Most men who enter a ‘no-men-allowed’ zone are overcome with curiosity and pace about restlessly. Yet you, Little White Dragon, are more concerned with being a disturbance and promise to be careful.”

At her words, Jin Cheon-hee’s ears turned red, and he gave an awkward laugh. “A physician just does a physician’s work. There should be nothing else.”

The Putuo nuns were deeply impressed.

He is so different from the other young martial artists his age.

Most martial artists Jin Cheon-hee’s age were often rash, unable to control their “hot blood.” Because of this, there had been several face-reddening incidents at the Putuo Temple in the past. But the disciple of the White Qilin Divine Physician, the Little White Dragon, was different. He was not rash or reckless, and his mind was deep. Yet, he was also considerate, which naturally made him likable. No matter how deep the Putuo nuns’ training, some would surely find their hearts wavering at Jin Cheon-hee’s handsome face. After all, the desire for wordly desires was not limited to men.

But Jin Cheon-hee was the only one at his age who seemed to understand and respect that.

Now that I’m older, I just see young people and they all look like my daughters.

The soul of a man in his forties, however, just saw them all as kids. He’d seen plenty of beauties working at the White Qilin Medical Pavilion, and they were all young enough to be his daughters. Thus, Jin Cheon-hee observed the Putuo Temple with eyes as clear as a tranquil lake. And this, in turn, left a profound impression on the Putuo Temple’s swordswomen.

“Even so, we have no child in the Putuo Temple who would fail in her training over such a thing.”

The nun smiled, her eyes crinkling. It was a smile just like the grandmother he remembered seeing at the stationery store as a child. The only differences were that her back was as straight as bamboo, and she wore a sword at her waist.

Jin Cheon-hee was about to lift the tea the nun had offered to his lips. Just then, Hwang-gu spoke.

Keong! — Master, the water smells strange!

At those words, Jin Cheon-hee quickly pulled the cup away from his mouth. He sent his internal energy into it, but there was no sign of poison.

And yet, it smelled strange?

He decided not to drink it.

The old nun spoke. “You may call me A-bi. It is short for Avici.”

Avīci, the Hell of Uninterrupted Suffering. In Buddhism, it was known as the lowest and most terrible of the Eight Great Hells. It was also the origin of the expression (a hellish pandemonium).

“Why such a name…?”

At his question, the nun A-bi’s eyes crinkled into a gentle smile. “I have forgotten the affairs of the secular world.”

Jin Cheon-hee knew this name. She was the Putuo Temple’s previous-generation Sword Queen. There was a description of her in the novel, stating that she had passed on the title to her successor when the Heavenly Demon finally emerged. She had become the Sword Queen but had never ascended to the title of Sword Empress. There was speculation in the world that her enlightenment had not matched her age, but the truth was unknown.

He remembered her only because the name was so unique.

Abbess A-bi guided Jin Cheon-hee to the place where the patients were gathered. In the most remote, separate building, a pungent smell of incense mingled with another, indescribably foul odor.

Jin Cheon-hee set down the medicine box from his back, took out a clean towel, and tied it over his nose and mouth. He didn’t forget to put on gloves, either. They weren’t as good as the latex gloves back on Earth, but they were better than nothing.

“Hwang-gu, you stay out.”

After making these thorough preparations, he entered the building. Many martial artists were lying inside. Vomiting and diarrhea. On top of that, a bluish-pale complexion and muscle cramps.

Jin Cheon-hee rushed to the nearest patient to examine them. Their face was wrinkled and sunken from dehydration, and the patient struggled to even open their eyelids. He checked the state of the diarrhea; it looked just like rice-water.

When Jin Cheon-hee unflinchingly began to inspect the patient’s stool, not only Abbess A-bi but all the other nuns were stunned.

Wasn’t feces a filthy thing? A physician from the great White Qilin Medical Pavilion could have afforded to be arrogant, but they had never imagined he would personally inspect something so vile without a moment’s hesitation.

If this were the modern world, I’d run a culture or a blood test, but that’s impossible here.

Once again, Jin Cheon-hee missed science.

Still, based on the presentation alone, he could make a confident diagnosis. He supplemented this by using his True Qi to perform a jinmaek, seeking a more precise understanding of the patient’s condition.

These are the classic symptoms of cholera.

Cholera (Vibrio cholerae).

A Class 2 legally infectious disease. In modern South Korea, it wasn’t a death sentence, but in third-world developing countries, it still claimed countless lives. In Korea’s past, if a well became contaminated, it was common for an entire village to be wiped out by this “strange disease.”

On Earth, cholera had been an endemic disease in the Ganges river region of India. When Britain occupied India, it spread across the entire world on British ships. It wasn’t well-known, but cholera had killed far more people than the Black Death. It was that lethal, a disease that stubbornly persisted even in the modern age.

And it’s a problem here, now.