“The Young Pavilion Master’s status is indeed uniquely prominent, even in the current Gangho. You possess the martial prowess of one of the Ten Greatest Masters under the Heavens, a talent for winning the hearts of the common people, and the considerable value of the spiritual beasts who follow you—creatures moved solely by your benevolent nature.”

Grrrr…

At Jin Cheon-hee’s feet, Hwanggu let out a low, demanding rumble. Subtly, keeping his expression placid, Jin Cheon-hee slipped a piece of homemade venison jerky from his sleeve and dropped it under the table.

Chomp, crunch, munch.

It’s less that he was moved by my ‘benevolent nature’ and more that he was moved by… well, meat.

This was a truth the people of the world did not know. Hwanggu had no interest in human character or high moral standing; it was simply that Jin Cheon-hee’s culinary skills had improved day by day, reaching a point where the ordinary slop and leftovers from the Beggars’ Sect no longer satisfied the dog’s refined palate. Recently, Cheon-hee had started curing meats that were addictively, dangerously good, and a dog is a creature eternally hungry for treats.

“You flatter me,” Jin Cheon-hee said, maintaining his serene facade as he fed the beast beneath the table.

Mu Wol, the Head of the External Affairs Department, continued his report. “Considering his value, it is far more efficient than expending the manpower and time to track down every last river pirate. Most importantly, he has the overwhelming support of the common people. Whether in commerce or in escorting, there is a vast difference between having the public’s favor and lacking it.”

Zhuge Rin, the White Dragon Divine Doctor, furrowed his brow slightly. “I see. But is that small amount of profit really worth our Pavilion’s successor, Hee-ya, stepping forward himself?”

In that moment, Mu Wol finally understood his superior’s true feelings.

Ah, was I supposed to object? Was I being obtuse?

His mind went into overdrive. Based on the intuition he had honed through many years of navigating the treacherous politics of the Hao Sect, his role here was to vehemently protest. He should have cried out, ‘It is a waste for the Young Pavilion Master to go! He must not leave the safety of the White Qilin Medical Pavilion!’ Then, and only then, would the Pavilion Master have reluctantly sighed and said, ‘Well, Hee-ya, it seems the working-level official, the Head of the External Affairs Department, thinks so,’ thus blocking his disciple’s escape route while maintaining the image of a benevolent teacher.

I… I was so focused on passing my test as Head of the External Affairs Department that I failed to read the Pavilion Master’s mood!

The life of a middle manager was a painful existence.

As Mu Wol’s pupils trembled with the realization of his tactical error, Jin Cheon-hee spoke up. “The profits are one thing, but I believe I must accept this task for another reason.”

“Another reason?”

“Yes.”

Snap.

Zhuge Rin folded his fan with a sharp, decisive sound. It was a clear sign of his displeasure. Mu Wol’s pupils were still experiencing a seismic event, the poor middle manager at a complete loss as to how to salvage the situation. However, for the sake of the White Qilin Medical Pavilion’s future, Jin Cheon-hee knew this was the right counsel to give.

“We need to expand the White Qilin Medical Pavilion’s commercial influence. With soap sales on the rise, now is the opportune moment. If we hesitate here, we will fall behind.”

That blasted soap. At first, it had been a nuisance, a novelty, but after adding fragrances, sales had slowly crept up until recently, they had begun to skyrocket. Since the production cost was negligible, it was an excellent product that both improved public health and turned a massive profit.

Jin Cheon-hee continued, pressing his advantage. “Furthermore, to lower the cost of the Golden Tiger Divine Elixir, we need to open up that trade route.”

The Golden Tiger Divine Elixir. Streptomycin. He had named it after Yoo Ho; the character ‘Geum’ (Gold) was inspired by the golden hair he had seen when the fox spirit revealed his true form.

“Is the Wannong trade route not sufficient?”

“No. With that alone… mass production is absolutely impossible. It requires a wide variety of ingredients. As it stands, its cost is nine times that of the White Dragon Divine Pill. At this rate, only a very small number of wealthy clans will be able to afford the treatment. We may not be able to make it comparable in price, but we must at least bring it down to twice the cost.”

Zhuge Rin pressed his fingers to his temples, a headache forming.

Jin Cheon-hee pressed on. “Besides, we are going to expand the pharmaceutical workshop.”

The pharmaceutical workshop—the place where penicillin, streptomycin, and aspirin would be manufactured. In this Murim world without electric motors, human flesh and bone were the only engines available. Since they were already struggling to produce just penicillin, he had judged it better to open a dedicated workshop and systematically train the necessary workforce.

We’ve been recruiting and training people through the Martial Training City, but… it’s still far from enough.

So, he had devised a special measure: mass-hiring orphans. He would modify the Five-Elemental Divine Art, simplifying it to make it suitable for medicine production, calling it the Five-Elemental Pharmaceutical Qi Cultivation Art. It was a name he had come up with himself.

He would teach this to the orphans. Simply learning this art would make them partially compatible with the main Five-Elemental Divine Art, allowing them to live as physicians in a White Qilin Medical Pavilion branch, though their primary purpose would be mass production.

The Nine Great Sects and One Faction often had many members who were orphans. Since most were religious-based sects, their members did not marry and thus had no heirs to continue their lineage. Therefore, their disciples were often the children of some noble family or orphans with nowhere else to go. This naturally resulted in a high proportion of orphans within the Murim, which explained why protagonists from sects like Mount Hua or Wudang in wuxia novels were so often parentless.

However, those sects were strict in their selection, looking for exceptional innate martial talent. The White Qilin Medical Pavilion’s goal was different. They were not raising warriors.

Character. Heart.

As these children would one day become physicians, their innate disposition was the top priority. Martial talent was irrelevant. Could they simply walk this long and arduous path with perseverance?

Being a physician, much like a modern doctor, was a lifelong commitment to study. What supported that commitment was one’s character. No matter how skilled a doctor became, if their basic character was rot, the patient would be endangered. Even in the modern world, there were cases of ghost surgeries, the reuse of contaminated IV drips, and doctors themselves becoming addicted to narcotics.

The will to persevere, the wisdom to discern at a crossroads, and finally, the tenacity to see a task through to the end—these three were the basic requirements of character. To prevent the leakage of the proprietary technique, he had also designed it so that it could only be practiced within a specific formation. Using a few such safety measures, he would cultivate a specialized workforce.

Surprisingly, on the first day of recruitment, many children from the White Qilin Foundation had applied, along with other orphans. In a way, it was to be expected. For an orphan to survive in the dog-eat-dog world of the Gangho, they had to be lucky; if not lucky, they had to possess great martial talent to be noticed by a sect. For most, this was impossible. The White Qilin Medical Pavilion, however, offered the unique condition of judging by character alone and promised to take full responsibility for their education and meals. The fact that they could make a living for the rest of their lives as a physician was an irresistible lure. The competition was fierce.

And so, time passed, and the foundation of this pharmaceutical workshop was now complete. To reduce the cost of the Golden Tiger Divine Elixir and get the workshop running in earnest, they needed to open a sea route.

Jin Cheon-hee explained this series of events to his master in a logical, undeniable manner. Mu Wol had the exclamation, “As expected of our Young Pavilion Master!” right at the tip of his tongue, but he managed to swallow it.

Pavilion Master, we have to do this!

Mu Wol had been abandoned by his parents and had lived in the Hao Sect, a life no different from an orphan’s. He knew the plight of a child in the Gangho better than anyone. He, along with others, had personally selected the orphans they would teach. Although the final decision lay with the Pavilion Master and the Young Pavilion Master, there wasn’t a single child who hadn’t passed through his hands. Those children were now waiting, just one final step away.

“Master,” Jin Cheon-hee said, his voice firm. “This time, I will take all the personnel you mentioned. There will be no ‘I’ll only take half’ like last time! Besides, this is the Gongsun Clan, a thousand-year-old family!”

“Hee-ya.”

“It’s incomparably closer than Yunnan!”

“Hee-ya.”

“You know that I’ve learned to value my own body now.”

That was true. After hearing his master’s inner thoughts back in Yunnan, Jin Cheon-hee had changed. He had finally begun to take care of himself.

Zhuge Rin looked at Mu Wol, his eyes narrowing. “What are the thoughts of the Head of the External Affairs Department?”

Gulp.

Mu Wol swallowed hard, his eyes darting frantically between Jin Cheon-hee and Zhuge Rin. The moment of truth had arrived.

If I think about the welfare of the White Qilin Medical Pavilion, he should go. But if I say that, I’m dead.

The middle manager felt like he was being physically torn apart by his two superiors pulling him from either side.

“W-Well… what would I know? This subordinate will follow the opinions of his superiors.”

“Hahaha, the Head of the External Affairs Department is being too modest. Have you not always provided wise, good counsel?”

Though the White Dragon Divine Doctor was smiling, his eyes looked like they wanted to rip Mu Wol’s mouth open.

“Don’t feel pressured. Just speak your mind. Is offering such counsel not also part of the Head of the External Affairs Department’s duties?”

Behind the White Dragon Divine Doctor, Jin Cheon-hee looked at him with the large, wet eyes of a puppy caught in the rain.

“He’s right. Head of the External Affairs Department, I would also like to ask for your esteemed opinion!”

Gulp…

***

Clatter, clatter—

The vibration of the carriage was rhythmic and pleasant.

Jin Cheon-hee practiced his sound arts, plucking a pipa. Following the Seven Silver Zither, this was the Dark Fragrance Pipa, a birthday gift from Yeo Ha-ryoon. It was made of a jet-black gemstone resembling obsidian and, strangely, had no strings.

—Use the ones on your wrist for the strings.

Jin Cheon-hee immediately understood what he meant. The Dark Heavens Blood Thread. Long ago, Yeo Ha-ryoon had gifted him the self-defense weapon that the Black Robed Shadow Monster had once possessed. It took the form of a black dragon bracelet, but its tensile strength was like that of an elephant’s sinew, and its edge was sharp enough to cut diamond. Of course, one had to infuse it with a special demonic art to bring out its sharpness, but Jin Cheon-hee could use a combination of the Five-Elemental Divine Art. Usually, however, its tensile strength alone was sufficient.

He took the Dark Heavens Blood Thread and wound it around the Dark Fragrance Pipa to serve as strings.

Twang—

This is basically a weapon, isn’t it?

If the Seven Silver Zither gifted by Sama Hyeon was specialized for sound arts, the Dark Fragrance Pipa was designed for bludgeoning enemies and slicing them with its strings. The obsidian-like body, shining with a black luster, was harder than most steel and was perfect for crushing skulls.

Hmm… the Unorthodox Faction, which bewitches people, and the Demonic Cult, which smashes their heads in.

He marveled at how two instruments could be used so differently.

“Nice. Play some more of that,” Wang Gak-yeon requested.

Strummm—

At her request, Jin Cheon-hee played the same tune again.

Pling pling~ twang~ pling pling pling~

His delicate fingers plucked the pipa strings, creating a melody, while he recited the lyrics in his mind.

‘Tell me~ tell me~ t-t-t-t-t-tell me~’

Playing this long-outdated oldie from Earth on a pipa somehow gave it the grand, mournful spirit of the Central Plains.

“I bet this is a love song,” Gongsun Yeong mused.

“Yeah. It must be a song about love and deep grudges.”

“Perhaps about raising a glass under the moonlight, thinking of a dead lover, and reciting poetry.”

Hearing this, Jin Cheon-hee thought, Did I pick the wrong key?

He was trying to make it upbeat, but it wasn’t working out. He desperately tried to resuscitate this sad, slow version of ‘Tell Me.’

Can’t I somehow get that hook song EDM feel on a pipa?

The song that repeated ‘tell me’ fifty times starting from the 47-second mark. The 120-beat jaga-jaga-jyang-jyang~ jaga-jaga-jyang~. The time signature was probably around 4/4? He wrestled with the musical scale, mentally chanting the beat he wanted. Jin Cheon-hee, too, was a man of rhythm and soul. Was it not the way of the East to step to the hip-hop beat and spin a sangmo to the jajinmori rhythm, even in a pit of fire?