Were these people truly making such a fuss about going to war simply because the opponent looked weak? Good grief. Just because three sects from the Outer Realm were joining the fray, the assembly was acting like this. It was truly pathetic.

Clicking his tongue inwardly, Jin Cheon-hee simply listened in silence.

The ancient adage about words flying back and forth like arrows existed for a reason. Although they spoke with a veneer of politeness, every elder in the room had veins bulging on their faces.

It was a relief they practiced martial arts. Given their advanced ages, were they ordinary men, they would have long since collapsed from high blood pressure or strokes given the heat of their tempers.

Long live the martial arts. If not for their internal energy, this conference hall would have already transformed into an intensive care unit.

“Has it not been years since they started harming civilians? If we turn away from righteousness and chivalry for fear of suffering damage, the people of the world will see us not as the Orthodox Faction, but as mere profiteers!”

The speaker was Moyong Shin, the Head of the Moyong Clan.

As he spoke with solemn gravity, Seol Gyeon cut in with a sneer.

“Ah. Is that why when flood victims appeared on the Yangtze River, instead of helping civilians, you made a fortune by manipulating food prices? Oh my, is that so?”

“Sect Leader Seol! That story has nothing to do with the current agenda!”

“Why doesn’t it? Huh? Aren’t you all making a fuss about ‘great causes’ right now? But Clan Head Moyong, you aren’t exactly in a position to preach such things!”

“You immature brat… do you not know the currents of the Gangho just because you became a Sect Leader at a young age?”

“Well, I wonder. Information is the domain of our Beggars’ Sect, so is there any way I wouldn’t know the currents?”

They growled at each other, their speech patterns dissolving into a mess that made it unclear if they were speaking informally or simply muttering to themselves in rage.

Jin Cheon-hee watched them, his expression neutral, but his mind active.

I’ve seen this so often in the past that I feel nothing.

Indeed, human affairs were universally the same. The only difference was that here, arguments ended with drawn swords and attempts to slit throats. In the university hospitals of 21st-century Earth, they simply became ’emotional’ enemies and ended it there.

Jin Cheon-hee recalled the events of his life on Earth.

Becoming a professor at a university hospital meant juggling endless projects, conducting research, and publishing papers. One had to curry favor with the hospital director and board members. It was a grueling profession where surgical failure rates had to be kept to an absolute minimum.

The money was decent, but Jin Cheon-hee, an orphan raised in an institution, had started from a different starting line than the other doctors. He had never reached a level where he could call himself wealthy.

Although he had succeeded despite being born with a dirt spoon in his mouth, he’d had no time for dating or leisure. The filth one witnessed while living such a life was endless. Entertainment bribes, budgets granted or withheld, the availability of beds, the assignment of nurses…

Master really… does she think I’m a child? Politics like this are old news.

Since he hadn’t truly experienced this side of the world since his arrival, perhaps his master thought this would be a good learning opportunity.

Thinking this, he simply enjoyed the hawthorn tea and snacks placed before him.

“Therefore, this humble monk proposes the following: How about Physician Jin Cheon-hee, the Young Pavilion Master of the White Qilin Medical Pavilion, personally persuades the Northern Sea Ice Palace…?”

…Huh?

Jin Cheon-hee froze, a piece of snack halfway to his mouth.

Suddenly? Out of the blue? Wait. I lost the flow of the conversation. I focused too much on the food.

This wouldn’t do.

Hup!

He engaged the amazing efficacy of the Profound Primordial Complete Foundation Divine Art. Even conversations heard with one ear and let out the other while daydreaming could be retrieved from the depths of his memory.

In an instant, Jin Cheon-hee reconstructed the context of the conversation.

The Unorthodox Alliance was preparing for war. However, the problem remained that the Martial Righteous Alliance could not launch a preemptive strike. As the bastion of the Orthodox Faction, the Alliance could not move without proper justification.

If they attempted to wage war against the Unorthodox Alliance without a valid casus belli…

It would give a third party an excuse to intervene.

Specifically, the Imperial Palace.

Even now, both His Highnesses, Prince Geum and His Highness Eun was looking for a reason to crush the civilian armed groups—the “Gangho bastards”—who didn’t even pay taxes properly. For them both, the ideal Joseon Dynasty would be one under total centralized control.

If someone wielded a sword, they should take the military service exam and serve the government. But this was the Gangho. Government office? Why bother when one could accumulate more internal energy in the mountains?

It was a world where such lunatics gathered. They were even preparing for a massive civil war dubbed the Great Orthodox and Unorthodox War. The thought of civilians getting swept up in the crossfire was terrible.

Perhaps they had devised a plan to wipe them all out at once while they were distracted? Or perhaps not?

Therefore, the Martial Righteous Alliance’s position was this: It would be best if those guys attacked us first.

In other words, only after taking the first hit would a ‘justification’ arise to punish the Unorthodox Alliance.

The problem here is the time it takes for the Unorthodox Alliance to gather all its allied forces.

They claimed to be in the midst of forming alliances now, which meant they were still in the negotiation stage. For negotiations to conclude and martial artists to muster…

Good grief. It’ll take at least a year for the Great War to actually break out.

So this was the timeline of a real-time Murim world. Everything took a long time. Was it because this world didn’t use fossil fuels that they acted as if an invasion were imminent, even when it was months away? They behaved as if a year-long grand plan were unfolding tomorrow.

It was truly fortunate for a modern person like him.

Thinking up to this point took only the time of blinking twice.

Well, looking at NewTube back home, they said siege warfare alone took a year or two… So Chief Strategist Dokgo Seon’s strategy is to try and make the Northern Sea Ice Palace withdraw from the alliance in the meantime?

And they want me to do that?

If it works, good; if not, whatever? These people really have the mindset of robbers.

The time taken to sip tea and formulate the next part of his response was about three blinks.

Jin Cheon-hee opened his mouth. His tongue moved calmly, painting a landscape with words.

“Since the Divine Monk recommends it, it is proper to follow. However, our White Qilin Medical Pavilion does not originally belong to the Alliance and maintains a strict neutrality, keeping a distance from the Unorthodox factions. Therefore, wouldn’t it be illogical for us to go to the Northern Sea Ice Palace as your representatives?”

Trying to use me for free? Put something on the table.

That was the true meaning behind Jin Cheon-hee’s polite deflection.

“Young Pavilion Master Jin. Do you have no thought for the peace of the Gangho?”

The speaker was Peng Do-cheon, the Head of the Hebei Peng Clan. He was a master comparable to the Ten Greatest Masters under the Heavens, yet he was the man unable to wrest the title of Saber King from the Sea Sand Gang Leader.

To his challenge, Jin Cheon-hee replied smoothly.

“I am always working day and night for the peace of the Empire. I treat civilians and carry out preventive policies to ensure they do not fall ill.”

It sounded like an irrelevant answer, but the subtext was sharp: Yeah, I save more people than you guys. You people just stick to your posturing.

Did he understand the meaning? Peng Do-cheon’s face distorted with anger.

“Now, now. Wouldn’t it be better not to be so sharp? Although the White Qilin Medical Pavilion does not belong to the Alliance, it is a place that can be called Orthodox.”

Namgung Cheol, the Head of the Namgung Clan, intervened. He was a handsome middle-aged man of the Honam type—the kind of man Namgung Woon would likely grow up to resemble. At his words, Peng Do-cheon shut his mouth with an uncomfortable expression.

However, this time another person spoke up. It was Yan Gwon, the Head of the Jinzhou Yan Clan. Immediately, the Sect Leader of the Wudang Sect countered him.

Just like that, they started fighting with words again.

Jin Cheon-hee slowly observed the people in the conference hall.

The Alliance Leader was deep in thought, while Namgung Cheol seemed favorable toward him. Goodwill, jealousy, anger, hatred—various emotions tangled together in the heavy air.

Watching them, Jin Cheon-hee reflected.

Wow. Even if they become masters, hold power, and age, people are all the same in the end.

War couldn’t be stopped anyway. The war with the Suksin Tribe had been the same. But this conflict was different.

The Unorthodox Alliance and the Martial Righteous Alliance. This was a war where one of the two had to be definitively broken. It was distinct from a war between nations; it was closer to a civil war, a fight within the special caste called the Gangho.

I have to let go. I can’t protect everyone. I can’t stop their fight forever.

Reaching his conclusion, Jin Cheon-hee spoke.

“Our White Qilin Medical Pavilion will try to persuade the Northern Sea Ice Palace.”

The room fell silent.

“Instead, there is a condition.”

“Tell us what it is.”

At Alliance Leader Ak Jin’s prompt, Jin Cheon-hee slowly stood up from his seat.

“Thank you for inviting me to this seat of leadership within the Gangho. Since our White Qilin Medical Pavilion upholds universal medical welfare as our banner, we are willing to negotiate with the Northern Sea Ice Palace for the peace of the realm.”

He looked around the room once with a gentle expression and continued.

“So, if you all help, our White Qilin Medical Pavilion will gladly act as a bridge between the Northern Sea Ice Palace and the Martial Righteous Alliance.”

Smiling brightly, he dropped the weight.

“What help do you need?”

“Give us land.”

“What?”

“No… land, you say?”

Murmur, murmur.

Some were angry, some were confused. However, no one viewed Jin Cheon-hee’s remark favorably.

“Everyone, be quiet.”

When Alliance Leader Ak Jin spoke, infusing his quiet voice with internal energy, the room finally settled.

Then, Divine Monk Won Seon spoke, “Namo Amitabha Bodhisattva… Benefactor Jin would not have requested land for mere personal greed. May this old monk know for what purpose you demand such a thing?”

“I intend to create herbal fields. Different regions have different climates, and different climates mean different soils. Therefore, while one herb grows well in the south, another thrives in the north.”

“Herbs, you say?”

“Yes. For universal medical welfare, we must produce a larger quantity of medicinal ingredients more cheaply and with better quality. I am not asking for land in urban centers. Give us land in the remote and uninhabited areas among the territories each sect possesses. However, it must be premised that the land is suitable for cultivating medicinal herbs.”

At Jin Cheon-hee’s explanation, the majority of expressions in the room converged on a single thought:

This bastard is truly crazy…

“Then, it seems I have no more to contribute to this meeting. Please carefully consider my proposal, and I would appreciate it if you contacted me later.”

Jin Cheon-hee clasped his hands in a formal salute and walked out.

Until he left the conference room, no one spoke a single word.

***

Everyone likely thought he had some tremendous hidden plan.

Because Jin Cheon-hee was of the Zhuge lineage, they assumed he was plotting a profound strategy behind the scenes.

But in reality?

Heh, did I just commit to that? Calm down. My inner chaotic spirit!

He felt a pang of regret for his boldness.

Countless little Jin Cheon-hees in his head were holding a frantic hearing—asking ‘Can you take responsibility for that action just now?’ and ‘Will you handle the fallout if this goes south?’—all while his body drove autopilot toward the White Qilin Medical Pavilion clinic, his outward demeanor projecting a nonchalant, ‘Eh, I don’t know.’

It was the same with the Hwaju Medical Pavilion, but modern people often felt like they were talking to a wall in this world.

To Jin Cheon-hee, communication here had a limit. Up to a certain point, they could talk and empathize with each other. But past that line, conversation became impossible.

There was a story about that. Somewhere on Earth, there were cultures where the word ‘dream’ didn’t exist in the language. Villagers lived at a medieval subsistence level; naturally, they had no concept of future aspirations.

In a world without labor standard laws or the concept of human rights, asking ‘What is your dream?’ resulted in blank stares. If the concept didn’t exist, persuasion was impossible.

Fine. Fight amongst yourselves. I won’t stop you.

It wasn’t a trap dug by the Blood Immortal Cult; it was just violent men wanting to beat each other up.

What dragon-slaying talent do I have to stop them? I’ll go as far as persuading the Northern Sea Ice Palace. As for the rest, I don’t know either.

He wouldn’t play the ‘Officials do not interfere with Martial Affairs’ card, but he would do what he could. After all, he wasn’t his master; what great trickery could he possibly possess?

In this fight, recruiting a few sects like the Gongsun Clan or the Golden Blood Chamber by improving their constitutions—making war unprofitable for them—was the extent of his influence.

Roughly speaking, not half, but tearing off about thirty percent of the support to shout for peace was all he could do. Stopping men who were dying to fight had to be done in moderation.