In this world, such a condition was described as a breakdown in the balance of yin and yang. A temporary imbalance could be corrected with medicine, acupuncture, or internal energy arts. A Severed Meridian was different. It was a state where the yin energy consumed the yang, growing dominant. Acupuncture and medicine had no effect, or at best, offered only fleeting relief. While one could try to endure using internal energy arts, death before adulthood was the usual outcome.
“As you already know, among the severed meridians, this is the symptom of Nine Yin Severed Meridians,” his master said with composure.
Jin Cheon-hee could feel the flow of Qi through his True Qi Pulse Diagnosis. He described what he sensed.
“The six meridians around your heart are stealing your body heat, and your heart is being severely overworked just to survive. If you hadn’t mastered Qi Cultivation, you would have frozen to death in the middle of summer.”
“Yes. That is the only reason I have been able to survive.”
“So that’s why you have seizures when your internal energy is depleted. And why you collapsed the other day.”
Zhuge Rin nodded.
Jin Cheon-hee said, “I don’t know of any way to remove the meridians.”
They weren’t visible, so surgical intervention was impossible.
“A person would die without their meridians,” Zhuge Rin noted.
“Yes. That, too.”
Jin Cheon-hee sighed. “For now, you are forcing it with your internal energy, but that, too, will soon reach its limit. You are already in a state of aortic dissection, and there is degeneration in the tunica media.”
The aorta is the most critical artery in the body, the vessel through which humans send blood to every corner of their being.
Aortic dissection.
The aorta is composed of three layers: the innermost intima, the muscular middle layer media, and the outer adventitia. When the intima is damaged, blood rushes in, and the relentless pressure of the blood causes the media to split along its long axis. While in rare cases it can be painless, a progression like his master’s would naturally be agonizing enough to cause unconsciousness. A loss of consciousness is inevitable as blood supply to the brain is compromised, and it’s a situation that usually leads to an emergency room visit followed by immediate, critical surgery.
And yet, his master had said the pain began an eternity ago, making it a chronic condition, in a sense. Based on its appearance, it was an extremely dangerous state. The only reason he had endured this long without a full rupture must be because his master was a supreme expert of Qi Cultivation.
“The blood flow to your upper body—the ascending aorta—is in decent condition thanks to the power of your Five-Elemental Divine Art. That, at least, has saved your brain. However, the descending aorta is the problem. Among the symptoms of Nine Yin Severed Meridians, have you experienced any sensory loss or partial paralysis in your lower body?”
Instead of answering, his master simply nodded.
Only then did Jin Cheon-hee understand why his master rarely left the medical pavilion, and why, even when he did, he always used a horse or carriage and never his own movement techniques or lightness arts. In his current state, the very act of using his legs was a burden.
“It’s a miracle you’re alive. Normally, you would have required emergency surgery.”
If he went with an aggressive surgical approach, he would have to resect all the tissue compromised by the cold energy. But his body wouldn’t be able to withstand it, and even if I did remove it, the yin energy of the Nine Yin Severed Meridians would just invade again. It would be an endless battle. In his current state, it’s suicide. A transplant is impossible, too.
His entire clan was wiped out. There was no system for finding a suitable donor, no medical equipment. Even if, by some miracle, they found a compatible, brain-dead donor, delivering the organ in time would be impossible. And even then, the fight against the yin energy would be waiting.
In the end, the only thing left… is an aortic stent graft.
An artificial blood vessel replacement.
A stent graft is inserted through the femoral artery and advanced to the heart. This way, the graft would replace the dissected aorta, greatly reducing the pressure on it and significantly lowering the risk of rupture.
Jin Cheon-hee said, “You are in a state where a rupture wouldn’t be surprising at any moment. The instant that begins, it’s the end.”
“How strange. I am always the one speaking to patients about death, yet now the day comes when I am the one listening.” His master spoke as if discussing someone else entirely. After listening to the long explanation of the aortic stent, Zhuge Rin asked, “If this succeeds, will I be cured?”
Jin Cheon-hee shook his head. “It means you will have passed the immediate crisis.”
“But the surgery itself requires me to risk my life, does it not?”
“Yes.”
It was the surgeon’s irony. To take that one step toward healing, one had to risk their life. But many illnesses could not be resolved with a single operation. If that were the case, one had to continuously risk their life, again and again, just to live.
Jin Cheon-hee thought, A joint operation… I need a specialist team… Why couldn’t an entire hospital have been transported to this world? Is it even remotely plausible for me to handle this all by myself?
Jin Cheon-hee continued, the knowledge he had gained in this world now surfacing. “I am also considering a way to reinforce it from the inside.”
“Reinforce it from the inside? Do you mean to forcibly implant a formation imbued with fire energy? A Mechanism Array?”
From the perspective of the Murim, it might seem that way. And he wasn’t entirely wrong.
“It’s difficult to say for certain.”
This was far more vexing than a simple modern heart condition; it was a Severed Meridian that existed in the Murim world. A severed meridian that artificially steals the body’s warmth… This is fantasy, this is true fantasy. But the fact that it actually existed was even more fantastical. Things like Go, which modern medicine could never explain, were real here.
In any case, my methods alone have their limits. But what if I could apply the knowledge of the Zhuge Clan? A flexible, non-rigid approach was necessary.
“You’ve said that the human body is a microcosm, and after searching the Zhuge Rin Medical Records, I found this is not entirely without precedent. However, it involves living with potent fire energy inside the body, so it is not something that can be done to an ordinary person.”
“Hmm…”
The Zhuge Rin Medical Records. In modern terms, it was a combination of patient charts and medical research papers. It contained the treatment records and pathologies of patients who had visited the Zhuge Clan in the past. To Jin Cheon-hee, this was more important than any secret martial arts manual. He read it, and then read it again. At first, the terminology was difficult to understand, as the physicians of this world also used many abbreviations. Only after accumulating more knowledge could he finally begin to comprehend it.
“We need the internal elixir of a Ten Thousand Years Fire Carp.”
A Fire Carp was a carp that lived in hot springs. The longer it lived, the more fire energy it condensed into an internal elixir. The naedan of the Murim world were truly strange things; it was said they could be consumed and absorbed as internal energy. Their properties varied, ranging from soft to hard. Fortunately, according to the records, the elixir of a Fire Carp was both elastic and hard. A ten-thousand-year specimen, in particular, would possess unbelievable durability and contain an immense amount of extreme yang energy. It was the perfect treatment for the yin energy of the Nine Yin Severed Meridians. There would be no rejection response, and unless his master actively tried to consume it, it would not be easily absorbed, making it an ideal material for a stent.
The Zhuge Rin Medical Records already contained research records of experiments using Fire Carp. Though a few animal tests would be necessary, the unique properties of the spirit elixir made it seem entirely possible.
His master said, “Neither the Beggar’s Sect nor the Hao Sect had any information on where a Ten Thousand Years Fire Carp might live.” It seemed his master had already searched for it, though obviously not for this surgical purpose. “Will you be able to acquire one?”
“Don’t they say that utmost sincerity can move the heavens? I’m sure the heavens will answer my heart.”
What a load of bullshit. There’s a location mentioned in the novel. Of course, it won’t be easy to find, and just getting there will involve great risk. Since it’s not scheduled to be discovered for at least another ten years, I just have to find it first.
“…”
His master narrowed his eyes, studying Jin Cheon-hee, but this was one thing Cheon-hee had to play dumb about.
“Speaking of which, Master,” Cheon-hee quickly pivoted, “are the preparations for the Dragon Phoenix Assembly going well?”
“We always prepare, but this time is particularly special. The expectations for the new medicine from the White Qilin Medical Pavilion are quite high.”
The White Qilin Medicinal Pellet.
“Even though we’re still keeping it under wraps, it seems word has spread quite a bit.”
His master nodded. “It’s difficult to keep it a secret after we’ve cured so many patients. Everyone’s hopes are incredibly high.”
“Which means the pavilion members must be on edge.”
“Indeed. The greater the expectations, the more glaring any mistake becomes.”
“But that is precisely why it is also a chance to gain even greater opportunities.”
His master’s eyes half-opened. He poured a cup of tea and handed it to Jin Cheon-hee. “Many offers will come. Selecting from among them… that, too, is the duty of a leader.”
***
Arc 10: The Beggars’ Dog
Snow was falling.
The permanent snowcap on the mountain peak felt exceptionally cold.
The start of winter was the signal for the start of the Dragon Phoenix Assembly. His master and all the Department Heads had departed for the Martial Righteous Alliance. The Dragon Phoenix Assembly was a deeply significant event in the Murim, large enough to require the entire pavilion’s leadership to mobilize.
Thanks to this, the pavilion was rather quiet. The number of patients brought in also dwindled during this period.
“One could say it’s because everyone has headed to the Martial Righteous Alliance, Young Master.”
“You’re not going with them, Chief Steward Yoo?” Jin Cheon-hee frowned.
Yoo Ho clicked his tongue. “If I were to leave as well, who would fill the master’s empty spot?”
“Ah, right. My master was worried that I’d have fewer people to wait on me. Well then, Chief Steward Yoo, you can just do your job. Waiting on me, that is.”
“Young Master.”
“Yes?”
“Do you wish to die?”
“Hahaha! Such a kidder.”
Jin Cheon-hee nonchalantly sipped the tea Yoo Ho had poured for him.
“Besides, I imagine he left me here because he couldn’t quite trust you on your own, Young Master. You’re just a child, after all. What could you possibly do by yourself?”
Completely ignoring each other’s dignity, the two continued to say exactly what they pleased.
“Ah, by the way. A letter arrived.”
“A letter?”
“Yes.”
He took something from his breast pocket. It was a black wooden box. Just as Cheon-hee was about to open it, Yoo Ho spoke.
“Young Master.”
“Yes?”
“Are you planning to open that with people present? Then again, I suppose you’ve reached that age where you might want to become a public enemy of the Murim.”
“What in the world does that mean?”
“Where do you think that box came from? Xizhou?”
Only then did Jin Cheon-hee startle in realization.
Yoo Ho watched him, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You have a long way to go before I’ll be calling you ‘Little Lord,’ Young Master.”
Well, well. It’s been a while since I’ve been had. Maybe I’ve been teasing this Yoo Ho fellow too much.
Jin Cheon-hee reflected on his actions for a brief moment… and then immediately disregarded it. He shouted as he threw the box open, “What a wonderful gift! Chief Steward Yoo, thank! You! So! Much!”
It was a clear invitation to die together.
Yoo Ho, shocked, bodily picked Jin Cheon-hee up and threw him into the adjacent room.