Chusam
The man who came to Tang Mujin was someone impersonating Goiyi. Because of that, Tang Mujin had to consider two perspectives: his own, for discovering the one who dared impersonate his master, and Goiyi's, for being impersonated.
The one that had to take priority was not his own, but Goiyi's.
And if it was the Goiyi he remembered, he would never have killed this man.
So, Tang Mujin let out a light sigh and released his hand from the hilt of his sword.
"What's your name?"
"...Chusam."
An expression of puzzlement appeared on Chusam's face as he answered.
Because asking one's name in a situation like this, and then letting go of the sword hilt, seemed like a promise not to kill.
"Are you trying to let me live?"
"Yes. If it were Master, he wouldn't have killed you."
The legs of the firmly standing Chusam began to tremble belatedly. The small tremor soon grew unbearable, and before long Chusam collapsed on the ground as if falling on his backside. It was the complete opposite of the composed attitude he had shown until now.
The reason Chusam had been able to carry himself so confidently in front of Tang Mujin wasn't because he wasn't afraid, but because he had already resigned himself to a certain death. An inescapable death, no matter what he did.
When a man of the martial world is caught impersonating another, more than nine out of ten die. Even the one who survives doesn't escape unscathed.
But Chusam had survived, and he thought this situation was nothing short of a miracle.
Tang Mujin grasped Chusam's right hand and helped him up as he spoke.
"Sorry about your nose and left hand."
"No, no need to apologize. For impersonating a martial artist and coming out with only this much—my luck is astronomical. Besides, this face was ugly from the start, so a bent nose bridge isn't much of a loss."
"In that case, join us for dinner. I should explain the situation to the others who came all the way out here."
Tang Mujin strolled off casually, and Chusam hobbled after him.
***
When Tang Mujin brought Chusam outside the village, Dan Seol-young and Namgung Myeong were preparing dinner. Preparation, in truth, was nothing more than laying out some dried provisions on a broad leaf, the kind common in Guangdong.
Seeing Chusam, Dan Seol-young asked Tang Mujin,
"Earlier it seemed pretty tense. Why are you back together?"
"It just turned out that way."
Neither Dan Seol-young nor Namgung Myeong voiced any objections to Tang Mujin's decision. Unlike Tang Mujin, they had no grudge against Chusam.
The four of them shared a humble dinner while talking. Naturally, the focus of the conversation was Chusam.
"You said earlier you once met Elder Goiyi. How did that happen?"
Tang Mujin half-spoke down to him, though it felt awkward—Chusam was easily twice his age.
Of course, in the martial world, men of higher status often spoke down to their elders. Tang Mujin just wasn't used to it.
But given the circumstances, suddenly switching to honorifics felt even stranger.
Chusam, however, didn't mind at all. If anything, he seemed more used to being spoken down to.
"I was just a third-rate warrior. While working at an escort agency, we clashed with bandits. I ended up with a broken leg and a hole in my stomach, waiting for death—when Goiyi appeared out of nowhere and saved me. Then he just left. That was it."
It was a much plainer connection than expected. In all likelihood, Goiyi had forgotten Chusam's face within days.
"So you decided to impersonate him? Doesn't add up."
"At first, I had no such thought. But when I returned to the escort agency and tried to take up arms again, I found myself terrified."
Dan Seol-young interjected.
"What's there to be afraid of? If you were an escort guard, you should have plenty of combat experience."
Chusam shook his head.
"Most escort trips pass without much fighting. Even if you meet bandits, usually you just pay a toll and move on. Only rarely do troublemakers cause problems after taking the toll... Anyway, I was too scared to do it anymore. That's when Goiyi came to mind. I thought—maybe I should become a physician."
"That can't have been easy."
When Tang Mujin spoke, Chusam nodded.
"Right. I thought if I worked under a physician's roof, helping out, I could pick up some medical skills. But such physicians were rare. They claimed they couldn't leak their clan's secret techniques. So I gave up and followed herb gatherers instead. They knew things close enough to medicine. Bit by bit I saved money and bought medical texts to read."
"That must've been harder."
Chusam nodded.
The half-baked texts passed down from small-time medical families were easy to read, but renowned classics like the Treatise on Cold Damage or the Inner Canon were nearly impossible to master through self-study.
The reason was simple—they were hard. Even among self-proclaimed doctors, most had never mastered them. It was unthinkable that Chusam had fully grasped them on his own.
Tang Mujin now understood why Chusam's medical practice was clumsy.
Bits of medicine learned from texts, folk remedies from herb gatherers, and tips from common hearsay—all jumbled together into Chusam's medicine.
Perhaps in a few generations, with accumulated practice and records, it might form a decent medical lineage. But for now, Chusam becoming a proper physician was near impossible.
Chusam muttered,
"Goiyi could save a man with a hole in his stomach without breaking a sweat, but me—I struggled even with a small boil. Sometimes, even if I devoted the whole day, the patient would still die. After that, I thought being a bone-collecting monk might be more useful. So I followed one I met on the road."
Chusam was a third-rate warrior, a quack physician, and a bone-collecting monk.
Perhaps not a proper escort or doctor, but as a bone-collecting monk, he seemed convincing enough—he even chanted sutras without faltering.
But Namgung Myeong was more interested in the fourth career Chusam hadn't mentioned.
"I heard you also went around thieving. Did you do it because the life of a gentleman thief seemed dashing?"
"That's not true. I never once stole."
When Chusam said this firmly, Namgung Myeong looked very disappointed.
No one could guess what he had been expecting. Hopefully, he wasn't thinking of teaching Chusam how to steal."Are you saying you really never once stole? There are plenty of people who claim they were robbed by you."
"It's because so many people gave me things right before dying."
Chusam paused for a moment, then continued.
"As I said, I was a quack physician. Where real doctors were present, I had no place. The only places I could be of use were the ones physicians refused to go, or the ones they abandoned. And if no survivors remained, then even if I had received payment, there'd be no one left to say they had given it. What was given to me as a gift, or as compensation for my efforts, was turned into stolen goods."
"Ah, so that's how it was."
"Besides, I had no reason to steal. You know when people are the most generous? Right before death. Even a lifelong miser who wouldn't part with a single coin grows more generous than anyone else when death approaches. I dealt only with such people—why would I need to steal?"
"That makes sense."
"I know many call me a thief or a grave-robber. But I don't resent them. After all, a man who sells off the belongings of the dead to survive will naturally look suspicious to anyone."
Chusam wore a very peaceful expression, as though baring his heart for the first time in ages—or perhaps for the first time ever.
Tang Mujin pondered. If Master were still alive, how would he handle this?
The answer was simple. Tang Mujin called out.
"Chusam."
Hearing his name, Chusam turned to face Tang Mujin.
"I understand your circumstances. But I can't allow you to go on living while impersonating Master."
"Of course not. I'm not shameless enough to ask for that kind of permission. I'll probably just go on living as a bone-collecting monk. Maybe I'll shave my head this time. Quit being a fake physician, become a fake monk instead."
Tang Mujin shook his head.
"No, that's not what I mean. I'll teach you medicine. So that you can tend to patients not under Goiyi's name, but under your own."
Hearing Chusam's story reminded Tang Mujin of a physician—Medical Saint Yang Heun.
The Medical Saint possessed the greatest healing skills in the land, but never bestowed them upon anyone.
Chusam, on the other hand, stood in complete opposition. His skills were clumsy, yet he wished to share whatever little he had with everyone.
The two men had nothing in common. So perhaps not both could be called physicians. But if one had to be called such, Tang Mujin believed it should be Chusam.
Just as a man who never forges iron cannot be called a blacksmith, one who does not tend to the sick cannot be called a physician.
And crucially, Tang Mujin had the ability to give Chusam what he lacked.
"Chusam. Have you heard the name of the Medical Saint, Yang Heun?"
"I may be a half-baked impostor, but I know the names of the Three Great Physicians. Though I'll never reach them."
"No—you can. I can teach you the Medical Saint's art."
Tang Mujin thought: If Chusam were to master Yang Heun's medicine, then at last the people of the Central Plains would encounter a true Medical Saint.
Of course, Chusam asked back, as if it were nonsense.
"Physician Tang, aren't you Goiyi's disciple? You might teach Goiyi's methods, but how could you possibly teach the Medical Saint's?"
"I have mastered the arts of all Three Great Physicians, and I possess all three of their medical texts."
Namgung Myeong already knew this, having overheard a conversation between Ha Ryeong and Tang Mujin in Junggyeong.
But Dan Seol-young, who had not known until now, cried out in shock.
"What? How can you possibly have all three of the Great Physicians' texts?"
"...You didn't know? I thought you did."
"How could I possibly know that!"
"You saw the Manbyongseo in the medical chamber, didn't you?"
"...That book was that important?"
Dan Seol-young's hands trembled as if she'd just heard something earth-shattering.
Maybe my husband is far greater than I thought...
While Dan Seol-young wrestled with confusion, Tang Mujin turned back to Chusam.
"If you truly wish to learn medicine, follow me. Inherit the Medical Saint's art, take on disciples, and spread it across the Central Plains once again. Instead of being a fake Goiyi, you'll become the real thing—Physician Chusam, the Medical Saint."
Tang Mujin steadied his breath and asked again.
"Decide right now. Will you follow me?"
It was an offer that required no long deliberation. Chusam nodded, as if entranced.
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