"The man insulted the Patriarch. Called him a quack. Said he lacked even the basics of medicine. Claimed that with such pitiful skill, it was no wonder he only treated beggars."
"..."
"After hurling abuse for quite some time, he demanded ten silver ingots as compensation for a so-called 'botched treatment.' He threatened to collect it by force if we didn't pay."
Jangbok glanced cautiously at Wi Jicheon, trying to gauge his reaction.
"Young Master?"
Wi Jicheon's response was… unusual.
The Wi Jicheon everyone knew was kind.
But his kindness was closer to naïve purity than to virtue.
Under normal circumstances, he should have been outraged — shouting, pacing, indignant.
Instead, he was quiet.
"I understand."
"Sir?"
"Is there a problem?"
"N-no, none at all."
"Don't be ridiculous. You may go now — no need to prepare lunch. I have somewhere to be for a while."
His tone was calm. Too calm.
And yet, for some reason, the unease Jangbok had felt earlier returned like a chill up his spine.
He bowed hurriedly and fled the room.
"Phew."
Wi Jicheon exhaled slowly.
'I still lack cultivation. Why did I let him see my irritation?'
Even reaching the Fiery Realm didn't mean one was free from the Five Desires and Seven Emotions.
If that were true, the martial world would be a far more peaceful place.
Most of the great disasters that occurred in Jianghu were caused by those very masters — driven by greed, rage, pride, or resentment.
The higher one ascends, the more vital it becomes to confront one's inner turmoil honestly.
That is why true masters are never without passion — only without pretense.
So what Wi Jicheon felt now was not mere anger. It was fury, deep and suffocating.
Yet he forced himself to remain still.
Rage, after all, accomplished nothing.
'He wouldn't make such demands without reason. Someone must be behind this.'
There had never been enmity between the Divine Healer Clan and the Black Ghost Sect.
Which meant—
'Someone put him up to it.'
A name surfaced in his mind: the White Healer Clan.
They had long tried to destroy the Divine Healer Clan through every vile means possible.
But he quickly shook his head.
The Black Ghost Sect was a minor dark sect — far too insignificant to serve as a pawn for a Heaven-ranked clan like the White Healer Clan, one of the Five Greats.
'No, the White Healer Clan doesn't make its move until much later in this timeline.'
He searched for a more immediate suspect.
And found one.
'The Namyang Two Benevolent Houses — specifically, the Southern Heavy Healer House (Namjung).'
Of the two Earth-ranked healer families in Namyang, that one had close ties with the Black Ghost Sect.
'They're using the sect to push us out.'
Ten silver ingots —
for the Divine Healer Clan, an impossible sum.
Could they appeal to the authorities?
Impossible.
The Southern Heavy Healer House had deep connections with the local magistrate.
A trial would only end with an unjust ruling.
'Such things happen all the time among healer clans.'
It was the Great Age of Medicine.
With healers everywhere, competition had become merciless.
Unlike martial sects, healer families didn't fight through strength of arms but through politics, intrigue, and deceit.
When skill alone couldn't win, slander and sabotage became everyday tactics.
It was often said that in order to survive as a healer, one needed not skill in medicine but mastery of politics.
'Still… strange. Why don't I remember this happening before?'
Surely this event had occurred in his past life.
So why did he know nothing of it?
Then it struck him.
"The Patriarch said not to tell the Young Master, no matter what!"
They had hidden it from him.
Afraid that the youngest son — foolish and softhearted — would worry or interfere.
In that life, Wi Jicheon had simply smiled, oblivious, while his father suffered humiliation in silence.
'Ha…'
He turned toward his father's study.
Wi Jiseon sat there, not treating patients but staring gloomily at documents.
When he sensed his son's presence, he quickly put on a smile.
"Ah, Cheon, you're awake? You missed lunch. Were you up late studying again? You'll pass the apprenticeship test at this rate! Ha ha! Maybe I should start placing bets with your uncle. Though honestly, I'd still wager on you failing. Ha ha!"
His tone was as cheerful as ever.
Wi Jicheon clenched his fists.
"Something wrong?"
"…No, Father."
He didn't bring up what he'd learned.
He knew his father's heart too well.
If his father knew that he knew, it would only hurt him more.
Instead—
"Father, do you remember what you once told me?"
"Hm?"
"You said you wanted to make the Divine Healer Clan the greatest in the world again."
"…Ah, that. You still remember that drunken nonsense?"
Wi Jiseon looked embarrassed, scratching his cheek.
But Wi Jicheon knew those words had come from his heart.
'I want our clan to become the kind of healers who bring happiness to all who suffer — to be known once more as the greatest under Heaven.'
It was a dream his father had spoken of nearly ten years ago — one Wi Jicheon had never forgotten.
"Has it really been that long?" his father chuckled softly. "I was younger then, full of ambition. Now I'm content just knowing you're all happy. But why bring that up?"
"…No reason."
"You're a strange one."
Wi Jicheon smiled faintly.
'Father, it's not too late. I'll make that dream come true.'
He swore it to himself.
There would be no more days like this.
No more humiliation.
He would see his family honored and unshakable, walking a road lined with blossoms.
That was his vow.
Before he acted, Wi Jicheon stopped by the Pill Pavilion.
"Sister, may I borrow some of the lab tools for a while?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"…I'm not qualified yet. Is that all right?"
Her easy consent startled him.
"I'm the Pavilion Master, and you're my brother. It's fine."
"…Isn't that abuse of authority?"
"What does it matter? Here, I am the law."
Wi Jisang-ah's reply was bold, almost cheerful.
Of course, she wasn't granting permission out of favoritism alone.
Over the past few days, Wi Jicheon's uncanny insight had convinced her of his "genius."
"I'm curious, Sister. Since Guhwang grass has such strong Yin, wouldn't it harmonize better if mixed this way?"
"What?!"
"And in this formula, adding mugwort — is it to strengthen both deficiency and excess states simultaneously?"
"Wha—how—?!"
"And this one…"
"Ah! Ah! Stop! You're scaring me!"
Wi Jicheon had merely been voicing questions born from his deep understanding of natural Yin-Yang balance — but to Jisang-ah, it was revelation.
'My fool of a brother… is actually a prodigy?!'
He'd overheard her muttering that more than once.
Now, using one of the ancient prescriptions he remembered, he began preparing a small pill.
As she watched him move back and forth between ingredients, Jisang-ah frowned.
"Where did you hear of that formula?"
"I happened upon it by chance."
"That's a false recipe. Dangerous — it could kill a patient."
She wasn't wrong.
It wasn't meant for healing the sick.
Wi Jicheon nodded as if conceding.
"You're right. It failed anyway. I'll dispose of it myself."
He pocketed the pill — an ominous blackish hue glinting under the light — and stepped outside.
"Where are you going?"
"Just to the market for a bit of air. No need to tell Father — I'll be back soon."
"Okay, okay."
It was the first time since returning to the past that he stepped beyond the manor walls.
As he entered the bustling streets, merchants greeted him warmly.
"Hey there, Young Master Immortal! Long time no see!"
"Yes, it's been a while."
"Why haven't you been visiting us lately?"
"I've been studying."
"You? Studying? Ha! Don't make me laugh!"
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
'Right… back then, I was the village mascot of Namyang's marketplace.'
Most of the merchants looked at him fondly.
He might have been a fool, but he wasn't mean-spirited.
They had treated him like a harmless, mischievous kitten wandering the stalls.
Wi Jicheon greeted them all politely as he passed, moving steadily toward his destination.
But soon the merchants began to murmur.
"Hey, Young Master! Don't go that way!"
"Why not?"
"Are you serious? It's dangerous over there!"
Beyond a certain point, the air changed — darker, heavier, menacing.
Men loitered with sharp eyes and cruel grins.
"It's fine. I have business there."
He walked straight into the shadowed alley until he stood before a secluded estate.
The plaque above the gate read: Black Ghost Sect (Heukgwimun).
Wi Jicheon raised his voice.
"I am Wi Jicheon, third son of the Divine Healer Clan! Zhang Sam of the Black Ghost Sect, come out and face me!"
The Black Ghost Sect erupted in chaos.
"Who dares! Who dares shout the Sect Master's name?"
"I do!"
"What the—? That fool from the healer's house?"
The sect's warriors frowned.
"This isn't a place for children. Leave while you still can."
"I can't. I've come to teach your master what it means to be human."
"What? You little brat— you've gone mad!"
One of the men shoved him by the shoulder — a light push, nothing serious.
And yet—
"Ah! Murder! These villains are trying to kill me!"
"What?!"
The man blinked in disbelief.
From the marketplace nearby, onlookers — merchants who knew Wi Jicheon — began to gather, frowning at the sight.
"Hey! Stop bullying the boy!"
"Ah! You'll hit me again, won't you? Go ahead — one more strike and I'll report you to the magistrate!"
The man's face went pale.
Even martial artists weren't above the law when it came to assaulting civilians.
The rule of Noninterference Between Martial Sects did not protect them here.
And Wi Jicheon wasn't just any commoner — his family was a respected local establishment, however humble.
With witnesses all around, it was clear whose side the authorities would take.
"Ah, my shoulder! You dislocated it! Everyone, look — these thugs are assaulting me!"
"I—I didn't—!"
The man was sweating bullets when—
"What's all this commotion? You there — the youngest from the Divine Healer Clan?"
A gravelly voice rang out.
The crowd fell silent.
It was Zhang Sam, the Sect Master himself.
'So you've come.'
Wi Jicheon's eyes darkened.
He could have handled this quietly, behind closed doors.
But he had chosen to make a scene — for a reason.
"I greet you, Lord Zhang Sam. I came because I have business with you."
"You? With me?"
"Yes. It's something important. Could we speak privately?"
"Hah?"
"I believe it's something you'll want to hear. Who knows — perhaps after today, you'll find that I am your destined benefactor."
Zhang Sam's brow furrowed.
What nonsense was this boy spouting?
Benefactor?
Was this fool implying that he, Wi Jicheon, could become Zhang Sam's savior?