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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Dream
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In Sichuan Province, there were two sects belonging to the Nine Great Sects.
The Emei Sect, which formed the center of Buddhist martial arts alongside the Shaolin Temple. And the Qingcheng Sect, which carried on the great lineage of Daoist martial arts.
From a martial artist's perspective, the prestige of these two sects was roughly equal.
But to someone utterly ignorant of martial arts, the story was different.
Mount Emei, where the Emei Sect was based at Golden Summit, was a full seven days' journey from Chengdu, the provincial capital of Sichuan Province. The sect's nuns and warrior monks showed no interest in anything beyond cultivation and martial arts training. They didn't even maintain a single branch office.
As such, ordinary folk in Sichuan Province paid little attention to the Emei Sect. It was hard enough to exchange even a single word with one of their martial artists in a lifetime.
The Qingcheng Sect, however, was different.
It was just a two-day journey from Chengdu, and the sect was aggressive in expanding its influence. It had established three major branches within Sichuan Province.
Anyone living in Sichuan Province, unless they were in some extremely remote area, could frequently spot Qingcheng Sect martial artists. With just one or two connections, you'd be linked to one. It was fair to call them the sect that dominated Sichuan Province.
Among the Qingcheng Sect's branches, the largest by far was the Chengdu Branch.
The Qingcheng Chengdu Branch housed dozens of Daoist disciples and hundreds of lay disciples.
The scale of a single branch surpassed that of many mid-tier sects, so quite a few people made their living relying on it. The Dang family was one such household.
The Dang family had been physicians for generations.
Up until Dang Mujin's great-grandfather, they had been a mediocre local clinic. But things improved when Dang Mujin's grandfather began trading with the Qingcheng Sect.
Income became reasonably stable, and their reputation soared from treating the prestigious Qingcheng martial artists.
What more could a physician want? It was a fine life for living without greed.
Dang Mujin had no complaints about his father's life as a respected physician. He figured he'd inherit the family trade and live the same way.
His father, Dang Jesun, thought the same. He taught Dang Mujin medicine with the intention of passing on the family business.
However, Dang Mujin had yet to treat a single patient.
He had sufficient medical knowledge, but lacked experience. Patients preferred the more seasoned Dang Jesun over the young Dang Mujin anyway.
Dang Jesun was still in his prime, brimming with vigor.
Thanks to that, Dang Mujin's role was limited to odd jobs.
For example, trekking deep into the mountains to procure herbs from a herb gatherer.
And that's exactly what Dang Mujin was doing now.
The herb gatherer Jonggwak handed Dang Mujin a bundle and held up one finger.
"One silver tael."
Dang Mujin peeked inside the bundle and grumbled.
"Isn't this less than usual?"
"Look at the bottom of the bundle. Do you know how hard it is to find Sichuan Melia Fruit and Mulberry Spider Eggs in this weather?"
"I know. Just making conversation."
Dang Mujin handed over one silver tael to Jonggwak. It was pricey for a bundle of herbs.
But compared to the value of the herbs Jonggwak provided, it was actually a bargain. Jonggwak wasn't the type to bother with common herbs like Licorice Root or Areca Catechu.
In truth, for a physician, skill made up half, and the variety and quality of herbs the other half.
Dang Mujin's father, Dang Jesun, knew this well, so he sent his son to the herb gatherer Jonggwak twice a month.
It took a full day round trip from Chengdu to Jonggwak's hut.
Most people would find it a hassle, but Dang Mujin enjoyed the errand.
Jonggwak was easy to talk to. Plus, visiting in person often yielded nice side benefits.
Dang Mujin casually probed Jonggwak.
"Got anything special this time?"
"Plenty."
Two weeks ago, Dang Mujin had scored a fistful of deer jerky that Jonggwak had prepared. Top-quality stuff, well-seasoned and dried.
A month ago, they'd shared a pheasant Jonggwak had hunted while gathering herbs. Rabbit meat had been shared so often he couldn't even count.
"So, what's on offer today?"
"Mushrooms."
Jonggwak pulled three or four dried mushrooms from his bosom.
Dang Mujin's face fell. Dried mushrooms made decent snacks, but they didn't measure up to the meat he'd been hoping for.
"What kind of mushrooms? No leftover jerky or rabbit? I even splurged on some baijiu on the way here."
Dang Mujin grumbled, but Jonggwak grinned confidently.
"You don't know quality when you see it. These mushrooms are worth far more than jerky."
"Really?"
Dang Mujin was a physician's son. He knew every medicinal mushroom and most edible ones. But he'd never seen this variety before.
"Is it some delicacy of the world? Though I'm not big on mushroom dishes..."
"No. It's not for eating. This is a special mushroom."
"Special? Like a spiritual herb? The kind where one bite grants a decade of inner energy."
Jonggwak narrowed his eyes at Dang Mujin.
"If it were that valuable, I wouldn't show it to you. I'd hide it away and sell it to some martial arts master."
"Then what is it?"
"It gives you a special experience. Follow me."
Jonggwak led Dang Mujin into the hut. He finely chopped the dried mushrooms and handed Dang Mujin about half a handful.
"The only downside is the awful taste. Pop it in and swallow fast."
"If it tastes bad and isn't good for you, why eat it?"
"You'll see once you try."
Jonggwak said that, then dumped half a handful of chopped mushrooms into his mouth. Gulp.
He grinned at Dang Mujin, his eyes challenging: Scared to try?
Dang Mujin, vigorous in his youth, didn't want to be looked down on by his peer Jonggwak.
So he dumped the mushrooms into his mouth too. An indescribable foul taste and smell filled his mouth.
He nearly spat them out reflexively but forced them down.
But nothing happened.
"...It just tastes awful. Nothing special?"
"Wait a bit. You'll know soon enough."
Jonggwak reclined lazily on the floor. Dang Mujin did the same. The two chatted idly.
About a pretty girl in the village below he wanted to talk to, or how he'd set traps where pheasants frequented, so next time he'd get to taste pheasant meat. Trivial banter.
Then, after about two hours, Dang Mujin felt something strange.
"Uh, uhh?"
"Coming on now?"
A slight tingle in his fingertips and toes, his body growing languid.
Similar to drunkenness, yet profoundly different.
His vision swirled with vivid hallucinations, and though he hadn't eaten, the flavors and aromas of delicious meals he'd had before wafted through his senses.
"What is this?"
"Hallucinogenic mushrooms. Rare find."
"Amazing..."
Indescribable sensations washed over him.
A languid ecstasy. A touch of confidence that he could do anything.
Suddenly, Dang Mujin grew anxious.
"It won't cause any harm, right?"
At his question, Jonggwak chuckled from his reclined position.
"Nah, nothing like that, so relax. But don't tell Elder Dang."
"Of course not..."
How much time passed? The mushroom's effects began to fade.
Judging by the sun's position, about half an hour had gone by.
He felt a pang of regret as the strange sensation ebbed.
Dang Mujin picked up another mushroom Jonggwak had set out.
Seeing this, Jonggwak waved him off.
"Stop. Going overboard won't end well."
"Wasting it feels bad."
"Not that. Hard to sell, and it goes bad if kept too long. No real loss."
Dang Mujin grinned at Jonggwak, mimicking the earlier challenging smile.
"Then no problem, right?"
Dang Mujin popped the mushroom into his mouth. At least twice as much as the first time.
Jonggwak looked disgusted.
"You're on your own if something happens. I've never eaten that much."
"It's fine."
Dang Mujin replied confidently and closed his eyes.
Moments later, he felt his whole body sinking into the earth.
*
Just moments ago, he'd been lying there chatting with Jonggwak. But now, Dang Mujin was in a bustling city.
Not an ordinary one, though. Every building was carved from rock, and every person in sight was a dwarf.
Not ordinary dwarves, either.
They were short enough to barely reach a man's chest, but their arms, legs, and torsos were twice as thick as a normal person's. Beards covered their faces and jaws, shrouding half their upper bodies.
Dang Mujin thought the ground felt oddly close. As if he'd become a dwarf himself.
He looked at his hands. Thick arms and fingers, just like the dwarves.
He should have been startled, but he felt strangely calm. As if he'd been a dwarf since birth.
Someone tapped him from behind.
"Grombel. What're you spacing out for?"
"Uh, uhh."
Grombel? Is that me?
Of course. My name's Grombel.
Grombel snapped to belatedly. What was I doing?
Some weird name like Dang Mujin lingered in his mind. But he shook his head fiercely a couple times, and the foreign memory dissolved like mist.
"Get it together, Grombel. This chance comes once in a lifetime."
"I know."
Any other day, maybe, but not today. Today was tryouts for new blacksmiths at the Iron Maul Forge.
How many dwarves didn't dream of becoming Iron Maul Forge blacksmiths after being born dwarves?
Grombel clenched his fist. No nerves today. Time to show his skills.
Grombel entered the Iron Maul Forge with his friend.
He demonstrated his full ability, and a few days later, received word he'd been selected as a blacksmith.
From then on, he swung the hammer to his heart's content every day.
Grombel's skills improved by leaps and bounds. After a hundred years or so, even three- or four-hundred-year-old dwarf elders couldn't call him a novice.
The name Dang Mujin had long vanished without a trace from Grombel's mind.
He thought he'd live like this forever. Then, one day, he felt someone shaking him.
"Hey, you gonna sleep all day?"
Grombel looked up. An unfamiliar human was looking down at him.
No, unfamiliar my foot. It's Jonggwak. The guy he'd just been eating mushrooms and chatting with.
His thoughts didn't connect. Dang Mujin replied a bit dumbly.
"Uh... huh?"
"How long you gonna lie there like that?"
Dang Mujin clutched his head.
Memories of dwarf blacksmith Grombel and physician's son Dang Mujin tangled chaotically.
Was dwarf Grombel dreaming of becoming human, or human Dang Mujin dreaming of being a dwarf?
Was this what they called a butterfly dream?
Jonggwak looked down at Dang Mujin pityingly.
"Told you to eat in moderation. You wolfed down a ton and passed out. Had me thinking something went wrong."
Dang Mujin peered outside, feeling awkward.
The sun had already slanted considerably. He'd been out for at least an hour.
But it didn't feel long. No, it felt far too short.
He'd spent over a hundred years in the dream, so how could a mere hour seem long?
As Dang Mujin staggered to his feet, Jonggwak said,
"Heading out already?"
"Have to."
"Fine. See you in two weeks. I'll have pheasant or rabbit ready, so don't be late."
"Got it."
Dang Mujin grabbed the herb bundle and hurried toward Chengdu. His mind felt hazy.