Chapter 539

The Slaughter Saint.

He had entered the world as an assassin, despised by all, and risen at last to become a star that lit the heavens.

He had torn down the fence that admitted only a chosen few, becoming living proof of the four words Might Makes Right.

Yet most people knew neither his age nor his face—not even his name. Assassins worked in the deepest secrecy. They did not reveal themselves.

Decades passed, and the veil over the Slaughter Saint never lifted.

The Slaughter Saint had vanished without a trace immediately after the war ended. He did not show himself even once for a long time, and the words that spilled from the mouths of ordinary people traveled a thousand li, ten thousand li,¹ without needing feet.

The Slaughter Saint is dead!

That was half true and half false.

On the day the Martial God defeated the Heavenly Demon and a hundred thousand demon soldiers fell, an old man in a bamboo hat buried something on an unnamed hill before walking away.

It was not only his beloved weapon, stained with blood. He buried the name Slaughter Saint with it.

The Slaughter Saint died, and Mungyeong emerged into the world. In time, the world began calling him by another name.

The Divine Physician.

The Yangtze has many tributaries, but all their waters join the same river.

Mungyeong was a river like that, bearing two names: the greatest assassin in history and the greatest physician under heaven.

To put it simply…

My number-one recruitment target.

That more than qualified him for a place aboard my Going Murim ship.²

Sure, spending time with him meant the occasional attempt on my life. But I’d rather shit blood a few times than die because we ran into a monster like the Western Heaven Demon Lord.

Black cat, white cat. As long as it caught mice, what did the color matter?

It was a shame my first recruitment target wasn’t a cute little deer with horns, but a former assassin who wanted to kill me roughly three times a day. I didn’t have much choice.

Who cares about his personality? He has the strongest damage output and healer abilities, too.

Right. That was enough.

In this harsh Murim, where I couldn’t even get my hands on a cheap potion, I needed Mungyeong. Even if he never saved me, he might save someone traveling with us when their life was in danger.

The problem was that, in my confidence, I’d overlooked one person.

“Hehe.”

“……?”

“Hello, Benefactor.”

“……!”

Hello, my ass. What was going on?

No way.

I stared at Cheongpung, my eyes trembling, and finally managed to speak.

“……Why are you coming out of there?”

“Oh, well. I was passing by earlier.”

“No, I know why you came here. I mean—”

This was driving me insane. Seriously.

Mungyeong watched me stammer without a trace of expression and answered for him.

“I told you. You were a step too late.”

Cheongpung smiled brightly.

“Hehe. That’s how it happened, Benefactor.”

It was the one blow that turned my suspicion into certainty. I looked back and forth between them in silence for a moment before managing to part my lips.

“Is this for real?”

Mungyeong nodded.

“It probably isn’t a legend.”

“Then it really happened?”

“Yes. It really happened.”

“Why?”

“I have no reason to tell you.”

“Fair enough. But I think I could give up gracefully if I heard it from you.”

Mungyeong clicked his tongue.

“You’re making an ugly business of it.”

“What if I still want to hear it, even if I have to be filthy?”

“Then I’ll have to find a cleaner way to settle it.”

Shing.

Something silver glinted at the end of his long sleeve. I rubbed my eyes at the sight of the short sword that had popped out like a jack-in-the-box.

“Maybe I’m tired and my eyes are going bad. Why is that coming out now?”

“Because using this would be clean.”

“Maybe, but wouldn’t it make a mess around here?”

“That doesn’t matter. I know a number of methods.”

“……”

He must have picked up a few tricks in all his years as an assassin. I had no desire whatsoever to see any of them firsthand.

“Whew. I’ll be going.”

“Go. Forever.”

“See you later, Benefactor!”

I turned away after those two very different farewells.

This is driving me crazy.

Cheongpung had beaten me to it. I hadn’t seen that coming at all.

The Cheongpung I knew should have had a meat dumpling in one hand and a vegetable dumpling in the other, trying to decide which to eat first.

Did he put points into Intelligence instead of me…?

Nothing for it. I’d have to move fast and recruit other people first.

Hyuk Mujin was loitering by the clinic entrance. He hurried over when he spotted me.

“Did it go well—… From your face, I’m guessing not.”

Hyuk Mujin blinked after hurriedly correcting himself upon seeing my face.

“I don’t see Mungyeong. Does that mean…?”

“Can’t you tell?”

“Huh. He turned down the Captain’s offer? He’s better at judging a situation than he looks— I mean, I’m joking. Please, I’m begging you. Put your fist down.”

“Make one more joke and it will become your last will.”

Hyuk Mujin backed away to secure a safe distance before speaking in a solemn voice.

“There is one way.”

“A way?”

“Yes.”

He sounded so sure of himself that I couldn’t help listening. I was grasping at a rotten rope, but I asked anyway.

“What is it?”

“How about I try talking some sense into him? That fellow Mungyeong would do anything I say.”

“……”

Hangs on your words, my ass. He’d kill you in the blink of an eye.

If Mungyeong wished, he could turn Hyuk Mujin into a corpse with a single inhale and reduce him to powder with a single exhale.

“Mujin…”

“Don’t worry. We’ve built up a fair amount of affection over the years. If Gung and I go and persuade him, he won’t refuse us coldly.”

“That’s not it, you bastard…”

This bastard was actually trying to commit group suicide now.

I looked at Hyuk Mujin with pity.

“You really hate brothels, huh?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Anyway, don’t try to marry him—no, persuade him. Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Just don’t, you bastard.”

Hyuk Mujin did not know Mungyeong’s true identity, so there was no way their conversation could go anywhere.

I sighed at his aggrieved expression.

“Can you write?”

“Write? I’d make Wang Xizhi³ weep.”

“Answer properly before I beat you until you cry.”

“……I write well enough. Believe it or not, people called me a prodigy when I was little.”

“Then write out a few big notices and put one up.”

“A notice?”

“Yeah. If it’s come to this, we might as well look for some real talent.”

The world was vast, and masters were plentiful.

Henan, right now, was a prince’s residence⁴ teeming with dragons and tigers.

What’s so special about holding a public audition?

If you thought about it, even the imperial examinations were the most traditional audition program in existence. With my fame and eye for talent, it was worth trying.

I pictured applicants flooding in.

Let’s do it. Fuck it.

Shik, sssshk!

The movements were fast and fluid, unlike anything the onlookers had seen before. Whenever his hands moved as if dancing, the tip of the large needle flashed, and thread stitched the wound closed.

In mere moments, a swordsman who had been slowly dying from a deep slash across his abdomen had a chance to live.

“How can someone so young possess medical skills of this level…!”

“I’ve never even heard of a medical apprentice like him.”

“Good heavens. That’s nearly divine!”

The gathered physicians, from heavily bearded middle-aged men to white-haired elders, stared in astonishment. A voice snapped them back to their senses.

“Finished.”

Tap.

The treatment was over in a flash. More astonishing than its speed was the fact that it had been done perfectly.

Mouths agape, the physicians turned to the speaker as he rose from his seat.

“H-How can this be?”

“Hey!”

He looked too young to call a young man, yet something about him made boy seem wrong as well.

Mungyeong gathered his belongings and stood.

“Are there any patients left?”

The physicians exchanged glances, then shook their heads all at once.

“N-No, but…”

“Th-That’s right. It’s all thanks to you.”

This was hardly the first time the young medical apprentice had astonished them.

About one shichen⁵ earlier, he had arrived with a patient whose injuries were minor. He’d taken one look at the people lying there and remarked:

“This won’t take long.”

Then he’d begun treating them one by one, so quickly and so thoroughly that the physicians who’d come over to scold him and throw him out couldn’t tear themselves away.

Can medicine like this truly exist?

Who is he?

They had waited until now to ask about his identity. But when they finally did, the young medical apprentice’s answer was utterly calm.

“Then that settles it. I’ll be going now.”

“W-Wait! I have a mountain of questions for you!”

“What is your master’s name? Could it be…?”

Questions came at him from every side. Mungyeong inclined his head slightly.

“If I have time, I’ll stop by once more before I leave and check on the patients.”

“You may have been free to enter, but you’re not free to leave!”

“Grab him!”

“Forgive me! We can’t let you go like this!”

Whoosh! Crash!

The physicians threw themselves at him, but their hands closed on empty air. They didn’t so much as brush his collar before tumbling across the floor.

As they stared about in confusion, Mungyeong’s voice rang out.

“I left a prescription for each patient where I was sitting. Read them and carry out the treatments as written.”

“W-What? Prescriptions?”

“Where? Where are they?”

To physicians, a renowned doctor’s prescriptions were like a peerless master’s martial arts manual.

Their eyes all but rolling back, the physicians launched into a fierce struggle over the dozens of prescriptions. Mungyeong slipped outside and walked on, then spoke without warning.

“Come out.”

Swish.

With a faint rustle, a figure emerged from behind a large pillar.

“Oh! How did you know?”

“Just because.”

“You really are amazing. I thought I’d fool you this time. Hehe.”

Mungyeong studied Cheongpung’s cheerful face.

“What martial art was that?”

“A footwork technique.”

“I know that.”

“Oh. I named it Mimi Step.”

“Mimi Step?”

“Yes. After our Mimi. Isn’t it great?”

Cheongpung’s eyes shone. Mungyeong’s reply was cold.

“……What an utterly ridiculous name.”

“Oh. Ah…”

Cheongpung wilted. Mungyeong watched him, his gaze deepening.

What is with this boy?

The name Mimi Step might be ridiculous, but there was nothing ridiculous about the principles behind those movements.

He created a martial art from the way a snake moves.

Most martial artists spent their entire lives trying to understand a single martial art well enough to make it their own. The boy before him had done that as though it were nothing.

Then, having made it his own, he had recreated it entirely.

This boy… has the makings of a Grandmaster.

Jin Taekyung wasn’t the only genius. In some ways, this boy’s genius far surpassed his.

Sword Saint, you’ve raised a monster.

Mungyeong muttered inwardly, then spoke to Cheongpung, who was still looking dejected.

“So why did you offer me your hand?”

“Hmm. Because Benefactor is so amazing.”

“Jin Taekyung?”

“Yes. I used to hope Benefactor would catch up with me soon, but… now I feel like he’s getting farther away, little by little.”

“I see.”

Mungyeong understood at once. A genius who had never had anyone to measure himself against was burning with competitive spirit for the first time.

“Are you hoping to learn martial arts from me?”

“No. You don’t have to teach me.”

“What?”

“I’ll watch and learn from you. That’s enough. Hehe.”

“……!”

Mungyeong paused, then gave a quiet laugh.

What an absurd boy. He meant to learn just by watching—and the martial arts he intended to watch were Mungyeong’s.

Yet Mungyeong didn’t mind.

“Oh! You smiled.”

“……I did not.”

“You did. You smiled.”

“You impudent little brat.”

“Oh. Now you’re angry.”

“……Brat.”

“Would you like some dumplings?”

Mungyeong hesitated, wondering whether to draw his short sword. Instead, he took the dumpling Cheongpung offered and bit into it.

The taste was not bad.