800 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

The place where the sick were gathered was in the northern part of Kunming, on Banryong Street, an area naturally formed for isolation, surrounded on three sides by mountains. Just when it seemed like they would head straight to Banryong Street, the place Rungjongdaein led Qing and her party to was the Kunming market instead. "Welcome, oh... have you come, sir?" A grain merchant, who had been busy laying out sacks of various grains for sale, hurriedly came out to greet them, but his lack of enthusiasm showed when he recognized Rungjongdaein. It seemed like the customer service left much to be desired. "Sir, the last time you visited, you still hadn't cleared the credit. I mean, it's nice that you're feeding the sick, but I also have to make a living, don't I?" "Tsk. The mindset of people... How's a grain seller like you going to starve, with grains so abundant? How much are we talking about here?" "It's already ten silver coins. I even gave it to you at cost price because you said you were doing a good deed..." "Did I take good grains? What profit are you talking about from old stuff? Tsk. What are you doing? He says he wants the money." Rungjongdaein looked at Qing's group as if it was the most natural thing in the world, even though they had handed over a full purse. He was likely trying to save some funds for the sick even after they left, but his manner was so confident that Qing looked sheepishly at her friends. Then, Zhuge Leehyun promptly opened his purse to settle the credit. A merchant's claim of not making a profit is usually suspect, yet the visibly relieved expression of the grain merchant receiving his payment proved otherwise. "Alright, how much of the old grains do you have left?" "Err, how much do you need?" "All of it." "Rice, oats, beans, millet... If it's everything, it would be about seven seom. Do you mean all of it?" "Are you deaf? I said all of it. Don’t worry about the credit; the big guy from the Zhuge Noble Clan here will cover it." "Ah, so the young master is from the Zhuge Noble Clan." Zhuge Leehyun scratched his head. It sounded as though he specifically wanted Leehyun to pay, but it was also to cement this grain support as a charity from the Zhuge Noble Clan. Even if they extorted money from the rich to aid the sick, in this manner, the rich wouldn't find the amount all that regrettable. They stopped by the grain merchant to buy old grains like rice, wheat, and oats, and not the fresher, more expensive ones. "Is it okay to use old grains instead of fresh ones? We could get something better while we're at it." "Tsk, do you even know what a quarantine is like? Just rounding up the sick and confining them until what? Where does the money come from? In a month, they become the poorest of the poor. Unless you're an oddball like me, what physician would go sniffing around such a beggar's den?" Rungjongdaein shook his head. "So what can be done? I also don’t have a lot of money, so I need to save. People are starving so much that the taste doesn't matter; as long as they can eat, it's delicious to them. Isn’t getting full the priority?" Thus, Rungjongdaein loaded the cheapest grains onto the cart and bought the cheapest cuts of meat. Even though he was buying the cheapest items, he didn't skimp on the herbs. "Now, look here. When buying herbs, you need to check the underside. The crafty ones always hide the watered-down parts there. Look at this—Baekryeongcho should be checked at the end section; if the end is fresh, it’s okay, but if it’s dry, then someone’s played a cheap trick by spraying it with water. Remember that when you buy herbs." "Ah, sir. It wasn't a trick. Just some water to keep it fresh longer..." "Listen to this scoundrel. All herb sellers are like this." With a click of his tongue, Rungjongdaein rummaged through the bags of herbs, giving practical lessons on identifying good herbs. Only— "Ah, sir. Is it really okay to rummage through them like this?" "Of course not." Rungjongdaein grinned slyly. "If you’re famous, you can get away with anything. You're a master, aren’t you? If they say something, just draw your Sword Qi and ask if they want to die." "Oh..." The listening herbalist was baffled. What audacity to teach such a bold lesson! "And by the way, Tang Nanah, you should pay attention too. Knowing herbs is the foundation of medicine, isn’t it?" "Come on, I know how to distinguish herbs?" "Ha! The great Tang Clan doesn’t deal with cheap stuff, right? You need to know these withered ones too. Do you know how to spot these?" "Ew, why would I bother with this cheap stuff?" "Because not all the sick in the world are rich. Wouldn't anyone know to use good herbs? But if you're going to see more than a few patients, save where you can. Look, this is dolminarin; its leaves should be bigger than two joints for the medicinal effect..." "Ew, this is such a hassle..." Though she grumbled, Tang Nanah was listening intently. After circling the market, they ended up with seven carts in tow. While they were all cheap goods, it seems they couldn’t pay even for these, with credit running everywhere they went. Seeing this, Rungjongdaein's good deeds became more evident. Even if extracting money from the rich, are the rich ones easily fleeced? Typically, a rich person must be either extremely greedy or have such parents or ancestors. An old man going around flaunting his name, nagging for donations might garner some out of pride. But it's never enough, which is why debts followed them everywhere. Despite his rough and persistent demeanor, the idea of an elder going around begging couldn't have been an easy or dignified task. Hmm, it seems his good deeds are truly merited. With the carts loaded, they headed toward Banryong Street, noticing the wooden palisade blocking the view of the city in the distance. Given that it was a quarantine, I initially thought they would have stationed soldiers to guard the place, but instead, it seemed they'd physically barricaded it by cutting down trees. At the makeshift gate between the wooden barricades, the soldiers on duty appeared troubled. "Sir, only medical personnel are allowed entry. The others—" "They're all medical personnel. Doctors." "Well, sir, just by looking, they're clearly martial artists, aren't they?" "Why can't martial artists be doctors?" "And, sir, there's even a child." "He's a medical apprentice. Medicine should be taught from a young age." "Ahem, this really isn't allowed." But what could a low-ranking soldier do? Unable to resist the pressure, they eventually opened the gate. Beyond the gate, those who had been waiting eagerly ran up to greet Rungjongdaein. "Sir, you've arrived!" "Tell everyone to come and get their meals. Today, there’s even some meat; it may not be much, but at least they can have some soup and bite into some pieces." "Oh, we finally get a taste of meat! Thank you, sir!" “I didn’t buy it myself. I don’t have any money. The young ones here are paying for it, so make sure you thank them.” “Thank you!” “Oh, thank you!” Under a torrent of gratitude, the expressions of the group softened noticeably. Even the faint suspicion that Rungjongdaein might have been a fraud using borrowed names melted away at that moment. Isn't this the very reason people engage in volunteer work? And soon, they unloaded the goods together. After detaching the carts and leaving them half-blocking the gate, those in charge of quarantine at Banryong Street unloaded the supplies, stacking them in one corner. Once the cart owners had gone back, the quarantine gate was firmly shut. Following that came the sound of the latch being fastened with a rusty creak. Afterwards, several people naturally took out bowls and opened the sacks of grains. Everyone lined up for their share of grains and vegetables, looking rather accustomed to the scene. You might expect a scuffle over who gets more or complaints about wanting more, but everything proceeded quite orderly. Such a sight is rare in Zhongyuan. It was at that moment. "Look over there. Glance at them. Those folks." "Huh? Who?" "Those guys over there. You can just tell by looking at them—they’ve got a nasty demeanor." Qing followed the gaze of Rungjongdaein. Indeed, there were a few individuals who stood out. While it wasn’t clear if their demeanor was particularly nasty. They did stand out because, amid everyone’s ragged and disheveled look, they appeared relatively neat and tidy. Moreover, they weren’t even in line, merely standing at a distance, observing those receiving their rations. "Those scoundrels deserve to be fried in filth." "Who exactly are those guys?" "Those are the members of Jangyunpa, a gang. They can't seem to break old habits and are extorting so-called protection fees. What protection during such times? They look like they'd even gouge out a chick's eye." Jangyunpa is a common Unorthodox Faction. Banryong Street is a protruding street, surrounded on three sides by the steep slopes of Gongwang Mountain. Such steep slopes can become shortcuts for those who know how to navigate them, meaning mountain dwellers often used to sell their harvests at a sizable market there. And in Zhongyuan, wherever there’s a marketplace, there are martial artists collecting protection fees. Jangyunpa had made this area their turf. However, the region's quarantine led to Jangyunpa being stuck along with everyone else. "That doesn't make sense. They wouldn't have imposed a sudden blockade. Surely they would have alerted them to leave in advance?" "Ha. That’s the typical martial artist way. If your faction was warned about a blockade, would you simply walk out?" "True." "Plus, martial artists tend to think themselves capable of bypassing any laws. They likely thought they could ignore a quarantine." Jangyunpa might have believed they could ignore the quarantine, resting assured behind the premise of Immune Non-interference, or because they regularly paid off city officials, assuming they'd be the usual exception in policy. "Ridiculous. They act as if they're something like the prestigious Wudang Sect, but in this case, quarantine is a serious matter—a state affair involving the military. How do such small-time factions even think they can defy it?" “Actually, perhaps they didn’t have much choice either. Losing their territory as an Unorthodox Faction is akin to annihilation. Once their funds are cut and they lose their base, desertions start. Hence, it might have seemed better to stay forcibly within the quarantine zone.” That was Zhuge Leehyun’s comment. Though unsolicited. “So, what’s going to happen? Are those guys extorting protection fees from the sick?” “Exactly. So, I intended to confront them about it.” Qing was taken aback. Those Unorthodox Factions are often without principles or a future, so what’s an elderly man without martial skills doing confronting them? What if they harmed him? But Rungjongdaein merely smirked. "Those types are loud barkers but cowardly at heart. If it gets out that they’ve harmed Rungjongdaein, every faction in town will see it as a chance to settle old scores. What dare they do?" “But still, it’s risky.” “Anyhow, when I confronted their leader, he apologized and promised not to do it again.” “Really? They said they wouldn’t?” “I expected as much. But the scoundrels only say so for show. It’s pathetic watching people here ration food for a day’s worth of sustenance. No one admits the extortions are happening when I ask. Who can predict which knife-bearer might lash out?” It seems they've been secretly extorting after being told not to. In a completely sealed quarantine, who could possibly be more terrifying than those armed with swords? That’s why, despite obtaining and distributing food, people’s faces grow increasingly sallow from lack of nourishment. And even when asked if the Jangyunpa gangs have been taking it, fear keeps everyone firmly denying it, leaving no evidence. In the midst of these headaches, it happens that some young heirs of wealthy families have entered the city and are lavishly spending money. Troubles are as they are, but letting people starve isn’t an option. So, in the course of seeking donations, this is how it happened.