808 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

[The Immortal Healer Who Conquers Thousand Diseases] "It seems like you're here to aid the great Master Lang Jung, but if you hand over the elixir to your side, wouldn’t they inspect it and try to create the same thing? If you recklessly distribute others’ medicines like that, how will any doctor be motivated to prescribe treatments?" "Are you saying you’d buy it to create a copy?" "Of course, some might dissect it to find the principles behind its efficacy, but a full-blown replication of the medicine?" "No way! Just because you taste a medicine doesn’t mean its ingredients pop into your head. What nonsense is that?" Even the result of a renowned chef’s dish is hard to decipher just by examining it, despite the ingredients being somewhat intact and each having their distinct texture, flavor, and aroma. If cooking is this complex, then how about medicinal prescriptions? Medicines, by nature, leave no trace of the original form of the ingredients. Many times, the herbs are already processed before being used. Some are dried and ground, others burnt to ash, some are juiced and solidified, while others are made by simmering in water... Pills are just aggregated powders, and decoctions are just the essence squeezed out through fine cloth. "Goodness, you shouldn’t try to snatch away others' livelihoods! Dismissing the ethics..." What ethics indeed? Why should a doctor speak of ethics? Sure, doctors are technically merchants who sell their medical expertise for profit. But doctors hold their own power. They’ve learned the difficult skill of holding someone's life in their hands, so even if it’s dirty and contemptible, the desperate will have no choice but to cling to them. "Enough. Just prescribe the medicine. You're staying for five days, right? Then you can personally check if the patients are getting better. Master Lang Jung won't interfere at all. Sir, is that okay with you? Yes. Let’s save people first. We’ll settle the payment according to the number of people treated before you leave. Does that work?" "I, I don’t accept payment later! What if you pretend you never took the medicine?" "Who do you take us for? Fine, I’ll give each patient ten taels to hand over directly when they get the medicine." "That’s, no, that won’t do either! I’m not selling it!" Qing’s forehead veins throb with irritation. She clenches and unclenches her fists unknowingly. "What’s this? Why won’t he sell even when offered the money?" "Khmm. Well, originally, um, you! Have you not heard the saying that fate, including life and death, is up to the heavens? Birth, old age, sickness, and death are all decided by the heavens, and so if someone dies from illness, is that not the heavens' will too? If they survive, then that is also the will of the heavens!" "What, is that something a doctor should say? Are you implying curing people defies the heavens, making it an act against fate?" "Exactly! Therefore, it requires sincere dedication to save someone without angering the heavens. If healing could be achieved with gold and silver thrown by some benefactor, would the heavens truly allow such fortune? No, heaven would instead send a more severe death upon them!" Silence descends over the audience at these absurd statements. Qing tries to process this. "So, all ailments are just one’s destiny or predetermined fate, and doctors curing them is an act against that fate?" "Exactly!" "And even if someone pays for a cure, the patient will suffer again unless they show devotion by themselves?" "Correct!" "So you suggest, instead of fooling around, one should obediently work by selling themselves?" "Precisely!" The man declares boldly, but then hesitates. "Khmm, not selling yourself exactly, but demonstrating devotion to healing the patient. Haven’t you heard of ‘Son Who Sold Himself’ (賣身葬父)? To move the heavens, one must showcase such sincerity." He seems quite fond of the story of ‘Son Who Sold Himself.’ Son Who Sold Himself (賣身葬父). Selling oneself to give a proper funeral for one’s fathers. About fifteen hundred years ago, there lived a poor but deeply filial man named Dongyeong. One day, his father passed away, and having no money for the funeral, Dongyeong went to a wealthy villager offering to be a servant in exchange for the funeral expenses. The deceased received a grand funeral while the living became a miserable slave. In the midst of this painful life, a stunning beauty suddenly appeared before Dongyeong and persistently proposed marriage. Under the relentless pursuit, Dongyeong agreed. This woman had extraordinary crafting skills! She unexpectedly gathered wild silkworms and started producing silk. It was a miracle of replicated silk. In just a month, selling the silk, she paid off all of Dongyeong’s debts, freeing him. Then, the woman proclaimed. “I am actually the daughter of the Jade Emperor. I helped you because of your admirable filial piety. Continue to live loyally, well, now you don’t have parents to serve... Anyway, you are free now, live well.” And she vanished into the heavens, leaving Dongyeong standing alone, staring up at the sky. What’s the moral of the story? If you want to win over a beauty, sell yourself first. Then the heavens will be moved and will bless you. To impress the heavens? Start by selling yourself. This advice doesn’t just apply to men. Even in Qing’s hometown, there’s the famous story of Simcheong, apart from the notorious Qing, Ximen Qing, who sold herself for her father. Anyway. By now, Qing gets it. This guy, his main job is in human trafficking, with being a doctor, shaman, or merchant as mere side gigs. The ten taels was just an excuse; he intended to take them away with contracts to sell as slaves. About trafficking, Qing isn’t sure, but they’re likely paid more than ten taels each. Qing let out a deep sigh, almost channeling superhuman patience. If the medicine hadn't been effective, she would have left right then and there. "Alright. I'll give you twenty gold taels." "Didn't you hear me? Even if someone else pays for the medicine, it'll only bring bad luck." "Thirty gold taels." "Whether it's thirty, forty, or even a hundred, it won't work. Do you think money can solve everything? It requires a heartfelt connection." At that moment, Qing grimly smirked beneath her mask. Her lips stretched into a sinister grin that reached her ears. This bastard... deserved to be executed. "Keke... You truly refuse the offer and want to drink the punishment?" Suddenly, Qing realized why the phrase "the cup of courtesy and the cup of punishment" existed. It was perfect for this situation. Qing began emanating a menacing aura, as if a mass of black lines was engulfing the surroundings. Despite her face being covered, the appearance of terrifying red eyes beneath a jagged grin resonated prominently. "Eek, sir! Sir!" The quivering charlatan stumbled backwards, falling on his backside before scrambling to hide behind a martial artist standing nearby. The middle-aged martial artist sighed deeply and reluctantly stepped forward. "...Stop." Qing rarely stopped once she got going. But she halted this time because the martial artist's virtue, though nearly nonexistent, still glowed faintly in light blue. "I regret this deeply. I don't particularly favor this man, but I've promised to protect him due to a favor he did for a dear friend. If a wandering martial artist lacks loyalty, they're no better than a thief. I've pledged my life to uphold my promise, so isn’t it right to honor it?" "Senior, this man exploits defenseless villagers under the guise of medicine and then goes so far as to sell them off. He’s a shameless villain!" "Khmm, this man's methods are filthy, but he isn't a fraud. The medicine is real. I've seen sick folk recover under his treatment." "But—" "Listen. Selling fake products is one thing, but pricing is up to the seller. If it’s unacceptable, don’t buy it. You might say the price is extortionate, but you can't force them to lower it. Although it's appalling for a doctor to overcharge for prescriptions, it's not against the law, is it?" The middle-aged martial artist wasn’t entirely wrong. There’s the issue of drug pricing and morality. Even in Qing's homeland, numerous horrific pharmaceutical companies would make demons ashamed. But legally, there’s no issue since the law doesn't enforce morality. Or perhaps they share their ill-gotten gains with lawmakers. But really, what’s the law to me? I’m a martial artist. Martial artists don’t abide by laws. It’s all about personal grievance. The best part about Zhongyuan is being able to take down bastards who thoroughly deserve it, earning praise for righteous action. "Senior, should a patient’s family sell themselves to save them? Their kin becomes a wretched servant while the patient cures their illness at such a cost. Both the patient and family weep in despair." "Khmm." "I did offer compensation. Who would pay thirty gold taels for villagers selling themselves? Yet, this man persists in selling them, not for profit but due to an ugly nature. How can one revel in others' despair unless they are truly vile?" "Hmm." "You speak of loyalty, but loyalty is meant for humans, not for despicable beasts." "Even if someone deserves to die, one must repay the favor. If I pick and choose who to keep my word with, is that true loyalty? This is my principle of loyalty, so don’t be too disheartened. Step aside." The middle-aged man drew his sword, revealing a faint, reddish aura emanating from it—Sword Qi—a sight that struck one’s heart. Wow, even the bodyguards of medicine sellers wield Sword Qi now? Just then. "Hold on a moment. I'm Leehyun from the Zhuge Noble Clan. Senior, may I know who you are?" "Zhuge Leehyun of the Fierce Minded Thunder? Khmm, I’m called Ojeokhwan." Qing momentarily hesitated. Three, two, one. Hmm, if he wields Sword Qi, he must be famous. "Ojeokhwan!" "Dueling Mace!" "Dueling Mace!" The chorus of voices confirmed he was indeed well-known. Qing tilted her head slightly, preparing to listen to the eager explanation from Zhuge Leehyun, who leaned in to whisper. "Esteemed sister, this is the renowned Dueling Mace, Ojeokhwan. It’s said he’s at the Transcendent Realm..." Dueling Mace, Ojeokhwan. One day while traveling, Ojeokhwan was shown kindness by a couple in a village. Unfortunately, the next day, he received devastating news that their child had been mauled by a tiger. To repay their kindness, Ojeokhwan vowed to avenge their child's death, relentlessly tracking the tiger for a year until avenging it, earning him the title “Dueling Mace,” the tiger-slaying swordsman. So it made sense that he spoke of loyalty. Even if his virtue was just a single point, it was an invaluable one. Qing embraced the situation and cupped her hands in respect. "Ah, so it’s the esteemed Dueling Mace. I am Ximen Qing of the martial realm, greeting you, senior." "Ah. Were you the Heavenly Flower?" Ojeokhwan revealed a troubled expression. Heavenly Flower? Yes, it's rumored that she’s the brightest star of the Murim Alliance, a disciple of the Divine Maiden Sect (forbidden to men), said to have shattered the youngest Transcendent record... "Peng Daesan." "...Tang Nanah here." The introductions continued, bringing further confusion. Why would scions of the Five Great Clans be gathered in such a remote place? Generally, friends flock to those of similar standing, and while it makes sense for them to socialize among themselves, why here of all places? Nevertheless, loyalty is loyalty. No matter how reprehensible an adversary might be, one should repay kindness when indebted. It's not some grand belief. A martial artist without loyalty is no different from a highway robber, possibly even more dangerous and bloodthirsty. Ojeokhwan solidified his resolve. In gratitude for saving his friend’s life, he would save the life of this scoundrel, as he's done in the past. Thus, Ojeokhwan opened his mouth to speak. "...Even for a person like this, spare his life. If you promise that, I won’t intervene any further." "Ah, would it be okay if I beat him until he spits out the medical formula and cut off his hands to prevent any future abuse of his medical skills?" Ojeokhwan nodded in agreement. At the very least, by sparing his life, he felt he’d sufficiently balanced the debt.