“People who take such kindness for granted are rare. Woon Ji-sang, I must stay here to treat these patients. Transporting them is out of the question until their conditions are stabilized. What are your orders?” “The Un-ryong Pyoguk does not abandon its comrades. Half of us will remain here with you. Please, see to the injured. I will repay this debt when I return.” With that, Woon Ji-sang turned to face Choi Min-jun. “And you, young one. I do not know who you are, but I will see that this favor is repaid to you as well.” He pulled Choi Min-jun into a deep hug. The sight of a man well over two meters tall and built like a bear embracing a small child was absurd, yet no one laughed. This was a debt owed by the Un-ryong Pyoguk, and there was no one in the Gangho who didn't understand the weight of those words. Woon Ji-sang departed soon after. Of the twenty-two who had arrived, twelve now left, and ten remained. Choi Min-jun watched them go, his thoughts churning. The Un-ryong Pyoguk, Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon, and I’m speaking and understanding this unfamiliar language so naturally… It seems I’ve really entered the world of my own novel. Ha, this is insane… Choi Min-jun betrayed none of his inner turmoil, but his strength was spent. His legs began to tremble, and he sank to the ground. What’s wrong with my legs? No matter how he tried, he couldn’t muster any strength in them. Then his hands began to shake. Only then did he truly register the state his body was in. Just muscle spasms from extreme tension. I pushed myself too hard today. He had been on high alert all day, forcing a child’s body through one strenuous trial after another. It was a familiar feeling; novice surgeons often experienced similar tremors after a long, difficult operation. He sat for a moment, focusing on taking deep, steadying breaths. The trembling subsided. In the distance, he saw a large, sturdy tent being erected, a far cry from the makeshift shelter he had constructed. Embroidered on its canvas was the emblem of the Un-ryong Pyoguk. I’m alive…? For the first time, with absolute clarity, Choi Min-jun realized the truth of it. “I’m alive…” he muttered, watching the last sliver of the sun vanish below the horizon. “You pushed yourself too hard, Master. You didn’t need to come all this way…” A man with handsome, fox-like features spoke to Jae-Gal Seo-jun. They were inside a carriage, though it was unlike any ordinary carriage. The interior was surprisingly spacious, and a small fireplace was even installed against one wall, a steady fire burning within. A kettle sat upon the hearth, its contents boiling vigorously. The fox-like man lifted the lid, dipped a towel inside, and pulled it out with bare hands, not even flinching at the heat. He wrung it out expertly before gently laying it over Jae-Gal Seo-jun’s face. Before the towel had covered it, his master's face was ashen, pale as a corpse. If Choi Min-jun had seen it, he would have exclaimed in recognition. It’s just like the carriage in the novel! Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon’s mobile clinic and sanctuary! And what a sanctuary it was. The interior was a rectangular space of roughly four pyeong, spacious enough for a long couch to be installed along the left wall, designed for Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon to recline and rest in comfort. “I had no choice. I owe a great deal to the Un-ryong Pyoguk. Saving his younger brother today should settle the matter.” “You mean Dam Ja-Gang?” “Indeed. The deaths of the others are a pity… but it cannot compare to the loss of a brother.” “So, with this, your debt is repaid.” “If you wish to see it that way, then yes.” Looking at Jae-Gal Seo-jun, his face still covered by the steaming towel, the handsome man sighed. “Still, you overexerted yourself. You know the strain of extending your senses, of reading every failing pulse from a distance…” “I know, but what could I do? When my family’s ancestral home was in peril, it was the leader of the Un-ryong Pyoguk who sheltered me. If I were to ignore his plea, I could not live with myself.” “Hmm… Master, you are truly…” The fox-like man, whose name was Yoo Tae-ho, reached out with sympathetic eyes and retrieved the towel. He dipped it back into the boiling water and placed it once more on Jae-Gal Seo-jun’s face. “I don’t have much time left. For one who was meant to die young, living past the age of forty is a miracle in itself.” “Why must you say things you know I despise hearing?” Yoo Tae-ho asked, his expression pained as he tended to the towel. “I find myself wanting to take on a disciple.” “Master…” “It’s true. I had planned to leave no successor, but my heart was moved.” “Is the child truly worthy of it?” Jae-Gal Seo-jun gave a slight nod. “I wish to speak with him tomorrow. Can you make the arrangements?” Yoo Tae-ho bit his lip but soon nodded. “I will do as you command. But…” “I know. Raising a disciple is no easy task. It will likely shorten what little lifespan I have left.” “Then why?” Yoo Tae-ho grumbled, dropping the towel back into the kettle. “That child is worth the cost.” “Sigh… I am a simple man; I do not understand. All I wish is for you to live a long life, Master. That is all.” “Yes. I know your heart.” A faint smile touched Jae-Gal Seo-jun’s lips. But Yoo Tae-ho knew that look. Once his master’s mind was set, his stubbornness was absolute. Why would he go to such lengths for this boy? Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon, the greatest physician in the world… His own heart ached at the thought. Yoo Tae-ho could only hope that the child, whether he understood the sacrifice or not, would realize what an extraordinary chance he was being given. The air was thick with the scent of herbs, a fragrance that reminded Choi Min-jun of the apothecaries of his youth. He groaned, trying to push himself up. “Please, lie still.” At the sound of the low voice, Choi Min-jun forced his heavy eyelids open. Before him stood Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon, flanked by several members of the escort bureau. It was a strange sight—a group of powerful men surrounding a skinny child—but their expressions were all uniformly serious. Wow… his gaze is so intense… Choi Min-jun felt a cold sweat break out on his skin. He was in a building, lying on one of several beds arranged in a large room. On another bed nearby lay the boy he had treated—the future Demon King, Yeo Ha-ryun. Where are the other two? As he glanced around, Choi Min-jun asked cautiously, “Where… is this?” “One of the Un-ryong Pyoguk’s properties. We transported you here while you were sleeping.” Choi Min-jun looked at the man who had spoken, the one standing closest to him. He was strikingly handsome, with sparkling silver hair tied back neatly. Wow, he really looks like a celebrity up close. I wonder if Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon is older or younger than I am… As a modern Korean, his first instinct was to sort out the age hierarchy, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He was in the body of a child; arguing about seniority would be absurd. Still, he speaks to me so politely, even though I’m just a kid. He truly is a class act. Having grown up on martial arts novels, Choi Min-jun was used to characters who treated their juniors with disdain. This man was different, a true sage and physician. He was a man of many secrets, not some disposable side character. The physician briefly recounted what had transpired while Choi Min-jun was unconscious. Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon had completed the treatments himself, but he explained that without Choi Min-jun’s emergency intervention, all three patients would have perished. In short, it was no exaggeration to say that Choi Min-jun had saved them. They would suffer no major side effects, and he had earned the gratitude not only of the Un-ryong Pyoguk but of the Gongson family as well. “Uh… Gongson?” “Yes. Do you recall the young woman you saved, the one with the sword at her waist?” “Ah, yes.” The three patients: one child, one middle-aged man, and one young woman. “She is a daughter of the Gongson family, serving as a registrar for the Un-ryong Pyoguk. If not for you, she might have…” Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon’s words trailed off, but his meaning was clear to everyone in the room. Hearing this, Choi Min-jun felt a little dazed. The Gongson family. They’re introduced much later in the story. I just saved her because she was dying… She’s from an important bloodline? Given their gratitude, she must be from the main family, not a side branch. Perhaps it was because the novel was so long, or perhaps it was his lingering grogginess, but it took him a moment for the memories to surface. As far as Choi Min-jun recalled, the Gongson family was a clan bound by blood. But like any great family, there was a stark difference in status between the direct and collateral lines. It was a common trope in martial arts novels—and, for that matter, in reality. Finishing his thoughts, Choi Min-jun slowly began to sit up. Despite the aches in his body, he felt he should stand to speak with them. A man next to him moved to help, supporting his arm. Glancing over, he saw it was the handsome man with clear, intelligent eyes. That must be Yoo Tae-ho, Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon’s assistant. He recognized him from the novel’s description of his unusual, striking eyes. Once he was standing steadily, Choi Min-jun faced Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon. “No, I only offered what mediocre skills I have. I am simply glad I was able to help.” I’m still trying to process everything, but for now, being polite is the best course of action, he thought, maintaining a serious demeanor. He didn’t notice the way Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon’s eyes glinted with interest at his response. “First,” Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon said, “a token of gratitude. The Gongson family sent this to repay their debt to you.” With a soft clack, he unlatched a wooden box and lifted the lid. The redwood was carved with the image of a pine tree, the symbol of the Gongson family, though the emblem meant nothing to Choi Min-jun. The moment the box opened, a refreshing fragrance filled the room, as clean and crisp as the air in a pine forest at dawn. Everyone in the room, save for Choi Min-jun, gasped. “Baek Song-hwan!” It was a legendary medicinal pill, created by gathering the needles from a pine tree over a century old, said to contain the very life force of the ancient tree itself. While not as potent as the mythical Cheon Song-dan, made from the essence of a thousand-year-old pine, the Baek Song-hwan was still a priceless treasure. It was valued not only for its incredible restorative properties but also for its ability to significantly enhance a martial artist’s inner strength.

Chapter 4: Weight of a Dragon's Word