Chapter 809: The Medical Immortal Who Conquers All Diseases: the Divine Doctor of the Life-and-Death Pill (5)

It was a dramatic agreement.

Too bad the actual party involved—Taepyeongja—was left out.

Of course, Taepyeongja felt wronged.

“Elder! Wh-what do you mean by that! You clearly promised you’d spare my life at least once, no matter what!”

“Didn’t I spare it? One wrist is pretty mild, isn’t it?”

At that, Qing shot a hand up.

“Ah, Senior. Sorry, but it’s not one wrist. I’m planning to take both. If you get caught running a scam, losing your wrists is the law of the land, right?”

“Was there a law like that? Still, isn’t that too harsh? At minimum, you should let him hold a spoon with his own hand.”

“Uh, then I’ll cut off one wrist and one ankle.”

“Hm. Fine. That way he can eat and still move around on his own. Do it to that extent.”

Another dramatic settlement!

Taepyeongja practically sprang into the air, then threw himself down, grabbed Ojeokhwan’s trouser leg, and clung to it.

“No, Elder! Why are you doing this? Did this lowly one offend you somehow...?”

“No—why are you so dull? Fine. Let’s say we fight to the death. First off, I’ll probably lose. If I can’t even guarantee the outcome in a one-on-one with the Heavenly Flower Sword, then how much more so when she isn’t even alone?”

“B-but—”

“Say I win by some stroke of luck and we scrape past the immediate crisis. Can you call that ‘you lived’? The Five Great Families, and the entire righteous martial world, will hunt you down.”

Taepyeongja’s face drained white.

“Whether I step in and win or I step in and lose, you die. But these juniors are trying to preserve this worthless senior’s face, so they’re saying they’ll at least spare your life. Then haven’t I saved your life?”

“Th-that...!”

“Have you never heard the saying in the martial world to beware children, women, and the elderly? If a sword-bearing woman steps forward in a place like this, you should have known to watch yourself and keep it moderate. Even aside from that, just looking at how you act, I figured you’d get cut down sooner or later. You should have kept your greed moderate, too. Well—given the gold and silver you’ve earned so viciously, go live by ordering people around with the fortune you piled up. If you have money, how inconvenient can it really be to lack one wrist and one ankle?”

From the sound of it, Ojeokhwan hadn’t liked Taepyeongja in the first place.

Even so, he’d stepped in as an escort to repay the price of a friend’s life—really the sort of posture you’d expect from a great knight-errant famed for honor and fidelity.

Though... hm. Is this actually honor and fidelity? Or not?

“Still, if I’m giving you one piece of advice—don’t beg me. Beg over there.”

“Aaaah, Great Hero, this lowly one has committed a grave sin! I’ll give you all the medicine I have! From now on, with a repentant heart—yes, I will spend my whole life caring for the sick and suffering!”

Maybe Ojeokhwan’s advice had punch, because Taepyeongja immediately started slamming his head toward Qing.

But, well?

Qing had something like a clear conviction—an iron standard she’d defined in her chest.

Regret was only regret. It was never atonement.

All it meant was that you suffered a loss and realized your past choice had been wrong—not that you understood it had been a sin in the first place.

“That’s a given. Now hand over the prescription, too.”

Beating Taepyeongja senseless would be fun, but wasn’t that the realm of hobby?

The most important thing was the cure’s prescription.

Whether it worked was already a special-effect cure the Tiger-Slaying Saber guaranteed, and as for ingredient cost—money was overflowing. If she only knew how it was made, this chaos could be resolved in one stroke.

Of course, she would still collect the wrists and the ankle.

After she got the prescription, and after she verified whether it was real or not.

If she cut him first, he could hold a grudge and tamper with the prescription.

And after he relaxed, thinking he’d saved his wrists and ankle, it sounded satisfying to start cutting slowly—just imagining his face twisting.

But Taepyeongja’s answer was—

“Th-that... that can’t be done...”

“What? You won’t hand over the prescription? Fine, having backbone isn’t the worst thing. Wrist? Ankle? Where should I start cutting? I’ll carve you into a cute little star shape—”

“That’s not it! It’s not that!”

Taepyeongja hesitated, watching her.

Qing took a single step forward, and only then did he flinch and spit out an excuse in panic.

“Th-the prescription—actually, the Hua Tuo Origin-Restoring Pellet isn’t a medicine this lowly one made...”

Qing’s brow creased again.

A bad feeling crawled up her spine.

“Hm. You’re doing shaman bullshit, right? Like, Hua Tuo’s ghost possessed you, so you made it?”

“No! It’s just—this lowly one only received the medicine as instructed, and in place of the medicine price, I gathered people and brought them...”

*****

Inside the warehouse, Taepyeongja was bound tight with rope, kneeling.

Qing and her group, the Lord Physician, and even the Tiger-Slaying Saber Ojeokhwan had formed a circle around him.

One extra person had slipped in, but since Ojeokhwan had decided to spare Taepyeongja’s life, he insisted on witnessing it with his own eyes.

“I originally made my living with pill-refining, preparing and selling various tonics—”

“Are you not going to speak straight? You’re a medicine peddler. You’re saying you made fake medicine and sold it, aren’t you?”

“Th-that—It isn’t fake. If a person believes from the heart and takes it, then it becomes medicine, isn’t that so? In that sense, my medicine isn’t fake—”

“TSK.”

“Th-truly. Even ordinary medicinal spring water—if you believe and drink it, it becomes a tonic and restores vitality. In that respect, we do our best, I’m telling you.”

You make the strongman performer hype them up so they’re convinced, plant shills to steer the mood, feed the medicine to a prepped patient so they “get up,” and make the effect ride on faith and certainty...

“Who said I was curious? Your rambling is long.”

Honestly, it was a little fun, so she wanted to hear more—but it wasn’t like she could keep listening forever.

Taepyeongja was a wandering medicine peddler.

By his claim, he at least didn’t brew harmful medicine and sell it.

Other guys mixed in poppy resin or poisonous mushrooms—stuff that made you instantly woozy so it looked like the medicine “kicked in”—but he insisted he strictly used only herbs that wouldn’t harm you even if you swallowed them.

Of course, listening to him, everyone was thinking, This bastard probably brewed and sold harmful crap nine times out of ten, but anyway.

While Taepyeongja was wandering like that, one day someone approached him and asked if he wanted to run a big business.

“You left out the important part. Who?”

“Even I don’t know. He said he was someone called Cheonseoyu from the land of Beijing, but obviously he made it up, didn’t he?”

“No—some stranger you don’t even know starts talking about a ‘big business,’ and you accepted?”

“Heh heh. Who’s going to bother swindling a tiny medicine peddler like me? There’s nothing to squeeze out of people like that.”

Medicine peddlers are basically poor.

They don’t make much money in the first place.

City people have seen plenty of medicine peddlers, so they don’t fall for it. If the strongman performer’s tricks are entertaining, they’ll buy maybe one item as the price of the show—and even then, once you hand a big cut to the performer, there’s nothing left.

Country bumpkins fall for it easily, but they’re poor, so there’s no money.

So even swindlers don’t bother targeting medicine peddlers.

That’s why—if someone brings up “business” to a medicine peddler, it means there’s a big score, and they want to use your face to run it.

Wandering peddlers can just sell their face, grab one haul, and disappear, can’t they?

Qing thought.

Mm. Karma never lies.

“Heh heh. Still, I, Taepyeongja, would’ve refused if it were truly wicked work. But he said there was a special cure for the Bai Smallpox that’s going around, and that the job was to sell it in his stead.”

They needed a lot of slaves, so if Taepyeongja accepted people in place of the medicine price and sent them along, they’d pay him generously—and promise to supply even more medicine in the future.

He’d been profiting nicely from it.

He toured cities and villages, and then finally—Kunming.

When Qing stepped forward and said she’d buy all the medicine—said she’d pay the full ten nyang per dose, inflated price and all—Taepyeongja almost screamed in ecstasy.

Inside, it was I hit the jackpot, cheering held back a millionfold, fighting to keep his expression in check for a moment—

And then Qing didn’t just buy everything he had. She told him to make more.

Taepyeongja wasn’t someone who could craft the cure.

He was just selling it after getting it cheap.

So what could he do?

Sadly—he had to give up.

But Qing didn’t give up.

Worse—Qing was the kind of person who drew her sword the moment words didn’t work.

And so, in the end, this is what happened.

“I told you everything...”

Silence hovered over the group.

Because it wasn’t just that the full outline of a subcontracted scam had been revealed.

Something stank.

It was the smell of a plot.

“So—some bastards have a prescription cure for the strange plague, and they’re using it as bait to gather people, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes!”

“Hm. Good.”

“Then...”

Hope lit in Taepyeongja’s eyes.

Qing nodded and said,

“Which do you like—water, fire, or both? Pick whatever suits your taste.”

“...What do you mean...?”

“I’m telling you to choose whether you’ll drown or burn. If you choose both, I’ll boil you alive.”

Even bound, Taepyeongja shot up a full inch.

As he stared with bulging eyes—shock and terror spilling out—his face pleased Qing to her core.

And then Ojeokhwan stepped in, blocking her view of Taepyeongja.

“Heavenly Flower Sword. Isn’t this different from the promise?”

“E-Elder...!”

“Senior. Isn’t there no longer any reason for you to defend this swindler? This guy wasn’t a Therapist or anything to begin with, which means you were deceived too, so if that’s the case, honor and fidelity don’t even—”

“No. That isn’t it. Whether he’s a Therapist or a swindler, whether he made the medicine or picked it up somewhere, none of that matters. My friend lived because of the medicine this man provided, so I’m only repaying the price of that life.”

“Elder...!”

Taepyeongja looked at Ojeokhwan’s back as he stood guarding the front, and saw a vast mountain.

But it was only for a moment.

“So, as promised—cut one wrist and one ankle, and end it there. I ask it of you.”

“Elder...?”

“Hm. Then—after that? If I run into him later, can I kill him then?”

“Well. I can’t take responsibility for his whole life, can I.”

“Then if I let him go and immediately capture him again?”

“Isn’t that a bit much? You have to give him time to leave so you can say you spared him.”

“One day?”

“Give him three. He’ll only have one ankle, after all.”

“Yes. Three days. Hey—did you hear that?”

“S-spare me...!”

As Taepyeongja slammed his head down while bound, Qing let a line slip, casual.

“Depends on you, I guess. First—where did you sell the people? If you’re holding slave papers, they don’t just vanish with a pop. There has to be somewhere you brought them, and bastards who come collect them.”

They were people who sold their bodies for their father, for their mother—or for their child—or for their brothers and sisters.

Of course, since they’d confirmed Taepyeongja’s little tricks, there surely hadn’t been any coercion or threats in the process—just the pure choice of the individual.

A foolish choice, too.

Even if the sick person recovered, could a life gained by selling your family ever be happy?

But those who chose to sacrifice themselves to save their family could not be allowed to end up wretched.

Because—hm. Do you even need a reason?

There’s one true expert here, and three lesser ones besides.

And that’s not all.

If she pried out the prescription, she could crush the strange plague, too.

And while she was at it—she could slice up some filthy bad guys, pull out some guts, splash herself with blood—yeah. She’d been starving for a long time.

She’d run wild once in the Forbidden City, sure, but—no. That didn’t count.

What Qing wanted wasn’t a life-or-death battle against a strong opponent, or a duel with a worthy rival.

Ah—she wanted to rip weak villains apart into shreds! She wanted to tease and torment people weaker than her!

It was a humble wish she had dozens of times a day.

And now this intense premonition—how was she supposed to endure it?