Chapter 21

A cold, cutting chill clung to Mujin’s retreating back, and Eunmyeong clicked his tongue in exasperation.

“Honestly… unbelievable.”

He had clasped Eunmyeong’s fingers however he pleased, only to drop them just as arbitrarily. Imagining himself sinking his teeth into those broad shoulders, Eunmyeong narrowed his eyes sharply.

“As if he’s the only one who knows how to get angry.”

It made no sense. At first the man hated even the slightest touch; now he acted as if he couldn’t bear to let anyone else touch him, either.

What am I, some kind of contaminant?

It wasn’t as if he spread disease—yet Mujin behaved as though he carried a plague. The moment Eunmyeong mentioned that he could guide others as well, the man’s eyes had sharpened so viciously it was as though he were looking at a beast devouring his own men.

It’s not like I’m doing this because I want to. If he dies, I die. That’s the only reason.

For no reason at all, Eunmyeong’s gaze trailed over Mujin’s back before he redirected his attention to Yuseong, who lay stretched out on the wooden floor.

Sensing his moment, Yuseong wriggled a finger. Like a newborn grasping for anything within reach, the boy cautiously wrapped his tiny hand around one of Eunmyeong’s fingers.

When Eunmyeong tried to pull away, the child clamped down firmly.

How is this kid so strong?

Startled by strength he hadn’t expected, Eunmyeong stared as the boy looked up at him with round, glistening eyes.

“You’re not going anywhere, right?”

Those innocent, pleading eyes put Eunmyeong in a bind. He had planned to quietly pass the child off to Namya, but looking at the boy now made even the thought feel like a terrible sin.

“Where would I go?”

“You can’t leave. Even if the Young Clan Head calls you.”

“Why would he call me? There’s nothing for him to call me for.”

“…He keeps staring at you…”

The boy mumbled while glancing toward the training grounds. Eunmyeong instinctively followed his gaze—and there he was. Mujin had already arrived, standing utterly still.

“What is wrong with him now.”

He had abandoned his training entirely just to stare their way. Even from afar the man didn’t seem to blink.

It felt absurdly like being a straying spouse caught cheating—one whose husband had already caught them several times before and could no longer trust them.

What nonsense.

Shooing away the ridiculous thought, Eunmyeong waved at Mujin, signaling him to go train already.

The boy, who had been watching their silent exchange closely, squeezed Eunmyeong’s hand tightly. A small whimper escaped him, as if begging for more attention.

“You only wave at the Young Clan Head… You really mustn’t leave.”

No matter how many times Eunmyeong reassured him otherwise, the boy refused to release his finger. It must have been the aftereffects of his first guiding—or that his waves hadn’t fully settled yet. Anyone else might have gently pried the child off by now, but Eunmyeong was helplessly weak when it came to children.

With no choice but to lend him a finger, Eunmyeong let energy flow gently as he replied,

“Even if he tells me to go, I won’t. Even if the Clan Head himself comes, I’m not leaving. Now close those eyes.”

Threatening him lightly, he watched as the boy obediently shut his eyes—only to crack them open again moments later out of anxiety. Eunmyeong let out a dry laugh.

“I can see you.”

“Ah—!”

With a small gasp, the boy squeezed his eyes tightly shut. His lashes fluttered a few more times before his body finally relaxed.

Holding the boy steady, Namya began inserting needles with practiced ease. Even for someone like Eunmyeong who could see inner energy at a glance, Namya’s medical skill remained startling.

He stabilizes waves this easily…

A rampage was what happened when the body couldn’t endure the storm of its own power. The lower one’s grade, the smaller their vessel—and overwhelming it caused the vessel to shatter. Guiding was a way to compress the overflowing waves to fit the vessel.

But the medical arts of this world were slightly different. Instead of compressing, they created pathways—letting excess waves flow out naturally, preventing the vessel from bursting altogether.

Through the newly opened channels, inner energy seeped out little by little. While Eunmyeong watched in quiet awe, Namya spoke softly.

“Eunmyeong.”

Still staring down at the child, Namya continued without turning his head.

“Every action has a cause, and every cause bears a consequence. All things in this world follow that law.”

It was an unusually solemn tone. Unable to grasp the meaning, Eunmyeong studied him carefully.

Did he figure it out?

Stopping the flow of energy sharply, he waited. But Namya went on.

“For rain to fall, the sea must first take in sunlight. For water to flow, the sky must first open. The body is no different.”

His fingers traced down from the child’s brow to the bridge of the nose. Eunmyeong could clearly see the waves shifting beneath Namya’s touch.

“To heal someone requires giving something of your own. And there is no act in this world that asks for no price.”

Namya’s hand traveled down the child’s arm until it reached the wrist Eunmyeong still held. He pressed precisely over the point where energy had flowed. Then he lifted his gaze to meet Eunmyeong’s.

“If you keep this up, your own body will wither.”

“…”

“Use it sparingly, whatever it is. Remember—nothing in this world is infinite.”

He covered Eunmyeong’s hand gently.

“You, too, were once this small… my child.”

Eunmyeong’s hand rested atop the child’s; Namya’s hand lay over his.

A quiet warmth spread through him—one he hadn’t felt since his mother passed away. For someone who barely remembered his father, the emotion hit even more strangely deep.

Staring at a face that resembled his own, he exhaled faintly. Until now, Namya had simply been another member of the Tang Clan—not a father, not someone significant.

He’s been worrying about me from the very beginning.

While Eunmyeong struggled to adapt to this world, while he kept Namya at arm’s length, the man had quietly watched over him—scolding, teasing, yet always protecting. It overlapped so vividly with the memory of his late mother that his chest tightened.

He must have realized I was guiding—but pretended not to see it.

“…I’ll try to use it in moderation.”

“Good. In the end it’s still your father who will have to treat you if you collapse.”

As if embarrassed by his own tenderness, Namya pulled away abruptly, his ears red.

“There you go again.”

“I’m being serious, boy. I’m the finest physician in the Tang Clan—where else would I send you?”

Muttering that the clan’s elders couldn’t keep their wits together, Namya clucked his tongue and began gathering the needles one by one.

As he grouped even the longest needles, he glanced at Eunmyeong—who still held the boy’s hand.

“So? Who do you like best?”

“…What?”

“You must pick one.”

The unexpected question made Eunmyeong’s eyes go wide.

Nothing in the world was more entertaining than watching a romance unfold—or so they said. But who knew his son’s love life would be this amusing? Namya’s eyes sparkled mischievously as he poked Eunmyeong’s waist.

“Come now. There must be someone your heart leans toward, hm?”

“There’s nothing like that!”

But Eunmyeong was no pushover. Shouting back, he darted a glance toward the training grounds.

Look at him. Still staring this way.

Mujin remained fixed on him, gaze unwavering. He might very well be listening to everything.

With his level of inner strength… he probably can.

In a wuxia world, anything was possible. If Eunmyeong let his guard down, Mujin could interrogate him again at any moment. He swatted Namya’s hand away and replied,

“What’s there to choose? They’re all good-looking.”

“…Hm?”

“And physicians are forbidden from dating their patients.”

Shamelessly forgetting all past behavior, Eunmyeong delivered the line with perfect righteousness.

“How dare anyone defile sacred healing.”

Namya let out a strangled laugh. His son truly was strange—more now than ever.

“You little brat.”

He flicked Eunmyeong’s forehead before saying briskly,

“Your father and mother were also patient and physician, you know.”

“…What? Father— wait, are you saying you were the patient?”

“I was the patient.”

What. Eunmyeong froze, struck speechless by the unexpected scandal. Why did anything involving Namya always twist into absurdity?

But Namya, lost in memory, murmured,

“I got hit a lot by your mother. So I fell ill quite often…”

There was no doubt—the author must have disliked Namya deeply. Eunmyeong strongly suspected it.

The next morning, Mujin’s side of the room was empty. Only neatly folded bedding remained.

He said he would dress me…

Yawning widely, Eunmyeong peered out the window. Warm sunlight poured into the room.

“Maybe I’ll lie down just a little longer…”

Like a cat drawn to warmth, he curled up in the sunlit patch. He should have gone out immediately for Mujin’s sake—but the moment he lay down, drowsiness pulled him under again.

He was exhausted from the previous night. He had guided Yuseong under Ujo’s sharp gaze, sorted herbs as the resident physician of the training grounds, soothed JEOngho who kept running in, and endured Mujin’s piercing stares throughout it all.

“Damn nuisances…”

Thinking of Jeongho and Yuseong clinging to him like unruly foals—and Mujin glowering behind them—made his head throb all over again. Pressing his palms over his eyes, he let out a groan.

The sound of the door sliding open broke the silence. Someone approached with quiet, steady footsteps.

It was Mujin.