Chapter 180

Chapter 180
**Chapter 180: The Blank Prescription**

As the commotion swelled, the Young Manor Lord finally stepped forward to show himself. He swept his gaze across the gathered crowd, his expression settling into one of sudden, clear realization.

“I knew things would come to this. Quite the entertaining turn of events, wouldn’t you agree?”

From where the Young Manor Lord stood, he could hardly see it any other way. Two individuals had each come forward claiming to be a disciple of the world’s greatest Divine Physician, both offering to treat his stricken father.

“Young Manor Lord! With this woman right here already present, what were you thinking letting that fraud inside?”

The so‑called Little Physician bore the family name Yeo. Clearly, he was pretending to be the son or grandson of the Divine Physician Ye Mi‑seong. There was no point entertaining the idea he was genuine, or that this was some long‑hidden secret from a past life. If he truly were, there would never have been someone else stepping forward a decade later claiming to carry on the Divine Physician’s legacy.

The Divine Physician Ye Mi‑seong had died all alone, with no one to tend to him. Had it been otherwise, a stranger would never have come into possession of his medical manual. In short, even if this man really were his descendant, he had never inherited any of his healing arts. Of that there could be no doubt.

*But damn, the boy certainly has nerve pointing fingers like that.*

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth—he turned the very same tactic back around.

“Young Manor Lord! Drive this con artist out at once! How dare he falsely claim to be a disciple of the world’s greatest Divine Physician!”

—Brother, please!
—I’ve done wrong. Whatever it is you think I’ve done, I admit it—so can’t you just back off?

Good grief, my ears are throbbing. Why is he carrying on so? To the boy and Chui‑dal, no doubt this looked like nothing more than empty bravado.

*Listen closely: you have to bluff boldly before you ever lay your cards on the table.*

Think of this whole situation as a gambling den. Yang‑hui and his opponent were each insisting they held an unbeatable hand. Chui‑dal and the boy knew Yang‑hui’s cards were worthless, and so they were frantic. The truth was, though, their opponent’s hand was just as worthless. If it turned out to be trash pitted against trash instead of trash against a winner, our chances actually looked far better. The reasoning was straightforward: force them to fold before they could show anyone what they held.

“Young Manor Lord, as you well know, this Little Physician comes with Jeomchang’s personal guarantee. He is the true successor, the one who inherited everything from the Divine Physician Ye. But this young hero…?”

He had noticed it all along—this Neung‑o had a truly infuriating way of choosing his words. He sounded less like a martial artist and more like some smooth‑tongued beggar. Right now, rather than saying anything outright critical, he let his words trail off, leaving listeners to fill in the gaps with their own doubts and darkest suspicions. The man was genuinely skilled in the art of persuasion.

“To state it plainly once more: this young master claims to be a disciple of the Divine Physician Ye.”

“Could you not at least tell us your name?”

Looking ahead, revealing his name was the last thing he should do. And as luck would have it, he now had the perfect excuse.

“With someone standing against me who carries the backing of the Nine Great Sects, how could I possibly give my name? I have no wish to invite trouble upon myself later.”

The backing of the Nine Great Sects—by itself, that could have made him seem a liar. Yet at the same time, it provided perfect justification for keeping his identity hidden.

“If you had nothing to hide, you would declare your name openly and proudly, would you not?”

*Excellent. That is exactly the response I expected. I would have been disappointed had it been otherwise.*

“We are all watching you vouch for a swindler right before our eyes. What is the meaning of this?”

He let out a short, disdainful snort, as if their words were unworthy of trust, then turned back to the Young Manor Lord.

“Young Manor Lord! I say this plainly: that man is a fraud! And I can prove my own claim whenever you wish!”

“And just how do you intend to do that?”

“There is only one true way to prove I am a disciple of the Divine Physician: through medicine itself! Let me feel the patient’s pulse, and I will treat the Manor Lord immediately!”

The Little Physician shouted as though he could not possibly lose.

“I will do the same! I will show you what I can do and prove you wrong!”

*The stage is set. Now it falls to the Young Manor Lord to decide.*

Logically, he ought to trust the Little Physician, who had the backing of the Nine Great Sects, and have the other man thrown out. Yet three separate sects had sent representatives—surely he could not fail to see what that signified.

*Confound those Nine Great Sects. They certainly do not lack for friends, do they? They always gather allies for every little thing, as though they could not handle anything on their own.*

Put politely, they excelled at forming alliances; said plainly, it was just the powerful ganging up to crush the weak. Worse yet, unlike the Five Great Clans, they seemed entirely unaware they were doing so.

From appearances, Jeomchang was taking the lead. Ami and Cheongseong had likely sent people purely out of concern for Jin Yeong‑gil. They had simply agreed to come along when Jeomchang suggested offering help to fellow residents of Sichuan, never stopping to consider their presence placed Jin Manor under considerable pressure. Living deep in the mountains appeared to have left them naive and oblivious to the ways of the wider world.

In any case, the Nine Great Sects were fully convinced their cause was always righteous and just—and most of the time, it was. But when it was not, those who suffered had no recourse at all.

The Young Manor Lord fell silent for a moment, then spoke.

“I have every faith in the Little Physician, whom Jeomchang has endorsed as a disciple of the Divine Physician. That being said, since matters have reached this point, why not make some use of that other man as well?”

Neung‑o stood beside the frowning Little Physician, watching the Young Manor Lord with an unreadable expression.

The Young Manor Lord continued.

“The Little Physician is already scheduled to perform a great service for our manor in the days ahead. In return, we would like to show our gratitude by giving him the chance to shine all the brighter. A contest of medical skill between a genuine disciple of the Divine Physician and an imposter—do you not think the entire realm would watch with great interest?”

*Ah. I always knew the Young Manor Lord was sharp. He cannot openly say he doubts the Nine Great Sects’ endorsement, so he has arranged a stage all his own.*

In this way, not even the sects could object—after all, it was being presented as an occasion to enhance the Little Physician’s reputation, to make the most of it.

“What say you to this arrangement? We will allow the time it takes for one stick of incense to burn. Each of you will examine the patient and write out a prescription. Then we will show both to the hundred physicians gathered here from every corner of Sichuan.”

He spoke first.

“Excellent! This will prove Baek Mo’s innocence to the entire world—and bring us great renown into the bargain, hahaha!”

It was a roundabout way of saying that anyone truly innocent would have no reason to refuse.

“…I accept as well.”

The Little Physician glanced subtly at Neung‑o, then nodded. In that moment, he and the Young Manor Lord were allies. More precisely, the Young Manor Lord was using the obvious fraud—meaning me—as a pawn to keep the Nine Great Sects in check. But so what?

There it was. I had turned a crisis into an opportunity with perfect ease. And now I could examine the patient immediately.

—See? A crisis is nothing more than an opportunity in disguise.
—How exactly is this an opportunity?!
—Brother… even I cannot stand beside you this time…

*Ah, fools. It is time to show you what I am truly capable of.*

“When would you like us to begin, Young Manor Lord?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

That would mean assembling all those physicians from across Sichuan—and in just a single day?

*Ah, I see. The Young Manor Lord has been growing on me. He has been gathering them all along.*

“There is no need for elaborate preparations! Today will suit me perfectly!”

He finished with a broad grin directed at the Little Physician. Beside him, Neung‑o maintained exactly the same expression as before—not blank, but beginning to feel somewhat unsettling.

*That man has the makings of a master strategist. There is something about him, a quiet persistence, that suggests he will go far in life. Why do I have no memory of him, though? The same is true of A-du—I never heard her name either. Perhaps their paths were cut short, or circumstances intervened. Besides, in my past life, I never once crossed paths with Jeomchang.*

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

The illness afflicting Jin Yeong‑gil, one of the Three Great Tycoons of the World, went by the name Myeonggeum Syndrome. True to its title, it struck only those who possessed wealth beyond measure—the very rich. No one cherished their own health more than those of great fortune. As a result, the condition was well‑known among healers, yet Jin Yeong‑gil had been unable to find a cure.

The reason was simple: his case did not respond to any standard treatment. Fundamentally, this was not truly an illness at all—it was something far stranger. What was the distinction? Straightforward: a disease originates within the body; a strange affliction arises when evil qi invades it. Hence the name—ordinary physicians, ignorant of the ways of qi, saw only an inexplicable sickness.

Curing Myeonggeum Syndrome in its true form required spirit medicines embodying the most extreme yin and yang energies. Nothing overly rare—for extreme yang, a century‑old wild ginseng would suffice. The key lay in having a martial artist versed in Taoist techniques channel those energies to burn away the invading evil qi. In other words, a remedy so simple and affordable it would cost next to nothing—yet the wealthy had suffered and died through sheer ignorance. When the truth became known, people would find it impossible not to scoff. They had spent vast fortunes seeking cures, only to learn the solution was cheap and readily available. How would anyone bear that realization?

Such was the nature of Myeonggeum Syndrome—easily cured, even as a strange affliction. In my past life, I had treated a wealthy client suffering from it simply to pass the time; it was by no means incurable. But…

*Myeonggeum Syndrome. Yet this is no ordinary strange affliction.*

He looked down at the emaciated figure lying before him. Jin Manor’s guards surrounded him, their gazes sharp as drawn blades, some holding their swords ready at his throat. He paid them no mind, reaching out to take the patient’s wrist and feel his pulse.

*I sensed it through my qi perception, but touching him confirms it. Ha… haha.*

He found himself laughing in disbelief. Every physician who had studied Myeonggeum Syndrome had asked the same question: the condition had only appeared some twenty years prior—where had it come from? Why did it strike only the wealthy?

*No wonder no one found the cause. It was never a natural illness at all. It was sabotage, from the very beginning.*

“Young Master Baek, your time for examining the patient has passed. Write out your prescription now.”

Instead of reaching for brush and ink, he folded his arms and stood thinking. Outside the circle, he could hear the murmurs of the assembled physicians—and beyond them, spectators packed every available space, turning Jin Manor’s outer courtyard into a bustling marketplace.

*What should I do?*

Since he did not write, a mood of mockery began to spread. The Little Physician smirked, self‑satisfied. Disappointment clouded the faces of the nun from Ami and the Taoist from Cheongseong. Through it all, Neung‑o remained entirely impassive.

“Your time is up.”

The Young Manor Lord set a sheet of blank paper down before him. The Little Physician had examined the patient first; now their prescriptions would be compared, and the winner decided.

“One paper is blank. The outcome is clear for all to see.”

That was the moment. Yang‑hui rose abruptly to his feet, his voice ringing out across the crowd.

“My name is Baek Yang‑hui! Eldest young master of the Heaven‑Covering Baek Clan of Gangseo! In my youth, I had the privilege of meeting the Divine Physician—and I dared to ask him to take me as his disciple!”

—Brother?! Why are you telling them your name now?!
—No, of all the moments to make a fool of yourself—what are you thinking?!

He paid no attention to Chui‑dal and Baek Heon‑so, continuing to speak.

Neung‑o stepped forward, his expression as composed as ever.

“So we finally learn the identity of our would‑be savior. But why submit a blank prescription and then step forward like this?”

“The prescription is blank for a reason! The illness that plagues Manor Lord Jin Yeong‑gil cannot be cured by medicine alone!”

The crowd responded with indifference—naturally. Who would take the word of a man who had written nothing but excuses?

Then he played his trump card.

*Whether our hand is strong or not, we will play it as though it is unbeatable. It is time to raise the stakes to their limit.*

“Every word I speak is the unvarnished truth! The Tang Clan will vouch for me!”

“The Tang Clan?”
“Why would the Tang Clan get involved now…?”

“The Tang Clan—masters of the most renowned medical and poison arts in all of Sichuan, and known throughout the realm.”

One might wonder why Jin Manor had not already summoned them. Political considerations, most likely—reasons that made it impossible.

*Jin Manor’s political troubles are not my concern.*

Indeed, they might well be delighted to hear from him.

“Send word to the Tang Clan! Tell them my name—and the Young Clan Leader will come himself. Once he arrives, I will explain everything further.”

The Young Manor Lord dispatched a messenger at once. Tang Gun arrived at Jin Manor in little more than an hour, clearly having ridden as fast as he possibly could.

—Hui, brother… were you truly connected to the Divine Physician?

He asked through voice transmission, his expression grave and urgent. Yang‑hui replied in kind.

—Not at all. That part was a lie.

Tang Gun muttered under his breath.

“We are undone.”

*Brother Tang, even you say such things? For shame—language unbefitting a Young Clan Leader.*

It seemed he would have to teach Tang Gun as well—how to turn a moment of crisis into an opportunity.