8 — Treason (4)

The Demon Doctor’s dwelling was not very deep, just a side tunnel of the abandoned mine. It seemed to have stopped when no more ore was found. There, Neung Je-gang saw various tools fashioned from stone, and dozens of flat stone tablets stacked high.

“Heh-heh! Once you know the truth, the Forbidden Demon Prison wasn’t such a bad place to live. There was plenty of water, and enough food, thanks to those who came before.”

The Demon Doctor laid Neung Je-gang on a stone table, then went and fetched a fist-sized fish.

“The outside world thinks the prisoners here survived on moss or by eating each other. But there was a lake down here. Prisoners dug in all directions seeking escape and discovered it.”

“Ah…!”

Neung Je-gang had always believed they survived only by licking damp walls, peeling moss, or catching bats.

“They never escaped—this rock is full of iron and impossible to dig through bare-handed—but at least they freed themselves from hunger. Rest for three days and recover your strength.”

The Demon Doctor gutted and deboned the fish, handing only the flesh to Neung Je-gang.

Neung Je-gang accepted and ate without hesitation, even though it was raw.

“How did you come to learn poison arts? Don’t you know the aftereffects are severe?”

The Demon Doctor neatly stacked the bones to one side, arranging the innards carefully as well.

“I don’t consider poison arts so bad as to call it an accident, but in truth, what I learned wasn’t really poison arts.”

“Not poison arts?”

“My martial art was called the Three Yang Energy Art. A Taoist technique, dismissed as a third-rate style.”

“The Three Yang Energy Art? That’s a Yang-based art, then?”

“Yes.”

Neung Je-gang answered as he bit into the raw fish again.

“My little knowledge says Yang-based arts and poison were opposites…”

“Of course. That was true. But not everything followed common sense. There were always those who sought paths beyond it—like my master.”

“Oh-ho! A man like me, then. I too went against common sense in my research. Tell me, what was his theory?”

“I didn’t fully know. But he once told me: even in Yin there was Yang, even in Yang there was Yin. Pure Yin and Pure Yang did not exist.”

“Oh-ho! No such thing as Pure Yin or Pure Yang?”

The Demon Doctor grew intent at this new theory of Yin and Yang.

“My master studied how poison could survive within the Three Yang Energy Art. He discovered pathways that let poison coexist inside it. He even believed that with effort, one could master the Solar Divine Art—the highest peak of Yang arts—and still wield poison. But sadly, he never tried.”

“Why not?”

“The Three Yang Energy Art was the only manual he ever obtained. Inner energy manuals are hard to find—having even that was a blessing. In fact, it turned out fortunate. The Three Yang Energy Art’s qi flow was simple, making it possible to trace a separate path for poison. If the pathways had been more complex, it would have been impossible.”

“Indeed. The stronger the art, the more channels it passes through. Research would be harder, requiring far more time. If your master’s theory is right, maybe even merging multiple manuals isn’t impossible… Yes, yes!”

The Demon Doctor sank into thought.

Neung Je-gang finished the fish but dared not ask for more. To interrupt a man obsessed with experiments was dangerous. Instead, he reached out blindly in the dark.

His hand touched a flat stone. Curious, he traced its surface.

“Letters?”

Carved patterns were unmistakable. He slowly traced them with his fingers.

“Extreme Edge One-Sword Style? A martial art?”

He tried another tablet—again, words. Another, and another.

“Demonic Mara Sutra, Secret Art of Masters and Disciples, Eternal Devil’s Palace…! All martial arts?”

Even the few he read were not trivial.

“Could it be all the great villains who died here left their arts behind?”

He muttered in shock.

“Yes.”

Came the Demon Doctor’s reply—he had emerged from thought.

“Just as you said. Every master who ended his life here left his martial art. They weren’t third-rate scum like those outside, but true greats. However dark their lives, they wanted their arts remembered. That Demonic Mara Sutra over there—my own inner energy comes from it. I started too late to become a master, but in here I rule as king.”

“Boast if you like. You’ll never leave here anyway…”

Neung Je-gang sneered.

He had been a captor of villains; even though he now sat among them, he held himself blameless. How could he like a monster like the Demon Doctor?

But the old man ignored his scorn.

“It was here I first encountered martial arts. I was shocked. The theories went far deeper into the human body than medicine ever had. Heh-heh! I regretted not learning earlier.”

“If you had, you’d be dead by now.”

“True. And many more would have died at my hands. Still, reading those tablets made me realize all I had done before was futile. My faith in medicine’s progress was delusion. Since then I’ve studied both medicine and the martial arts here, building a theory. And your master’s ideas sound much like my own—though higher. I never thought of blending Yin and Yang.”

Listening, Neung Je-gang grew uneasy. Was the experiment about martial arts?

Martial theories often failed disastrously. His master had succeeded only because the Three Yang Energy Art’s simplicity made poison integration possible. Had he found a different manual, they might both have died.

“Is your experiment about learning new martial arts?”

“No. That depends on you. After my experiment, if you survive, you can learn any of those arts.”

“Heh, a cruel joke—telling a man with a ruined dantian to train.”

Once, Neung Je-gang had been called a master even in the Eastern Depot. Now, he had no hope of ever regaining inner energy. Only by miraculous beasts could a shattered dantian heal—and there were none in this prison.

“It will work. If my research succeeds, your dantian will heal too.”

“What?”

Neung Je-gang’s voice shook. The words sparked a new flame of hope.

But the Demon Doctor said nothing more and left again.

Neung Je-gang remained in the dark, memories of his master surfacing—regrets that he had not visited even once since joining the Depot. His master had been his only family.

“I miss you, Master. If you heard what has become of me, you must grieve deeply… I should have gone to see you once, at least…”

Lost in thought, Neung Je-gang slowly drifted into the first peaceful sleep he’d had in a long while.