'Damn medical cultivation!'
'Mother, I hate cultivation more than anything in the world!'
'Please, Senior Brother, spare us! I was wrong! I'll never disobey again!'
The past month under Wi Jicheon's "instruction" flashed before their eyes like a lantern reel at death's door.
Even the indomitable Dan Yeo had turned pale.
Their suffering had burned itself into wrath.
'After what we've been through, what's a mere cultivation exam?!'
'Binghak Sama So? Our Senior Brother is ten times crazier!'
'If we score low, he'll make us "review" everything again. We have to pass with the highest marks no matter what!'
"Let's go! Let's show Senior Brother that we can outshine even him in the cultivation test!"
"Yes, Senior Sister!"
"Down with Senior Brother!"
For reference, Dan Yeo was now second in rank, directly beneath Wi Jicheon.
They marched out like soldiers heading for war, and the disciples from other medical houses stared after them, dumbfounded.
"What's wrong with those people?"
"No idea. They're insane."
The results of the cultivation test were shocking.
"What?!"
"They're manipulating meridians like that — on a true model rather than a training dummy?! Impossible!"
The Medical Cultivation Exam tested the ability to control qi and meridian flow — a technique so delicate that a single mistake could seriously injure a real patient.
That was one of the main reasons most medical houses didn't teach it to outsiders. It wasn't greed that made them secretive — it was the danger.
To solve this, the Medical Alliance had once developed an alternative: the training dummy model (假體模型) — a construct combining the mechanical craft of the Tang family and the enchantments of the Mo Mountain Sect.
It wasn't perfect. It was crude, expensive, and far less responsive than the human body.
Still, it allowed safe practice without harming anyone, so wealthy houses or official examinations often used them.
But the models Binghak Sama So brought today were not mere dummies.
Offended by past criticisms of their crude designs, the Tang family had gone all out to create a new, vastly improved version — one that replicated nearly eighty percent of the human body's meridian structure.
A masterpiece — and Binghak had brought it to a public examination.
Only he would do something so extravagant.
But rather than gratitude, it brought despair.
'Damn it! We trained only on the simple models! We only practiced the meridians those dummies could simulate!'
'How are we supposed to adjust the fine meridian flows?!'
The better the model, the harder the challenge.
Sweat trickled down the faces of the examinees.
Yet there were those who showed no hesitation.
'Acupoints Jiquan and Shaohai? That's all? We didn't endure hell itself for something this trivial!'
'Failure is not an option! If we score low, it's back to "review"!'
A one-sided domination.
This examination belonged entirely to the Divine Healer's House.
The others were just stage props.
"Your disciples are truly remarkable. As expected of the Divine Healer's House."
Even Binghak Sama So offered praise — and the entire hall went silent in shock.
The man was infamous for his sharp tongue. Praise never left his lips.
That he said it now meant their performance had been extraordinary indeed.
Patriarch Wi Jiseon struggled to contain the twitch of his lips.
"You flatter us. These are things every physician should know. We still have far to go."
With one polite sentence, he managed to make every other medical house's disciples look incompetent.
And then, unable to hold back any longer, he began what he had resisted for weeks — bragging about his son.
He had suffered long enough.
"In truth, I can't take any credit. All of this is the work of my children — especially my youngest. Binghak Master, have you ever seen a true genius?"
"…A genius?"
"It's embarrassing to say, but my youngest, Wi Jicheon, may very well be one."
"…I see."
Sama So nodded, though somewhat dazed.
Calling your own son a genius? He'd met proud fathers before, but this was excessive.
Yet his expression soon stiffened.
Because the story only grew more unbelievable.
"You see, my youngest began studying properly just a few months ago…"
"Wait. What did you say?"
Sama So's mind flashed back to Wi Jicheon's written exam earlier that day.
He'd assumed the boy had copied the writings of a medical scholar.
But to think he'd studied for only a few months?
"We'd thought him a fool all this time. But he was a Great Roc — merely waiting for the winds to rise."
A Great Roc.
Apparently, humility was not a family trait.
Still, Sama So couldn't even scold him — he was too stunned.
And when he heard what came next, his shock only deepened.
'He personally trained them in cultivation? Impossible… unless…'
A single thought struck him.
'Could he be the one blessed by the Geo-Spirit Star?'
He wasn't certain — but it fit.
'I need to confirm it.'
Only one test remained.
The final examination: diagnosis of a real patient.
The patient had been prearranged — but Sama So abruptly changed his mind.
"You… want us to diagnose you?"
"That's right. Find the illness hidden within me."
Binghak Sama So himself would be the test subject.
"How can we—?"
"No, think about it. He's not known to have any major ailments. It must be something mild — something we can figure out."
So far, his tests had been tricky, but not impossible.
As long as they had a solid foundation, they could manage.
"This is our last chance to redeem ourselves."
Especially for those who had failed miserably before, determination shone in their eyes.
The final test began.
"I'll be judging based on how you approach the diagnosis. Explain the reasoning behind your conclusions."
Diagnosis followed the four fundamental methods — Observation, Listening, Inquiry, and Palpation.
Looking with the eyes.
Hearing and smelling with the senses.
Asking about symptoms and history.
Touching with the hands.
The students threw themselves into the task, desperate to find Sama So's hidden illness.
But—
"Wrong. Your approach is flawed."
"Your logic was sound, but your interpretation of the Eight Principles is mistaken."
"You call yourself a healer? You can't even grasp the basics!"
No one got it right.
Some received mild rebukes, others harsh scorn — but not a single one found the answer.
'This is ridiculous!'
'Is there even a real illness to find?'
Yet, the attending patriarchs' reactions were surprising.
They didn't protest the difficulty.
Instead, they shook their heads in shame.
"…To think none of them could solve it."
"It's a tricky question, yes, but still disgraceful. We failed as teachers."
"A physician must know this much. These fools…"
Rather than blaming Binghak, they blamed their own disciples.
Even Dan Socheon of the Huazhong House, who had been glaring daggers at Sama So, said nothing.
There was nothing wrong with the question itself.
Finally, it was Wi Jicheon's turn.
'Now, let's see.'
Sama So's gaze lowered.
He already knew Wi Jicheon was brilliant — every previous test had proven it.
He had scored the highest marks across the board.
But he needed to be sure.
If this boy truly bore the blessing of the Geo-Spirit Star, he wouldn't miss this.
'The hallmark of the Geo-Spirit's blessing is sharpened intuition. He won't fail a question like this.'
Meanwhile, Wi Jicheon felt tension creeping through his chest.
For someone once called a Demonic Fiend, the sensation was almost nostalgic.
Despite mastering the theory with ease, he was still a newborn in the world of medicine.
He'd never treated a real patient.
Without that, knowledge remained untempered steel — sharp, but brittle.
'It's just a diagnosis. I can do this.'
Where there is illness, there is disturbance in the flow of qi.
No matter how subtle, he should be able to sense it.
"Permit me to begin the examination."
He took Sama So's pulse.
Following the proper sequence of the Four Diagnostic Methods, he worked quietly.
Then, his brow twitched.
'What… is this?'
He hadn't expected this result.
'There's… nothing wrong?'
Indeed — Sama So's body was completely normal.
'No wonder no one could answer.'
A physician's greatest challenge was recognizing normalcy.
To call a body healthy required a deeper understanding of what sickness was.
'How mischievous. No wonder you died young.'
Wi Jicheon almost opened his mouth to say, "You're perfectly healthy."
But then he froze.
Something didn't add up.
Sama So was fated to die a few years later — suddenly, in his sleep.
'He's in perfect health… so why did he die?'
The official records had called it a natural death.
No poison — he would have sensed that himself.
No foul play — even the imperial court's investigation found nothing.
He had simply… died.
'Could it be… a hidden illness? One even he never realized?'
It seemed absurd — Binghak Sama So, one of the Ten Peaks, missing something like that?
And yet—
Wi Jicheon placed his fingers on the pulse again.
Just in case.
A moment later—
'…Wait. This…?'