A Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts [EN]: Chapter 110

The Martial Surgeon – 110

Chapter 19: The Competition (5)

The dawn deepened, painting the sky with hues of grey and faint blue.

Inside a darkened room.

Jun-hoo was wide awake.

He sat in the lotus position, meticulously performing meditative breathing exercises.

Ssssh.

Hooo.

With each breath, he silently repeated the *Shimgyeol* [a meditative mantra or phrase] in his mind.

Natural essence, circulating through his entire body, gathered and settled in his *dantian* [energy center located in the lower abdomen].

The amount of internal energy Jun-hoo possessed was equivalent to less than sixty years of cultivation.

His mental cultivation method was excellent, but…

He had dedicated more effort to accumulating medical knowledge than to building up his internal energy.

Still, having more internal energy was always beneficial.

The more, the better.

“Right now, I only use it for simple examinations and acupressure, but if I have more internal energy, I can actively incorporate it into treatments too.”

Jun-hoo, who typically meditated for about ten to thirty minutes, extended his session to nearly two hours this time.

When he finally opened his eyes and relaxed his posture, his lower abdomen felt firm and heavy, as if he had completed a rigorous set of abdominal exercises.

Jun-hoo shifted from the floor to his bed.

Leaning against the headboard, he closed his eyes once more.

The world dissolved into darkness again.

There was virtually no difference between having his eyes open or closed.

Jun-hoo used the blackness as a mental canvas.

Upon it, he began to visualize the surgeries performed by the attending physicians, surgeries he had painstakingly memorized.

Gastrectomy, robotic surgery for stomach cancer.

Pancreatic cancer surgery, colon cancer surgery, liver cancer surgery.

Intussusception surgery, abdominal trauma surgery, and so on.

The memorized movements of the attending physicians appeared to Jun-hoo as a single, long, and intricately choreographed sequence.

Understanding surgery as a series of movements allowed Jun-hoo to learn and improve at an accelerated pace.

It enabled him to analyze the attending physicians’ actions with greater precision and to grasp the underlying reasons and principles behind each surgical procedure.

After mentally mapping out various surgeries as sequences of moves, Jun-hoo started to imitate them one by one.

Jun-hoo’s hands moved with incredible dexterity in the air.

He wielded imaginary surgical tools.

Cutting, suturing, and cauterizing imaginary organs, blood vessels, and nerves.

An action that most would undoubtedly consider bizarre was perfectly natural for Jun-hoo.

It was a common training method in the martial arts world.

In modern terms, it might be called image training or visualization.

By the time he finished his imaginary surgery, dawn had fully broken.

Golden sunlight streamed through the curtains.

Jun-hoo rose from his bed, switched on the room lights, and settled at his desk.

He began to devour a textbook on gastrointestinal surgery.

Knowledge accumulated in his mind, layer upon layer.

It was his day to go to work, but Jun-hoo’s passion for learning burned intensely.

Jun-hoo was pushing himself to his limits.

Because he was driven by the desire to become stronger.

Because he wanted to save more lives.

Because he yearned to avoid the pain of losing a loved one and the helplessness of being unable to intervene.

Jun-hoo was a doctor fueled by both deep-seated resentment and an insatiable ambition.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A sudden knock at the door.

“Come in.”

“Our Jun-hoo, studying so early? You have work soon; aren’t you pushing yourself too hard?” His mother, peeking her head through the doorway, asked with a worried expression.

“I need to do this much to become a good doctor. I’m fine.”

“Oh, this guy. Then I’ll call you when the meal is ready.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Jun-hoo turned his attention back to the textbook.

In truth, Jun-hoo was indeed finding it difficult.

He was maintaining an unbelievable level of stamina and concentration through a combination of meditative breathing and nutritional supplements, but this also meant he was enduring significantly more than others.

He channeled his recovered stamina and concentration into seeing patients, providing treatments, and studying relentlessly.

But it didn’t matter.

From the moment he had envisioned becoming the best surgeon, he had prepared himself for this level of hardship.

* * *

The atmosphere in the gastrointestinal surgery resident room was frigid.

As cold as ice.

Dae-jin and Mi-ho, sitting side by side and working, didn’t exchange a single word.

They didn’t even spare each other a glance.

Like sworn enemies.

The cold war only ended when Mi-ho abruptly left the resident room without a word.

“Wow. The atmosphere was suffocating. How long has it been like this?”

Jun-hoo, who was tidying up the resident room, asked Dae-jin.

“Who knows? Since yesterday, maybe?”

Dae-jin shrugged and continued, “I’m not going to talk to Mi-ho unless it’s work-related. I can’t keep being taken advantage of, can I?”

“Wow, it looks like you’ve made up your mind, Senior?”

Jun-hoo gave him a thumbs up.

Dae-jin, who had consistently been exploited by Mi-ho due to his Nice Guy Syndrome.

Dae-jin, who had even suffered an acute myocardial infarction from overwork.

That Dae-jin was now standing his ground and confronting Mi-ho.

It was definitely a cause for celebration.

In Jun-hoo’s eyes, it was only a matter of time before Mi-ho’s schemes backfired.

“I heard you were amazing yesterday too? They said you were like Yasin and Messi on the field?” Dae-jin changed the subject to yesterday’s soccer game.

“It might sound a little cocky, but I do have exceptional athletic ability.”

“It’s not cocky at all. You’re an all-around player anyway.”

“I feel more embarrassed when you praise me. Please, just say I’m cocky.”

“Should I?”

While the two were engaged in their friendly banter, the resident room door slid open.

Yu-jeong, sporting her short perm, appeared.

“Seo Jun-hoo! You’re buying us something!”

“What are you talking about so early in the morning?”

“Did you check NewTube [a fictional analogue to YouTube]? You uploaded a short video, and it’s a massive hit! The views and subscriber count are insane!”

Yu-jeong seemed even more excited than Jun-hoo.

“I know. I’ve been keeping an eye on it.”

“You were going to keep it a secret even though you knew? Remember that I was the one who suggested the short video idea?”

“Of course. What do you want?”

“I’m not asking for much. Just buy me a set of Bulletproof Coffee like I mentioned before.”

“Is one set enough? I’ll get you five sets.”

Jun-hoo answered confidently.

He had checked his NewTube channel on his way to work, and his projected earnings for the month were a staggering one million won [approximately $800 USD].

It was an impressive achievement, especially considering he had only started NewTube three months ago.

If the channel continued to grow and the revenue remained consistent, achieving his goal of assisting patients and families facing financial hardship wouldn’t be just a pipe dream.

However, while they were discussing NewTube, Yu-jeong dropped an unexpected piece of news.

“Jun-hoo, did you hear about that?”

“About what?”

“The announcement came out yesterday. They’re holding an intern suture competition.”

“Intern suture competition? Is that a thing?”

Jun-hoo tilted his head, puzzled.

It was news he hadn’t heard before.

“I didn’t know either. There wasn’t anything like that last year.”

Dae-jin also chimed in, looking equally perplexed.

“They say it’s starting this year. I heard it’s because the surgery support rate is low. A notice was posted on the hospital bulletin board and sent out via company email.”

“As expected of Yu-jeong. She’s an information hub.”

“Knowing is power,” Yu-jeong declared, crossing her arms with an air of self-importance.

Prompted by the conversation, Jun-hoo checked his personal email account used at the hospital.

Sure enough, an email had arrived the previous day.

The email contained the usual assortment of trivial hospital news.

At the very end, there was information about the suture competition.

[The 1st Intern Suture Competition]

-Eligibility: All interns working at the hospital.

-Date of Competition: June 15th.

-Scope of Evaluation: Simple interrupted suture, horizontal mattress suture, vertical mattress suture, continuous suture.

-Evaluation Criteria: The three individuals who perform the sutures within the specified scope the fastest and most accurately will be selected and awarded.

-Gold Prize: 1 million won incentive, 2 additional days of annual leave.

…….

After skimming through the email, Jun-hoo stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“Is it like holding a martial arts tournament in the *murim* [martial arts world]?” he wondered.

Suddenly, he felt a surge of interest.

* * *

That evening.

Jun-hoo, having spent a hectic day with ward rounds and assisting in surgeries, finally had some free time.

Jun-hoo immediately headed to the CSR (Central Supply Room).

He obtained a suture model and surgical tools and returned to the resident room.

“Are you planning to participate in the suture competition?” Dae-jin, who was working, noticed the items in Jun-hoo’s hand and inquired.

“Yes. It looks like it’ll be fun.”

“It seems difficult to find time to practice while working as an intern. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“I can squeeze it in. I happen to be on duty today, so I can practice all night.”

“Ugh, you’re a monster too. A monster,” Dae-jin shuddered and continued, “Aren’t you worried about collapsing next after me if you keep pushing yourself like this?”

“That won’t happen… probably?”

Jun-hoo sat down in a chair and placed the model and tools on the desk.

Jun-hoo viewed the suture competition as a valuable opportunity for growth.

Jun-hoo’s suturing skills were comparatively weaker than his scalpel skills.

The principle of using a scalpel was similar to wielding a sword, so he was naturally adept at it.

However, he had never specifically trained in suturing techniques.

“Shall I give you a hand?”

Dae-jin wheeled his chair over to Jun-hoo.

“I’ve received a lot of help from you so far, so I need to act like a senior at times like this.”

“Then I’m grateful.”

“I’ll give you a demonstration first,” Dae-jin said confidently.

After making an incision in the model with a scalpel, he proceeded to perform simple interrupted suture, horizontal mattress suture, vertical mattress suture, and continuous suture in sequence.

Upon completing the sutures, Dae-jin couldn’t suppress his pride.

“I’ve finally saved face as a senior. Suturing is my specialty. Yeah.”

“Don’t try to keep up with me; take your time. There’s no need to overdo it from the start.”

“Yes, Senior.”

However, the moment Jun-hoo began his sutures, Dae-jin’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“This can’t be happening, and it shouldn’t be happening.”

Jun-hoo’s suturing skills were shockingly impressive.

Jun-hoo firmly secured the incision with forceps in his right hand.

With the needle holder in his left hand, he tightened the suture needle.

Squeak.

Stab!

The suture needle pierced the model’s skin.

There was no hesitation in Jun-hoo’s movements.

Nor was there any trembling.

Judging by the fact that the model’s skin didn’t tear, his force control was also impeccable.

Swish.

Soon, the suture needle had penetrated both sides of the wound.

The insertion points were perfectly symmetrical on the left and right.

Whirr.

His knot-tying skills were equally remarkable.

Beginners often struggle with tangled hands and threads.

Jun-hoo, as if by magic, moved his hands with incredible speed and dexterity, completing a knot in a flash.

Dae-jin realized for the first time that suturing could be accelerated.

Jun-hoo’s hands were becoming faster and faster.

It was as if he was mastering suturing techniques in real time.

Click!

Click!

Soon, the only sound in the resident room was the clicking of Jun-hoo’s scissors as he cut the knots.

“No way. It can’t be.”

Dae-jin shook his head in denial.

“Simple interrupted suture is the easiest, so he might be good at that, but there’s no way Jun-hoo can perform the other sutures skillfully.”

But what?

Somewhat complicated mattress sutures.

Even continuous sutures, where the knot is tied at the very end and the suture is cut only once.

Jun-hoo mastered various sutures in one fell swoop.

Even more neatly and faster than Dae-jin!

“I’m trying to act like a senior for the first time in a while, but I’m just getting humiliated?”

Dae-jin suddenly felt like crying.

This was not the scenario Dae-jin had envisioned.

“No, Jun-hoo. That’s not how you tie the knot; it’s like this.”

“How?”

“Look closely. Use your thumb as an axis, and like this…”

“As expected of a senior. But it’s not quite clicking for me; can you show me one more time?”

This was the picture Dae-jin had imagined.

Jun-hoo, his eyes shining with eagerness to learn, and himself, kindly instructing Jun-hoo.

However, Jun-hoo’s ridiculous suturing skills shattered Dae-jin’s rosy fantasy.

Jun-hoo was clearly better at suturing than Dae-jin.

“Hahaha. Our Jun-hoo is already so good at suturing. There’s nothing for me to teach.”

Dae-jin scratched the back of his head and forced an awkward smile.

“Did you practice separately in another department? Or did you practice when I wasn’t looking?”

“No. This is my first time practicing. I’ve barely done it a few times during ward rounds, and those were all simple interrupted sutures.”

“I… I see.”

Dae-jin’s voice was tinged with bitterness.

But Jun-hoo’s next words were the final blow.

Dae-jin nearly clutched the back of his neck and collapsed.

“Oh, right. I’m using my left hand now. I think the sutures will be much faster and more precise than now if I use my right hand.”

Jun-hoo’s smile was as innocent as a child.

That’s why it hurt Dae-jin’s heart even more.