A Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts [EN]: Chapter 315

Chapter 60: Scheme (5)

A section of the emergency room was set aside for patients with minor conditions.

On one of the beds lay an unusual patient. Unlike the others, this one was dressed in surgical scrubs and a doctor’s gown.

Toc. Toc. Toc.

Fluid dripped steadily from the IV bag connected to his vein.

The patient’s name was Kim Dae-hwi.

He was a first-year neurosurgery resident who had collapsed in the restroom and been found by Jun-hoo.

“I’m sorry to have startled you, senior, and the nurses. Especially since today is packed with surgeries…” Dae-hwi said, his voice dejected, after regaining consciousness.

“Just take advantage of the situation. Since it turned out this way, get some rest,” Jun-hoo reassured him, standing by the bed.

“Resting is good, but I feel bad that you’re suffering because of me, senior.”

“Do you think I’ll even bat an eye at taking over a few of your tasks? Not a chance.”

“Still…” Dae-hwi trailed off.

Both while speaking and after, Dae-hwi avoided Jun-hoo’s gaze, looking up at the white ceiling of the emergency room, which resembled the restroom tiles.

Thirty minutes prior, Dae-hwi had gone to the restroom to shake off the drowsiness washing over him.

He splashed cold water on his face.

As he reached for the toilet paper to dry his hands, a severe dizzy spell struck him.

Weeeeee.

A ringing sound echoed in his ears. Even standing still, his surroundings spun. Like an idiot, Dae-hwi made an ‘uh-oh’ sound and collapsed.

When he regained consciousness, he was in the emergency room.

“The signs weren’t good. You’ve been studying so hard at dawn these days.”

“Because dawn is the only time I have to study. But why am I the only one collapsing when the senior, who’s been on duty for three weeks straight, is perfectly fine? Is something wrong with me?” Dae-hwi’s voice held a hint of resentment.

Jun-hoo almost blurted out, ‘You don’t know how to circulate your energy.’

Energy circulation was that overpowered. To use a modern analogy, it was like a super-fast battery charger.

“I don’t know either. Maybe it’s just genetics?”

“Senior, is your father also physically strong?”

“He’s incredibly strong.” Since he couldn’t mention energy circulation, Jun-hoo used his father as an excuse. His father’s ears might be itching, but there was nothing he could do.

“Oh dear. What happens when a doctor becomes a patient?” A man approached the bed, saying this.

It was Seung-hyuk, a second-year emergency medicine resident and Jun-hoo’s college classmate, though they weren’t particularly close.

“How’s Dae-hwi doing?”

“Blood test normal, EKG [electrocardiogram] normal, chest X-ray normal. It’s all normal,” Seung-hyuk replied playfully, looking at Jun-hoo.

“I only did routine tests, but you don’t have to worry too much. It seems like he had a vasovagal syncope [fainting due to a sudden drop in heart rate and blood pressure] due to stress and overwork.”

“Well, there wouldn’t be anything else,” Jun-hoo nodded.

The vagus nerve is a parasympathetic nerve that controls blood pressure and pulse. If its function deteriorates, it can cause temporary fainting.

Jun-hoo had also examined Dae-hwi’s brain and heart with his internal energy beforehand and found no particular problems.

“Senior, can I be put back on duty right away? I’m feeling great now,” Dae-hwi asked Seung-hyuk eagerly.

“Hey, ‘palpal’ means 64 [a Korean expression for being energetic]. You should rest for at least half a day. How much has been building up for you to faint? Huh?”

“…”

“Sometimes, listen to what your body is telling you.”

“…Yes.”

“You’re going through a lot too,” Seung-hyuk gave Jun-hoo a pitiful look and placed his hand on Jun-hoo’s shoulder.

It was a familiar look. A surgery major, especially those in cardiothoracic surgery or neurosurgery, always evoked pity from their colleagues.

After Seung-hyuk left, Jun-hoo forced Dae-hwi to sleep.

Dae-hwi resisted, saying he couldn’t, but he fell into dreamland in less than 5 minutes.

Looking at the sleeping Dae-hwi, Jun-hoo quietly stroked his chin.

Fainting due to overwork. Furthermore, death from overwork.

This tragedy would continue to repeat itself endlessly in the future. No, it would only deepen.

The number of surgery aspirants decreased every year, and the talk of importing surgeons from overseas was becoming a reality, not a joke.

‘Isn’t there a groundbreaking method?’ Jun-hoo’s worries deepened.

What Jun-hoo could do to prevent his colleagues from overworking. The only thing Jun-hoo could do on Earth was to replenish their energy, to share his internal energy.

However, there were difficulties. In the Murim [martial arts world] world, when transferring internal energy, you usually place your hand on the other person’s back.

But that was very slow, because he had to guide the internal energy so that it would spread well into the recipient’s blood vessels.

It was impossible to find such leisure in a busy surgical life. Even if it were possible, there was a high risk that people would look at him like he was a quack faith healer.

A way to quickly transfer internal energy to a tired colleague, while preventing them from realizing they had received it.

Jun-hoo searched his Murim memories, but no matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn’t come up with a good idea. If such a method existed, he would have been using it long ago.

Beeeeeep. The pager in his gown pocket vibrated. Jun-hoo stepped away from the bed and answered it.

As expected, it was a call from the ward. He said he would go up right away.

However, a bed where CPR [cardiopulmonary resuscitation] was being performed caught his eye as he hurried away.

In fact, there was nothing special about it, just as it wasn’t surprising for fish to swim in water. It couldn’t be surprising to perform CPR in the emergency room.

And yet, strangely, the scene left a clear mark on Jun-hoo’s chest, as if it were stamped there.

Wait a minute… Maybe he had found a way?

* * *

That afternoon, Jun-hoo, having finished assisting with a cervical spine surgery, went to the break room.

Clunk! Holding a canned coffee he had pulled from the vending machine, he sat on the old, worn-out sofa and leaned back.

His mind was unusually complicated. Ever since Dae-hwi fainted, he had been worrying about how to protect his colleagues from collapsing in the future.

As he was drinking, the chief who had done the surgery with him entered the break room. He had been called by the attending physician afterward.

“Hey. Why were you so unlike yourself today, Jun-hoo?” The chief also pulled out a canned coffee and sat next to him.

“You didn’t seem to be concentrating properly on the surgery. Your assistance wasn’t as sharp as usual. Is something you’re worried about?”

“I think it’s because of Dae-hwi.”

“Ah, that’s right. I heard Dae-hwi collapsed. How’s he doing?”

“They say there’s nothing wrong with him, but I still don’t feel at ease.”

“That’s strange. You’re doing all the work, so why is Dae-hwi collapsing?” The chief chuckled, opened his coffee, and drank.

Jun-hoo quietly watched him. In fact, the chief didn’t look good either. He was going through a forced march these days, doing three surgeries a day and preparing for the specialist exam in the evenings.

The chief’s philtrum [area between the nose and upper lip] and chin were bluish with unshaven hair. His skin looked rough, and his shoulders were slumped.

Perhaps that was why he seemed to understand why the chief had condoned Hyuk-jae, a third-year resident, disciplining the junior residents by hitting them.

The chief’s physical strength and concentration weren’t enough to manage even the junior residents. Of course, that didn’t mean the chief’s neglect was right, but still…

“Jun-hoo, give me a massage. I’m so tired I could die.”

“I’ve developed a new massage. Would you like to try it?”

“Massages are all the same. Is there anything you can call a new massage?”

“It’s different when I do it,” Jun-hoo threw out a little bait. He wanted to test the ‘secret weapon’ he had been planning.

“Well, I never dreamed your massage would be so refreshing. Okay, let’s get a brand new massage.”

“Excellent choice.”

“What should I be doing?”

“Sit with your back to me,” the chief did as he was told.

“Relax your body and don’t move.”

“Of course, I’m getting a high-end massage for free.”

Jun-hoo took a deep breath and stared at the chief’s back. If this technique succeeded, he would be able to sufficiently save his colleagues suffering from overwork.

But he was a little nervous, trying to put something he had only imagined into practice. His arm trembled slightly, and the tips of his fingers became cold.

But if you just stay still because you’re afraid, nothing will change. If you want to change, you have to act first. You have to move to create a path. Even if that path is the wrong one, you can correct the route. I have the power to do that.

Encouraging himself, Jun-hoo drew up the internal energy from his dantian [energy center in the abdomen]. At the same time, he placed his hand near the chief’s left shoulder.

Thud! The moment his palm touched the chief’s left shoulder blade, Jun-hoo infiltrated the internal energy he had prepared into the chief’s body.

At first glance, it didn’t seem much different from the internal energy transfer method commonly practiced in the Murim world, at least on the surface.

But the crucial difference was the direction of the internal energy. The destination, which spread out like ripples on a lake, passing through the skin, muscles, and fat, was none other than the heart.

‘Go!’ Jun-hoo fearlessly ejected internal energy into the chief’s heart.

The heart was an organ that vigorously pumped and supplied blood flow to blood vessels throughout the body. So, he judged that if he transmitted internal energy to the heart, it would supply internal energy to the blood vessels on its own.

Of course, its efficiency would be lower than the Murim method, which sends internal energy to each blocked blood vessel. But considering the procedure time and the limited background of the modern era, where he couldn’t recklessly reveal martial arts, there could be no more effective method than the ‘Internal Energy Heart Technique’.

Thump. Thump. Thump. The heart that received the internal energy throbbed, vigorously pumping and delivering it throughout the body.

Jun-hoo could vividly feel the internal energy spreading throughout the chief’s body.

Tap. Tap. Tap. After delivering the internal energy, he deliberately touched the chief’s left shoulder blade a few more times, a meaningless action to maintain the guise of a massage.

“Chief, how are you feeling now?” Jun-hoo asked nervously after finishing the imitation.

“Jun-hoo, what on earth did you do to me?” The chief, who turned back, frowned. The Internal Energy Heart Technique was clearly successful, but the chief’s reaction wasn’t very good.

This shouldn’t be happening?

“Why? Is there a problem?”

“There is a problem. A very big problem.”

“Please tell me specifically.”

“At first, I thought you were joking, but I feel strange. I’m overflowing with energy all over my body. Strangely, I can’t stay still,” the chief’s face turned red as he spoke.

He suddenly got up from the sofa and started doing push-ups, as if he couldn’t control the overflowing energy.

Only then did Jun-hoo relax. The Internal Energy Heart Technique, which found a hint from CPR, was a great success.

It was the day before D-Day to kick out Hoon-shik.