A Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts [EN]: Chapter 413

Chapter 80: Nowhere to Go (3)

The duel my teacher described was quite straightforward: an artificial nerve transplant.

He’d recently announced the completion of his artificial nerve development project. While still limited to animals, not yet ready for human trials, the procedure was simple:

1) Partially damage the nerves of an experimental mouse.

2) Suture [stitch] the nerve with an artificial nerve.

3) The surgeon who sutures faster and more accurately wins.

The rules were simple, perfectly designed to evaluate a surgeon’s skill.

But Jun-woo felt doubtful. Was proving his skill to his teacher really necessary through a duel?

“Teacher, I have a question.”

“Tell me.”

“You’re curious about my abilities after the boost-up program, correct?”

“Of course. Absolutely.”

“Then, I’ll attempt a nerve transplant independently. There’s no need for us to compete.” Jun-woo said, feeling a sense of unease.

His true opponent wasn’t his teacher, but the neurosurgical diseases threatening patients’ lives. Besides, he had just witnessed his teacher taking medication, likely painkillers for wrist pain. Even his teacher couldn’t escape the effects of time.

“Are you afraid of losing to me?” My teacher looked at Jun-woo with a smile.

Jun-woo calmly dismissed the obvious taunt. “Losing doesn’t matter.”

“Then winning is the problem, isn’t it?”

“……”

Jun-woo couldn’t answer. Had his teacher always been this perceptive? Or had their shared time allowed him to see through Jun-woo so clearly? He couldn’t be sure. Regardless, his teacher’s words rang true. Jun-woo feared surpassing him, reluctant to inflict that blow, just as he would be reluctant to see his teacher hurt by a loss.

“You’re still honest with those you care about.” My teacher chuckled.

“What’s so funny? Do you enjoy seeing me struggle?”

“Of course. Who else in this world can tease you like I do?”

“I don’t find it amusing.”

“Jun-woo.” My teacher’s voice dropped, becoming low and serious.

“Yes, Teacher.”

“You’ve never sutured a rat’s nerve with an artificial nerve. I, on the other hand, have been doing this for two years.”

“……”

“That means the gap between us is wider than you imagine. This duel will be more interesting than you expect. And…”

“Is there anything else?”

“This duel holds a certain symbolism for me. I hope you’ll respect my wishes.” He locked eyes with Jun-woo, his gaze warm, deep, and earnest. Something unspoken resonated within Jun-woo’s heart.

Still, what significance did he attach to nerve suture transplantation? He wasn’t one to use grandiose terms like ‘symbolism’. Jun-woo was lost in thought. He couldn’t refuse the duel after his teacher’s direct request. The challenge lay in controlling his skill. Losing, matching his teacher’s level, or overwhelming him – Jun-woo faced three distinct choices, unsure which to make.

“Are you still hesitant?” My teacher pressed.

After what felt like an eternity, Jun-woo spoke. “No. I’ll honor your wishes, Teacher. Let’s duel immediately.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Jun-woo and Jae-hyun stood side-by-side before a makeshift operating table. On it lay an experimental mouse, its skull removed, exposing its brain. The mouse’s brain resembled a tiny walnut, etched with fine wrinkles radiating outwards. Ridges (bulging parts) and grooves (hollow parts) created a wave-like pattern across its surface.

“Have you ever practiced surgery on experimental mice?” Jae-hyun asked.

“No, I haven’t. I was occupied with patient care at Mayo [Mayo Clinic, a renowned medical center].”

“Then, how confident are you about the suture?”

“It won’t be easy, but I believe I can manage.”

Jae-hyun appreciated Jun-woo’s confidence. A typical surgeon might feel intimidated in this situation. Handling a human brain was challenging enough, let alone a mouse’s. And to suture nerves instead of the brain itself or blood vessels?

Yet, Jun-woo, with his seven years of training at Mayo, remained unfazed by his first such surgery. This reflected his confidence in his skills and experience. Jae-hyun felt a surge of pride, though he kept it to himself. Seven years of training abroad, specializing in seven fields instead of one, demanded extraordinary determination. It wasn’t just because he was his teacher; it was the truth. To date, no Korean neurosurgeons had applied for the boost-up program. They were unwilling to endure the grueling resident course, only to face even more demanding training elsewhere.

“Teacher, any progress in artificial nerve development?”

“Effective in mice, but not yet in humans.”

“Still a long way to go.”

“Indeed. Artificial nerves and artificial blood vessels…” Jae-hyun’s voice carried a hint of frustration. Artificial technology lagged, especially in brain-related fields, due to the brain’s critical and delicate nature.

“Ready?”

“Of course.”

“Then, I’ll prepare the specimens.” Jae-hyun held a scalpel, approaching Jun-woo and peering through the digital microscope. A full surgical microscope was too large for the lab, so they would duel using a standard laboratory microscope.

Swoosh. The scalpel flashed. Jae-hyun carefully severed the nerves in the mouse’s frontal and parietal lobes. These were motor nerves.

“If the suture succeeds, the mouse will move freely upon waking. If not… I needn’t explain, right?”

“Yes, Teacher.”

Jae-hyun returned to his station, repeating the process on his own experimental mouse, completing the duel preparations. The contest between Jae-hyun, the established master, and Jun-woo, the rising star, was set. Had they promoted it and sold tickets, many neurosurgeons would have flocked to witness it.

“Teacher, may I examine the artificial nerve?”

“Certainly. That would make it fairer.”

“Thank you.” Jun-woo began to manipulate the artificial nerve with forceps, assessing its strength and elasticity.

“It seems fragile. You must have struggled, Teacher.”

“Don’t even mention it. This version is less prone to breaking. The earlier ones… ugh~” Jae-hyun sighed instead of elaborating, then realized Jun-woo had accurately assessed the nerve’s characteristics after only a few touches. Had his senses become that refined? Jae-hyun tensed again. He had initially anticipated an easy victory, not doubting Jun-woo’s skill, but relying on his own experience. He had been suturing artificial nerves for two years, while this was Jun-woo’s first time.

The outcome seemed obvious. It felt a bit underhanded, but Jae-hyun wanted Jun-woo to remain humble. Even after the boost-up program, there was still much to learn. He wanted to impart the feeling of ‘See? You lost today’s duel, didn’t you?’

“I’m ready. Are you ready, Teacher?”

“Huh? Already? Don’t you want more practice?”

“I’ve practiced enough.” Jun-woo’s voice remained calm.

“Okay. We’ll start on three. 3, 2, 1. Start!”

As the countdown ended, Jae-hyun gripped the needle holder in his right hand, securing the artificial nerve with a clamp. Creak! The metal jaws met. Jae-hyun already held forceps in his left hand. Nerve suture differed from blood vessel suture. There was no risk of bleeding, but the nerve had to be protected from damage.

Jae-hyun positioned the artificial nerve against the damaged brain nerve, connecting them as if tying two threads. It wasn’t easy, even with his experience. His hands moved rapidly, but the artificial nerve formed a knot in the air instead of on the brain nerve. Frowning, Jae-hyun snipped the useless knot with surgical scissors. Click! The sound was crisp. He glanced at Jun-woo’s suture, trying to appear nonchalant. ‘You’re no different.’ Blood vessel anastomosis and nerve anastomosis were indeed different. A smile touched Jae-hyun’s lips. Jun-woo was also using scissors, indicating a failed first attempt.

‘Shall we pick up the pace?’ Jae-hyun’s eyes gleamed with renewed motivation. The painkiller was taking effect, easing the knife-like pain in his wrist. Creak! He secured the artificial nerve and began the second suture. Whirr. The suture thread traced a brilliant arc. His hands moved with increasing precision, the artificial nerve and brain nerve aligning perfectly. When parallel, Jae-hyun executed a twist knot, the artificial nerve wrapping around the brain nerve like a braid, securing the connection. He delicately tightened the knot with forceps, ensuring its strength. It held firm.

‘Good. I’ll maintain this rhythm.’ Jae-hyun anastomosed the opposite brain nerve in the same manner. Success fueled his speed. He forgot about Jun-woo, even the fact that this was a duel between teacher and disciple. The five severed nerves were being anastomosed with dazzling speed and accuracy, surpassing his usual practice results. Click! The final snip of the scissors. Jae-hyun, finished with the nerve transplant, sighed in relief, wiping sweat from his brow with his sleeve. Fatigue washed over him.

‘My skills haven’t faded.’ Jae-hyun examined his work under the microscope, his smile widening. At this level, the mouse’s motor nerves would function perfectly upon waking. He turned to Jun-woo, who was still performing the nerve transplant. Jae-hyun had clearly outpaced him.

However, he didn’t expect Jun-woo’s work to be inferior in quality.

“Are you finished?” Jun-woo asked, his voice indifferent, masking his disappointment at losing.

“Jun-woo, aren’t you done yet?”

“No. I finished five minutes ago.”

“Five minutes ago? Then what are you anastomosing now?” Jae-hyun asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I was anastomosing the nerves on the frontal lobe to pass the time.”

“Ah……” Jae-hyun instinctively rubbed the back of his neck. He had just been thoroughly outdone.