A Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts [EN]: Chapter 501

무공 쓰는 외과 의사 501화

제98장 도전자(2)

The Great War (2)

That evening, they gathered at a Korean barbecue restaurant near the hospital.

Jun-hoo was grilling Korean beef with Ji-hoon Jung and Yong-jin Choi.

They were in a private room, but the restaurant buzzed with a lively atmosphere.

Loud cheers and bursts of laughter erupted from a nearby company enjoying a group dinner.

Sizzle.

The meat cooked on the grill.

The luscious red transformed into a delicious brown. The surface of the perfectly cooked meat glistened with savory juices.

White smoke danced gracefully in the air.

The barbecue restaurant scene was particularly vivid, likely because Jun-hoo was ravenous.

“Ugh. It melts in my mouth! I’m melting, too!”

Jung Ji-hoon exclaimed dramatically after savoring a piece of meat.

Jun-hoo chuckled.

Choi Yong-jin followed suit.

“Don’t worry about the cost; eat until you’re stuffed.”

“Really? Even though we’ve already eaten at least 130,000 won [approximately $100 USD] worth?”

“Auntie, please add one serving each of sirloin, tenderloin, and chuck flap tail,” Jun-hoo responded, ordering more meat instead of answering directly. Jung Ji-hoon’s lips stretched into a wide grin.

“Let’s have a drink.”

“Director, you too.”

Jun-hoo and Choi Yong-jin poured soju [Korean rice wine] into each other’s glasses.

Pour, pour.

As the glasses filled, Choi Yong-jin, who had been quiet until now, spoke.

“I used to think famous people were overrated, but you’re the opposite, Director. You’re actually underestimated.”

“Don’t flatter me too much, or I might book an overseas trip.”

Choi Yong-jin chuckled at Jun-hoo’s joke.

“But you must be having a hard time.”

“Me? Why suddenly?”

“I’m talking about the neurosurgery department. Professor Kim Han-sang has a tight grip on it, doesn’t he? I doubt he’ll be cooperative.”

“That’s true. But I’ve eaten about half of it. The other half is just a matter of time.”

Jun-hoo raised his glass.

Jung Ji-hoon and Choi Yong-jin raised their glasses and toasted.

Choi Yong-jin downed his soju.

Huh…

He’s not just skilled at surgery.

He seems to have political savvy, too?

To confidently say he’s ‘eaten’ Professor Kim Han-sang in front of me without hesitation.

Choi Yong-jin was quite surprised by Jun-hoo’s boldness.

“Is it okay to tell me all the internal affairs of the neurosurgery department? What if I blab to someone?”

“Well, everyone knows you’re not on good terms with Professor Kim.”

Jun-hoo shrugged nonchalantly. He picked up a piece of Korean beef and ate it.

“And if Professor Choi spreads the story I just told…”

“If I spread it?”

Choi Yong-jin asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

As the conversation turned serious, Jung Ji-hoon’s chopsticks, which had been reaching for the Korean beef, paused in mid-air.

“I guess I misjudged you. But that’s a lesson in life, isn’t it?”

Jun-hoo winked, easing the tense atmosphere.

Only then did Choi Yong-jin’s anxiety subside. Jun-hoo had a knack for manipulating people.

“Anyway, I feel sorry for you, Director Seo.”

“Sorry about what?”

“You must be busy and overwhelmed just managing the neurosurgery department, but I’m passing hand surgery cases on to you.”

Choi Yong-jin said sincerely.

“You feel like you owe me a debt, right?”

“That’s an accurate way to put it.”

“Then I’ll come to collect that debt later.”

“How?”

Choi Yong-jin, now feeling like a debtor, blinked and asked.

Here we go again.

The captivating way of talking that draws people in.

Jun-hoo was pulling Choi Yong-jin in like a black hole.

“When I need strength, you can be my strength. In other words, be on my side.”

“Is that all I have to do?”

“Is that ‘all’? Isn’t receiving someone’s trust a big deal?”

Jun-hoo said, pouring soju into Choi Yong-jin’s glass.

“Professor Choi, are you on my side from today?”

* * *

The dinner ended around 8 p.m.

Jun-hoo, having parted ways with Jung Ji-hoon and Choi Yong-jin, returned to his office in the neurosurgery ward.

He changed out of his gown and clothes, which smelled of meat, into fresh ones.

He sat on the sofa, leaned back, and looked up at the ceiling.

The fluorescent light was dim, flickering as if it were nearing the end of its life.

It would darken and brighten intermittently, like a person blinking.

Using the white ceiling as a diary, Jun-hoo replayed the toe amputation surgery in his mind.

Strangely, today, the circumstances and process of the surgery were clearer than the surgery itself.

If Jun-hoo hadn’t been available…

The patient would have been forced to hop from hospital to hospital or languish in the emergency room, ultimately losing his toe.

It would have been buried as one of the countless tragedies that go unreported.

Even I have limits.

Even with my mastery of martial arts.

I don’t have two or three bodies.

I can’t perform multiple surgeries simultaneously.

Ultimately, we need to reform the hospital system.

The conclusion he reached after circling around the issue was always the same.

To reach the pinnacle of hospital power.

To seize power and elevate the status of the surgical department, which is currently undervalued.

The grand plan had already begun.

Because he had secured Choi Yong-jin as an ally while assisting with the hand surgery today.

First, win over the surgery professors.

Then, gradually bring in the internal medicine professors.

It would be possible to build Jun-hoo’s own independent force, even if it took time.

However, the process wouldn’t be smooth.

As Jun-hoo’s success grew,

the number of people eager to tear him down would increase exponentially.

Just consider today’s toe reattachment surgery.

It was fortunate that the surgery was successful.

But what if Jun-hoo had failed?

A neurosurgery professor botches a hand surgery case by meddling outside his specialty.

He’s acting out of place.

The hospital needs to take strict disciplinary action, etc.

Wouldn’t a pack of wolves have pounced with sharp teeth?

There’s only one way to avoid being targeted.

Simply save and heal every patient under my care.

There’s almost no other way to sabotage me besides surgical outcomes.

Determined, Jun-hoo rose from his seat. He had a new martial art to master for the sake of his grand ambition.

* * *

That evening.

Jun-hoo didn’t go home and stayed in his office.

He had already contacted Ah-young, telling her he would be late and for her to go to bed.

Standing in the center of the office,

Jun-hoo was repeating strange actions.

He held a pen in his hand and then released it.

Thud!

The pen fell to the floor.

He bent down, picked up the pen, and released it again.

Thud!

He was intensely focused on martial arts training.

He was repeating the act of dropping and picking up the pen like a man possessed.

Even though he was doing something seemingly trivial,

Jun-hoo’s expression was extremely serious.

His breathing was labored.

His face was covered in beads of sweat.

He felt slightly dizzy and nauseous, and a ringing sound echoed in his ears.

‘Let’s try one more time.’

Jun-hoo took a deep breath and dropped the pen he was holding.

Simultaneously, he unleashed the internal energy [qi or vital energy] that had been building in his dantian [energy center below the navel] and mana heart throughout his body.

Woo woong.

Woo woong.

An invisible, intangible energy spread in all directions. The internal energy soon formed a translucent circle, surrounding Jun-hoo within a radius of 1 meter [approximately 3 feet].

Like a shield.

If a master of transcendence or higher were present,

they would have been appalled by Jun-hoo’s actions.

Creating a shield with internal energy in that manner was incredibly inefficient.

Typically, when creating a shield with internal energy,

it was made thin enough to adhere to the skin and clothing.

But Jun-hoo was attempting to block space itself by widening the range, a rather reckless endeavor.

There are no boundaries in the sky.

In the infinitely 펼쳐진 [unfolding/expanding] Jecheon, there is no time or space.

He who worships the sky, the world is his, and he shall stand above all things.

While dominating the surrounding space with internal energy, Jun-hoo recited the simbeol [incantation/mantra] of ‘Jecheon Gong’ in his mind.

Then, an astonishing thing happened.

The speed of the pen falling vertically gradually decreased.

There was even a moment when it seemed to stop in mid-air.

But the time warp didn’t last long.

It only lasted about 10 seconds.

As the internal energy barrier dissipated, the pen fell to the floor again at its original speed.

Thud!

“Cough. Cough.”

Jun-hoo coughed, covering his mouth.

As his blood vessels felt inverted, a few drops of blood splattered on his palm.

But he smiled.

Considering it was the first day of training, the results were promising.

The new martial art that Jun-hoo was practicing was ‘Jecheon Gong’.

Back in the Murim [martial arts world], it was a finishing move taught directly by the Murim Alliance Lord [leader of the martial arts alliance].

Jecheon Gong was a martial art that manipulated time.

After occupying a certain space with internal energy,

it subtly slowed down time within that space.

Einstein’s theory of relativity, though not yet established as a formal theory, was already being replicated as a martial art in Murim.

What is the use of Jecheon Gong in modern times, let alone in Murim, where people risk their lives and fight with swords?

What can you accomplish by slowing down time?

And what does Jecheon Gong have to do with medicine?

Some might ask these questions.

Of course, they wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

But Jun-hoo had already mastered most of the martial arts applicable to medicine.

With the path to Hyeon Gyeong [a higher realm of martial arts mastery] still distant,

Jecheon Gong was the only martial art worth pursuing.

Above all, Jecheon Gong was…

Not a useless skill born of someone’s prejudice.

It was a coveted martial art that would give Jun-hoo wings.

You can gain time by using Jecheon Gong.

And time is the most valuable asset.

If I master it completely, while others have 24 hours in a day, I’ll have 26.

I can perform one more low-difficulty surgery!

And that’s not all.

If you envelop a patient with Jecheon Gong, their time will also slow down.

You can save patients who would otherwise die.

Jun-hoo picked up the dropped pen and repeated the exercise.

As time passed,

the area of internal energy surrounding Jun-hoo gradually expanded.

His blood vessels and dantian/mana heart were under immense pressure, but Jun-hoo didn’t stop.

The wider the boundary of time, the better.

It was ideal to have enough space to cover Jun-hoo, the patient, and the staff.

If only Jun-hoo and the patient’s time flowed differently, the staff might become disoriented by the time discrepancy.

And I wouldn’t be able to get proper assistance from the staff.

In that arduous journey to dominate time,

Jun-hoo lost all track of time.

* * *

That dawn.

The door to the surgical intensive care unit opened.

‘Who could it be at this hour?’

Shin Mi-soon, who was organizing charts at the nurse’s station, turned to the entrance.

An unexpected person appeared.

It was Jun-hoo, the head of the neurosurgery department.

Shin Mi-soon was doubly surprised by the fact that Jun-hoo was still awake.

“Director. What brings you here so late?”

“Thank you for your hard work. I came to check on the hand surgery patient.”

“Ah… you mean the young patient who had his toe reattached? I heard rumors that you performed the surgery yourself, Director.”

“Yes, that’s right. How is the patient’s condition?”

Jun-hoo asked, his eyes shining with concern.