A Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts [EN]: Chapter 505

The Surgeon Using Martial Arts 505

Chapter 99: Challenge (1)

Jun-hoo entered the neurosurgery conference room.

“Good morning, Director.”

“Hello, Director.”

The residents shot to their feet like lightning, greeting Jun-hoo.

“It’s okay, everyone, sit down. You don’t have to do this.”

Jun-hoo gestured with his palm, a slightly burdened expression on his face. Only then did the residents settle back into their seats.

He sat down, but the back of his head felt strangely itchy. He could feel the residents’ unwavering gazes.

The residents liked Jun-hoo without exception.

There were plenty of reasons.

Every morning, he’d stop by the on-call room and perform Internal Energy Infusion [a technique to boost energy and healing].

He kindly taught surgical techniques during operations.

And he filled two chronically vacant neurosurgery resident positions.

But that wasn’t all.

Jun-hoo had become a role model as a neurosurgeon.

He treated patients with genuine care and had reached a level of surgical skill that no one could surpass.

Jun-hoo didn’t realize it, but the residents’ feelings went beyond simple liking; they deeply respected him.

“Director, you’re early again today?”

Yena, a second-year fellow, boldly took the seat next to Jun-hoo.

“Yena, you too.”

“How’s the injury you got at the autograph session?”

“It’s completely healed now. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Director, you truly have the stamina and recovery of steel. You see patients, perform surgeries, appear on entertainment shows, and film NewTube [a fictional video platform] videos.”

Yena paused for a moment before continuing.

“How can you be so energetic and healthy every day while handling that many schedules?”

“Well, I don’t really know what to say.”

Jun-hoo chuckled.

The abundant internal energy in his dantian [energy center in the body].

The mana heart reaching 7 classes.

Thanks to these two energies, Jun-hoo’s stamina was like an inexhaustible spring.

When he thought about it, he hadn’t felt truly tired in years.

Only when he worried about how to save an emergency patient did he feel his mind being eaten away, but it wasn’t physical fatigue.

Recently, he hadn’t even used Circulation of Energy for fatigue recovery.

He was just using it like meditation to reach the realm of Mysterious Realm [a state of enlightenment or heightened awareness].

“Are you secretly taking good health supplements without us knowing? If you have any, please share them.”

“No, I don’t take any. Do you take anything?”

“I practically live on nutritional supplements. Vitamin B complex, vitamin C, magnesium, omega-3, probiotics… What else is there?”

Yena tilted her head, counting on her fingers.

She seemed to be taking a lot of supplements.

Come to think of it, it had been several years since Jun-hoo had stopped taking nutritional supplements.

He’d also stopped taking the Hwandan pills [traditional Korean medicine pills] he received from the traditional medicine clinic.

“Yena, aren’t you being a bit too forward with the director?”

Just then, a familiar voice came from behind.

It was Na Kyung-hwan, an assistant professor in the Department of Orthopedic Neurosurgery.

Na Kyung-hwan was the same age as Jun-hoo.

They had graduated from different medical schools, so they hadn’t known each other for very long.

“It’s okay. I like it when Yena is friendly with me.”

“Haha. If the director says so, I have nothing to say.”

“Do you have some time next week?”

“Next week… I’m free on Thursday and Friday, but what’s going on…?”

“There’s something I want to talk about with you alone.”

Na Kyung-hwan tilted his head, seemingly unsure of what Jun-hoo meant.

It was understandable.

It wasn’t a company dinner where everyone was together.

It could seem strange and burdensome to have a private conversation.

Na Kyung-hwan didn’t know it, but he was one of the puzzle pieces necessary for Jun-hoo’s project. It was necessary to build a friendly relationship in advance.

“Why? Is it so unusual for two men to meet up?”

“It’s not like that.”

Na Kyung-hwan chuckled at Jun-hoo’s joke.

“I’ll check my schedule today and get in touch.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

The conversation ended there.

Na Kyung-hwan sat down behind Jun-hoo.

As the conference time approached, the power dynamics within the Department of Neurosurgery became blatantly obvious based on seating arrangements.

The residents and neutral professors all sat by the window, close to Jun-hoo.

Kim Han-sang and his group sat by the wall.

Including the residents, there were more people on Jun-hoo’s side, but Kim Han-sang’s group had twice as many professors.

Even though Jun-hoo was achieving remarkable results after becoming director, the Busan sacred bone [referring to established, influential figures] professors had no intention of acknowledging him.

“Why is it getting harder and harder to see the director’s face?”

Associate Professor Kim Han-sang said sarcastically, looking at Jun-hoo.

“To see the director’s face, it’s better to watch TV programs than visit the hospital.”

“Kekekeke.”

“Associate Professor, how can you be so accurate?”

“Soon, you’ll be filming commercials for nutritional supplements.”

Kim Han-sang’s gang of professors laughed, each adding to Kim Han-sang’s words.

They blatantly slandered Jun-hoo, portraying him as a show doctor.

In response, the residents and the professors who had become Jun-hoo’s supporters frowned.

The war of nerves between the two sides ignited.

“You have a good eye. I’ve already agreed to film a commercial for nutritional supplements. And there’s also a pain relief patch commercial.”

Kim Han-sang’s gang’s faces hardened at Jun-hoo’s words.

They were trying to mock him, but it turned out to be true.

“And I surprisingly enjoy being in the spotlight. Ah, but Associate Professor, you wouldn’t know how that feels.”

Jun-hoo aimed his barb at Kim Han-sang.

Kim Han-sang’s relaxed face crumpled. The expressions of the surrounding professors also turned fierce.

“Professor Choi, please say something.”

“Yes. When it comes to talking, isn’t Professor Choi the best?”

Despite the urging of the surrounding professors, Choi Jin-gu, Kim Han-sang’s right-hand man, remained silent.

There was no choice…

Choi Jin-gu had already joined forces with Jun-hoo.

In exchange for Jun-hoo’s promise of the next associate professorship.

Their reliance on a spy was pathetic and pitiful.

Enjoy this moment to the fullest.

When ‘that project’ is successful and autumn comes, the throne will be mine.

I’ll show you what a bloody purge is.

Jun-hoo sharpened his metaphorical sword inside.

As always, time was on Jun-hoo’s side.

* * *

That morning.

Jun-hoo went into his first surgery.

The patient’s name was Go Yoon-sung, and he was 50 years old.

The diagnosis was a brain tumor.

The tumor type was oligodendroglioma [a type of brain tumor that arises from oligodendrocytes, a type of glial cell].

When they first sought treatment, neither the patient nor his family suspected a brain tumor.

They thought there was a problem with his mind because his thinking ability had deteriorated and his emotions had become erratic.

But Jun-hoo saw through the true nature of the disease.

He took care of the patient himself, without referring him to the Department of Psychiatry.

As a result, he confirmed the brain tumor.

Cases like Go Yoon-sung were common.

Cases where the personality suddenly changed, or vision became blurry, etc.

Cases where essential treatment was delayed because they focused on the secondary symptoms and didn’t even suspect a brain tumor.

But Jun-hoo didn’t make such mistakes.

In that treatment setting, through Internal Energy Brain Angiography [a technique using internal energy to visualize blood vessels in the brain], he was able to accurately assess the patient’s condition.

“From now on, we will begin the resection of the oligodendroglioma in the frontal lobe.”

Jun-hoo’s voice echoed in the operating room.

The curtain rose on the full-scale surgery.

Jun-hoo unleashed the Celestial Art from the beginning.

The martial art of the Murim Alliance Leader [leader of a martial arts alliance].

The ultimate martial art that wraps space with internal energy and slows down time.

Woooooong.

Woooooong.

The internal energy that surged from his dantian exploded and gushed out of his body.

The magnetic field of internal energy, visible only to Jun-hoo, enveloped the staff and patient.

Jun-hoo’s gaze snapped to the clock on the operating room wall.

Looking at the clock, Jun-hoo counted in his mind.

Two seconds had passed for Jun-hoo.

But only one second had passed on the wall clock.

The time warp had worked. The Celestial Art unfolded in actual combat was a success.

As far as Jun-hoo knew, the Celestial Art…

He’d heard that the more you practice, the more you can distort time.

Then it was necessary to practice diligently.

The more familiar he became with the Celestial Art, the more time he could gain.

“Director, are you feeling unwell?”

The first assistant, a fourth-year chief resident, looked concerned.

“Why? Do I look sick?”

“Maybe it’s my imagination, but your face suddenly looks pale.”

“I’m not feeling great today.”

Jun-hoo answered honestly.

Just maintaining the Celestial Art consumed an enormous amount of mental energy.

It was only natural.

Only one person in the orthodox sect had reached the realm of Mysterious Realm, and that was the Murim Alliance Leader.

It wasn’t easy to master the martial arts created by such a leader.

If the scope of the Celestial Art was limited to himself, it would be easier, but Jun-hoo was unfolding a wide-ranging Celestial Art that encompassed the patient and the staff.

The difficulty of the martial art had increased exponentially.

No matter how hard it is, I can’t give up.

There’s a limit to just securing my own time.

Eventually, even the staff who help me must be within my time zone.

“I can handle this much. Let’s continue the surgery.”

Jun-hoo said cheerfully, on purpose.

A series of processes followed, including incising the scalp and skull.

Squeak.

The scalpel traced a clean line.

The scalp was cut long to the left and right.

The incision was widened by pulling the retractors up and down.

The surgical field was secured.

Wiiiing.

Wiiiing.

The surgical drill whirred.

Four holes were made in the skull.

Bone fragments flowed out like slush.

As the surgery continued, the fishy smell of blood filled the operating room. The smell of disinfectant also became unpleasant.

When the hard skull was removed, the dura mater [the outermost of the three layers of membrane that surround the brain and spinal cord], which looked milky and sticky like a milk film, appeared.

Jun-hoo paused for a few beats.

Even the basic procedures that he usually handled effortlessly felt particularly difficult today.

His head was heavy, and his hands felt clumsy.

He also felt a pressure as if an invisible hand was pressing down on him.

It was the aftereffect of the Celestial Art.

The hardship and adversity that had come after a long time.

It wasn’t something that came from the outside, but hardship and adversity that he created himself.

Jun-hoo endured it, biting his lip.

Honestly, his physical condition was already at its peak. All the martial arts necessary for surgery had been mastered.

If there was only one thing left to conquer, it was time.

In other words, the golden time to save a patient.

Even if a dying patient came into the operating room, wouldn’t it be worth fighting if there was the Celestial Art?

“The oligodendroglioma is located in the orbitofrontal cortex [the area of the frontal lobe of the brain located directly behind the eyes]. That’s why the patient suddenly became violent and unable to control his personality.”

“Yes, Director. But how wide should we make the resection?”

“As wide as possible.”

“Wouldn’t the patient’s condition worsen then? I think we’ll have to touch some nerves…”

“It’s our job to make the impossible possible.”

Jun-hoo confirmed the resection range with his eyes.

It was just an estimate.

The estimate of a master of Harmony Realm [a high level of martial arts mastery] was as accurate as a ruler.

In Murim [the martial arts world], lives depended on whether the sword was used within millimeters.

“Electric scalpel.”

Chiiiik.

Jun-hoo began to dissect the area around the tumor.

White smoke rose like incense from the surgical site. The tissue burned, and a sweet smell spread.

Having operated on numerous patients, Jun-hoo knew from experience which nerves would cause relatively less damage to the patient when damaged.

He was now resecting, including those nerves.

In other surgical operations, it’s called radical surgery.

They cut out a wide area where cancer has occurred, but neurosurgery couldn’t do that because the area they deal with is the brain.

They couldn’t cut out a wide area of the brain.

The surgery ended in 3 hours.

Based on the Celestial Art, it was 2 hours and 50 minutes.

As soon as the surgery was over, Jun-hoo rushed out of the operating room. He threw off his clothes and went straight to the staff toilet.

“Uwaaaaaaack!”

He vomited a lump of dark red blood into the toilet.

His Qi [life energy] and blood had become entangled because he had performed the surgery while using the Celestial Art.

Even though he vomited Qi and blood, his stomach didn’t calm down easily. It was boiling like lava.

Tears welled up.

The retching didn’t stop.

But Jun-hoo endured all kinds of suffering.

Because he knew from experience the truth that trials soon train him.