A Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts [EN]: Chapter 536

Chapter 105. Completion and Connection (2)

-Don’t treat me. Just let me die.

His master’s resolute voice echoed in Jun-hoo’s ears and mind as he rushed toward the operating room.

Without realizing it, Jun-hoo bit his lip. His dry lips cracked, and he tasted the bitter tang of blood.

* * *

Twenty minutes earlier.

Jun-hoo had placed his master in his car and sped down the road like a racer.

He performed the necessary first aid himself.

He couldn’t afford to waste time waiting for an ambulance.

Thanks to his frantic driving, he arrived at Busan Shinwon University Hospital relatively quickly.

“Director. Is this…?”

Woo-hyun, who had been waiting after receiving a call, was startled to see his master. Every neurosurgery resident knew him; he’d been at the hospital even before Jun-hoo.

“The operating room is reserved, right?”

“Yes. The anesthesiologist is on standby. Professor Choi is also waiting.”

“Good job.”

“What about the surgical consent form?”

“Give it to me.”

Jun-hoo signed the consent form himself.

He called his master’s parents using his master’s unlocked phone. They were in Seoul, making it impossible to get their signatures in time.

“Get the operating room ready immediately.”

“Wouldn’t it be necessary to take a CT or MRI scan?”

“There’s no time for an MRI. Let’s just take a portable CT scan in the operating room.”

“Understood, Director.”

Woo-hyun carefully moved his master onto the bed and rushed toward the operating room.

Jun-hoo, looking exhausted, passed through the emergency room and slumped onto an empty examination chair.

It wasn’t just his body that was tired.

It was his mind that was utterly drained.

The sunken temporal region where the skull had collapsed.

The blood flowing from the torn scalp.

His master’s pale face.

The cerebrospinal fluid leaking from his ear.

His master’s miserable appearance, something he had never imagined, flickered before his eyes.

Belatedly, a wave of guilt washed over him.

If he had arrived at the meeting place just a few minutes earlier, his master wouldn’t have been caught up in such a terrible tragedy…

Jun-hoo rubbed his dry face with both hands and then jumped up from his seat.

He headed to the operating room at a brisk pace.

-Don’t treat me. Just let me die.

Why would his master say such absurd things?

He couldn’t understand it. Was it just delirium?

Or was he hiding something he didn’t know about?

Either way, it didn’t matter.

Jun-hoo had no intention of letting his master die, not even a speck of dust.

His parents, Ah-young, and his master were the three most precious people to Jun-hoo. If he had to protect them, he was prepared to fight against the whole world.

“Director. Are you okay?”

Choi Jin-goo greeted him as he entered the operating room.

It seemed he had waited for Jun-hoo without going inside.

“No. To be honest, it’s the worst.”

“If you’re saying that without even trying to be polite, it must really be the worst.”

“Yes. I wish this moment was just a nightmare.”

“How about leaving the surgery to me?”

Choi Jin-goo said cautiously.

One of the taboos for surgeons was operating directly on family or close acquaintances.

It was difficult to remain objective, and the extreme pressure made them more likely to make mistakes.

If Jun-hoo was injured and Choi Jin-goo had to operate on him, even Choi Jin-goo wouldn’t be confident in doing it properly.

“No way.”

“Why not…?”

“Professor Choi, your master’s condition is too severe for you to handle. Frankly, I’m not even confident myself.”

“Is it that bad?”

Choi Jin-goo asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

Jun-hoo nodded instead of answering.

His master’s head was already like porridge inside, from how viciously that son of a bitch had hit him. If he hadn’t stopped the bleeding with pressure points, his master would have been brain dead during transport.

“But I think we can do it somehow if Professor Choi helps me. Please assist me.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The two moved to the sink.

They scrubbed (disinfected before surgery) and put on surgical caps, surgical gowns, surgical masks, loupes (magnifying glasses), and surgical gloves.

The patient wasn’t an ordinary one.

The difficulty of the surgery was also extraordinary, so both of them wore serious expressions.

Ziiiiiing.

The two entered operating room number 9 side by side.

His master was lying on the operating table.

His face looked even whiter under the bright operating lights. The wires of the patient monitoring device and the IV lines were connected all over him.

Body temperature: 37 degrees Celsius.

Blood pressure: systolic 200mmHg, diastolic 150mmHg.

Pulse: 150 beats per minute.

SpO2 (oxygen saturation): 85.

His vital signs were a mess.

The electrocardiogram graph was irregular, like a stormy wave, and the electroencephalogram graph was nearly flat.

The expression “barely alive” was more accurate than “alive.”

“Mix mannitol (a diuretic), antihypertensive, sedative, adrenal cortical hormone, thrombolytic agent, and heparin (an anticoagulant) all together and administer IV.”

“……”

“Elevate his head, administer high concentrations of oxygen, and lower his body temperature.”

Jun-hoo quickly gave internal medicine orders first.

“Isn’t that too much medication at once? What if side effects appear…?”

Choi Jin-goo expressed concern.

“There’s no other way to keep him stable until we open the skull.”

Jun-hoo’s answer was firm.

His master’s condition was so critical that normal treatments wouldn’t be enough.

“Let’s start with a CT scan before the surgery. Professor Choi, please take care of it.”

“Understood.”

While Choi Jin-goo was taking a portable CT scan, Jun-hoo kept his eyes closed.

He was reviewing the condition of his master’s head, which he had assessed with internal energy cerebral angiography, and checking the optimal surgical approach.

There were two critical points.

If he faltered at those points, his master would surely die or suffer permanent disability.

This was why he didn’t readily entrust the surgery to Choi Jin-goo, even though he was a skilled surgeon.

Master.

I was able to stand in this place because I met you.

All the grace I’ve received so far, I will repay it fully this time.

Jun-hoo, having made up his mind, opened his eyes.

The eyes, from which regret and guilt had completely disappeared, sparkled with determination.

* * *

Flash! Flash!

After the portable CT scan was completed, the image appeared on the monitor.

The staff members were simultaneously horrified, as if they had rehearsed it.

The brain was severely shifted to the left.

Two giant hematomas, 10cm x 10cm in diameter, had compressed the major cerebral arteries.

Some brain tissue had necrotized and died, appearing black.

“Huh… This is too much.”

Choi Jin-goo couldn’t help but exclaim in dismay. He wondered if it was even ethical to operate on the patient.

If it wasn’t for Jun-hoo, no one would have attempted surgery on Park Jae-hyun.

A patient who would likely die even if operated on, Park Jae-hyun was clearly a table death case (a case where death is highly probable during surgery).

“Director. Medication is finished. Vitals are faint but stable.”

Woo-hyun reported firmly.

Woo-hyun, who was completely devoted to Jun-hoo, didn’t doubt that Jun-hoo would succeed in the surgery this time as well.

“Good job. Then let’s start the surgery now.”

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

From the start, Jun-hoo unleashed the Celestial Art.

Woooooong.

Woooooong.

The internal energy that spread from Jun-hoo’s whole body enveloped the area around the operating table and the staff in an instant.

A transparent field that distorted time.

Inside this field, time flowed slowly.

If the staff counted numbers in their heads while looking at the clock, they would have noticed something strange: the numbers on the clock would have moved slower than the numbers they counted.

But no one had ever tried that before.

Who would have imagined that a person with superpowers to manipulate the timeline could actually exist?

Sssseuk.

Sssseuk.

Woo-hyun, who was the second assistant and now in his third year, widely disinfected the patient’s head and covered it with a sterile drape.

“Number 10 scalpel.”

“Yes, Director.”

Jun-hoo made 4cm long incisions on the frontal and temporal lobes of the patient, respectively.

The incisions were as straight as if they had been drawn with a ruler.

“Professor Choi, please take care of the temporal bone resection. I’ll take care of the frontal bone resection.”

“Alright.”

Choi Jin-goo nodded.

The patient had extensive brain damage.

It was impossible to address it with just one incision.

“Probably by the time Professor Choi finishes the skull resection, most of the surgery on my side will be over. Let’s switch then.”

“Aren’t you looking down on me too much? Are you really going to be that much faster?”

“You’ll see.”

It was difficult to explain further.

Jun-hoo rushed ahead first.

He used a retractor to open the incision up and down, widening the surgical field.

Weeeeing.

Weeeeing.

Holding drills in both hands, he drilled a total of 4 holes in the frontal bone. Fine bone fragments, like slush particles, flowed out of the holes.

Cheeeeeek.

The third assistant suctioned the bone fragments.

Jun-hoo connected the four holes with a scalpel, creating a rectangle in the frontal bone.

When he exposed the frontal bone with a curette, the meninges (membranes surrounding the brain) were right in front of him.

The brain had been pushed against the frontal bone because the intracranial pressure was so high.

“Probe (needle).

“Yes, Director.”

Pooooook!

Jun-hoo boldly inserted the probe into Kocher’s point (a specific point on the skull).

The probe, narrowly avoiding the motor nerve center and major blood vessels, reached the foramen of Monro (a channel connecting the lateral ventricles of the brain).

“What’s the intracranial pressure measurement?”

“…4… It’s 40mmHg.”

The third assistant blinked and stared at the measuring instrument.

Considering that normal intracranial pressure is 0-15mmHg, it was a terribly high number.

But even this was lowered by administering diuretics and other medications.

“Well, the intracranial pressure will continue to decrease since I’ve lifted the skull.”

“Then how will the surgery proceed from now on?”

“First, we need to remove the hematoma and stop the bleeding. The real game starts after that, so be prepared.”

“Understood.”

Jun-hoo first resected the dura mater (the outermost membrane surrounding the brain and spinal cord), which was opaque, like a milk fat layer.

Blood flowed wherever the scalpel touched, because it was a place where fine blood vessels were widely distributed.

Each time, the third assistant suctioned using both hands.

“Ugh.”

Jun-hoo suddenly felt nauseous.

The third assistant’s eyes widened.

“Director. Are you uncomfortable anywhere?”

“I think my stomach is a little upset. It’s okay. I’ll get better soon.”

Jun-hoo lied on purpose.

He couldn’t show weakness as the main surgeon, especially during such a difficult procedure.

Just as morale is important on the battlefield, it was also important in the operating room.

The reason why Jun-hoo suddenly felt nauseous was because of the aftereffects of the Celestial Art.

The surgery time had already exceeded 20 minutes. He had been maintaining the time-distorting field that enveloped all the staff during that time, straining his energy and blood.

Some blood stagnated, and some showed signs of faint backflow.

But he couldn’t give up the Celestial Art.

The most important thing to save his master was time. Only time could save him.

*No more, no less, please hold on for 20 minutes. I’ll finish the life-threatening procedures within that time.*

Jun-hoo suppressed the nausea.

When he resected all the dura mater, the arachnoid membrane (a delicate membrane surrounding the brain and spinal cord), where the giant hematoma was located, was revealed.

The hematoma, viewed through a microscope, looked like a dark red planet.

“I’ve never seen such a large hematoma in my life… Is suction possible?”

“Of course not.”

“Then how…?”

“If there’s anything in the way, just cut it off. Scalpel, for my exclusive use.”

“Yes, Director.”

The scrub nurse handed him an obsidian scalpel.

A scalpel that is dozens of times sharper than a regular scalpel but is weak in strength and easily broken, so no ordinary surgeon can handle it.

Jun-hoo infused internal energy into the blade of the obsidian scalpel.

The blade was as dazzling as the scales of a silverfish.

Swoosh!

Jun-hoo severed the neck of the hematoma in one swift motion.