Doctor’s Rebirth - Chapter 116

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 116
‘The last and most critical concern: the risk of paralysis during surgery.’
It was the top priority danger.
When people look at disc X-rays, they commonly mistake the spine for being curved in just one direction.
The human spine curves in every conceivable direction.
It bends sideways, warps and fractures, twists like a screw.
Stabilizing this required an approach similar to bracing a tree, but it was far more complex than it sounded.
‘The ribs had deformed into pencil-like shapes, and the vertebrae were undergoing fan-shaped deformation as well.’
The spinal canal, nerves, vertebral deformation—I had to understand everything.
One careless mistake could result in lower body paralysis.
I had to navigate around the nerves with absolute precision.
‘I can’t pull this off without the Hyeonwon Jeonjin Divine Art.’
I needed to map everything meticulously through qi sensing and pulse reading. Not a single error could be tolerated.
Finally, the prognosis.
Neurofibromatosis was a disease with recurrence potential. Cases existed where tumors regrew after surgery.
Surgery wasn’t the end—continuous monitoring and examinations would be necessary afterward.
But that was a concern for after scaling this massive mountain of surgery.
I clenched and unclenched my fists repeatedly.
‘I’m the only one who knows this world’s future.’
Sama-hye’s death meant the death of countless others.
I was terrified.
I bit my lip.
‘I really wish Yoo Ho were here.’
A nurse trained by Yoo Ho worked at this Medical Hall as well.
She had learned to use the Five Elements Divine Art to clear blood and waste, perform sterilization, and assist in surgery.
Given that this was the frontlines of medicine, she had accumulated solid practical experience and her skills were respectable. But she didn’t compare to Yoo Ho, my number one nurse.
‘I miss him. I miss him so much. My nurse. My all-purpose biological surgical assistant robot…!’
If Yoo Ho had heard that, he would have threatened to kill me with a stream of curses. But I didn’t care.
Yoo Ho was simply too useful.
The best part was that once instructed, even through colorful insults, he understood perfectly. And his stamina never flagged, so I could work him to exhaustion on any task.
Since he constantly threatened to kill me anyway, using him without guilt was a bonus.
Like a modern person separated from their phone, I clutched at my empty chest.
‘I need Yoo Ho. I need him here. Yoo Ho…!’
Unable to help myself, I sent a message asking if Yoo Ho could come.
But his response came back as polite curses.
He said the Hangzhou Bunta nurse was Yoo Ho’s direct disciple, so I should trust her.
My heart ached.
‘Yoo Ho. My slave… my infinite labor force…’
* * *
All preparations were complete, and the surgery date had arrived.
I put the Hangzhou doctors through rigorous, intensive training.
Though I worked them as hard as at headquarters, they remained remarkably dedicated.
Some assistant physicians collapsed from exhaustion midway through, but I accepted this as an unavoidable sacrifice—the cost of cramming vast knowledge into them within the allotted time, thinking with the pragmatism of an old master.
“The surgeons who will enter the operating room the day before surgery must rest thoroughly. Fatigue leads to mistakes. Rest completely that day and do nothing else. It’s crucial.”
What awaited ahead was a prolonged battle.
To protect the child’s body, I had to fight against disease.
Both physical and mental stamina had to be at their peak.
Early in the morning, after finishing my meditation, I changed into surgical garments.
I had completed thousands of simulations in my mind.
I had not met with Sama Hyeon.
The results would speak for themselves.
The pressure crashed down—that no matter how much effort I invested, if I couldn’t save the patient, it meant nothing.
So I pulled my facial muscles into a smile.
There was nothing better than laughter to chase away tension.
Entering the operating room, I found Sama-hye lying there, anesthesia complete.
Her small body seemed too fragile to bear such pain.
‘I hate it most when children suffer.’
I disliked it in adults too, but in children it was far worse.
All the staff members looked toward me.
“You ate well, didn’t you? I told them to brew strong tea in the kitchen—hope they listened properly.”
I stood before the operating table, speaking with casual levity.
I said.
“Let’s proceed step by step. If we go step by step, it will be fine.”
Strangely, my voice carried not a trace of tension.
“Then, let’s begin.”
A long and grueling battle commenced.
As the chief surgeon, this was the most demanding ring.
* * *
Neurofibromatosis.
Brown-tinged patches are its hallmark. Because they resemble café-au-lait, they earned the name “Cafe-au-lait macules.”
It primarily manifests in children’s bodies, appearing on simple skin, optic nerves, spinal nerves, and cranial nerves.
‘Fortunately, there were no vision problems or learning disabilities.’
This alone was a blessing from heaven for Sama-hye. Yet she already carried far too much burden.
‘But the human body never cooperates as one wishes.’
As quickly as possible.
After opening the incision, I never stopped my hands for a moment.
How much could the child’s body endure?
Ischemic shock was something that absolutely could not occur.
As the spinal cord was exposed, I rapidly aspirated the cerebrospinal fluid and began resecting the tumors.
I concentrated all sensation in my fingertips, careful not to touch the nerves.
The neurofibromas were large and numerous.
There was nothing more I could say beyond “severe.”
‘I cannot afford even the slightest mistake.’
I succeeded in extracting every last tumor.
Clink—
The final tumor rolled across the metal basin.
All the senior doctors assisting watched intently.
‘Heavens… such precision….’
Next, I needed to examine the surrounding tissue to confirm there were no malignant tumors spreading, but through my pulse diagnosis, I confirmed there was no malignancy.
In that regard alone, I surpassed modern medicine.
“Exhale… moving to the next phase.”
I began correcting the twisted vertebrae.
This step was critically important for posterior fusion and instrumentation fixation.
Crack—
Fortunately, the spinal deformity itself was manageable, and I was grateful for that.
Now came the time to insert the pins into the corrected vertebrae.
‘Master showed me this once.’
When treating Yoo Ho’s open fracture, he drove the harp pin in with a single thrust.
Thanks to my sword technique, the pin slid in as easily as through tofu.
I focused my inner energy and inserted the pin.
Thunk—
‘I’ve practiced this thousands of times.’
Precise force, swift execution.
While continuously monitoring the child’s vital signs, I never stopped moving.
The Hangzhou Bunta nurse assisted me throughout.
Watching the nurse diligently provide everything I needed, I reflected.
‘Not quite at Yoo Ho’s level, but certainly exceptional. The teamwork is quite impressive.’
This was a place worth cultivating talent.
There was no need for lengthy instructions.
They followed my movements without missing a breath, providing thorough support.
‘Right. They likely have more practical emergency experience than the Baekrin Uigak headquarters.’
Emergency trauma surgery—the very thing they desperately needed.
I possessed what they longed for.
‘They will grow significantly after today.’
I continued the surgery with calm focus.
* * *
The senior doctors of Hangzhou Bunta watched me with reverence.
‘We heard the headquarters doctors were highly skilled, but the Busul Dangju among them is truly unparalleled.’
Every doctor dispatched here spoke endlessly in praise of the Busul Dangju.
To them, I was both their leader and a god.
Fights never ceased in Hangzhou, and as dawn broke, the wounded arrived in waves, each bearing different kinds of injuries.
As a doctor and as a person, my desire to save them burned fiercely, yet I had to turn patients away, and I had to witness the despair in the eyes of their families.
It was the heart of a defeated soldier.
When Buseol Hall was established and we learned that trauma patients were being treated miraculously, not a single person’s heart failed to race with excitement.
We dispatched our finest senior doctors to learn whatever they could, and when they returned, they transmitted that knowledge to the middle-rank and junior doctors, and to their fellow senior physicians.
Yet even so, the thirst for learning never subsided.
That was how we came to meet the Busul Dangju.
He was taller than the rumors suggested, but just as young. And his talent for commanding people exceeded what we had heard.
‘And annoyingly composed at that.’
Was it fearlessness?
Or was it certainty?
Thanks to him, the other doctors could follow Jin Cheon-hee’s instructions without great tension.
Everyone kept their eyes wide open, desperate to remember even one more detail.
The long surgery was drawing to a close.
What was remarkable was that Jin Cheon-hee showed not a trace of fatigue, his hands continuing to move with precision.
Examining nerves, soft tissues, and muscles with ease, even breaking into a smile as he worked.
Yet the carefulness he maintained in every moment was enough to make one’s tongue click in admiration.
‘Is he human or a monster?’
Could we ever truly grow to that level?
The doctors exchanged glances with one another.
‘We want to.’
* * *
The white qilin is the symbol of Baekrin Uigak.
Since ancient times, the qilin has been said to be an auspicious and wise being that aided humanity and would not tolerate injustice.
Just as ancient Greece adopted the serpent as the symbol of physicians, medicine carries its own symbols in every culture.
Baekrin Uigak, which had its roots in the Jegal Family, exerted its influence evenly across all branches of Buntta.
We transmitted medical knowledge and saved lives.
Because those roots belonged to Gangho, the appearance differed from the modern Earth, yet the desire to overcome illness and plague remained the same.
After the surgery ended, Sama-hye’s eyes opened and closed repeatedly.
“Ugh….”
As she awakened from the anesthesia, her consciousness flickered before gradually returning to normal.
The ceiling seemed to have changed several times, and she thought she had muttered some nonsense.
“Mother… Mother….”
Her mother no longer existed. Yet why did those words cling to her lips, causing her to murmur them over and over?
Though her mother was gone, the qilin pattern visible on the ceiling remained vivid and clear.
Someone took her hand.
-You’ll be fine. You’ll recover.
Whose voice was it?
She could not remember.
A strange sensation washed over her—something that felt like pain, yet felt like something else entirely.
My hazy consciousness finally surfaced from the depths of sleep.
Drawing on ancient human instinct, the child spoke.
“Mother…?”
Reaching out to someone who no longer existed.
“You’re awake?”
It was Jin Cheon-hee. He rubbed his eyes for a long moment before sitting beside her. Had he been watching over her condition this entire time?
Still, I couldn’t recall anything.
The dark circles beneath Jin Cheon-hee’s eyes were unmistakable—he was clearly exhausted.
“Did the surgery go well?”
“Yes. Technically speaking.”
What an odd way to phrase it.
Jin Cheon-hee pressed his finger against the child’s toes.
“How does that feel?”
“Um… you’re pressing. It’s cold.”
“My hands must have gotten a bit chilled.”
Jin Cheon-hee checked Sama-hye’s limbs, verifying that the nerves were properly connected.
“Can you move your toes?”
Twitch—
“Okay, no damage to the affected area.”
Sometimes Doctor Jin Cheon-hee mixed in strange words.
Okay, surgery, penicillin….
There were far too many unfamiliar terms. Even other doctors sometimes asked him to explain them again.
At those times, he’d brush it off as a mere habit of speech.
“Body temperature is stable too. Phew. Yes, that’s me alright. I really am remarkable.”
He even indulged in a bit of self-praise.
Though eccentric, Sama-hye knew he was a better person than anyone else.
“Let me check your back as well.”
Jin Cheon-hee performed several additional examinations.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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