Doctor’s Rebirth - Chapter 371

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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 371
The billowed sails announced smooth sailing.
Traveling from Jiangsu Province to Sichuan Province was little different from moving from the eastern edge of the Central Plains to the western edge.
Though traveling by boat was faster than by land, it wasn’t as if we were aboard a modern twenty-first century vessel with an internal combustion engine, so I still had to spend considerable time on the water.
It was a tedious itinerary, but.
I taught my younger brother Sama Hyeon several basic martial techniques he could learn easily, and Sama Hyeon in turn taught me assassination techniques.
When things grew a bit monotonous, we’d discuss the current flow of funds in the Central Plains or the luxuries fashionable among high officials.
And we could hear rumors about various martial artists.
In between, Sama Hyeon would pluck the pipa, and I imparted to him some of the martial principles of the Seven-String Zither.
The amusing part was that while transmitting such martial knowledge, I myself was playing the pipa for the first time.
“So you actually managed to do it properly, brother?”
“It worked.”
“Heh, well.”
Ding—
I plucked Sama Hyeon’s pipa with my fingers as I answered.
“You’re learning quickly?”
“I’ve already mastered the theory. The problem is just that plucking the strings themselves is new to me.”
“That’s why you’re producing this kind of sound from the start. And your posture is clumsy because it’s your first time, naturally.”
Sama Hyeon clicked his tongue in exasperation and pulled something out from the bottom of the boat.
It was the Seven-String Zither.
“Will this work too?”
“Hmm, the martial technique was originally based on the Seven-String Zither. This would actually be more comfortable.”
I placed the Seven-String Zither on the table and plucked the strings with my fingertips.
Ding-ling—
The resonant tone of the Seven-String Zither infused with inner energy vibrated through the air.
Since there was no killing intent, it was merely sound for now.
Yet if the one playing the zither set their mind to it, it would become a formidable sonic technique.
After plucking it a few more times, I furrowed my brow.
“Actually, the voice seems easier.”
“Usually it’s the opposite, brother.”
“I suppose so, but…”
Sama Hyeon responded to my Seven-String Zither by playing the pipa.
Following the mournful sound of the pipa, Sama Hyeon spoke.
“Shall we play a piece together? Gaga?”
“That ‘gaga’ business again.”
Even as I said this, I steadily plucked the strings in time with Sama Hyeon’s melody.
This time, pure music without inner energy infused.
I was certainly learning quickly.
Perhaps because I already understood the theory.
The boat glided across the river.
In the silence, two strings sang their own melodies in harmony.
It was a poem by Li Bai.
Two people sharing wine as mountain flowers bloom,
One cup, another cup, and yet another cup—
I grow drunk and wish to sleep; you may take your leave now.
If you think of me tomorrow morning, come embrace the seven-stringed zither and visit.
“Drinking Alone in the Mountains.”
True to Li Bai’s style, the poem captured both the refined pleasure of wine and the joy of meeting someone dear.
And it was fitting that the zither was involved.
There had been a long time since we last met.
Though we hadn’t discussed it beforehand, the melody flowed naturally—as if it reflected this very moment.
I matched my rhythm effortlessly to Sama Hyeon’s pipa.
When he played high notes, I drew the lower strings; when he produced low melodies, I responded by gently shaking the higher strings in harmony.
‘He’s following along quite well.’
Despite his appearance, Sama Hyeon had mastered the pipa through years of street opera performances in his youth.
It was surprising how naturally my brother kept pace with me.
Suddenly, Sama Hyeon noticed my eyes had taken on a blue hue.
I had fallen so deeply into a state of selflessness while plucking the strings and channeling the Hyeonwon Jeondan Singeong that I wasn’t even aware of it.
In this moment, I was savoring the experience and beginning to comprehend the profound techniques of the Cheonma’s seven-stringed zither.
Many martial artists listened to our performance.
Sama Hyeon, delighted, recited verses in rhythm with the melody,
And I plucked the seven-stringed zither in harmony with his singing.
Until the piece ended, not a single warrior spoke, and we, oblivious to them, joyfully explored the subtleties of sound cultivation.
As expected, my brother was the first to speak.
“Wow, I think I can improve the Cheonma zither even further.”
Sound cultivation is inherently difficult to master.
I deconstructed that complex sound cultivation and extracted one elegant principle that could be applied creatively.
Sama Hyeon plucked a string and asked.
“You’ll teach me too, right~?”
“Of course. Who else would I teach, my own brother?”
I deliberately made an exaggerated mischievous grin.
With an expression suggesting I was about to play some grand prank, Sama Hyeon couldn’t help but laugh along with me.
Twang—
I accidentally plucked the wrong string, but it didn’t matter since we were having fun.
The melody ended there.
A good night, a good voyage.
* * *
How long had we been sailing?
At last, our party arrived in Sichuan Province.
As we disembarked, I spotted an unexpected person.
“Hehehehe. So you’ve finally arrived? My destined rival!”
Though she wore a mask, I could recognize her voice alone—I knew exactly who she was.
Dang-a.
The champion of the Yongbong Tournament, a girl who had cultivated the Dang family’s formidable poison techniques and nurtured a black flame dragon within her heart.
Now, no longer a child but a mature woman, she stood in a lethal mask, striking a lethal pose, and spoke lethal words.
‘Good heavens, the word “lethal” appears three times in a row!’
I found myself wondering if we were living in 1999.
Back then, both children and adults were o. b. s. e. s. s. e. d. (Bang!)
As for why—there were various academic explanations and theories, but roughly speaking, it was that feeling of witnessing the end of a century, and perhaps that strange anticipation that the world might end in 1999.
And a reflection on why human civilization had developed to such heights while our spirits had become so impoverished.
Resistance against modern civilization.
Narcissism.
…and so forth, though the one saving grace was that SNS and smartphones didn’t exist back then.
Watching Dang-a, who had brought that sensibility with her unchanged, I felt somewhat concerned.
‘Wasn’t that dark history supposed to be over?’
Suddenly, I sensed something different in her energy.
This was something I could perceive because we shared the same realm, and because I had seen her in the past and glimpsed something of the Dang family’s martial arts.
‘Could it be… Hwagyeong?’
It was far too fast.
Even Namgung Yeon of the Namgung family, who would become the Iron-Blood Sword Master in the future, was still far from reaching Hwagyeong.
This speed was comparable to Namgung Un or myself with my cheat abilities—or perhaps even faster.
‘Has the Dang family ever possessed such speed before?’
Perhaps this madness (?) was somehow connected to this speed.
‘Wait. If that’s the case… could Dang-a be approaching… Our Master’s speed?’
There was precedent.
My Master, Baek Rin-ui-seon.
I knew that Dang-a was the most talented genius the Dang family had ever produced.
But to be compared to Master…?
“What are you thinking about, my rival?”
Flinch.
Dang-a had silenced her presence and smoothly closed the distance between us.
The way she moved like a shadow was proof that she had completely mastered the Dang family’s footwork techniques.
I quickly introduced Dang-a to Sama Hyeon.
“Ah… Hyeon-a, this is Lady Dang, who is called the Poison Dragon of the Dang family.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Dang. I am Sama Hyeon, the Blood Master of the Golden Blood Hall.”
“Lady Dang, this is my younger brother, Sama Hyeon.”
Then Dang-a immediately spoke.
“The Golden Blood Hall! Lackeys of the Golden King!”
Such tremendous rudeness from the very first meeting!
The guards flanking Dang-a hurriedly gestured signals of apology to Sama Hyeon.
It was like a message asking me to see that it wasn’t sincere.
If the opponent had been from the same martial sect or noble family, we could have answered each other through a martial duel.
But the opponent was the martial world’s bank—no, the fourth-ranked power in the secondary financial sector.
The martial artists were at a loss for how to handle political relationships rather than sword conflicts.
It was then that Sama Hyeon spoke casually.
“I’m a lackey, that’s right~ Currently I’m just a lackey living under this hyeong’s control~”
Sama Hyeon’s eyes narrowed.
Like a fox grinning mischievously, Dang-a clicked her tongue as if her interest had waned.
“Tsk, seeing how petty you are, you really are a lackey! But truly, my destined rival! To take a lackey of the Geumhyeol Bank as a brother! Splendid!”
“…Dang-a. What are you trying to do?”
I recall hearing before that she was supposedly returning to her original self.
What on earth has happened to this child?
Beneath her mask, Dang-a recreated the demonic laughter she imagined, letting out “Krahahahaha!”
‘Not long ago… I met Cheonma. Dang-a.’
Dang-a doesn’t know true evil.
The darkness she imagined had an innocent side and a side that sought righteousness.
But the darkness that Cheonma emanated was genuinely real.
Cheonma didn’t boast—she simply killed.
She didn’t speak—she simply killed.
The one who wore nameless robes and walked like a satiated tiger with a sword casually hung at her waist was the one who drowned the Ten Thousand Great Mountains in blood.
She was profound darkness, madness, and something transcending good and evil.
Truly a being that devoured life itself.
It was fortunate that Dang-a didn’t know true evil.
Thinking about it that way, I found myself not disliking this version of Dang-a.
I took out a snack I’d prepared for Dang-a.
“I made pumpkin taffy. Want some? And I also have honey-chilled fruit pops shaped like sticks.”
I’d brought them all properly chilled with cold qi.
“Hmm. How amusing. My destined rival! You think you can bribe me with mere sweets?”
Yet I could see her gaze was fixed on the snacks I’d pulled out.
‘She still loves food.’
Even as a Hwagyeong, Dang-a remained wild.
* * *
Following Dang-a’s guidance, I was able to arrive at the Dang residence.
“Hoho, so you’re saying Lady Dang prefers being called Hyeolpyeon-wang~?”
“Indeed. The title ‘Lady’ is not one I deserve. For this seat, consumed by blood and darkness, such white words are… kugh….”
…I was genuinely worried about Dang-a, but was it even appropriate to worry about a child who’d become a Hwagyeong at her age?
Wasn’t it exactly the same as worrying about a performer?
Regardless, Sama Hyeon got along well with Dang-a.
“Okay~ Then I’ll call you Hyeolpyeon-wang~”
“O…kay?”
“It’s a word Hyeong uses often.”
Did I use it that frequently?
It seems I’ve picked up the habit without even realizing it.

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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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