Doctor’s Rebirth - Chapter 434

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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 434
The Empire’s standing army numbered one hundred and fifty thousand soldiers.
Most of them were stationed guarding the borders.
And of those one hundred and fifty thousand troops, four hundred thousand were being mobilized and marching toward Danmok Fortress as we spoke.
Originally, the forces defending the Shanxi Province border numbered approximately two hundred and forty thousand…
General Do Gong, who first discovered the Suksin Tribe’s reconnaissance unit, had underestimated them as savages and led forty thousand soldiers into battle, only to be annihilated.
‘Such incompetence deserved to be called treason.’
But the dead speak no words.
As a result, two hundred thousand troops remained.
With thousands of wounded now inhabiting Danmok Fortress in this mad situation, Yuk Heon had confirmed that the enemy forces numbered three hundred thousand—a massive army.
‘I will defend this border with blood, no matter what!’
General Yuk Heon of Choyang.
His wife and children stood behind him.
The moment the Suksin Tribe crossed this horizon, his family would meet the same fate.
‘Can a general truly witness such things?’
A general was, in the end, like a dog.
His master could be called the Emperor, but it could also be his family at home.
As long as they lived to call him Father, he could never allow such a thing to pass.
While alive, all he could do was bite and tear.
He left fifty thousand soldiers to defend Danmok Fortress, and threw himself into a desperate gamble to buy time for the four hundred thousand troops led by two of the other seven generals to arrive.
Kuguguong—
A jet-black light echoed from afar.
It possessed a grandeur akin to lightning and thunder.
“It appears Prince Ju-wang and his soldiers have entered combat.”
Fortunately, the gods were lending their aid in maintaining this cursed front line.
With power closer to a natural disaster than human strength, Ju-wang had to meet the Suksin Tribe’s army head-on, deflecting their spearhead toward us.
Their strategy had been simple all along.
Advance slowly, like a tortoise!
There existed a war machine called the Tortoise Shell Chariot—a wagon reinforced with iron plating, originally designed to support infantry.
They had modified such chariots by mounting the Bichano upon them.
The Bichano was a repeating crossbow that fired dozens of arrows in a single volley.
Originally a siege weapon for defense, the Bichano was meant to be installed on fortress walls.
But he was using it mounted on a cart.
For this battle against the Suksin Tribe, he had mounted the weapon on the tortoise shell chariot.
‘That height reached eight chi!’
However, due to its tremendous weight, rapid movement was impossible.
Yet Yuk Heon, like a tortoise, had tightened his formation and advanced slowly.
When the Suksin Tribe’s scouts approached and unleashed their arrows, he calmly responded with the Bichano, dealing relentless damage to their reconnaissance units!
The Patriarch dispatched from Baekrin Uiseon had once remarked while observing the Bichano being constructed.
‘You’re mounting a rapid-fire crossbow on a Roman phalanx formation? You’ve lost your minds.’
None of the soldiers understood what he meant.
However, since the Jegallim Family had a reputation for being somewhat… eccentric, few paid it much mind.
Even Jegalling, who had treated him, was far from normal.
‘Still, he had far less killing intent than back then.’
My current wife had once dropped a medicine bowl in shock upon seeing Jegalling as he was then.
Even she, born into a military household and accustomed to bloodlust, had reacted that way.
‘Now he at least smells somewhat human compared to those days.’
It seemed that in his twilight years, unable to see children of his own, he found some joy in teaching disciples.
While it was regrettable that Jegalling hadn’t come to the military camp, considering the current situation, I felt it was perhaps fortunate.
The Baekrin Uiseon he led had saved countless generals and soldiers.
The officer spoke.
“The Suksin Tribe’s mounted archers are certainly formidable opponents. However, their strength comes from mobility and ranged attacks. The characteristic of nomadic soldiers is their rapid volleys of arrows followed by hit-and-run tactics.”
“Precisely. Which is why, using these armored chariots, even the Suksin Tribe will be helpless—they’ll be torn to shreds.”
The soldiers’ eyes gleamed red at the thought of killing even one more Suksin tribesman.
They had already witnessed enough of their comrades’ blood.
“Is the casualty exchange ratio three to one during engagements?”
For every three Suksin tribesmen killed, Yuk Heon’s army lost one soldier.
This was because of the armored chariots being pulled by horses, and because all the soldiers were equipped with shields and spears.
Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom!
At that moment, a tremendous sound erupted and the earth trembled.
“Which direction?”
“Toward Prince Ju-wang’s forces!”
It was clearly the sound of two equal powers colliding.
It meant the Suksin Tribe had a master capable of facing Prince Ju-wang.
‘If the Hyeolseonggyo really is behind this…’
If they employed their sinister techniques, it might indeed be possible.
And Prince Ju-wang’s body was already battered from prolonged warfare.
Her task now was to seize the bull by its horns and twist it.
The adjutant’s expression wavered—uncertain if she could truly manage it.
“Remain calm. Your anxiety spreads to the soldiers.”
At his quiet voice, the adjutant’s expression shifted.
Slowly, but surely.
Without giving them the courage to charge recklessly.
If these strained forces lost patience and swept away Yuk Heon’s army, that would be exactly what Yuk Heon desired.
I could only pray that Prince Ju-wang’s body would hold.
* * *
What a damned world this is. Right?
“Haah… haah…”
Cheonwoo.
The younger brother of Jin Cheon-hee, and a student of Mudang Gwon-je.
Had I originally become Mudang Gwon-je’s direct disciple, the hierarchy of seniority would have been twisted into a troublesome knot.
But Mudang Gwon-je, as a great elder of the Mudang School, merely refined my martial prowess and guided my cultivation—he never bestowed upon me the title of “direct disciple.”
Yet even so, Cheonwoo was far from ordinary.
It was merely a matter of surface nomenclature.
Cheonwoo had inherited the true transmission of Mudang Gwon-je’s teachings, and that alone was enough to draw the attention of other Mudang School warriors.
From the start, Mudang Gwon-je’s divine techniques and secret arts were martial methods that selected their students carefully within the Mudang School.
They were transcendent martial arts founded upon the principle that they are not transmitted to those unworthy of them.
Indeed, Jeong Gwang, the disciple of Mudang Jangmunin, betrayed the Mudang School simply because he was not permitted to inherit their martial arts.
In the end, given the nature of the Mudang School’s martial techniques—
being allowed to learn was itself proof of being special, proof of becoming a pillar of the Mudang School.
‘But what good does that do?’
Cheonwoo thought.
Hieeeee—!
Beside Cheonwoo, who breathed in ragged gasps, a horse let out a cry of agony.
Around him, corpses literally piled into mountains, and blood had formed a river.
Nearly all of them belonged to the Suksin Tribe’s cavalry.
At their waists hung crescent moon blades perfect for striking downward from horseback, and on their backs were strapped multiple quivers.
Dressed in fur-lined garments, and though crude in finish, they wore leather armor that deflected arrows and silk vests beneath.
The corpses all had their wrists severed roughly.
Heads rolled across the ground like fallen fruit, while torsos remained attached to horses.
Bellies split open, their contents mingling with blood that pooled thickly on the earth.
One corpse lay with a leg cleaved in two.
A single ear drifted slowly like a small wooden boat along the river of blood.
“There’s no demon more wicked than this. Wasn’t the Mudang School supposed to practice Daoist martial arts? At this rate, there’s no difference from the demonic sects.”
“…Quiet.”
“Whoa, whoa, calm down. Third brother~ I’m still on your side, you know?”
“You… seem quite accustomed to this sight.”
“You created this scene, yet you wear such a shocked expression. I don’t understand.”
Sama Hyeon genuinely looked confused.
Cheonwoo’s Daoist robes were already deeply soaked with dark crimson blood.
“When you used the Mudang School’s martial arts before, you rarely had to see blood like this.”
“…You and I are different.”
Different even from Mudang Gwon-je.
Cheonwoo clearly understood the Mudang School deeply and was immersed in its martial philosophy, yet his path of power traced the way of the tyrant.
The same held true even when it became the way of the sword.
Nothing like the fluid, elegant arcs that his brother produced.
With the same technique, his brother merely dislocated enemies, but Cheonwoo shattered them.
Was it a difference in physique?
Perhaps it was.
His height had already exceeded eight chi.
There wasn’t a single Mudang sect robe that fit him properly—that said everything.
Other martial artists mocked Cheonwoo’s appearance as no different from a heterodox sect, but he was accustomed to it since his appearance often led to such misunderstandings anyway.
Cheonwoo forced his ragged breathing to slow, deliberately calming himself through deep breaths.
The battlefield.
The special mobile units of Gangho martial artists were typically operated as scout divisions.
Since most Gangho martial artists could ride horses, they combined light movement techniques with horsemanship.
Cheonwoo had learned horseback riding from his hyeong, so he had no difficulty keeping pace.
When they encountered enemies during their advance, their role was to launch surprise attacks and annihilate them completely.
“The hawk?”
“Captured it.”
Flap, flap—
The Suksin hawk in Sama Hyeon’s hand fluttered its wings.
For some reason, the hawks used by the Suksin Tribe were faster and stronger than those raised in Gangho with spiritual medicine.
A message tube was attached to its leg, serving to relay information to the Suksin Tribe’s main camp.
In other words, their role was to capture the enemy’s scout units.
As individuals, Gangho martial artists were stronger than ordinary soldiers, allowing them to operate in small elite groups.
Of course, the Gangho martial artists also suffered injuries and deaths.
However, Cheonwoo was exceptionally strong among them.
He appeared to be smashing everything in his path like a tiger charging forward.
Yet, mental fatigue was unavoidable.
‘Well, it’s not my concern.’
Sama Hyeon experienced little mental fatigue.
He had only spoken to Cheonwoo out of a desire to avoid responsibility should Cheonwoo die or suffer serious injury later.
Fundamentally, the two were indifferent to each other.
“This Irondragon Scale is great~ I’m glad I learned it beforehand.”
Thanks to the Irondragon Scale, the number of vital points he had protected was beyond counting.
“….”
Cheonwoo clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, then, seeming to have made a decision, pushed himself up.
“At least I haven’t given my hyeong too many places to stitch up.”
Saying this, he tried to brush the blood from his hands, and a slight smile crossed his face.
The white silk gloves his hyeong had made for him remained unstained by blood.
He couldn’t understand their structure, but knowing that at least one thing—they didn’t emit the scent of blood—made him feel better.
‘Ah, if I count the inner garment too, that makes two.’
In any case, being able to advance without major wounds was thanks to his training so far, his contemplation of martial arts and resolve, and finally the martial techniques and equipment his hyeong had taught him.
‘I have to return alive.’
Many martial artists had been injured or killed.
And he knew this was a problem that even a god could not solve.
Having come this far, he had to take responsibility for his own life.
Boom, boom, boom—
A tremendous sound echoed from far away.
I thought it was thunder, but turning around, I felt the light emanating not from the sky, but from the ground.
Only one person possessed destructive power of this magnitude—the one called the God of War.
It had to be Prince Ju-wang.
With Prince Ju-wang present on this front line, countless soldiers and even those headstrong martial artists found reassurance.
‘But how long can she endure?’
I didn’t know.
Cheonwoo was merely a Gangho master, not a military strategist.
Yet I understood at least this much—the human body has its limits, and it deteriorates with use. That was all Cheonwoo knew.
‘Am I deteriorating as well?’
As long as one is human, killing others causes deterioration.
On this battlefield, perhaps only Sama Hyeon before my eyes remained untouched by such wear.
‘I really do miss my brother.’
Though my brother is not beside me, I have the gauntlets he crafted and the Iron Dragon Scales he taught me.
Cheonwoo found solace in that alone.

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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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