Doctor’s Rebirth - Chapter 483

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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 483
This is what happens when a villain becomes industrious and productive.
And to master martial arts, one must still wake at the same time each day, perform the same training, strike the same rock with the same fist—so naturally, once one reaches a certain level of cultivation, even the wicked become diligent.
In this martial world utopia where both the righteous and wicked live with such earnestness, I alone am caught in the middle, dying away.
“Ilgwang–!”
A voice infused with inner energy thundered across Hong Ju and the surrounding area.
“Oh, quite the voice you have there? You show talent in sound projection techniques.”
At my words, both Cheonwoo and Man Seon burst into laughter simultaneously.
Even though this was hardly a moment for levity.
“Ilgwang, we heard you’re trying to destroy us wicked sects! No matter how much of a top-ten master under heaven you claim to be, do you really think we’ll back down so easily!”
“What am I even supposed to say to this?”
While I hesitated, he immediately shouted.
“What are you waiting for! Attack them all–!”
A thousand martial artists moved simultaneously at the Patriarch’s command.
‘With those numbers, we could actually wage war.’
Sure enough, they clumsily formed ranks and began launching arrows, looking exactly like they were conducting actual warfare.
But could I really let that happen?
“Everyone cover your ears.”
At my words, Man Seon cursed under his breath while covering his ears and fled to the opposite side from me, and Cheonwoo also stepped back several paces, protecting his ears with his inner energy.
I immediately lunged toward the enemy, pressed my front teeth together, and began producing a high-pitched metallic screech from my vocal cords.
Screeeeeeeeeeee–!
The horrible sound of fingernails scraping a chalkboard struck the surroundings.
Before the arrows could even be released, the sound projection technique struck first, and all the third-rate martial artists suffered damage to their cochlea and tumbled down the stairs.
Some bled from their ears and eyes, while others began writhing their entire bodies like caterpillars as if possessed by qi deviation.
Having eliminated a third of them in one blow, both Cheonwoo and Man Seon were astounded.
“…It was a questionable sound to produce with human vocal cords…. But the power is truly remarkable, Patriarch!”
“Man Seon, your words are becoming increasingly blunt.”
“It’s a compliment!”
“I trust you, Man Seon?”
Cheonwoo also shook his head several times, apparently dizzy.
“Both of you run much farther away.”
“What kind of insane thing are you about to do?”
I answered.
“Insane? This is a scientific striking method. Isn’t losing hearing better than dying? They’ll thank me for this someday.”
“Well, that’s….”
“Small fry like them can simply reflect on their ways and find new lives.”
Saying so, I clasped my hands behind my back and rushed forward.
I opened my mouth and began producing that sound I’d heard countless times in the modern era.
“Weeeeeeeee–oo.”
A siren sound.
He mimics the sound with his vocal cords and charges forward.
“Kraaaagh! Ilgwang…. That madman is using sound energy cultivation!”
“Beep beep–!! Beep beep beep–s!”
Even as I do this, my expression remains composed and utterly devoid of humor.
‘This is true healing. This is what true healing is.’
Gathering a thousand small fry would only be tedious.
Even if I fought these men armed with weapons, I wouldn’t lose.
But if I resolve to fight without killing them, the mental and physical exhaustion would be absolutely tremendous.
That’s the terrifying aspect of numerical superiority.
That’s precisely why I cultivated sound energy techniques.
After all, I don’t even trust the sword.
If martial artists knew what percentage of my patients come from wounds inflicted by their own swords—the very weapons they trust like parents—they’d all be shocked.
As I treated such martial artists, my conviction only solidified.
The only thing worth trusting is science.
‘Therefore, sound energy cultivation must maintain at least 120 decibels or higher—the level at which humans experience pain—and frequencies of 2000 to 5000 hertz, like the sound of nails scraping a chalkboard or a drill spinning. These are the frequencies that trigger pain perception, making the technique far more effective! So I must recreate this with my vocal cords.’
That is true sound energy cultivation!
I agonized greatly over whether I could actually achieve this.
I also wondered if it was even possible with human vocal cords.
And so I trained every day.
I didn’t shout loudly, but rather honed my voice by competing against the wind through the bamboo grove, and now was finally the moment my efforts bore fruit.
‘Experience dizziness, nausea, headaches, and the agony of hearing loss!’
The sonic cannons once used by the American military were based on this very principle.
It wouldn’t even be one ten-thousandth of the suffering they inflicted on civilians, but at least these men, despite having been stabbed countless times in their lives, would experience the pain of eardrum trauma for the first time. That would have to suffice.
“Disperse this gathering! Lower your weapons and disperse immediately! Piiiiiii–yooooooo–! Piiiii–yooooo!”
“You crazy bastaaaaard!”
“You insane monsteeeeeeer!”
As they wildly swung their swords in desperation, I launched a palm strike that sent the blades flying.
Then I answered with the cry of a pterosaur.
“Kiiiiiiiii–!!”
I thought to myself.
‘If you keep swinging like that and stab your friend next to you, who’s going to have to stitch that up? Me. I wish you’d think about that.’
Several martial artists collapsed, coughing blood.
Now only about fifty remained!
The survivors simultaneously hurled projectiles at me.
Pababababak!
Fearing that if I screamed any louder, even the unconscious ones would die, I stopped.
‘I’d prefer they don’t suffer brain damage if possible.’
Gangho affairs are inherently worse for your health than smoking, drinking, or drugs.
Still, I decided to show mercy as long as they weren’t from the Hyeolseon Sect.
‘I hope they appreciate my mercy and live virtuously from now on.’
To a modern person, martial prowess is akin to dynamite.
Used well, it can pierce cliffs and move mountains, accomplishing countless feats beyond human strength.
Yet when wielded in war, it becomes a weapon of mass murder.
The doctors speak of this.
There are far more productive endeavors in this world than piercing a commoner’s organs, severing their neck, or breaking their limbs.
Those who treat the wounds inflicted by martial prowess understand better than anyone how terrifying such power truly is.
With such formidable martial skill, one could aid in construction projects, build bridges, or till fields—a martial artist would accomplish far more than a commoner.
Even cooking could be done all day long if one set their mind to it.
Isn’t that the true power of martial prowess?
There’s no need for us to confirm the color of each other’s entrails.
‘Roughly fifty remain, I’d estimate.’
Elite masters composed of first-rate experts, peak experts, and transcendent experts.
“Damn it! The rumors weren’t lies!”
“That bastard must be exhausted too!”
“After expending that much inner energy, there’s no way he has strength left to continue fighting!”
‘That’s certainly the common sense of Gangho.’
The weakness of sound-based martial techniques lies in their tremendous consumption of inner energy.
The Patriarch of Hong Ju shouted.
“That man’s inner energy isn’t infinite! If we all combine our strength, we can certainly drive him back…!”
In that very moment, without even waiting for him to finish speaking, I closed the distance and drove forward.
The foremost one blocked the blade with an axe, then smacked my back with a poker!
Then I kicked at his kneecap and sent him tumbling.
“Krraaaagh!”
He rolled down the stairs, and it was obvious he was in considerable pain.
“Strike! Strike him down!”
The masters hastily drew their blades.
As if they’d practiced formation drills, there was a surprising degree of order even in this chaos.
“Ooh, you’ve got some guts, don’t you?”
As the axe shattered the sword, the poker in my other hand lashed across their entire bodies.
Much like a switch.
Crack, crack-crack-crack!
“Go home. Go back, wash your feet, and sleep! You all have parents, don’t you? They didn’t raise you to become bandits.”
The iron-forged switch struck elastically against their bodies.
“Ugh, aaaaagh!”
Though I hadn’t infused it with inner energy, striking with elasticity naturally hurt.
“Kill him! Kill him now!”
The bloodthirsty bandits swung their blades indiscriminately.
Facing dozens of swords caked with murderous intent, I smiled without a trace of fear.
“As expected, words won’t send them back. Fine. I understand.”
I swung, thrust, parried, and severed.
Those who brushed past me broke or tumbled down the stairs from my whip strikes, repeating endlessly.
Just as Man Seon said, it truly resembled the dance of a madman.
Yet it didn’t matter.
Strangely, there were no dead among those caught in that dance.
“Haha, what a fine moon it is. Seeing that round full moon makes me crave round hotteok.”
Isn’t the full moon day meant for eating round and delicious things, just like the moon itself?
With the weather turning cold, the timing is perfect.
“On a night like this, one should be frying hotteok, yet here I am doing this. I don’t understand it.”
I thought it was truly unproductive.
So I spoke of it, but what met my eyes were only gazes thick with murderous intent.
“If we bought one hotteok and shared it among four, it would make a wonderful memory.”
Splash!
Blood sprays.
“That’s far better than breaking children’s limbs, isn’t it?”
“Mad… blue-eyed…”
“Damn it, Ilgwang–!”
They cry out with hatred.
“The way of Gangho has fallen to the ground. I speak of hotteok’s deliciousness and they call me Ilgwang. Cheonwoo, what do you think?”
Cheonwoo guarded my back and spoke.
“It seems they don’t know the taste of the hotteok you make, hyeong?”
“Right. They don’t know that taste. If they did, would they be beating commoners at night? They’d be heading to the hotteok shop.”
Crack!
My pale, muscular knee strikes directly into the inspector’s face.
Several grains of corn fly from the inspector’s mouth.
“Since we’re talking about hotteok, I should finish this quickly. It keeps getting colder and I keep thinking about it. Cheonwoo, your shoulder.”
“Yes, hyeong.”
Cheonwoo stops fighting and lowers his massive frame.
I step on Cheonwoo’s shoulder and leap high into the air.
Boom!
My swelling sleeve curves like a crescent moon as it slides through the air.
The young man’s body rises as if a rabbit were bounding across the lunar surface.
It was a beautiful parabola.
The young man, drawing a flowing line like a single brushstroke, lands before Hong Ju-bang-ju.
Or rather, attempts to land.
Hong Ju-bang-ju hastily draws his sword.
I too assume a falling technique while crossing my axe and poker in both hands, preparing to attack.
At the moment of collision.
Hong Ju-bang-ju channels all his power into his blade.
In that instant, I release the falling technique and twist my body in mid-air.
What fills my vision is not a weapon, but long thighs.
A pair of thighs locked around Hong Ju-bang-ju’s neck as the body inverted, hands planted firmly on the ground like a handstand.
Then, with only the elasticity of the waist and the raw power of muscles connecting thigh to calf, I slammed that person onto the floor with a wrestling technique.
“Hoist-cha!”
Craaash–!
“Patient. Please rest as you are. If you get up, your wounds may reopen.”
It was the last voice Hong Ju-bang-ju heard before losing consciousness.
After that, Man Seon grumbled.
“Patriarch. We should have brought more subordinates. When are we cleaning this up?”
“Indeed. Haha.”
“You will fry the hotteok for real, right?”
Thump—
As if delivering a finishing blow to the vital points, I answered while stepping on the blood vessels.
“Of course we’ll fry them. The weather’s gotten so cold lately. At times like this, freshly fried hotteok is the best.”
Hotteok, hotteok, hotteok~ ho-ho-ho~ hotteok~
I hummed a strange song while hoisting the unconscious Hong Ju-bang-ju onto my shoulder.

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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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