Doctor’s Rebirth - Chapter 541

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

Chapter 541
After concluding my business at the Martial Arts Alliance, I stepped outside to find dusk already settling over the city.
‘In the end, I couldn’t prevent the Great Righteous Confrontation.’
It’s the flow that existed in the original work. On top of that, people who should have died long ago are now alive and participating in the conflict.
Still, the reasons differ somewhat between the original and now.
‘In the original work, the Great Righteous Confrontation erupted because the Demonic Cult and Hyeolseonggyo clashed, the people’s hearts wavered, and martial artists’ grudges exploded together. But now… hmm….’
…Perhaps because I’ve read the original, this sounds rather self-satisfied.
They fight because their forces took damage?
They don’t understand true devastation.
They draw their blades because profit is at stake, to seize that profit?
They don’t understand true bloodshed.
The government is the same. They scheme to maintain imperial authority?
The imperial family doesn’t realize their true enemy lies outside.
The Demonic Cult is… always the Demonic Cult.
In this game, only the Demonic Cult moves to its own rhythm.
The Cheonma doesn’t draw her blade simply because her ascension approaches—she constantly calls blood to the Central Plains in sync with her own breathing.
She is orderly evil.
She moves for the Demonic Cult with unwavering purpose, and her nature stands considerably apart from human joy and sorrow.
—Before I wear away and crumble, I shall grant her mercy.
A proposal once extended to Tugoe Gong Ya-geon in the past.
She promised to kill her—who would live forever—without pain. She also swore to protect her granddaughter’s fate under her own name.
That must have been the only glimpse of humanity she showed.
One of the few fragments remaining in her.
Not only Soegooju Heukun, but even the protagonist Yeo Ha-ryun feared the Cheonma.
What does she contemplate standing in the center of this game board?
What ending does she truly envision upon this unfolded board? I cannot fathom it.
‘What more could someone who has gained wealth, power, and even martial mastery possibly crave?’
Since I can scarcely imagine it, the Demonic Cult can only be calculated by the methods it has traditionally employed.
‘Sigh… stay calm. I must stay calm.’
I’m angry.
As a modern person, there’s much I cannot comprehend.
No matter how skilled a martial artist is, a blade still causes pain, and death is still frightening, isn’t it?
So why do they look back thinking ‘I have a new weapon but no chance to use it?’ and then rush off seeking someone to kill?
Do they truly believe that martial mastery awaits at the end of that path?
‘Perhaps profit and grudges are merely excuses after all. Just dogs mad for their blades. That might be the true nature of martial artists.’
A normal human wouldn’t climb cliffs bare-handed without safety equipment, nor punch stone walls with bare fists.
They wouldn’t thrust their hands into heated sand either.
“Hyeong?”
I opened my eyes to find Cheonwoo standing there.
“Why aren’t you going to the Wudang Sect?”
“The Elder sent me on an errand. Why do you look like that, hyeong?”
At the worried tone, I could only darken my expression without offering any response.
Soon, a blade emerged from my vocal cords.
“I’m sorry, Cheonwoo. I made you into a Kang Ho-in.”
“What?”
“No matter how innate your talent for sensing qi is, there were so many other paths you could have taken. But I made you into a Kang Ho-in. I made you live obsessed with the blade.”
“….”
Shadows deepen.
Cheonwoo watched the sun sinking below the horizon.
And he looked at hyeong.
A thought struck him—he couldn’t let hyeong leave like this.
He didn’t know why. Hyeong’s expression had returned to normal. His voice of self-reproach was as usual.
If asked what was different, it would be difficult to answer.
But perhaps it was because he had witnessed countless times hyeong rushing forward, colliding, and falling.
If he let hyeong go now, something irreversible would happen—he felt certain of it.
“Um… hyeong?”
“Have you never thought it would have been better if you’d become a merchant? Not a martial artist, but a farmer or a scholar?”
Yet his voice trembled at the end, despite its casual tone.
Hyeong’s eyes gleamed with a blue light even in the darkness.
What was he calculating with those eyes?
What path was he seeing?
Could it be his own death?
A chill ran through him, but he quickly shook his head.
The Jegallim Family was watched not only by countless Gangho elders but also by the leaders of the Mudang sect.
If even he began to view hyeong that way, hyeong would never smile at him as he used to.
Cheonwoo grabbed hyeong, who had grown cold.
“Hyeong, listen to me. After hearing what you said, I realized late that farming and commerce are just as important as cultivating martial arts. Hyeong. But I love the Mudang sect. Coming here, meeting Gwon Je, and cultivating martial arts while living each day fully—that’s what I want.”
“…Cheonwoo.”
“Of course my martial arts are still lacking. There’s not enough gentleness to call it Mudang technique. It’s tyrannical, and I don’t yet have the harmony of softness and hardness within me. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t cultivate martial arts, hyeong.”
“You could die, Cheonwoo.”
“That’s true. But whether I farm or trade, I could die doing that too.”
“….”
“Hyeong. I’m living my second life because I met you. You saved me. So… don’t say you regret it. Please, hyeong.”
Did my sincerity reach him?
I didn’t know.
But I understood that this hyeong was the most anomalous person in Gangho, and he carried burdens on his shoulders that ordinary warriors wouldn’t even dare to attempt.
“….”
Hyeong’s blue eyes gazed for a long time.
Were those eyes looking at Cheonwoo’s past?
Or at the future yet to unfold?
It was clear that the path ahead wouldn’t be smooth, which is why he’d said such things.
But I wanted to say that I’m happy right now.
That was everything Cheonwoo was.
And my brother was the one who made Cheonwoo into that person.
“Cheonwoo. Thank you. I think I’m beginning to understand what I need to do going forward.”
“Brother.”
“Yes. Whether one engages in commerce or farming, people can still die. Martial arts may kill and be killed by, but in an era where the average human lifespan is thirty years, you can’t simply draw a line and say one is clearly worse than the other.”
My brother was saying strange things again.
It’s because of this that Kang Ho-in couldn’t help but call my brother “Mad.”
But Cheonwoo understood.
Even if my brother was different from ordinary people, his fundamental purpose was nonetheless infinitely close to righteousness.
And though he pretended otherwise, he was actually wounded by people’s reactions.
The more those around him called my brother strange and different, the more he wore the expression of a lost child with nowhere to go.
‘Fundamentally, he is different.’
His basic way of thinking diverged greatly from that of ordinary people.
Everyone glossed over it by attributing it to the Jegallim Family, to being a child of the Jegallim Family, but the closer one was to my brother, the more one realized just how different he truly was.
“Cheonwoo. Are you happy to have become a Warrior?”
“Yes. My life right now is wonderful.”
“Even if you die or are injured because of it?”
“If it’s an action I’ve made peace with, then any injury that results from it would be my responsibility. And if I die, there would be no time for regret anyway, so it would be meaningless to worry about.”
“I see. Yes. That’s what it was.”
I closed my eyes.
Soon my eyelids opened again.
My usual eye color had returned. I had finished thinking.
“Cheonwoo. Thank you. I was about to collapse, but it seems I’ve held on because of you.”
My brother is truly remarkable.
Most martial artists rarely express emotions so openly.
Yet the most important things rarely leave his lips.
In a way, he’s the complete opposite of ordinary martial artists.
Still, Cheonwoo doesn’t deny that my brother is someone like himself.
“Of course, brother.”
“I’m glad I met you at this moment.”
And so one crossroads in the future was determined.
‘I don’t know what lies at the end of this path…’
As a Doctor I’ve tried everything, but perhaps the nature of a martial artist cannot be changed.
Was everything I’ve done ultimately futile?
When confronted with such cruel questions, a person inevitably collapses.
That’s why I was about to collapse too. I wanted to let go of everything.
‘Does Cheonwoo even realize what he just said?’
If meeting Cheonwoo at this moment was fate, then I would have to swallow even that fate.
I established the blade of my heart (心劍) in that moment.
It wasn’t the kind of Shimmoo that Kang Ho-in spoke of, but rather the heart and resolve of ordinary people living through each day—and in some ways, it was no different.
And I knew it was no weaker than Shimmoo itself.
‘Let me move forward. No matter what comes next.’
It was time to change my shoes and put on new ones.
* * *
What does it mean to live as a blade?
I’ve lived from youth to young adulthood, yet I still don’t understand it.
What’s certain is that the moment the question ‘What does it mean to live as a Doctor?’ gets input into this system, a bug crashes.
‘Boss, I’m tired now. Trot trot~’
With a trot song playing in my head, a Modern Person lives the life of a Modern Person.
‘Am I even still a Modern Person? There are things I can no longer possess….’
Perhaps I’m only yearning for something that doesn’t even exist. No matter how many times I’ve pondered it—dozens, hundreds of times—no answer comes.
But there is one thing I’m certain of.
‘Even as I wear away like this, my identity as a Doctor never diminishes.’
It’s rather amusing that even in moments of wandering as a stranger, with only the framework remaining, I can still support people.
In the end, meeting Cheonwoo, grasping onto Cheonwoo, and being able to rise again on my feet—
‘It must be that my identity as a Doctor ultimately takes precedence over my identity as a Warrior.’
Perhaps because I’ve died once before.
If I hadn’t died as a Doctor, would this obsession have remained?
Would it have been different if I’d simply been hit by a truck and reincarnated into this world?
The young man laughs bitterly, and laughs again.
I mourn Jin Cheon-hee, the human who died on Earth.
I’ve forgotten about it because it’s strange for me to hold my own memorial service, but that guy really did live hard.
Lingering regret over what I couldn’t save ultimately pushes a person forward.
An old firefighter once said it.
Saving others is ultimately an act of saving ‘myself.’
The young man asked in return.
Have I still not saved ‘myself’?
Then how much more must I save before I can save myself?
Does this work even have an end?
“Boss, I’m tired now~ Trot trot~”
“Hyeong, you’re singing a strange song.”
“Yeah. There’s a song like that.”
Even thinking about it myself, my situation is quite ridiculous, but this is the only song I can remember.
“Cheonwoo.”
“Yes?”
“I’ll gather my strength again.”
“Yes!”
“A Kang Ho-in can’t be stopped~ Trot trot~”
With that smile, I rise from my seat.
Laughing about the strange song, the funny song, I continue walking.
Cheonwoo watched my retreating back for a long moment before speaking.
“Hyeong!”
“Hm? Cheonwoo. What’s wrong?”
“If you need help, just say so.”
“Got it. I’ve already received help once, but I plan to ask again, and next time I’ll put it to proper use.”
My expression brightened. When I said it was fortunate, my brother answered like this.
“Koreans are naturally a people of passion, after all.”
I still don’t understand what he means, but that song must be helping somehow.
My brother grew distant like that.
Only the melody of the song he was humming reached me from afar.
“Is it a love song?”
Hateful as you are, I love you so very much~

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