Doctor’s Rebirth - Chapter 626

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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 626
My brother is a compassionate and rational man.
‘Which is precisely why he’s such a headache.’
Sama Hyeon thought to himself.
Any martial artist would feel their sense of justice ignite upon witnessing a village of defenseless commoners consumed by flames.
Those worn-out Black Dao scoundrels would probably assume there’s nothing left to steal from burning houses anyway.
Yet surely those with even a shred of humanity would prioritize capturing and executing the beasts first.
But my brother swallows his killing intent and rescues the injured first.
‘He practices rescue before vengeance, not vengeance before rescue. That’s my brother for you.’
His sense of justice operates in a different order than most martial artists in Gangho.
That’s why he became a doctor.
As Sama Hyeon whistled, dark silhouettes began gathering one by one.
The Osalji Faction’s Black Martial Unit!
As the shadows suddenly erupted from beneath the trees’ canopy, everyone gasped in shock.
Even Man Seon, who had come with them, widened her eyes in astonishment.
“Elite assassins of the highest caliber? How were so many of them lying in ambush?”
“…They’ve been trailing hundreds of martial artists without leaving a single trace?”
While everyone reeled in shock, Sama Hyeon simply smiled with amusement.
“Well then, we need to have a private conversation, so if the Baekrin Uiseon warriors would kindly excuse us.”
Observing Sama Hyeon’s leisurely dispersal of killing intent, Man Seon shook her head.
“I see. I have no desire to entangle myself in such matters.”
There are certain things in this world best kept at a distance.
Especially from people like Sama Hyeon.
Those who carelessly approach such individuals often find themselves in dire straits.
Man Seon issued her command with inner force infused into her voice.
“Stop standing around and finish setting up the relief tents!”
At her sharp rebuke, everyone scattered like ants caught in a downpour.
Sama Hyeon watched the martial artists withdraw with evident satisfaction.
The Hao-mun School Master gained several privileges.
First, the secret techniques of five martial schools would be transmitted to him.
Second, the Black Martial Unit of the Osalji Faction.
“So now that it’s settled, you’ll help me find those bastards, won’t you~?”
At those words, the Black Martial Unit exchanged glances before one finally spoke.
“You seem to be under a misunderstanding. Our duty is to protect you, the Hao-mun School Master. We have no obligation to follow your orders.”
“And if this body were to be kidnapped and tortured, silencing you through death would also fall under the Black Martial Unit’s purview.”
That was correct.
This was not a pure purpose like protecting a Righteous Faction School Master.
Sama Hyeon now possessed knowledge of the secret techniques of five schools: the Golden Blood Hall, Hong Lu-gak, the Tudo School, the Gambling Faction, and the Osalji Faction.
Should such a person be kidnapped and tortured, wouldn’t he spill all those secret martial arts techniques?
So they would protect him, but if necessary, killing Sama Hyeon to silence him was also part of the Black Martial Unit’s duty.
That’s why the Osalji Faction entrusts this task to their most ruthless and experienced assassins.
Everyone who heard about the bizarre relationships within the Heterodox Faction widened their eyes.
The Black Martial Sect even exposed their own secrets in front of everyone, telling their leader Mun-ju to go to hell, while Sama Hyeon was trying to command those who constantly sought to kill him.
Even though the Baekrin Uigak Warriors were scattered about doing their own work, this wasn’t a secret chamber—just an open courtyard.
They spoke without caring that someone might overhear them.
A strange relationship devoid of mutual respect or confidentiality.
“Well, that said, I’m not in a position to be kidnapped anyway. And doesn’t the Osalji Faction owe the Golden Blood Hall hundreds of thousands of taels?”
“….”
“Master Gae. I’m not asking you to do this for free. Shouldn’t the Osalji Faction at least pay the interest on the debt they owe our Golden Blood Hall by doing something like this?”
With that, he flicked a gold coin with his fingertip and tossed it over.
Just as that gold coin was about to fall to the ground.
“Tsk—”
The renowned Osalji Faction assassin finally grasped the gold in his hand.
Sama Hyeon smiled coldly at such an assassin.
“Should I ever be kidnapped, you’re welcome to sever this neck anytime. That’s what my Shifu desires as well. How many secrets of the Golden Blood Hall do you think I know?”
That was it.
The reason Sama Hyeon became the deputy leader of Hao-mun.
He had told his brother it was because of his superior skills, but there was one more reason.
Sama Hyeon now knew far too much about the Golden Blood Hall.
The Golden King would rather have his disciple become incense for the Buddha than suffer the misfortune of him being kidnapped and revealing secrets.
And she wasn’t the only one who desired this.
“So you use even your own life as a gambling chip. You bastard.”
“Our Hao-mun also has the Tudo School that handles gambling, you know?”
Eventually, the shadows disappeared one by one.
Sama Hyeon watched this with amusement.
‘Our Golden King sister trusts no one. Not even the disciple who brings in mountains of gold.’
Just as Tugoe’s essence is righteousness, the Golden King’s essence is the Heterodox path, and Cheonma’s essence is the Demonic Cult.
Sama Hyeon chuckled.
The Golden King is ruthless.
No matter how profound her martial arts become, or how much gold she accumulates like mountains, or how she conceals her inner world behind silk walls, nothing ever changes.
‘That’s the Gangho. And I am Heterodox.’
Just as the Golden King doesn’t trust Sama Hyeon, he doesn’t trust her either.
That’s why both of them are Heterodox.
* * *
Days passed like this.
I, Jin Cheon-hee, diligently treated patients today as well.
‘I thought I brought supplies generously, but somehow they’re running short again…. This is troublesome.’
And there was one more thing.
‘Wounds inflicted by third-rate martial artists are more difficult to treat.’
Why isn’t there a saying about this?
There’s a story about a master from Gangho who cut a tree branch and reattached it to the cut surface, and it supposedly grew back together.
It’s true.
The cleaner the cut made by a master, the more perfectly it reattaches.
Especially if someone with sword force makes the cut, sometimes it grows back exactly as it was.
But if a bandit could wield sword force freely and use sword strength as naturally as breathing, he’d become a first-rate assassin or a first-rate wanderer—so why would he be banditry?
And of all things, the blades these bastards bring are usually dull or rusted, which makes treatment an absolute nightmare.
One of them even slashed the father who resisted across the shoulder, but naturally, human bone doesn’t cut easily.
So what do they do?
These crazy bastards keep hacking at the same spot until it finally severs.
Since they can’t dismember a person cleanly like a master would, their pride gets hurt.
And then patients like this come to us?
The fact that they survived long enough to reach the medical hall is pure luck, but treating them is absolutely miserable. Not to mention the aftereffects once treatment is done.
Tetanus is another problem.
We might as well give up on rehabilitation.
“Damn these bastards. You dogs.”
The doctor who came with them spewed out curses.
“How can humans do this to other humans? You wretched scum. Actually, even calling you dogs is an insult to dogs.”
He cursed while dressing the child’s severed ankle.
I spoke up.
“The child is here, so let’s refrain from cursing.”
“But he’s asleep from the medicine anyway, isn’t he?”
“He can still hear even while sleeping.”
The child who suffered this continued sleeping, intoxicated by the medicine.
The shock of losing everything below the ankle had sent him into a daze, but soon the drug’s effects took hold, and with his strength depleted, he fell asleep.
That’s the reality.
Sorrow and wailing require strength to express.
‘There are cases where they suddenly regain strength and abruptly take their own lives.’
Many hang themselves once they recover enough strength, after a period of having none.
That’s war, and that’s Gangho.
The one who cut off the child’s ankle had also half-learned poison techniques, making treatment even more difficult.
If you’re going to learn, learn properly—not pick up some filthy garbage and call it poison.
“Surely you’re not resting either, Patriarch?”
“I’m resting well.”
“You look haggard. You haven’t slept in even two hours, have you? Has anyone here seen the Patriarch actually resting?”
At those words, the other doctors chimed in one by one.
“Who’s going to see that? He’s not resting and not sleeping—who would see it?”
“While I was sleeping, the Patriarch was doing surgery, and when I woke up, he was still doing surgery. Only the patients changed.”
“That’s right. Patriarch, go rest.”
“If you collapse, we’ll be the ones who die to the Guild Master.”
“We’ve handled all the urgent cases now. Go get some sleep!”
Even Hwang-gu was tugging at my clothes.
Whimper, whine—
I decided to pretend I couldn’t resist and got up.
‘Right. I have the Treasure Orb, but I’m reaching my limits.’
They said it accumulates karmic debt to protect me. Lately, I’ve been wondering if I’ve been pushing myself with the Treasure Orb’s power during these rest periods, which is why my fingers got severed in the first place.
What would a mortal know about karmic debt anyway?
If I think of it simply like a bank account, every time I accumulate it, I spend it on regeneration and fatigue recovery. So when I need to make a big withdrawal—like reversing time—I end up unable to use it properly, don’t I?
‘Well… it probably isn’t that simple arithmetic.’
In any case, my body is starting to send signals that it’s reaching its limits.
The ground has begun spinning.
“Very well. I’ll get some rest.”
As I rose, the doctors clapped.
“That’s the spirit! Go to sleep!”
“Sleep, I said! Soggakju!”
“Don’t give us that nonsense about learning martial arts meaning you only need a little rest. We’ve learned martial arts too.”
That was true.
The doctors who could keep up with my pace had all learned some level of martial arts and knew how to use lightness techniques.
Excuses wouldn’t work.
So I entered my quarters.
Just as I was about to curl up under the blankets and take a nap, a voice rang out from outside the tent.
“The Imperial Censor of the Golden Guard has arrived!”
Listen to that crisp, resonant tone from the Magistrate.
You could hear the weight of someone who’d rubbed shoulders with power.
‘Ah, the Magistrate has finally arrived?’
I got up again and straightened my robes.
It meant I wouldn’t be sleeping tonight either.
* * *
The moment I stepped outside, the Magistrate came rushing over and dropped to his knees.
The momentum was so fierce it was like watching a wild boar do a somersault.
“The Imperial Censor of the Golden Guard has arrived!”
‘…His body is impressive.’
Muscular throughout, with clear signs of martial training. That meant he lived with some diligence, at least.
But diligence didn’t mean he was incorruptible.
‘To embezzle bribes without leaving a trace, you need to be industrious too.’
Lazy men get caught quickly.
Diligent ones hide their tracks well, and in this analog age without internet banking, investigating them was torture.
‘Ah… I can already see the bill coming.’
I’d leave rooting out corruption to the Gold and Silver Kings later. Right now, saving people was what mattered.
“There’s no time for formalities, Magistrate. But you see this, don’t you?”
I gestured with my chin toward the burned houses and the residents receiving treatment.
The Magistrate clasped both hands together and delivered a performance of utter sincerity.
“This… what in the world is….”
“Bandits were running rampant. But surely you weren’t aware of such matters, were you, Magistrate?”
At my words, the Magistrate’s face turned ashen as he spoke.
“It is I! My incompetence has brought about this calamity…!”
I thought he would blame others, but instead he immediately prostrated himself, calling himself incompetent.
Whether this incompetence stemmed from corruption or genuine neglect of the commoners, there was no way to know.
In any case, this man seemed desperate to avoid offending me, Jin Cheon-hee, an Imperial Censor of the Golden Guard.
Even at the Magistrate’s full prostration, I remained unmoved.

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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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