Chapter 6
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Reckless Warriors of the Martial World
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Murim. The world of those who practiced martial arts.
There, countless superhuman experts had staked everything on the path of the martial arts.
And the ordinary folk dreaming of becoming martial artists? They were beyond numbering.
'People who mindlessly lifted boulders even after tearing their supraspinatus more than halfway.'
The supraspinatus, located atop the shoulder blade, is the most tear-prone of the four rotator cuff muscles that firmly connect the shoulder blade to the humerus. If it's fully torn, the arm just dangles uselessly. Even a partial tear makes it hard to lift or support the arm.
A martial artist who had built up internal energy through proper qi cultivation could handle some strain. Those who reached a certain level learned to regulate their own energy, using their recovery efficiently, so even minor injuries healed in no time.
But for those who hadn't reached that stage, their bodies were no different from anyone else's here.
People are people, after all.
That's why I, born in this world, could learn martial arts too—and treat people with this world's medicine.
The wuxia world had its physicians, of course.
In any world, some curious soul wants to dissect a body and record what they find.
The scholars knew the body had bones, muscles, organs, ligaments, tendons, and blood vessels. Without microscopes, they didn't grasp tissues or cells, but that was the extent of it.
Even the youngest disciple in a prestigious sect knew the basics.
They might not distinguish ligaments from tendons, but common sense told them overuse caused damage, and pushing through that led to full tears and useless limbs.
The problem? No mandatory medical education.
Those wandering the streets clutching dog-eared martial arts manuals, treating them like sacred texts, repeating their drills endlessly.
"You need to rest now! I treated you! Is taking a month off really that hard?"
Those insanely diligent fools would swing their swords ten thousand times a day, arm half-severed or not.
They ignored the physician right in front of them but trusted anonymous manuals to the death.
"Spread your arms. Make fists, thumbs down. I'll push on your arm—try to hold it."
"Agh!"
"You can't even resist my strength! Don't you get how serious this is?"
I'd demonstrate the severity with the empty can test—perfect for spotting supraspinatus inflammation or tears—then sketch the body's anatomy on paper to explain.
"This is the scapula. Feel that? That's the acromion. Muscle connects up here to the humerus. Now, lift your arm."
"Ugh... agh..."
"See? It won't even go up without your other arm supporting it. That's because the stabilizing muscle is torn."
Did that make them understand?
"But it says swing ten thousand times a day, without fail. The Flying Dragon Master wouldn't assign the impossible!"
As if.
"Just tie 'em up."
When I wandered as an itinerant physician, I'd have to earnestly persuade patients.
But once I had some authority in the Tang family's medical hall and learned martial arts myself, it was simple.
Communicating as equals, explaining treatment plans? That's textbook theory.
Tap-tap. Tat-a-tat.
Recalling my countless shoulder patients, I finished the assignment. I didn't forget to detail that initial "textbook-worthy" diagnostic, treatment, and management approach I'd tried—and failed with.
"Okay~ Done!"
With the content organized in my head, writing it out took no time.
I hit save proudly and submitted right away. Ready for grading or presentation.
'Now, off to the library?'
After class, I'd lingered in the mostly empty lecture hall—most classmates had headed home—to wrap up.
"Done already? Impressive."
Hwang Sanghun, the only other one left, spoke up.
"Yeah. You working on yours too, oppa?"
Jo Haneul's best friend and runner-up from last semester.
"Yep."
"Seoyeong headed out early for her grandpa's birthday. Why're you still here?"
He was the grandson of the Hwangje Korean Medicine Hospital director—the guy running the country's top herbal network—and Hwang Seoyeong's cousin. Third-time applicant, so two years older.
He wasn't the type to pick fights like Jo Haneul... but we weren't close anyway.
"Felt awkward going home."
"I see."
I tried small talk since he'd started it, but we barely exchanged three lines.
"I've got a ton to sort through."
He scratched his head, eyes downcast.
Unlike me, dumping from memory, he had textbooks and printouts spread everywhere.
'He's not asking for help, is he?'
Nah, no way. What are we, buddies?
"Yeah, well, good luck..."
"You were cool."
As I headed out, short on chit-chat, he said something weird.
"Huh? What was?"
Was the quiet guy ditching his image to copy Jo Haneul and start trouble?
"Your presentation. ...Wish I'd gone to China with you."
"Oh...?"
The follow-up was even stranger.
What nonsense. Why would Hwang Sanghun tag along to China?
I'd cold-emailed the Chinese medicine university myself, got professor approval for practice, and since they allowed two, took Hwang Seoyeong.
I'd even turned down the class prez's offer to join later. Out of nowhere, what?
"Hold on."
My face must've twisted oddly, but he'd already ducked his head and missed it.
He pulled an L-folder from his bag and handed it over.
"What's this?"
A few printouts inside.
"Professor changed, so maybe useless. But exams might be similar."
He'd skipped the point for fluff, but I spotted it quick: orchestra club pedigree—past exam questions handed down generations.
'Hmm.'
Lazy profs sometimes recycle old exams. New ones reference predecessors.
But Lee Minseok had overhauled the course and made fresh materials. Unlikely.
"You printed this just to give me?"
Stayed late, waited for me to finish.
"Why?"
I asked straight.
"Wanted to intern with you. ...Secret from Haneul hyung."
Ah...
'Not as tight as they seem?'
Thinking back, hanging out didn't mean true friends. Hwang Sanghun attended class diligently; Jo Haneul skipped constantly. Handing over club notes and lecture scribbles might've built resentment.
Fine for drinks and hangs, not coworkers.
Probably that vibe.
But giving me this...
'Feels familiar.'
A sudden chill hit.
"Divine Physician, can't I study Acupuncture Mastery with you too?"
It clicked.
The Tang family's Thirteenth Young Master!
A kid doing reckless training, unfit for a prestigious heir.
Mindless drills were street-aspirant trademarks.
Righteous sects had systems; demonic ones bloodied hands before basics.
Illegitimate birth, no proper master—he drifted in the clan.
After I treated him, he idolized me, said he'd never inherit anyway, wanted medicine.
"No."
Master forbade it. Found him a sword master since he had talent. Good outcome.
For a flash, I caught that same admiring gaze from Hwang Sanghun as from the kid...
Nah, imagination.
'Years of passing it around, and now this?'
Exam format and questions would change for sure.
Even if not, I'd memorized every meridian point. Useless.
Might be Jo Haneul's scheme via proxy.
"Appreciate the thought. Don't wanna get caught."
I politely declined, handing back the folder.
The next day.
"I've read all your assignments. Everyone submitted—no exceptions."
First period, yet Lee Minseok claimed he'd checked over a hundred.
A guy like that would make all-new exams, no doubt.
"Hwang Sanghun, Seong Jieun. Come up front."
Class started, he called two right away.
Hwang Sanghun calm; class prez yanked her hair in dread as they went up.
"Excluding yesterday's presenters, you two had the best. Special call-up."
Prez relaxed—
"Give it a go."
—then stiffened.
"Sudden practice? Not even practice time?"
"What's the big deal?"
"Yeowon, you'd be fine."
Hwang Seoyeong grumbled but dug out her assignment quick.
Practice was always in the acupuncture lab, but no rule against classroom. Prof watching, needles and alcohol here—what's the issue?
"Seong Jieun first."
"Yes."
Acupuncture on each other's shoulders.
Hwang Sanghun unbuttoned, baring his left.
Pok. Pok. Pok.
Prez tore needle packs, placed as directed.
Wind Pool, Shoulder Well, Crooked Wall, Shoulder Bone, Upper Arm Shu...
"Good. Shoulder Bone a bit lower. Confirm the acromion exactly."
"Got it."
Prof checked the ten needles on shoulder and rotator cuff. Perfect points, got praise.
But prez looked uneasy.
"And? No distal points?"
"...Can I check my assignment?"
Point selection per condition is point prescription. Divided into distal (far) and proximal (near).
Proximal: problem muscle or nearby points.
Distal: stimulate hand/foot points to aid shoulder recovery. Various theories.
"Forgot your own answer?"
No reply meant rote from theory, not internalized. Book or senior-sourced?
"Sorry."
"This wasn't 'submit and forget.' If only proximal, say so. You need to treat for real."
"...Sorry."
"No need. Expected most of you this way. Just now checking your own work, right?"
Hwang Seoyeong, who'd opened hers mumbling memorized lines, flinched.
"Review now, practice. Seong Jieun learned from this—won't forget."
"Yes, thank you!"
Whew. Spartan.
Classmates paired with neighbors, started practicing.
"Some copied textbooks, some scraped blogs. Fine. No one right answer in acupuncture. Muscle-based, Saam, Dong's—whatever. But build your own for major conditions."
Prof lectured while circling.
Young, so casual vibe expected—but stern face and scolding had everyone shrinking.
"You call that Supraspinatus?"
"Yes... uh, Supraspinatus?"
"Gonna ask patients that in six months? Get it together!"
He pointed out flaws, admonished.
"Haneul-kun, got word from Prof. Jo. Could've passed greetings yourself."
Some chit-chat too.
I'd memorized my assignment, so no sweat needling Hwang Seoyeong.
"Hm."
The guy tearing into everyone else stood by me, arms crossed, silent.
'What? Why quiet?'
Not that I'd slip from nerves, but it bugged me.
Lee Minseok watched my technique closely, then spoke.
"What school are you from?"