The sharp command brought the horses to a halt. Their riders dismounted in a practiced, unified motion. Choi Min-jun watched them, his eyes narrowed, taking in every detail. They wore uniforms of a deep blue, each chest emblazoned with the embroidered emblem of a dragon. Leading them was a bear of a man, well over two meters tall and likely in his fifties. His face was clean-shaven, his jaw strong and square. The sheer breadth of his shoulders and the muscle packed onto his frame was staggering. His hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his waist, a thumb stroking the metal in a habitual gesture. It was a thick, powerful blade, carried without a scabbard. Isn’t that a willow-leaf sword? The recognition struck him. The blade was broad near the tip, tapering gracefully toward the handle, just like its namesake. Now that I think about it, the weapon the Cloud Dragon Escort used against the Supreme Demon King in the story… that was a willow-leaf sword, too. The shape was familiar to him from countless novels and dramas. This one, however, was larger and heavier than any he had ever seen depicted, a weapon befitting the giant who carried it. The Cloud Dragon Escort… in their actual uniforms. Seeing it in person was surreal. As he stared, a warrior scanning the periphery finally spotted him. His makeshift tent was pitched just to the left of the main carnage, partially obscured, which was why it had taken them a moment to notice him. “Master! There’s a survivor!” The man’s shout cut through the air. What is this language? Choi Min-jun thought, a jolt of confusion running through him. I’ve never heard it spoken, yet I understand every word. A memory surfaced—the delirious murmurs of the hairy patient. He had understood him, too. As he stared back at the man pointing his way, Choi Min-jun became aware that every head had turned in his direction. Their gazes fell upon the sole figure standing amidst the dead—a young boy with hands stained red. “Check for any other wounded!” the giant leader roared, his voice a commanding rumble. He started toward Choi Min-jun, his gait deceptively casual, yet each stride devoured three meters of ground. The speed of his approach was startling. “My word, what have we here?” Before Choi Min-jun could fully react, the giant was towering over him. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He’s huge, Choi Min-jun thought, a flicker of fear running through him. He’s not going to strike me, is he? As the thought crossed his mind, he heard the man mutter to himself—and again, though the language was alien, the meaning was perfectly clear. “I don’t recall our client hiring a boy…” Instinctively, Choi Min-jun shrank back. But the man surprised him, bending his thick knees to lower his immense frame. Even kneeling, he was so large that Choi Min-jun had to crane his neck to meet his eyes. “Young man,” the giant said, his voice a surprisingly gentle rumble. “I am the master of the Un-ryong Pyoguk, Woon Ji-sang.” He offered a soft smile, and Choi Min-jun was inwardly impressed. The man was clearly aware of his intimidating appearance and was making a conscious effort not to frighten him. “And what is your name?” “My name is Choi Min-jun,” he replied, keeping his voice steady. “A fine name. You’re remarkably composed, considering the circumstances. Did you put up that tent yourself?” “Yes,” Choi Min-jun said. “There are injured people inside.” “Injured?” Woon Ji-sang’s expression sharpened. “Wait here. I’m going to take a look.” He rose to his full, intimidating height and ducked into the tent. Woon Ji-sang’s voice erupted from within. “A critical patient! Fetch Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon! Now!” The name sent a shockwave through Choi Min-jun. Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon! He actually said Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon. Could it be… In the distance, a man was disembarking from a carriage. The driver opened the door and offered a supporting hand as he stepped out. The man had hair the color of spun silver and features of exquisite beauty. With skin like polished jade and an otherworldly grace, he began to move slowly in their direction. Choi Min-jun felt his heart skip a beat. The description… it’s exactly like the one in the novel. The realization washed over him, cold and absolute. Have I really been transported into that world? His expression went blank as he stared at the approaching Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon. His gaze then drifted back to the tent. If that’s him… then the person I just saved… is the future Demon King. Choi Min-jun reeled, trying to force his thoughts into order. Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon. In the novel, they said his hair resembled the scales of a white dragon. One of the three great doctors of the realm, and the last descendant of the fallen Jaegal family. The tent was quickly dismantled, revealing the patients within. Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon moved between them, his touch light and precise. Acupuncture, Choi Min-jun thought, watching with a professional’s interest. I always wanted to learn that. As a modern surgeon with a passion for martial arts novels, Choi Min-jun had delved into traditional medicine in his spare time. While he’d never had a formal master, his self-study had been extensive. He had memorized the meridian charts and knew a fair amount about herbal remedies. With practiced ease, Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon exposed a patient’s torso, his needles flashing as they pierced the skin with unhesitating speed. Incredibly fast, Choi Min-jun noted. He’s every bit the master the novel described. He then turned his attention to the wound Choi Min-jun had sutured, his handsome face clouding with a look of intense focus, tinged with what looked like admiration. His sudden solemnity was so striking that a few of the onlookers blushed. He produced a small jar from his robes. Unscrewing the lid released a fragrant aroma. He dipped a finger into the viscous, golden ointment and began to apply it to the wound, rubbing it in with a gentle, circular motion. But his method was peculiar. He wasn’t just rubbing; he was tapping rhythmically around the wound, striking specific meridian points. Despite the sharp, percussive sounds, the patient showed no sign of pain. Is that the Geumchim-go? The name clicked into place. It has to be. The novel said a single jar of Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon’s famous ointment was worth ten grams of gold. And he’s not just applying it, he’s infusing it with his inner strength. A fierce curiosity, as potent as his physician’s oath, seized Choi Min-jun. He wanted to see more, to understand. Just then, Woon Ji-sang’s anxious voice cut in. “What’s their condition? Can Dam Ja-Gang and Gongson Chae-won be saved?” So the old man is Dam Ja-Gang and the woman is Gongson Chae-won, Choi Min-jun thought, piecing it together. Which means the hairy boy… he really is Yeo Ha-ryun. As Choi Min-jun watched, absorbed, Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon lifted his head. His silver eyes scanned the crowd. “Who performed this suturing?” he asked, his voice calm but carrying. Every eye in the clearing turned to land on Choi Min-jun. An uncomfortable silence fell as the great doctor’s gaze settled on him. No trace of martial arts. A completely ordinary boy, no more than ten or twelve years old. How very strange. Stitching a wound closed to stop the bleeding… It is a form of the breaking technique, but one rarely seen in the Gangho. The standard treatment is to seal the meridians with acupuncture, apply a poultice, and bind the wound tightly. That is the way. This technique felt… different. It resembled the principles of the high-level surgical arts, yet it seemed modified, simplified. As if it were designed to be learned by anyone, not just the select few physicians with the internal energy to master the true breaking technique. “Hmm. Intriguing,” he murmured aloud. The Un-ryong Pyoguk was one of the most respected in the land, and Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon had a long-standing relationship with them. When their master had appeared at his door, begging for aid, he had come at once. From the sheer number of bodies, it was clearly a well-planned ambush. Yet it was not the massacre that intrigued Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon. As one of the three great doctors, he possessed a profound understanding of the breaking technique—the art of cutting flesh to heal it. Yet he doubted even he could suture a wound with such uniform neatness. In truth, he had never even attempted it. The accepted methods were to seal blood flow with needles or cauterize the flesh with a heated blade. To sew a wound shut as one would mend clothing… the idea was at once simple and revolutionary. Could this boy be connected to Kang Dae-hyun? The man was his peer, one of the other three great doctors, an elder statesman far senior to himself—Jae-Gal Seo-jun, as he was once known. And Kang Dae-hyun was the undisputed master of the breaking technique. The stitches are perfectly spaced, the tension consistent. This is the work of a practiced hand, not a lucky first attempt. If it were me, could I have saved this patient? he wondered. With acupuncture, I could have stopped the bleeding, yes. But to use needle and thread with such precision in a crisis like this? Impossible. He looked at the boy again, marveling. It was an astonishing display of medical skill. Choi Min-jun finally found his voice. “I…” “It is a masterful use of thread,” Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon said, his voice cutting through Choi Min-jun’s attempt to speak. “Were it not for you, this patient would already be dead.” A collective gasp went through the onlookers. Had Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon ever offered such high praise to anyone? And to a child, no less. He was known for his exacting standards; a compliment from him on a matter of medicine was rarer than a phoenix feather. Yet the boy who received this unprecedented praise seemed unmoved, his mind clearly elsewhere. His calm demeanor in the face of such a compliment only made him seem more extraordinary to the assembled warriors. What am I supposed to say if he asks who taught me? he thought frantically. And the word he used… 'suturing'... it sounds like a term for a formal surgical procedure. I’ve never heard it called that here. As the pieces clicked into place in his mind, he found his resolve. “I only did what was necessary to save a life,” Choi Min-jun said, his voice clear and simple. A soft, knowing smile touched Baek Seo-jun Eui-seon’s lips.

Chapter 3: A Dragon Amidst Carnage