In an instant, the living were separated from the dead.

He managed to treat two more survivors, a feat made possible only because they, too, were suffering from simple lacerations. But while he worked, the remaining wounded finally succumbed, their last breaths rattling in the quiet forest. He could only watch them go, his eyes clouded with a familiar sorrow. He had thought himself accustomed to it, but the departure of a life was still a heavy burden to bear.

Shaking off the gloom, he scanned his surroundings once more. A flag lay discarded on the ground.

“Cloud-Dragon Escort Agency[1]…”

His love for martial arts novels had led him to study traditional medicine and even some Hanja as a hobby. He could read the characters on the crumpled banner.

So, these people were all from an escort agency. This was a robbery, then… Is there any chance of a rescue party? In the novels, if an escort agency is robbed, they usually send a pursuit team to exact revenge and recover the goods.

In modern terms, an escort agency, was like a combination of a courier and a private security firm. In an era with such poor public safety, encountering bandits and thieves on the road was an accepted part of life. The men and women who protected goods, money, and people on these perilous journeys were known as escort warriors. An Escort Agency was a guild of such warriors.

Now, the warriors of what he presumed was the Cloud-Dragon Escort Agency were almost all dead. From his medical perspective, only a few hours had passed since the incident.

This is a world without asphalt roads or streetlights. It’ll probably take at least a day for help to arrive… Can we last that long?

Night was falling fast. As the temperature dropped, the survivors, already weakened by blood loss, would suffer a rapid decline in body temperature. Hypothermia would finish what the bandits’ blades had started.

To have any chance of lasting through the night, I need to build a fire. I only ever learned the theory in the military… No. This is no time for hesitation. I have to do something.

These were lives he had clawed back from the brink; he couldn’t let them die now. A fire was essential to raise their body temperatures.

He began to move through the corpses, searching. There was no metal to be found. It was only logical; if bandits had attacked, they would have taken anything of value. Still, hoping to find something, anything, left behind, his eyes darted around until he spotted the hilt of a sword pinned beneath a body.

That might work.

The child’s body was weak. Grunting with effort, he managed to lift the corpse just enough to pull the sword free. The blade was chipped and battered, but for starting a fire, the jagged edge was actually better.

Next, he gathered dry leaves and twigs, piling them into a small mound. Gripping a stone in one hand, he struck it against the notched sword blade.

Here goes. One, two…!

Kagagak!

A shower of sparks erupted. After a few more strikes, a tiny ember caught on a leaf. He gently blew on it, adding more twigs, and coaxed the ember into a steady flame.

With the fire crackling, he painstakingly dragged the three patients closer to its warmth. The first was the middle-aged man, the father. The second was a handsome young boy, whose features were so striking they seemed to radiate a light of their own. The last was a formidable-looking female warrior. She was powerfully built, and the calluses and scars covering her hands spoke of a life spent gripping a sword. He had been able to save them both because their wounds, though serious, had missed any vital organs.

First aid is done, but this won’t be enough…

He knew better than anyone that a simple campfire wouldn’t solve all their problems.

Judging by the feel of the air, it must be autumn… The temperature will likely drop to around five degrees Celsius tonight. At that temperature, without some kind of shelter, hypothermia is a certainty. Dammit, I need something to build a tent with…

He scanned the area again, but finding usable materials seemed impossible. The carriages were smashed to pieces, and though he saw the carcasses of horses, their hides were of no immediate use. Scraps of cloth were scattered everywhere, but they were all torn and useless. Yet, if he did nothing, these people would die.

The thought spurred his exhausted body back into motion.

It’s just one obstacle after another.

How wonderful it would be if people could just jump to their feet after ten minutes of treatment like they did in the movies. Reality was never so kind.

Muttering under his breath, he moved with purpose. He scavenged a few usable wooden poles to serve as supports and began tying the tattered scraps of cloth together, painstakingly weaving a makeshift shelter.

By the time he finished his crude construction, the sun had bled across the horizon. Soon, darkness would consume the forest completely.

“Hoo…”

He dragged the patients inside the flimsy tent. The air was already growing colder. The mountain night arrived early and without ceremony. He could hear the pained groans of the survivors.

There’s no guarantee these people will even live… Logically, the smartest thing to do would be to leave them and try to get down the mountain myself before nightfall. I know that…

But for some reason, his feet wouldn’t move. He stayed, feeding branches into the fire, ensuring its warmth reached the patients.

Awooooooo!

“Whoa!”

The howl of a wolf from the darkness made him jump, but he quickly regained his composure.

“Right. It’d be strange if there weren’t any in an era like this.”

It was only natural for wild beasts to roam these mountains. In modern society, seeing a tiger was a rarity, but just 200 years ago, the term Illusion[2], or the Tiger-Inflicted Calamity, existed for a reason.

“It’ll be trouble if wolves show up…”

Though his tent was a sorry excuse for a shelter, it did block the wind, and the inside was gradually growing warmer. Staring into the dancing flames, a heavy sigh escaped his chest, born from a profound sense of despair.

He was an orphan. The director of the orphanage told him he’d been abandoned on their doorstep, tucked inside a cardboard box. It had been a frigid winter day, and for reasons unknown, instead of baby clothes, he had been wrapped tightly in a red padded jacket. The director had often recounted what a struggle it had been to untie all the knots. The name Jin Cheon-hee was given to him by the director, who, as it turned out, was also a great fan of martial arts novels.

From that day on, he had studied with a relentless, desperate intensity. It earned him a place in a decent medical school in Korea, where he juggled part-time jobs and scholarships to get by. He didn’t deny the longing for his parents, but he never actively searched for them. As he grew older, he learned to let go.

If they haven’t looked for me, what good would it do for me to find them?

Living without a single blood relative always felt like having a hole carved into his heart. He tried to fill that void by living with even greater fervor. He never dated, had almost no friends. He aged, and his skills as a surgeon became recognized, allowing him to finally establish a stable life. He had been over forty by the time he achieved financial security; it had been a long, hard road.

“Haaa…”

And how did it end? In a place like this. All his struggles, all his hard work, had crumbled to dust in an instant. The feeling of emptiness was overwhelming. Before his death, he had fought so hard just to live, and now, he had nothing.

Jin Cheon-hee looked down at his hands. A child’s hands. Scratched and raw from his efforts to save lives.

“That’s just how life is, I guess.”

The deep sigh of a 40-year-old man escaped the child’s body.

Most who attend medical school become military doctors, and he was no exception. He used to tell the new soldiers under his care:

“Close your eyes. What do you see? Nothing, right? That’s your future in the military. Bleak.”

Then, holding up a bottle of red povidone-iodine to an injured soldier, he’d ask:

“What does this look like?”

“An antiseptic, sir.”

“From now on, it’s arthritis medicine.”

“Arthritis medicine, sir?”

“That’s what I said.”

…It was a joke, of course.

But now, he was the one facing a bleak future. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to live from now on?

Still, I’m a doctor. A doctor shouldn’t starve, no matter where they go… but this world is so chaotic that bandits roam freely. I’m worried if I can even adapt. My immediate concern is just surviving tonight. Anyway, Cloud-Dragon Escort Agency, was it? The name is the same as the escort agency from that novel I read a few days ago. In ‘Supreme Heavenly Demon,’³ the story starts with an attack on the Cloud-Dragon Escort Agency.

It was a strange coincidence. Come to think of it, the handsome boy he’d saved bore a striking resemblance to the novel’s description of the young Heavenly Demon.

As he was feeding the fire, a new sound reached him.

Dududududu!

A rhythmic thundering began to shake the very ground beneath him.

What is that sound?

It grew closer, louder.

Is that… the sound of hooves?

It was a sound he’d only ever heard in movies—the charge of cavalry.

What should I do?

Someone was coming. He had no way of knowing if they were friend or foe. He tried to remain calm, but panic sent him scrambling in confusion.

Stay calm.

He picked up the chipped sword. His whole body screamed in protest from the day’s exertions. How long could he last in this child’s body? He gritted his teeth.

Jin Cheon-hee stepped out of the makeshift tent. Thankfully, the sun had not yet completely set. In the twilight, he could see a group of armed riders and a single, peculiar carriage making their way up the mountain path. They were all dressed in attire straight out of a martial arts film, swords hanging at their waists. One of the riders held a banner aloft, and even from a distance, he could see the characters for “Cloud-Dragon Escort Agency” written on it.

A small sigh of relief escaped him.

“Cloud-Dragon Escort Agency! Haa… thank god.”

The tension drained from his body, and his legs trembled violently. Jin Cheon-hee collapsed where he stood. Only then did the sharp pain in his arms make itself known. He had pushed a child’s body to its absolute limit all day. This was the inevitable result.

Is it because I’m younger? My eyesight is incredible. They’re quite far, but I can see them clearly.

Was it the relief that made him think such strange things? He watched the approaching party. Twenty-two riders and one carriage. The carriage, in particular, was bizarre. It was drawn by four horses and was massive. It was painted a single, solid color, devoid of any ornamentation. But the most striking feature was its walls, which were covered from top to bottom with small, tightly packed drawers.

The entire carriage looked like a traditional apothecary chest.

And Jin Cheon-hee had read a description of a very similar, very unique carriage before.

That looks just like the medical carriage belonging to White Qilin Divine Physician, from Supreme Heavenly Demon.

He had read the novel Supreme Heavenly Demon from beginning to end right before he died. He had enjoyed it immensely. One of the most important supporting characters in that story was a physician known as White Qilin Divine Physician. He was one of the three greatest healers in the world. In the story, he is the one who saves the life of the protagonist, the future Heavenly Demon, Yeo Ha-ryoon. White Qilin continued to have various encounters with Yeo Ha-ryoon but eventually succumbed to a chronic illness and died around the second volume of the story.

No way… This can’t be the world from that novel, right?

He let out a small, incredulous laugh. As he sat there, lost in thought, the riders from the Cloud-Dragon Escort Agency finally arrived.

Even as they thundered to a halt around him, Jin Cheon-hee remained seated on the ground, too exhausted to move.