His Imperial Highness Eun smiled with his eyes as he looked at Jin Cheonhee.

“Will you be monitoring his condition all night after eating?”

Jin Cheonhee nodded at those words.

“Yes. I must. Since he has the Three Yin Meridian Obstruction, we don’t know how his illness might flare up, so I plan to observe him directly. That’s why I’ve prepared some midnight snacks too. Hahaha.”

He had made rice balls by compacting stir-fried pork rice.

From the outside, they looked like convenience store triangle kimbap… but the ingredients inside and the wok-seared flavor were tremendously luxurious.

Literally Central Plains-style triangle kimbap!

A deadly secret technique that only someone who had traveled from the modern era could create!

It had details that could only be crafted by someone in an extreme profession who needed to substitute at least one meal a day with triangle kimbap.

Tuna mayo is the hardest to make.

Mayo could somehow be created. The problem was the tuna.

Catching tuna in this era without deep-sea fishing vessels was like plucking stars from the sky.

And processing that tuna into factory-style canned tuna was also impossible.

That was the taste of capitalism.

Come to think of it, I don’t really miss home cooking.

They say the food you eat as a child becomes a lifelong memory.

The orphanage meals weren’t bad, but they weren’t exactly the kind that would leave an indelible impression.

Occasionally I might think of Vienna sausages stir-fried with ketchup…?

Rather, I miss dakgalbi, army stew, pork hocks, fried chicken, hamburgers more often.

Looking at the collection, my palate seems to be entirely for restaurant food, isn’t it?

Professor Jin thus realized his true taste preferences.

Since his life had been filled with eating out, his palate had become fixed accordingly.

Anyway, the pork stir-fried triangle kimbap was neatly packed in bamboo lunchboxes, waiting to be eaten as a midnight snack.

“Would Your Highness like one?”

“How could I dare refuse your midnight snack?”

“Kukukuk. I have flour and sugar left, so if there’s time later, I’ll fry something for you.”

“That still seems incomplete.”

“I haven’t found the golden ratio yet. Just try some for now.”

“Gladly.”

This crazy modern person was also researching how to fry donuts these days.

Ah, it’s a shame I couldn’t bring kimchi.

***

After finishing the celebration, Jin Cheonhee returned to the Third Prince’s side.

The branch physician who had been monitoring in Jin Cheonhee’s place rose.

“The prince has been alternating between sleeping and waking. When he falls asleep, he enters such a deep state that no sound can wake him.”

Although the cysts had been removed quickly, the accumulated fatigue in his body must be extreme.

Jin Cheonhee placed his hand on the patient’s neck and concentrated on his internal energy.

“He’s recovering fast, as expected. Since sleep is necessary for recovery, I think he’ll spend more time sleeping than awake for the next few days.”

“It’s fascinating to watch. I wonder if I could ever do the same.”

The branch physician revealed his inner thoughts.

In most medical pavilions, speaking such casual talk in the presence of superiors would be a great disrespect.

However, Jin Cheonhee didn’t think such an atmosphere helped with patient care at all.

Consequently, such formality was naturally avoided.

“Everyone thinks that way. I wasn’t good from the beginning either.”

Jin Cheonhee answered without hesitation.

“Looking at you, Junior Pavilion Master, I feel both admiration and despair…”

“…But you’ll keep going anyway. Because we can’t let people die.”

“That’s right.”

The feelings that Jin Cheonhee once harbored toward his senior, now the next seeds of the martial arts world were beginning to harbor toward him.

Medical arts are meant to be passed down.

Saving lives is different from taking them—it can never be accomplished alone.

Someday, the branch physician before him would become a great tree, and a new sprout would tentatively take root while feeling overwhelmed by that great tree.

Despair and admiration.

Even those contradictory emotions that gnaw at oneself become excellent nourishment for a surgeon.

“Isn’t it about time for a few more trainees to come from headquarters?”

“Yes, that time is approaching.”

“When they arrive, I’ll teach them.”

At those words, the branch physician’s eyes widened.

“You’ll teach them personally, Junior Pavilion Master?”

“Whether it’s me or the branch physicians I’ve trained, it will be helpful. The physicians at headquarters are quite skilled.”

“They’re famous. I know.”

How high the standards were for the medical pavilion’s very own Surgical Hall’s physicians directly trained by the Little White Dragon was extremely well-known in the medical world.

He never stopped, never showed favoritism.

Conversely, everything outside of work was free.

There was no need to worry about interpersonal or power relationships, and even if someone made a foolish remark during a medical conference, they wouldn’t be reprimanded or excluded.

The branch physicians raised under such an unusual physician had now developed medical skills superior to most branch directors.

They had begun to reach the level where they could offer reasonably good opinions in the surgical meetings led by Jin Cheonhee.

The branch physician’s eyes shone.

“I’ll definitely come. Absolutely!”

If they grow well, they could become a good team.

When he first arrived in the gangho, only one pair of hands could perform surgical treatments.

Now, how many pairs of hands had that grown to?

Despair and admiration.

Could this branch physician step beyond those?

Jin Cheonhee quietly hoped it would be possible.

***

Jin Cheonhee sat beside the sleeping Third Prince, organizing today’s surgical notes.

It’s about time to upgrade this pencil differently.

Currently, it was in a primitive form—charcoal wrapped in cloth.

Product improvements usually happen when there’s enough profit margin.

What had previously been used only in the White Dragon Medical Pavilion and its branches was now gradually spreading to other places.

So now it was time to replace the cloth wrapping with wood or paper, and to diversify the sharpening knives.

Whether doctors in the modern world or physicians in the martial world, they often needed to write quickly, making brushes inadequate.

I should prepare for mass production while I’m at it. Not just for physicians, but merchants and lower officials often need to write quickly too.

In the past, the White Dragon Medical Pavilion had no trading company, so even such valuable ideas had to be shared with other trading companies.

But now that they had gained power…

Naturally, there was no need to contact other trading companies.

It would be nice to produce pen nibs that dip into ink… but from a physician’s perspective, pencils are actually more convenient than pen nibs.

Perhaps because it wasn’t official business?

Physicians could pass notes among themselves, and prescriptions just needed to be understood by apothecary physicians when delivered.

Rather, writing with dipped ink required proper storage to prevent the ink from solidifying, and maintenance of the pen nib state could become cumbersome.

But for sending letters or keeping ledgers, it’s definitely advantageous. Since they need to be preserved for a long time, ink won’t fade as easily as graphite.

Last time when writing a thesis, he used a fine brush until his shoulder became stiff after an hour, making him miss computers terribly.

He didn’t expect a keyboard, but even a pen nib would be much better.

Considering the current metallurgical technology… first ask the Tang Clan for samples for testing. Then see if mass production is possible…

While modern-quality pen nibs would be hard to expect, they would still be incomparably better than brushes.

Scratch, scratch—

With one half of his mind on the business plan, the other half summarized today’s surgery.

It was foundational work for creating the next thesis.

At that moment, Hwanggu lying down raised its head.

Woof.

Almost simultaneously, Jin Cheonhee’s quickly moving pencil stopped for an instant.

Thunk—

Jin Cheonhee’s hand moved in a different direction.

At the same time, the world-class high-quality glass window shattered with a thunderous noise.

Crash!

What flew through the shattered window was a round circular blade.

That’s a chakram!?

The cold blade collided with the pencil Jin Cheonhee had just thrown.

Clang!

Despite being just a collision between a primitive pencil and a blade, it made a sound like steel striking steel.

Jin Cheonhee quickly rose and stroked Hwanggu’s head.

Well done.

Woof!

An assassin who could deceive Jin Cheonhee’s senses and approach this far must certainly be a high-level expert.

However, it seems deceiving Hwanggu’s nose was too much.

Judging by the force in that chakram just now, perhaps a Transcendent Level expert? With just this much, they shouldn’t be able to evade my senses, how strange?

A woman wearing a pitch-black mask rushed in almost simultaneously.

Just as Jin Cheonhee prepared for the next strike…

Her body became semi-transparent and passed through Jin Cheonhee’s body, rushing toward the Third Prince!

Wow, this is an interesting martial art. No, is it sorcery or something?

Whatever footwork she used, she completely deceived the opponent’s qi sense like a ghost, disrupting perception.

Jin Cheonhee immediately swung the three-legged chair he had been sitting on until just now.

Strangely, he aimed not where her sword was striking, but above it.

Clang!

The sound of swords colliding echoed in empty space.

Correct.

“Tsk… how did you notice?”

As the second strike failed, the assassin immediately retreated.

Jin Cheonhee just watched as she ran away with her tail between her legs.

Because the patient was still in deep sleep.

Someone had to protect the patient.

However, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t pursue.

“Noe-jin, Hwanggu.”

At those words, the two furry beasts groggily rose.

“Track her as stealthily as possible. Just confirm where she hides and then return.”

At those words, the two spiritual beasts leaped out simultaneously.

The Noe-jin increased its altitude and soared very high, while Hwanggu stuck close to the shadows as it went outside.

Jin Cheonhee couldn’t help but smile at the four-legged beast’s movement, resembling a Daoist’s Taiji’s Strides[1].

Master Wudang taught his two disciples well.

The old man used to say if you don’t have fists, you have teeth, and anyway, all that matters is beating them well.

If someone else had said that, they’d be treated like a madman, but Fist Emperor achieved it.

By the way, I didn’t know that person was already active. This is unexpected.

It took only an instant to realize who she was.

The ability to momentarily transform into something spiritual and pass through objects. Plus assassination techniques that blur people’s perception.

There were only a handful of people who could disrupt Jin Cheonhee’s qi sense.

The princess of the Selim Theocratic State, described as the ‘Black Blade Dreaming of Revenge.’

And a person who was Yeo Ha-ryoon’s companion but was killed by the Blood Immortal Sect.

Ilkana[2], princess of the Selim Theocratic State.

Since they now call themselves an empire, should I refer to her as an imperial princess?

Whether royal princess or imperial princess, it doesn’t matter either way.

She is neither now.

Anyway, it’s relatively recent that the Sultan began calling himself “Emperor.”

And no surrounding country recognizes the Sultan as an Emperor.

For convenience, let’s think of her as a princess. Exalting the Selim Theocratic State as an empire would be the most infuriating thing to her.

In any case, for a national princess to join an assassination group and work as an assassin, her life must have been unusually harsh.

She was born as the only daughter of the Sultan’s sixth queen.

In this era, the Sultan had little interest in protecting his queens.

Unlike the Hua Empire, where all the imperial family members are descendants of Great Fu Xi and fight wielding spears regardless of gender.

Power struggles were carried out through the influence of purely external relatives, not through special abilities.

All the queens wanted their children to become the next Sultan, and therefore had to engage in constant power struggles.

Ilkana’s mother died during such a struggle.

Surprisingly, it was one of the common occurrences in royal families.

Now, having lost her mother, Ilkana had three paths remaining.

Taking a low-ranking official position, disappearing through a political marriage,

Or seeking revenge.

However, for someone without significant power like her, the third option would be extremely difficult.

If she showed even the slightest sign of desiring revenge, her head would be gone.

What Ilkana chose was to cut her hair and scar her own face.

Then she laundered her identity and devoted herself to the religious nation’s Assassination Order.