Yoo Ho saw the blood, yet his mind remained perfectly sharp. Surgery is a grueling ordeal even for one with a clear head, yet he had assisted for hours with remarkable competence.

And then there was his uncanny ability to produce anything Jin Cheon-hee needed, seemingly overnight. The more he thought about it, the stranger the man seemed.

Just then, he heard Yoo Ho’s voice calling for him. Jin Cheon-hee concluded his meditation and rose to his feet.

***

“Yes, I have heard the tale. And I also heard that your mastery of the Five-Elemental Cultivation Art has deepened?”

Jin Cheon-hee had expected his master to ask about Phantom Archer first, but as always, his first concern was for his disciple’s progress.

“This disciple is ashamed to say, but I have reached the third stage of the Five-Elemental Cultivation Art.”

“Oh!”

His master’s eyes widened. Realizing Phantom Archer was still present, he cleared his throat and assumed a more dignified tone. “That is a joyous occasion, but you must not grow complacent, trusting in your genius. Ahem.”

It might be more convincing if you stopped stroking my hair while you say that, Master.

A doting fool, it seemed, could not hide their nature. His master dismissed Phantom Archer, who bowed deeply before departing, having apparently been formally accepted into the Medical Pavilion.

Well, of course. A master who has reached the Transformation Realm offers his services, you’d be a fool not to welcome him with open arms.

The moment Phantom Archer was gone, his master’s expression melted back into one of pure, unabashed adoration. It was a smile so warm it could heat a room.

“My little bundle of joy.”

“Hehehe!”

“Was anything difficult for you?”

Jin Cheon-hee recounted the events in detail. His master listened without a single interruption, offering only small sounds of surprise. But when Jin Cheon-hee described Phantom Archer’s enlightenment and his ascent into Levitation Samadhi, his master’s eyes lit up, and he listened with rapt attention.

Well, it’s a story that would make any martial artist’s heart race.

When he had finished, his master nodded, yet his expression was tinged not with joy, but with a quiet sorrow. “You are truly my disciple. If only the clan had had one child like you, perhaps we would not have met with such disaster…” He let out a small sigh. “Hee-ya, perhaps my fate is not entirely cursed, for it has allowed me to meet you, even at this late hour.”

“Not at all, Master. I am the one who is blessed to have met you.”

It was a scene of mutual flattery, the first and second-in-command of one of the Murim’s Three Great Medical Pavilions lavishing praise upon one another.

“However,” his master said, his tone shifting, “you have omitted the matter of Yoo Ho.”

“Pardon?”

“I know that he went to see you,” his master said gently. “What did you two speak of?”

In that instant, Jin Cheon-hee saw it. The hand of Yoo Ho, who had been pouring his master’s tea, paused for the briefest of moments.

***

A short while later, Jin Cheon-hee and Yoo Ho emerged from the room. A satisfied smile played on Jin Cheon-hee’s lips. Yoo Ho’s face, in contrast, was a mask of stone. The two walked on in silence, their expressions a study in opposites.

“Why are you following me?” Jin Cheon-hee asked.

“I believe you have something to say to me.”

“I have no such thing.”

Jin Cheon-hee’s taunting reply was met with silence as he continued walking. He led them to the dovecote, where the carrier pigeons were kept. There were no other pavilion members around; the only ones who might overhear their conversation were the birds pecking at their feed. There, Jin Cheon-hee stopped. He expanded his Qi sense to confirm they were alone, and then his voice changed.

“God, this is getting old. Not long ago, you were talking about killing me. Now you want to talk?”

“Are you that desperate to die…?”

In an instant, killing intent flooded from Yoo Ho’s body. The pigeons stopped eating in unison, their wings beginning to flutter in a panic. It was the primal instinct of prey sensing a predator.

Yoo Ho realized he had walked into a trap.

“You brought me here on purpose.”

“I didn’t bring you anywhere. You were the one who followed me.”

Pigeons were, of course, far more sensitive than humans. The thicker his killing intent grew, the more violently they would react. Some might even die from the stress. And these were no ordinary birds; they were expensive carrier pigeons. If they died, there would be an investigation, and the blame would inevitably fall on Yoo Ho, the only other person present.

To think that far ahead in such a short time…

The stone that had rolled in had already usurped the position of second-in-command. And yet, he was not disliked by the staff; he was adored, liked, and now, even respected. To attribute it all to simple charm felt wrong.

Yoo Ho withdrew his killing intent.

A grin spread across Jin Cheon-hee’s face. “Looks like you’re finally ready to talk.”

“I am in awe of your cunning stratagems, Young Master.”

“Save the sarcasm.” Jin Cheon-hee leaned against a wall, his arms crossed.

“You do not wear the same mask in front of me that you show the master,” Yoo Ho observed.

“There’s a right cut of meat for a king, and a different cut for his steward.”

It was a proverb that meant you treat people as they deserve. If you act like a dog, you’ll be treated like one. Jin Cheon-hee casually cleaned his ear with his pinky finger.

“Why did you say what you did to the master?” Yoo Ho demanded.

—Master, Chief Steward Yoo Ho said he wants to learn medicine from me! He said he wants to save more patients by learning better surgical techniques!

At the words of his young disciple, his eyes shining with earnestness, Zhuge Rin had beamed with delight.

—Is that true, Yoo Ho?! All this time, I thought you disliked Cheon-hee! I had no idea you had such a passion for the medical arts…!

In that moment, Yoo Ho had seriously considered confessing the truth and letting Zhuge Rin quite literally take his head. He had weighed it in his mind, wondering if that would be a better fate than learning medicine from this monstrous child. But Jin Cheon-hee’s next words had sealed his fate, leaving him a mute with a mouth full of honey.

—He said we should work together to heal you, Master.

The expression on Zhuge Rin’s face then was one Yoo Ho had never seen in his entire life. It was an expression that all of Yoo Ho’s own devoted efforts had never once managed to elicit. And Jin Cheon-hee had drawn it out with a single sentence.

“Do you wish to die?” Yoo Ho asked again, his voice dangerously low.

“If you kill me, who will treat the master?”

Jin Cheon-hee’s speech shifted, weaving between polite, half-polite, and casual forms, a deliberate provocation. He was a child who could be killed with a single flick of a finger. To be threatened like this by such a boy… the absurdity of it made Yoo Ho want to laugh.

His gaze fell upon Jin Cheon-hee’s hands. He did not miss the faint tremor. This boy had not lost his fear. On the contrary, he had correctly assessed Yoo Ho’s capabilities. He was trembling, afraid, and yet… what was it that drove him to push forward?

“So you are saying your actions were not merely to mock me,” Yoo Ho stated, his mind racing. He had initially assumed it was a power play, an attempt to diminish his own influence within the Pavilion. Such struggles were common in any organization. But that didn’t seem to be the case. To act this way, even while terrified, must mean he had a different motive. Yoo Ho was curious to know what it was.

“That’s right.”

“What is it that you want?”

“Become a warrior in white, Chief Steward Yoo Ho.”

Jin Cheon-hee spoke with the expression of a small, cute creature offering a contract with the devil.

***

“A warrior in white?”

Jin Cheon-hee cleared his throat. “I need a nurse to assist me.”

Nurse.

The concept did not exist in this world. Here, a physician’s assistant was simply another physician—more precisely, a physician’s disciple. The role of a nurse was filled by a novice doctor. The Medical Pavilion was no different; junior physicians assisted their seniors. There were servants, of course, but their duties were limited to menial tasks like fetching items or bringing boiled water.

That was why Jin Cheon-hee saw the need for a true nurse. He needed someone who could assist him, allowing him to focus entirely on the operation. It was a necessary step to expand their medical capacity and to provide better care for their patients. But becoming a nurse was no simple task.

First, there was the physical stamina. Nursing was a physically demanding job that required one to be on their feet all day, constantly exerting themselves. The work was grueling, the hours long. Jin Cheon-hee was not confident he could win a single round of arm wrestling against a veteran head nurse. Considering the muscle mass they developed from the sheer intensity of their work, it was only natural.

Second was a cool head. It was a blue-collar job, but at the same time, it was white-collar. There was paperwork, of course. But they also had to constantly monitor patients’ conditions, requiring quick thinking and sound judgment. And that was not all. Their duties ranged from assisting in surgeries, to patient care, wound dressing, pre- and post-operative management, collecting samples, managing supplies… even handling phone consultations.

Finally, there was knowledge. Study. That’s so fundamental it goes without saying.

That was why, in Jin Cheon-hee’s eyes, nurses were not the gentle ‘angels in white’ people imagined. They were ‘warriors in white’, the front-line soldiers in the war against disease. In America, the nurse-to-patient ratio was about one to five. In Korea, a single nurse was often responsible for ten, and depending on the hospital, as many as forty or fifty patients. The conditions were appalling. Contrary to popular prejudice, the nurse was as crucial to a patient’s treatment as the doctor.

And in the Gangho, the situation was even worse. In a world that called surgery a secret art passed down to a single successor, where could he possibly find a nurse?

I wonder what the workload for the Gangho’s only nurse would be like.

He had the perfect candidate right in front of him. He had proven competent as an assistant, and his mind was sharp. His strange art—be it martial, demonic, or something else entirely—was incredibly useful. Furthermore, as the chief steward, he was already handling admissions, discharges, and billing. It was the perfect position from which to train others. And his stamina seemed more than adequate.

When he explained all this, Yoo Ho simply replied, “I am your enemy, Young Master. Why would you deliberately place an enemy by your side?”

At that, Jin Cheon-hee couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Yoo Ho’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Do you find my words amusing?”

“No, it’s just that I heard something similar a long time ago.”

—What the hell is wrong with you, Jin Cheon-hee? Do you think factions are a joke? Do you think you can get by on skill alone?

That senior of his had eventually quit the hospital, unable to endure the politics. Jin Cheon-hee had survived. The first piece of advice he had received back then was, ‘Start learning golf early.’

He hated golf. He just wanted to read his Wuxia novels. So instead, he learned to live like water, to avoid making waves with anyone. But he also kept useful people by his side, even those who held a grudge against him.