BAG 1

BAG

Posted by Mona, Released on October 12, 2025

Episode 1

Wu-Kang was born in Xi’an, Shaanxi.
He had grown up in a happy, harmonious family — until his life changed three times.

The first turning point was the plague.

The epidemic that swept through Xi’an claimed thousands of lives in a matter of days — including his own family.
Left an orphan overnight, Mu-gang wandered the streets and begged to survive.

Even now, he often thought,

“It’s a miracle I didn’t die back then.”

The second turning point came when he saved a martial artist.

During the height of the plague, Wu Kang lived beneath a small bridge by the stream.
One day, he returned with a single meat bun he had begged for, only to find a man lying unconscious and covered in wounds in the spot where he slept.

He had thought the man might die if left alone.
At that time, he hadn’t yet known that martial artists — their bodies trained by internal energy — had lives that were surprisingly resilient.

To the young boy, the fallen man looked like his parents.
So Wu kang desperately crushed what he thought were medicinal herbs and spread them over the man’s wounds.
His stomach growled in protest, but he didn’t touch the precious meat bun.

Hours later, the martial artist stirred awake.
He looked warily between the poultice on his wounds and the bun offered to him… and then devoured the bun in silence.

Afterward, he asked Wu Kang a few questions.
Learning that the boy was an orphan, the man offered to take him along to Xinjiang.

“You saved my life. I’ll help you until you can live on your own.”

Those warm words broke the boy’s restraint. He wept.

Even now, he wondered how he had made it all the way to Xinjiang.

When Wu Kang turned fifteen, he began learning martial arts — but after three years, he still hadn’t mastered even the basics.
He simply lacked talent in martial arts.
However, he had an excellent memory, so he was sent to train as a physician’s apprentice.

The third turning point was the dream.

Starting from the day he turned twenty, Mu-gang began to dream every single night.
At first, they were vague, indistinct.
He would wake knowing he had dreamed but remember nothing — a frustration that gnawed at him.

Then, one day, the dreams became vivid.
It was the year he turned twenty-six.

Suddenly, Wu Kang was no longer in bed.
He was standing before a man bound and trembling in terror.

The man tried to scream, but some kind of restraint held his jaw shut; his body was strapped to the chair.
Wu Kang’s fingers moved delicately, like playing a piano, as he approached.
The man struggled harder the closer Wu Kang came.

When Wu Kang’s glowing hand touched the man’s leg—

Crack—!

The leg came off cleanly.
The man’s eyes bulged so wide that the corners split and bled.

Wu Kang was horrified.

“How could a healer — one meant to save lives — do something like this?”

Yet his hands continued, dismembering the man limb by limb.
The man’s eyes rolled back in unbearable agony until only the whites showed.

Wu kang thought frantically,

“They call me Mad Doctor, but I’m no villain.
Evil? Perhaps — but this one is just an E-rank Awakener, the kind that dies at the first sign of a disaster.
If he’s to survive, this is the only way.
I’m not killing him — I’m giving him a chance to live.
The pain he feels now is only phantom pain brought on by fear of my reputation.”

The Mad Doctor tore off all four limbs — cleanly, without a drop of blood.
Still, the man wept bloody tears and fainted.

“Maybe I rushed it. I can feel my mind splitting again.”

He took a deep breath and steadied himself.
Then he attached chimera limbs to the man’s stumps, casting a blessing of regeneration.
The blue skin quickly shifted to match the man’s own.

One by one, dozens of Awakeners passed through his lab — each implanted with chimera parts.
And with each one, the Mad Doctor aged.
Wrinkles deepened, his cheeks hollowed — a price for experimenting first on himself.

Days later, the foretold calamity struck.
Many Awakeners died. Many more were maimed.

Weeks passed, and word came that the disaster had been vanquished.
The Mad Doctor, now a frail old man, smiled faintly, closed his eyes, and thought—

“…Mu-gang! Wu Kang! Wake up!”

“Who… is Wu Kang?”

The Mad Doctor frowned — and then felt a hand shaking him.

“Still not waking up? Let’s see who wins this time!”

Smack!

“Keuk! I’m— I’m awake! I’m awake!”

With his cheek burning, the Mad Doctor opened his eyes.
A young man stood over him.

“Wu Kang, didn’t you say you had to leave early today?
Good thing I came to check — you almost overslept.”

“Huh? Oh… uh, did I ask you to wake me?”

“Nope. But come on, who am I? Shin Joo-geon, the guy who can read your mind, remember?
And don’t think I’m doing this because you refused to drink with me last night — absolutely not revenge.”

“Shin… Joo-geon? That’s your name?”

“What’s with your tone? Did you forget who I am? Still half-asleep, huh?”

The young man tilted his head, muttering to himself as he raised his hand again.
Wu Kang hurriedly waved his arms.

“Alright, alright! I’m awake, don’t hit me again!”

Shin Joo-geon clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“If you’re awake, wash up and get to the infirmary.
If the day goes well, don’t forget it’s all thanks to me.”

“Got it, Joo-geon. Thanks for waking me.”

“Wait— you thanked me? Hah! You really are acting weird today.
You sure you didn’t eat something bad last night?”

Wu Kang, sensing suspicion, quickly replied,
“Just the dumplings we shared. That’s all. Do I really sound that strange?”

“Compared to your usual self? Definitely.
But whatever — we’re both busy men. We’ll talk later.”

Joo-geon gave him one last worried look and left.

Wu Kang sat there, pressing the acupoint between his brows.
A throbbing headache pulsed behind his eyes.

Maybe it was the clash between his memories and the Mad Doctor’s.
Or maybe it was just the slap.

After about half an hour, the pain faded.
Wu Kang grimaced, washed his face, and headed to the infirmary.

“If the man in my dreams really was my past life… how incredible that would be.”

The man in his dreams had been a genius — a half-mad savior who sacrificed himself for the world.
So different from the struggling healer he was now.

Wu Kang chuckled.

“Unless there’s a status window popping up, it’s just a dream… huh?!”

Right before his eyes — a status window appeared.

[Mu-gang – Mad Doctor LV 1 / Third-rate Martial Artist of the Sun and Moon Sect / Physician]

Inner Power: 10 Years
Mad Doctor Skills: Anesthesia (F), Disinfection (F), Detoxification (F)
Skills cannot be improved through training.

Sun and Moon Sect Skills: Soul-Fusion Qi Technique (F)
Physician Skills: Medicine Crafting (C), Qi Acupuncture (C)
Skill Points: 0

Wu Kang stared blankly, then pinched his own cheek hard.
Pain. Tears welled up.
Not a dream. Not a hallucination.

“It’s… real?”

He couldn’t deny it anymore — but curiosity outweighed joy.
The scholar in him wanted to understand how this was possible.

“Three professions at once? How does that even— Oof!”

Something bumped into his shoulder.
Turning, he saw a water carrier with a yoke of buckets.

“Ah! I’m sorry, Doctor! I didn’t see you there!”

“It’s fine. I stopped suddenly — my fault.”

“Th-thank you, sir!”

Wu Kang waved it off kindly.
Even if the man had been at fault, he wouldn’t have scolded him.
Everyone in this small Sun and Moon Sect village was practically family.

He sighed.

“No time to stand around.”

And hurried off.

Later, in the infirmary, Wu Kang finished his morning tasks and retreated to the so-called main chamber — really just a small rest room.

Lying on the bed, he brought up the status window again.
Some things were different from what he remembered in the dream — inner power instead of mana, for one.

“Ten years of inner power — matches the strength of my dantian perfectly.”

The skill list was familiar: Medicine Crafting (C), Qi Acupuncture (C), Soul-Fusion Qi Technique (F).
He examined the new passive skills tied to brewing medicine, channeling energy, and applying acupuncture.

“Makes sense. They fit my work as a physician.”

The martial technique was one he’d learned years ago while training.
He wondered why his footwork and fist techniques hadn’t registered, then dismissed it.
Probably because his skill hadn’t been high enough.

Deciding there was nothing else to check, Mu-gang dismissed the window and lay down.
He planned to nap until a patient arrived.

But an odd discomfort pricked at him.

“Why do I feel… uneasy?”

He sat up and looked around.
The infirmary, spotless yesterday, now seemed filthy.
Not because of dust or clutter — but because his past life’s habits demanded surgical sterility.