BAG 3

Chapter 3

“What happened to Iron Man?”
“Did he survive?”

The martial artists hurried to Mugang, their faces drawn with anxiety. Mugang gave them a faint smile.

“The operation went well. We don’t know when he’ll regain consciousness, but he’s a strong-willed man. He’ll wake up soon. So, there’s no need for excessive worry.”

Relief washed over their faces.
An attendant, overwhelmed by the good news, covered her mouth to stop a squeal, then rushed outside to spread the word.

“The martial artist from the Divine Cult is safe! He’s going to be fine!”

Excitement spread like wildfire.

“Really?!”
“Ha! I told you, I never doubted our medical master for a second!”

The once anxious village now brimmed with relief and hope.

But among the crowd, someone whispered hesitantly,

“Wait, wasn’t he said to be injured so badly his intestines were spilling out? How could he be cured?”
“…Now that you mention it, I’m curious too.”

By sunset, the physicians began leaving the clinic one by one.
But the man everyone wanted to see—Mugang—did not appear.

People weren’t disappointed, though. They crowded around the other doctors instead, peppering them with questions.

After exchanging uneasy glances, Physician Geum finally spoke up on behalf of the group.

“It was as if the legendary Hwa-tai himself had returned to life.”

The villagers gasped in awe.
Before anyone could say more, the physicians slipped away through the crowd.

Soon, murmurs began spreading.

“He said it was like Hwa-tai had come back, right?”
“Could the medical master be Hwa-tai’s descendant?”
“Was Hua Hwa-tai’s family name Mu?”
“Heavens! Then our master must be the living Hwa-tai!”

And so, a rumor began to spread—and by the next day, everyone in the village believed Mugang was the reincarnation of Hwa-tai.

The Patient Awakens

Iron man’s eyelids fluttered as he strained to open them.
A strange ceiling came into view, and an excruciating pain radiated from his abdomen.

His vision blurred yellow as a wave of agony crashed over him.

“Huuu…!”

After the pain subsided, he steadied his breath and tried to recall what had happened.

He had been on patrol when he encountered an unidentified figure and gave chase. Just as he prepared to strike—
a flash of light burst before his eyes, and fire lanced through his belly.
Then—nothing.

‘That’s right. I was cut across the abdomen. But… how am I still alive?’

The moment he felt that burning heat, he had known he was going to die.
He touched his stomach instinctively—feeling rough stitching beneath his fingers.

But before he could examine it, another spike of pain sent him reeling.

“Urgh…!”

At that moment, the door opened. Mugang entered, followed by Physician Geum.

Mugang gestured, and Geum hurried forward, setting down a wooden tray.
He gently helped the trembling Iron man lie flat and gave him painkillers.

“For now, do not move a single finger.”
“Ugh… who… are you…?”
“I’m Mugang, head of the village clinic.”
“And I am Physician Geum.”

When the medicine began to take effect, Mugang carefully unwrapped the bloodstained bandages.
Meanwhile, Geum spoon-fed Iron Man some rice gruel and water.

“…Mmm…”

Iron man blinked in confusion, glancing between the two men.
Mugang spoke gently as he rebandaged the wound.

“I’m sure you have many questions, but let’s go over the important things first.”
“A-alright…”

Mugang nodded solemnly.

“You’ve been unconscious for a year—no, I mean, for a day.”
“Mmm… what?”
“Wait—what did you just say?”

Both Geum and Iron man froze. Did he just say a year? But Mugang’s serious face made it hard to believe it was a joke.

Inside, Mugang grimaced.

‘Damn, I slipped.’

It was an old habit from his past life—back when he’d joke like that to calm patients.
The merging of his past-life memories had made the words slip out unconsciously.

So he quickly clarified, gesturing with his hands as he explained.

“Anyway, the operation succeeded, but your injuries were severe enough that your intestines were spilling out. It’ll take a long time to heal. At least a month, I’d say. Don’t think about moving until then—focus only on recovery.”
“If I… push myself…?”
“If you move too soon, the stitches will tear, and your organs could burst out again. That would actually be the least of your problems. The real danger lies elsewhere…”

“Why… is that?”

“The human body is complex and delicate. For example, the abdomen contains something called the diaphragm—it separates the chest from the stomach cavity and plays a crucial role in breathing…”

Physician Geum’s eyes widened.
It wasn’t because the patient was listening so intently—
but because Mugang was speaking of knowledge that didn’t exist in any known medical texts.

‘How does the master know about this? No… that doesn’t matter. What matters is learning it.’

He concentrated hard. Mugang’s gestures and words vividly painted the image of the human body as if it were alive before his eyes.

‘Is this really the same Mugang?’

For a moment, he wondered if an impostor wearing Mugang’s face had replaced him.

Lost in thought, Geum didn’t notice the silence until Mugang frowned.

“Physician Geum?”
“Yes?”
“Why are you spacing out?”
“Ah!”

Realizing his lapse, Geum groaned inwardly.

‘To waste such a precious lesson… unforgivable!’

The Rumor Spreads

Later, on his way home, Mugang ran into Shin Joogeon—right in front of his house, clearly waiting for him.

“What happened to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Yesterday! I’m talking about yesterday!”
“Yesterday…?”

Joogeon’s face was flushed with a mix of curiosity and excitement. Mugang tilted his head in confusion.

Joogeon thumped his chest in frustration.

“You don’t even know what people are saying about you?!”

His voice rose, drawing the attention of passersby.

“Isn’t that the master from the Mu Family Clinic?”
“Looks like him! I heard from the fabric merchant that—”
“He’s said to have skills beyond belief!”
“I heard he’s the living Hwa-tai!”
“No, no—someone told me he’s Hua Tuo reborn!”

Before the gossip could spread further, Joogeon dragged Mugang inside by the wrist—his grip so strong it ached.

Once inside, Mugang pulled his hand free.

“Explain. What’s this all about?”
“So you really don’t know, huh?”

Seeing Mugang’s frown, Joogeon chuckled.

Mugang sighed. He hadn’t slept all night checking on the patient and was exhausted.
If Joogeon hadn’t been his only friend, he might’ve stitched his mouth shut on the spot.

“I’ve been at the clinic nonstop. What happened?”
“Apparently, a village physician saved a man who was on the brink of death.”
“Someone did that…?”

Mugang stopped mid-sentence—realizing it was his story.

Joogeon smirked.

“Do you know what people are calling you? ‘The living Hwa-tai.’ Some even say you’re his reincarnation.”
“Me? Hwa-tai? That’s ridiculous.”
“Ha! What’s ridiculous is that you brought a dead man back to life. Word’s spread across the entire town already.”
“How did it spread so fast?”
“How could it not? Even I could barely keep my mouth shut!”

It was a small town—barely two hundred households, maybe six hundred people total.
Including the Divine Cult’s retainers, maybe seven hundred at most.
In such a place, a rumor could indeed travel a thousand li without legs.

Mugang gave a dry laugh.

“They only know half the story. Listen carefully, Joogeon. If that man was fated to die, even Hwa-tai himself couldn’t have saved him. He lived because he was destined to live.”
“Heh. You sound like a man who’s achieved enlightenment. Are you sure you’re the same Mugang I know?”
“Of course I’m me. Who else would I be? And really—comparing me to Hwa-tai? That’s absurd.”
“Hmm. You’ve definitely changed. You wouldn’t have said that a few days ago.”
“Change is good. And yes, I’ve changed. You should get used to it.”
“Ha! Don’t worry—I already have.”

Joogeon laughed warmly. His usually composed friend seemed wiser now—almost too wise.
It was a little unsettling, but… admirable, too.

Mugang chuckled.

‘Even Hwa-tai himself couldn’t have done it.’

He recalled the famous legend—Hwa-tai cutting open Guan Yu’s arm to scrape away poisoned bone.
An incredible feat for its time.
But historically, Hwa-tai had already died two years before that event supposedly happened.
Meaning, even that story was a myth.

Even if it had been true, no healer could save a man whose intestines had spilled out.
Even divine luck would only delay death by a few days, before infection or organ failure claimed him.

‘Even if  Hwa-tai’s father and grandfather helped him, some things simply can’t be done.’

The next morning, Mugang returned to the clinic as usual.
Waiting at the door was one of the martial artists from the Divine Cult—
the leader of the group, judging by his bearing.

And thus, a new chapter of Mugang’s legend quietly began.