The old man lay in a room with shuttered windows.
His frail chest was streaked with dark veins, his wheezing breath rising in broken waves.
Around him, three silent disciples.
And at the foot of the bed, a woman — the same who had brought Ji-Hoon.
She whispered:
— "Three doctors have failed. His Ki has coagulated in his upper meridians. If you fail…"
Ji-Hoon didn't answer.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
His fingers brushed the sternum.
The pulse was irregular.
The breath... ragged.
The Ki was stagnant — worse, it was reversing.
Reflux in the Ren Mai channel. Internal fire overload. Partial Yin obstruction.
The diagnosis was clear.
But the treatment… he invented it as he named it.
---
Improvised protocol:
Localized bloodletting + black fever herb diffusion + triple-needle method (bladder, spleen, heart)
He drew three bone needles — fine as hairs.
Then a small obsidian blade.
He asked for a basin.
And silence.
---
Step 1: Location
He placed the first needle at the base of the neck, just between two nerve points.
The old man jolted. But Ji-Hoon laid his hand on the chest.
— "Breathe through your nose. Forget your throat."
---
Step 2: Incision
A fine cut, just beneath the left pectoral.
A dark trickle oozed out.
One of the disciples twitched.
Ji-Hoon raised his eyes — slow, firm.
— "Touch him, and you'll kill him."
Silence. The room became a temple again.
---
Step 3: Dilution
He poured, drop by drop, a warm infusion of black fever herb onto the wound.
The blood darkened further… then began to clear.
The patriarch arched—
Then collapsed into a deep breath.
---
Step 4: Channel Purge
Two more needles, placed along the spine, vibrated under Ji-Hoon's fingers.
No Ki.
But intuition.
A perception of movement… like a slow river beneath the skin.
He guided the reflux. Brought it to the incision. Let it bleed again.
Then stopped everything.
And simply said:
— "He sleeps. He will live."
---
Absolute silence.
The disciples stepped back.
Lady Kang knelt, wide-eyed.
— "You... didn't use Ki."
— "I don't have any."
— "Then… how…"
Ji-Hoon packed his tools.
— "The body knows. One just has to listen."
---
The next day, the patriarch got up to urinate.
Two days later, he was speaking.
Three days after, he was walking.
And by the fifth, he was laughing.
---
Ji-Hoon now had a roof.
A small pavilion beside the Kang's pond.
A space reserved for passing guests.
Nothing official.
But from then on, everyone called him:
"Doctor of the Eastern Wind."
A name he had never chosen — but that lingered.
---
In his pavilion, Ji-Hoon recorded everything.
Every reaction. Every temperature shift. Every pulse detail.
And he added a new phrase to the Library of the Soul:
"Blood speaks louder than words."
---
To be continued...