Crown Prince Sells Medicine

Chapter 117

Violence is unjust.

One should not wield it recklessly.

Raciel always believed in this principle. Even during his time in Korea, he rarely resorted to violence towards others. There was only one exception.

Perhaps it was during his years in medical school.

He had a minor disagreement with a fellow student. The individual made an insensitive joke, asking if Raciels parents werent around. Since his parents had indeed passed away, and not much time had passed since he had bid them farewell, anger welled up within him. They ended up in a physical altercation, a mutual assault. That was the sole exception.

However, now,

He had committed a more severe act of violence than back then. This time, it wasnt driven by anger; it was a calculated punch.

Thump!

Gwuk!

With an unusual cry, Shandres head whipped around, and even his sturdy molars flew out, gleaming. Shandre went down in a single blow.

It was a perfect knockout. Of course, Raciel had employed the Asrahan Core technique. The punch was imbued with a touch of mana. Shandre might sleep soundly for an hour or two.

What?

Um, uh?

Excuse me, sir?

The remaining dispatched military officers mumbled, gazing at them with surprised expressions. Gradually, their expressions shifted to anger.

What do you think youre doing?

Striking someone, especially a military officer!

Do you believe you can get away with this?

The objections from the military officers poured in. However, Raciel didnt even snort; he simply sneered.

What am I doing?

He glanced at the officers while flexing his clenched fist. Raciel made eye contact with each one and retorted.

It seems you all have a significant misunderstanding. Youre here to learn, not to engage in games, certainly not to spout your absurd dichotomies.

But why? Should we separate the injured into two groups? Prioritize treatment based on nobility or common status? All to line your own pockets? To secure sponsorships? How ludicrous.

The very idea of it made him laugh. Such despicable motives exist, he thought. However, their perspectives seemed somewhat different.

But striking someone openly like this is unjust!

Apologize, or we will report this to our superiors.

The officers grew more agitated, as if they had seized an opportunity. This only made Raciel laugh even harder.

Report it to your superiors? Under what pretext?

Well, obviously, well report it as an act of violence

An act of violence? What about the disobedience to royal orders that this man lying here has committed?

What are you talking about?

Did you forget why youre here?

Thats

You came to this camp following the kings orders, to uncover the secret behind our impressive survival rate among the wounded. Isnt that correct?

Then why arent you focusing on learning? Why instead are you fussing about absurd matters? Isnt that already a form of disobedience to royal orders?

Youre exaggerating!

Exaggerating my foot.

Raciel chuckled, his sharp words persisting.

You were sent here to learn, but it seems you have no intention of doing so. You claim that you dont need what were offering, that your skill lies in segregating patients into nobles and commoners. You even suggest that Im ignorant for not knowing this and insinuate that our king would be displeased with the current situation.

Id like to know, where in your words and actions do you demonstrate any willingness to learn?

But still!

But what?

Just because you cant best someone like this

Would you prefer I throw you in prison instead?

The battalion commander who was imprisoned when I first arrived is probably still there. Would you like to join him? All of you?

Tsk. If you have nothing more to say, then leave. It doesnt seem like youll be of any assistance anyway.

He meant it.

Individuals with such attitudes, even a hundred of them, would be worthless. In fact, he felt relief that they wouldnt interfere. He also understood why only 10 percent of the wounded soldiers they saved survived.

Ordinarily, they simply neglect the common soldiers. They only favor officers of noble birth with useful connections and take care of them.

He felt repulsed as he contemplated it. Their meager abilities. The petty authority those abilities afforded them. They must have relished the power to decide the fates of others based on their selection.

Their pitiful arrogance disgusted him. The fact that their actions only served to line their own pockets made it even more sickening.

He didnt even feel remorse for striking them. If anything, he regretted not hitting them harder when he had the chance. He felt somewhat disappointed.

I thought I had finally secured some manpower. Ive wasted valuable time relying on worthless individuals.

It was time to attend to the wounded. With this in mind, Raciel hurried away. He didnt even spare a glance for the fallen military officer Shandre and the others as he swiftly departed the scene.

How dare he A man with no background, of unknown origin do this to me?

A few hours later, Shandre woke up. The antidote had done its job as he had requested.

However, as soon as he opened his eyes, he seethed with anger at Raciel, who had kindly beaten him. It was only natural. The area where Raciel had struck him was swollen, and his knocked-out teeth ached. But beyond the physical pain, it was the humiliation that stung the most.

How dare that guy take my place?

Shandre clenched his teeth.

He had always been the best.

No army medical officer surpassed him.

He had believed this all along, and it was true. He had graduated from the kingdoms most prestigious medical school and was the favored student of its most esteemed professor. Even after becoming a military doctor, nothing had changed. His camp for wounded soldiers had always been the best.

Even before the civil war erupted, he had been the best. He had consistently achieved remarkable results in every war he had participated in. An astonishing survival rate for wounded soldiers: 15 percent. Particularly, the survival rate for noble officers was even higher.

Thanks to his prowess, he received attention and sponsorship from numerous noble families. Some had even requested him to become their personal physician after the civil war.

He was undeniably the best.

Until Rihan, that peculiar individual with no background, came into the picture. Until that unbelievable guy, who had recorded an abnormal 70 percent survival rate for wounded soldiers, entered the scene.

He had been relegated to second place.

All because of that guy.

Shandre clenched his teeth and surveyed his surroundings.

He could see his fellow medical officers who had been dispatched with him, all of them appearing concerned. Even their gazes were humiliating for him, the one who had always been the best.

He addressed them all.

No need to look at me like that. Im fine. Where is that guy?

We dont know. After he attacked you, he simply left.

He left?

He went to tend to the wounded soldiers. He hasnt returned yet.

Hes completely ignoring us.

How dare he? A guy with no background or origin, someone who merely lucked into sponsorship from the princess.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. Meanwhile, his fellow medical officers spoke casually.

But, Officer Shandre? While you were unconscious, we heard some strange rumors from the soldiers here.

Strange rumors?

Its about that Rihan. Apparently, hes quite skilled.

What?

Many wounded soldiers claim they owe their survival to him. He hardly performed any amputations.

No amputations?

Yes, I saw it myself while touring the camp. Everyones limbs were intact. There were hardly any soldiers who had undergone amputations.

But then how did they achieve a 70 percent survival rate?

Ive heard they use various unique treatments.

Unique treatments?

Yes, they mentioned something called acupuncture. Ah, and theres something else as well, called moxibustion. They bundle up some strange herbs, dry them, place them on the skin, and then burn them.

What is that

However, Ive heard that after receiving acupuncture and moxibustion, the soldiers feel incredibly refreshed. Quite a few of them have attested to this.

Shandre remained silent.

Acupuncture?

Moxibustion?

These were treatments he had never encountered before. Methods involving pricking the body with thorns or burning dried herb bundles on the skin were entirely unfamiliar to him.

As a result, he was convinced.

That guy must be a charlatan!

Absolutely certain.

This individual named Rihan had to be a fraud, mastering strange techniques that Shandre had never encountered. He must have enchanted these naive and foolish soldiers with such bizarre sorcery.

But what about the 70 percent survival rate?

It must have been luck. Maybe they didnt need amputations in the first place. Perhaps they just happened to get soldiers who werent severely injured. Its the only explanation.

When he thought about it, it made sense. What did his professor used to say?

No matter how exceptional your medical skills are, on the battlefield, you cant save more than 20 percent of the soldiers. Even the most skilled practitioner cannot surpass that limit.

His teacher had been the most esteemed at Anbouazs top medical school. He couldnt possibly be wrong.

But what about this guy, Rihan? He had achieved an astonishing success rate of 70 percent. Shandre simply couldnt believe it.

Everyone is being deceived. Not just the soldiers here, but also the intelligence department of the royal army, the king everyone is entranced by his sorcery. Maybe he is even secretly using black magic.

The idea seemed plausible. It quickly solidified into a conviction. So, what should he do now? A sense of mission overcame him.

I need to uncover the truth about his sorcery. To do that I must prove my own abilities and expose him!

Shandre made a firm decision.

He would expose every hidden aspect of Rihan. He intended to awaken everyone who had been deceived.

With this resolution in mind, he rose to his feet, gathered his medical instruments, and exited the tent.

Outside, the night was enveloped in darkness. The midnight moonlight shone brilliantly overhead, but he paid it no mind. In fact, he considered it advantageous. Rihan, the fraud, was likely asleep at this hour.

This is the perfect opportunity to showcase my skills without his interference.

Without hesitation, he located the tent housing the injured soldiers. He entered confidently and began to assess a soldier who had recently undergone surgery and was in the recovery phase.

Just as I suspected.

After evaluating the wounded soldiers condition, Shandre smiled with satisfaction. It was even more evident, given the state of the sleeping soldier, how incompetent Rihan was.

He didnt even provide the basic post-operative care that should be standard. Hes undoubtedly a fraud.

The time had come to fully expose him. With a wide grin, Shandre opened his bag.

Clank.

Various medical tools were revealed. He selected the bloodletting tool from among them and aimed it at the sleeping wounded soldiers arm vein. He solemnly recalled the medical knowledge he had acquired from his teacher.

When you are sick or injured, impure blood accumulates in your body. To make room for fresh, clean blood, you must remove as much impure blood as possible.

Swish.

The sharp edge of his bloodletting tool ominously gleamed as he carefully incised the soldiers intact vein.

(To be Continued)

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