"Mo—my life?"
The Montpellier bastard staggered backward unsteadily.
That was the smart move.
Underestimating what had just come out of Dr. Liston's mouth would lead to real trouble.
"Yeah. Or, well, money sounds good too."
"Uh…"
The Montpellier bastard seemed shocked that the medical competition had suddenly turned into a wager.
Personally, the very concept of a "competition" felt bizarre to me in the first place… but people in this era were obsessed with duels and such.
Take The Count of Monte Cristo with Edmond Dantès—it was written in the 1840s.
Now, thirty years later…
I bet glove-throwing challenges are still happening left and right.
"Fine! Let's do it! With money!"
"You value your life but don't fear debt, huh?"
Liston chuckled faintly and casually set down the rubber gloves he'd been fiddling with earlier.
Getting hit with those gloves might kill you in a duel, but dying from bacterial infection seemed far more likely—so I silently praised his decision.
Meanwhile, our Montpellier friend, oblivious to how close he'd just come to death, kept running his mouth.
"Haha, this Londoner… this island hick. Daring to challenge French medicine!"
London, huh?
Probably because he'd just been smacked in the jaw.
The police commissioner there was friends with Liston, after all.
But if he tried anything here, he'd have to cut down at least ten officers before escaping.
Somehow, I doubted he'd get caught.
As for the rest of us stragglers—who knows what'd happen to us? But Liston? He'd walk out alive.
"Heheh. Let's begin. The arm first?"
"Yeah, sure!"
Anyway, Liston grinned and glanced at me.
His expression was downright terrifying.
It was the kind of face you'd see right before someone killed another person.
But now I knew better.
This was just his happy face.
"Alright, let's do this."
"We never discussed the amount, though?"
Especially when he was about to do something bad.
In the past, I wouldn't have been like this… but now, I'm just another 19th-century Brit, aren't I?
Before I knew it, I felt a wide grin stretching across my face.
"Haha, I did that on purpose. That way, no matter how much I take, no one will question it."
"Ah, hahaha! Then his place better be nearby!"
"Exactly! You're catching on."
He was planning robbery.
Hehehe.
Haha.
I couldn't help but laugh.
Above all else, I love dissection.
And these cadavers were in excellent condition.
Since they weren't preserved in formalin, it almost felt like performing surgery.
Well, they were a bit softer than ideal, but…
If I imagined they were under anesthesia with muscle relaxants, the sensation was almost like operating in the 21st century.
"You take the left arm; I'll do the right."
"Yes, then… I'll handle the blood vessels?"
"And I'll focus on preserving the nerves."
"Understood."
In any case, our Liston-Taepyeong dissection duo was now considered the best in London.
I wasn't sure if it was lucky, but we hadn't yet gotten a public showcase—our reputation was mostly word-of-mouth among medical students and doctors.
So, I was a little curious.
How would a first-time observer react?
"Whoa…"
"Did you see that? The muscle… it just peeled apart."
"How many times has he done this…?"
"No, no—it's not just practice. It's systematic. He understands it completely."
"Well, that's Liston for you. They say he dissects over ten limbs a day."
"Ah… the Sword Saint Liston. So that's him."
To sum it up, everyone was stunned.
And for good reason.
In just a short time, the skin had been cleanly peeled away, revealing the intact musculature beneath.
Of course, muscles are layered—superficial and deep—with major blood vessels and nerves nestled between them. So, we'd have to cut through eventually.
But before that, I decided to offer some commentary.
Muscle names?
I'll decide the names.
I'd already coordinated with Liston, so it was fine.
By 19th-century trends, the discoverer typically named things after themselves—which made studying anatomy a nightmare.
To abolish that awful tradition and standardize terminology with familiar words, I took charge.
(Well, so… not listening to me?)
The specifics? Honestly, I wasn't sure.
Liston handled it.
I suggested, and Liston executed.
"This here is the deltoid. Shaped like a triangle, right? Judging by its attachment points—from here to the side of the arm—it's likely the primary muscle initiating arm movement."
Though claiming definitive motor functions outright would be risky.
So, I phrased it as speculation—even though I knew it was correct.
"And this one. This muscle on the chest…"
I pointed at Liston's specimen since mine wouldn't be as visible.
Liston's musculature was…
Unnaturally impressive, so even if some struggled to keep up, they nodded eagerly.
"Look closely here."
As I explained, I deliberately made an incision with the scalpel and lifted the skin.
The cadaver's pectoral muscle was revealed—so emaciated that its structure was unusually clear.
"This part attaches near the clavicle, slightly higher. The lower portion connects to the sternum. Since they merge, it's one muscle but likely has functional subdivisions. The exact shape might vary based on the person's habits—not due to innate anatomical differences, as some claim, but behavioral ones."
This was an era of explosive progress in anatomy.
Hell, when you're digging up corpses for dissection, how could you not advance?
But with limited prior knowledge and underdeveloped statistics, differences in appearance alone dictated classification.
So, errors were rampant.
Knowing it'd take another 150 years to refine this, I subtly nudged things along.
"Ah… so the theory that exercise enlarges muscles!"
"Indeed… it makes sense."
"But one inconsistency remains. Then why do people die?"
At first, I worried I was moving too fast—but not anymore.
Look at them.
They're calling muscle hypertrophy from exercise a theory.
Sure, in the 21st century, it's basic常识—but here? Proving it was tough.
Statistics barely existed, and they had no clue about hormones, nutrition, or sleep affecting growth.
Then there was the flawed logic: If using muscles strengthens them, shouldn't movement grant immortality?
"Just my opinion."
"Right, right. Still, your skill is uncanny… truly impressive."
Fixing this would take days of lecturing.
The thought alone…
Exhausting.
Unless it was for my students, Blundell, or Liston, I wouldn't bother. No way I'd waste effort enlightening some fool like Paget.
"Now, look below. These two muscle heads attaching to the forearm—the biceps. Two origins, so obviously for flexion."
"Yes, logical deduction."
"Conversely, the back has three—the triceps. The opposite function, right?"
"Indeed. That makes sense."
I also showed them the brachialis beneath the biceps—another flexor, though shorter and weaker.
Then the coracobrachialis (harder to name in Korean), a small muscle most wouldn't know existed.
"Whoa… it separates like this?"
"Incredible."
The awe continued.
Meanwhile, Liston meticulously isolated nerves—a far harder task, but his hands were peerless.
This was the man who could perform most surgeries with a Liston knife. Give him a scalpel, and he's unstoppable.
"Further down, the forearm has more muscles…"
The upper arm's muscles had limited roles—flexion and extension.
But the forearm was different.
Wrists, fingers, and two forearm bones added complexity.
"See this? From the humerus to the opposite radius."
"Ah. Very small…?"
"What's its function?"
"Hmm."
"Supination. Just follow the origins and insertions."
"Dividing start and end points…"
"The closer to the body's center, the likelier it's the origin. That's my view."
"Hmm."
My explanations were as detailed as the dissection.
Most nodded along, but a few—particularly self-important "leading" physicians—pretended to know better.
"Electrical experiments show randomness…"
Motherfucker.
This bastard.
Those experiments were on dead subjects—probably not even humans.
"Frogs, you mean?"
"Yes, frogs."
Frogs were ideal for electrical tests at this tech level.
Human trials required higher output—hence the dim gas lamps everywhere.
"Are frogs and humans the same?"
(They are.)
But I said it just to mess with him.
"Perhaps. That could be."
Get confused!
"This muscle here is broad but has two insertions—so dual functions: flexion and supination."
"Fascinating theory. It does seem plausible."
Thankfully, the frog-human debate distracted the know-it-all, leaving others purely amazed.
This alone put Montpellier in his place.
How could someone guessing match the precision of a surgeon who knew the anatomy?
Especially when my technique was superior.
But we weren't done yet.
"Now, my turn."
Liston stepped forward, dangling nerve fibers like spider silk.