Idle Tycoon System - Chapter 378

Chapter 378: The aftermath of the battle [2]
Unlike what most people assumed, that he and Saika were Master Hideaki’s only two disciples, they were completely wrong about the master’s number of students.

Sand had simply remained hidden from public view because of his exceptional potential, overwhelming power, and most importantly, secret identity. Their master had only recently recruited him, yet Sand had instantly become acknowledged as their senior brother despite his late entry. The decision was based purely on his demonstrated strength and impressive background that even Master Hideaki respected.

“That’s good… really good. Hahaha!” Kenzo’s laughter was harsh and filled with dark satisfaction.

“That bastard Noah Carter is about to die! Senior Brother Sand doesn’t show mercy to anyone he fights. He’ll make that arrogant fool regret ever crossing paths with us.”

His broken body trembled on the hospital bed with anticipation of the vengeance that would soon be delivered on his behalf. Sand’s involvement meant Noah’s days were numbered, and Kenzo could already imagine the delicious reports he would receive about his enemy’s suffering and death.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

“Alright, rest well. You need to get better soon,” Saika said, placing a reassuring hand on his junior brother’s shoulder. “I’ll make my way to the temple immediately so that Senior Brother Sand can depart and get your payback.”

Kenzo nodded, his mood dramatically improved after the news Saika had delivered. The thought of Noah Carter suffering at Sand’s hands brought genuine comfort that even his physical pain couldn’t diminish. He settled back into his pillows with something approaching satisfaction, imagining all the ways his senior brother might make that arrogant bastard suffer.

Unfortunately, his improved mood didn’t last long. The door opened, and the lead orthopaedic surgeon entered with a grim look on his face. The doctor’s body language alone telegraphed that he was about to deliver bad news.

The doctor began by addressing them formally, then moving on to the news he was about to share. “I’ve reviewed the complete scans and consulted with several specialists about your hand injuries.”

He pulled up digital images on a tablet, showing the internal damage in detail. “I’m afraid I have to inform you that your hands are functionally useless. They will never recover from the damage sustained from your injury.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

Both Kenzo and Saika stared at the doctor in shocked silence, their minds struggling to process what they’d just heard.

“The damage was so severe it couldn’t possibly have been worse,” the doctor continued with obvious professional distress.

“What’s unusual and frankly unprecedented in my thirty years of orthopaedic medicine is the specific nature of the trauma. The attacks didn’t just break bones or damage surface tissues. They somehow bypassed your body’s natural protective barriers and went directly to the deep tissues, destroying them from the inside out at a cellular level. It would have been better off being cut.”

He gestured to the scans showing the catastrophic internal damage. “Your muscles have been completely shredded, nerves have been severed in ways that prevent regeneration, and the connective tissues have been pulverised beyond any possibility of natural or surgical repair. It’s as if whatever struck you was designed specifically to cause permanent, irreversible damage.”

Kenzo’s face went completely pale as the words of the doctor registered in his mind. His weapons, the tools of his martial arts career, the weapons he had spent decades perfecting, the instruments that had crushed so many opponents, were permanently destroyed.

“No, no, that’s… you’re wrong. GET BETTER DOCTORS!”

“…Specialists from Europe, I DON’T CARE WHAT IT COSTS!”

“Mr. Kenzo, I understand this is difficult to accept,” the doctor said with genuine sympathy. “But we’ve already consulted with the world’s leading hand surgeons. The consensus is unanimous. The damage is simply too extensive and too unusual for any known medical intervention.”

Kenzo’s eyes went wild as denial transformed into desperate rage. “FIX THEM! DO SURGERY! I’LL PAY ANYTHING!”

“There’s nothing to fix,” the doctor stated bluntly, recognising that false hope would be crueller than the harsh truth. “The tissues are dead or dying at the cellular level. We need to amputate, but we can’t give you prosthetics, because there are no cells or anything that’s alive from your shoulder and down, you can’t use prosthetics even if you wanted to, as for reconstruction, it’s impossible. I’m truly sorry.”

Kenzo’s breathing became ragged as reality forced itself through his denial. His entire identity—everything he had built his life around—was centred on his martial arts abilities. And now his hands, the most crucial tools of any fighter, were permanently crippled.

Tears began streaming down his face, not from physical pain but from the absolute devastation of having his future ripped away. “That bastard… that bastard Noah Carter did this to me…”

His voice broke into something between a sob and a scream. “NOAH CARTER! I’LL KILL HIM! EVEN IF I CAN’T FIGHT ANYMORE, I’LL FIND A WAY TO DESTROY HIM!”

But even as he screamed his impotent threats, the pathetic reality was evident. He was a crippled fighter lying in a hospital bed, his career destroyed, his hands useless, while the man who had done this to him was walking around freely without any consequences.

Saika watched his junior brother’s breakdown with complicated emotions—pity for his suffering, and for his fate after his crippled state. As much as he wanted to disblieve the doctor, he knew that what he was saying was true.

This was not a random doctor after all. This was one of the top surgeons of their country, and he had connections with the best doctors across the world.

Kenzo continued sobbing and screaming alternately, his mind unable to cope with the sudden transformation from rising martial arts star to permanently disabled has-been.

Everything he had worked for, every dream he had nurtured, every ambition he had cultivated—all of it had been obliterated in a single tournament match by someone he had thought was nothing but a toy to play with and break before discarding.