Chapter 155: God Has Manifested

Inside the theater, it was impossible to tell day from night, but in reality, the explosion occurred during the day.

In Gotham Hospital, emergency doctors were drinking coffee and chatting in the lobby. During Gotham City's daytime, patients were never scarce; working here truly required learning to steal moments of leisure amidst the busyness. Moreover, they occasionally had to work through the night or face madmen and gang injured, which was troublesome in itself; the current sense of relaxation felt less like leisure and more like a small break during hard endurance.

The head nurse and attending physicians were veterans, so their mindset was calm. Taking advantage of a bit of rest time, they joked and laughed to liven the atmosphere. Several resident doctors stood aside; although they still held cups of coffee, they had not been there long and felt a bit strange about slacking off. Under the guidance of the head nurse and attending physicians, they relaxed slightly.

"Ding-ling-ling—"

The telephone at the nurse's station rang. The head nurse left the group of people laughing and talking, walking briskly to the landline.

"This is the emergency room—"

"This is the Gotham Police Department. The Unicorn Comedy Theater just exploded. Twenty-seven people are being sent to the hospital by ambulance convoy. Please prepare the emergency room immediately!"

One sentence erased all smiles from the head nurse's face. She silently sighed; another major emergency was coming today.

She immediately looked at the clock nearby to confirm the time. It was 6:21 in the morning.

Time was urgent and could not be delayed—so the next two questions she asked were simple and direct.

"How long?"

"About five minutes."

"Understood."

"Attention everyone!" The head nurse, having hung up the phone, began shouting loudly to attract everyone's attention: "Theater explosion! Twenty-seven people sent to the hospital! Prepare quickly!"

The nurses immediately started running, voluntarily transferring patients waiting for beds to the nursing ward; maintenance staff immediately began setting up folding beds as newly added temporary beds; the waiting area casually flipped the sign over, revealing the three large characters "Triage" on the back.

"Old rules: we cannot go home until this is over!"

"Call all other on-duty personnel to help." The attending physician immediately started running: "It doesn't matter which department—after all, they have basically all participated in major emergencies. Just tell them the theater was bombed."

The resident doctors put down their coffee and sighed with relief. This atmosphere was the familiar Gotham Hospital to them: patients streaming in endlessly, madmen causing chaos everywhere.

They are back. All of them are back.

They actively found medical gloves and disposable isolation gowns. Everyone in the hospital moved in an orderly manner; everyone was already well-versed in this situation.

"Everyone brought in has been tagged with trauma labels. Remember the color classification."

"Green—minor injuries, Yellow—needs observation, Red—immediate treatment, Black—"

"Black—dying injuries, send to the morgue." A resident doctor added: "I wonder how many Black personnel there are this time."

Amidst the crowd's discussion, the sound of ambulances finally came from outside the hospital. The patients had arrived.

The emergency medical technicians on the ambulances entered the hospital along with the patients, responsible for handing over injury details. The first man carried in was in tattered clothes, covered in blood, looking quite gruesome—yet he bore a Green tag, which relieved the doctors.

"Green at the start, a good omen."

"Twenty-five years old, male—he is a police officer." The technician said: "No external injuries. Seems he just fell asleep from exhaustion."

The head nurse quickly checked the man and indeed found no problems.

"Lucky. Send him to rest—next person, quickly."

The next person sent in was a Red personnel.

"Chest... and back both have wounds. Judging by the wound area, they were caused by small-caliber bullets. Seemingly massive blood loss, but vital signs are stable. Oh God..."

The attending physician looked and saw the wound was right over the heart, so he asked: "Is the heart undamaged?"

"Very strange. It looks like it isn't. Moreover, his vital signs haven't continued to drop. I have never seen this situation before—God bless, he looks as if his heart was pierced and then immediately healed from the inside out."

The attending physician frowned. Although puzzled by this, there was no time to think deeply: "Immediate treatment. Next."

Then another Red personnel was brought in.

"Head. Small-area wounds on the forehead and back of the head, bleeding. Seems there is brain matter... but vital signs are stable—damn it."

"... Treat. Next."

Still Red. This time it seemed to be internal bleeding caused by the explosion's shockwave, but miraculously, there was no bleeding point.

"How is it this again?"

When Ma Ma Zhaodi walked out of the hospital, it was already noon. His keen five senses allowed him to clearly hear the doctors' conversation inside the hospital.

"This is absurd. That criminal not only planted bombs but also shot everyone individually. Everyone sent in is a Red patient."

"All Red, but patients with stable vital signs." A resident doctor chimed in: "Unbelievable. Just like having invincibility turned on in a video game."

"Has anyone died yet?"

"No. Not a single one. Except for those confirmed dead on the spot at the theater, everyone sent over has clung to life."

"Really? That's over twenty critically injured people."

"Damn it, stop chatting! Dr. Hank received a critically injured patient who lost the ability to breathe independently. His mental state is unstable, so he just pulled out his own tracheal tube. He was discovered by the doctors, and now he is fighting with them!"

"Wait, buddy? Listen to yourself. Are you talking about a human? An oxygen-deprived, critically injured patient fighting with a doctor?"

Ma Ma Zhaodi silently pulled out a Pocky stick and put it in his mouth. He guaranteed that his original intention was absolutely not to watch such a bizarre spectacle.

But I really want to see it. What should I do...

Ma Ma Zhaodi did not delay at the hospital and went directly to the police station to report.

"Chief Gordon..."

"You could take a day off. No need to be so proactive."

"Since I'm already here..."

Hearing this, Chief Gordon waved his hand: "Forget it. As long as people are fine, go report. This afternoon, you will go with them to guard the Riddler. Note: this guy is very smart. You are a newcomer and unfamiliar with him. Do not communicate with him first, or you will easily be tricked by him."

"Yes."

At this moment, the morning medical news began broadcasting on the television in the lobby. Gotham media's speed was truly quite fast.

"Early this morning, an explosion accident occurred at the Unicorn Comedy Theater, involving dozens of comedy actors. Gotham Hospital provided emergency treatment. God bless. Except for several confirmed dead on the spot, all patients sent to the hospital were critically ill, yet none died. This is a miracle! Twenty-seven consecutive medical miracles!"

"What nonsense is he talking about?" Hearing this broadcast, Chief Gordon couldn't help but shake his head.

"Is this a miracle? This is God manifesting, isn't it?"

PS: The next chapter is coming soon.

(Chapter End)