Chapter 1519: Schiller's Disappearance (Part II)

The night in New York is never calm. This prosperous city located on the East Coast stages an endless climax drama every night. The gentle moonlight failed to hold back the hurried steps of pedestrians, and the cool night breeze failed to soothe their restless hearts.

Schiller walked quickly into the laboratory. Connors frowned when he saw him. Schiller didn't show anything; he just asked: "Shi Difen came to find you?"

"Yes, about his brother's matter." Connors said bluntly. He pushed his glasses and said: "Hereditary genetic disease is indeed a bit troublesome, but Nick helped him find a perfect liver source. I wanted to give him some healing potions, but he didn't want them. He is very proud of his surgical technique."

Hearing that Strange didn't take the healing potions from him, Schiller frowned slightly. After exchanging a few pleasantries with Connors, he walked out of the ward.

The sound of leather shoes stepping on the empty floor echoed constantly. The cold light from the hospital room doors reflected the moonlight outside. A slender figure passed along the corridor of the Presbyterian Hospital and came to the meeting site of the last consultation.

When he walked in, everyone looked at him with some surprise because he was holding a notebook and a pen—often only medical students who were auditing would bring these.

But he ignored those gazes, sat down calmly, looked up at the screen at the very front, his expression as serious as a student attending a large consultation for the first time.

In the corridor of S. H. I. E. L. D., Schiller brushed past Natasha. The female agent glanced at his expression, raised an eyebrow, and revealed an intrigued expression, while Schiller walked straight toward Nick Fury's office.

"Nick, I want to confirm, the liver source for Shi Difen's brother shouldn't have any problems, right?" Schiller knocked on the door and said.

Nick raised his head, looked at Schiller with some doubt, and said: "A perfectly matched organ of course won't have any problems. Are you worried about the source and legality?"

Nick stood up from the desk, while tidying up the documents on the desktop, and said: "Perhaps it's not necessarily possible to find a very suitable liver source within the United States, but if you look at the world, you can always find it. As long as you have money and power, this is not a difficult thing."

"Is the organ to be transplanted determined to be safe? Where is it kept now?"

"It's still on the way to transport. It should arrive tomorrow morning. After it arrives, the surgery will be performed immediately. This is the most stable way. But why are you asking this?" Nick looked up at Schiller with some confusion.

Schiller restrained his expression and said: "Nothing, I just hope to ensure that the situation is foolproof. You know, Shi Difen is very important to us. A hero's relatives shouldn't bleed."

Nick walked to the door, patted Schiller on the shoulder, and said: "Don't worry, there won't be any problems. Shi Difen's brother will recover soon, and then he can devote himself to work again."

Moonlight spilled on the windowsill. The well-maintained slender fingers flipped through the medical records of the past years. The figure sitting by the window seemed to have returned to his student days. He carefully studied all the cases of organ transplantation that had been performed at the Presbyterian Hospital, and occasionally flipped through the key points recorded during the consultation just now.

He used a fountain pen to make annotations on the records. The rustling sound echoed in the room. The few old items in the apartment room were very accustomed to this sound. The nights of studying hard not only carved knowledge into his mind but also made his back and the wall a pair.

"The surgery is tomorrow morning. Are you nervous?"

Schiller poured a glass of water and placed it in front of Victor. He glanced at the scarf Victor placed beside him, knowing that he should have just returned from the Presbyterian Hospital.

"A little bit." Victor revealed a simple and honest smile and said: "Growing up so big, I haven't accepted any surgery yet."

"Don't worry, your brother is the best surgeon in the world. No matter what, he won't let anything happen to you, and neither will I."

"Of course, Dr. Schiller." Victor looked more relaxed. He tilted his head slightly to one side, looking at the moonlight outside the window and said: "I know doctors are all good people. You are always thinking about how to save people."

"The general practitioner in our town is busier than the tractor in the harvest season every day. Logically speaking, a person who is so busy definitely doesn't hope that there will be other work looking for him, but he always calls me, asking if I have any discomfort. If I do, I must tell him."

"He is a good person. He helped many elderly farmers, letting them continue to go back to work, including my father. He is a quite serious person, but I still remember the surprised expression on his face when he heard that my brother was Shi Difen Strange."

Schiller lowered his eyes and smiled and said: "Indeed, Strange is a legend in the surgical medical world. He has been written into all works involving the introduction of well-known surgeons, and the surgeries he performed have entered textbooks. Which doctor doesn't want to see this Hand of God?"

Victor laughed very hard, just like the common sound of "clucking" in the throat of farmers, looking innocent and honest. Schiller could see that although his relationship with his brother was average, he was still proud of it.

After the laughter stopped, Victor looked at Schiller with a quite sincere look and said: "You must be a very good friend of his."

Schiller paused while tidying the quilt and asked: "Why?"

"Did he ask you to come over to persuade me?"

Schiller nodded.

And Victor shook his head lightly and said: "You don't know how hard it is to get him to ask for help. It's hard to imagine how hard it is to go from a remote small town all the way to New York and become such a well-known surgeon, but he has never asked anyone—not once."

Victor looked up at the starry sky outside the window and said: "He always works hard crazily, and then solves all problems by himself. In countless nights like this, he once told me that in this world, the only thing he can't learn is despair."

The night grew deeper, and the thin clouds passing by from time to time made the moonlight dim. The lights in the room remained bright. The practice model that hadn't appeared on the side for many years was taken out of the box. One hand pressed on it, and after the preparation work was done, a series of suturing actions that were almost too fast to see were like flowing butterflies under the light.

For medical students, basic skin suturing is not difficult, and for surgeons, it is a common occurrence. But when done by these hands, it can make people see a lot of smooth beauty from the bloody association of suturing flesh and blood.

Over and over again, until the moon fell and the stars sank, and the red sun rose.

After the suture thread was pulled out, there was no extra trace on the surface of the model. After putting the model back into the box, he sat on the edge of the bed alone and watched the sunrise outside the window, just like the end of countless nights of bitter cultivation.

On a pitch-black national highway, a special low-temperature transport vehicle was speeding toward New York. The driver who was fully focused on driving didn't notice a layer of thin gray mist rising around the vehicle body.

The sun rose from the horizon of the vast American continent. The back of the transport vehicle disappeared into the skyline of New York's high-rise buildings, and the morning mist slowly dissipated.

When Victor was pushed into the operating room, Strange was already dressed neatly. Schiller couldn't see his expression through the wrapping of the hat and mask, but he could still feel that he was calmer than ever before.

The door of the operating room closed slowly. The process of the transplant surgery was longer than anyone could imagine. Just standing outside the door, one could feel the suffocating pressure.

Inside and outside the operating room, it was very calm, until the light outside the window turned from bright to dark, and then some sounds came out of the operating room like suddenly boiling water. Someone was shouting something noisily, but it didn't sound like panic.

Soon the door of the operating room opened, and the nurses pushed the patient out together. Vaguely, Schiller heard words like "the surgery was very successful" and "another miracle." The tone didn't have much surprise, as if it was a matter of course.

Schiller suddenly revealed a proud smile. He shrugged and prepared to walk out, but unexpectedly, a nurse called him at this time and said: "Dr. Rodriguez, Dr. Strange asks you to come in."

Schiller was stunned for a moment, a bit surprised, and said: "But I didn't wear surgical clothes, I..."

"It doesn't matter, the surgery is already over. Dr. Strange might have some urgent matter. You should hurry in."

Schiller had to walk into the operating room. After the last nurse left, Strange, wearing a hat and mask, waved his fingers, like commanding a nurse, to let Schiller close the door, while he was tidying up the surgical tools on the side.

Schiller paused, but still walked over to close the door. His steps were light. While walking, he said: "The surgery was very successful, right? I think surgical medicine should also be classified into the category of magic."

"Your deal with Death is completed?" Strange's voice came from under the mask, sounding a bit unreal.

Schiller stepped forward two steps, leaned against the side wall, and said: "Of course, by the time the surgery ended, Victor was still alive, so the deal was completed."

"Your arm belongs to Death?"

Schiller nodded, smiled, and said: "I seem to have heard someone once tell me to let me pay the price?"

At this time, Strange had already tidied up the tools and taken off his gloves, hat, and mask. Schiller thought he was going to walk out the door and even gave up his position.

But Strange stood in place and took out the Time Stone.

Schiller frowned with some surprise. He didn't understand what Strange was going to do, but the next second, rich energy condensed around the Time Stone, and the Time Stone was activated instantly.

But they didn't travel through time. Those rich energies carrying the power of time condensed into substance, turning into a blade-like edge, and Strange's left hand held the end of this weapon.

Schiller widened his eyes, almost stopped breathing. In this instant, he realized what Strange was going to do. The next second, rich gray mist rushed toward Strange.

But it was already too late.

With a "swish," the sharp blade swept across 10 centimeters below Strange's right elbow. There was no blood, no residual limb, nor crying and screaming, just that Hand of God, which was known as the miracle of the surgical medical world, disappeared completely.

The moment the gray mist condensed, Schiller choked Strange's neck tightly and pressed him against the wall with an extremely rough action with a "bang."

Schiller first turned his head to look at the smooth cut on Strange's arm, and then looked at Strange's face with unbelievable eyes.

And Strange lifted his head slightly. When his eyeballs turned to Schiller, his eyes were full of cold laughter.

"I destroyed all the timelines of this arm, and you will never, never, never... be able to find it back." ===== CHAPTER 1520 =====