Chapter 1939: U: Beyond the Major Event (Sixty-Five)

After the dull sound of metal clashing, the door behind Shiler closed, and what appeared before his eyes was a pitch-black darkness—there were no lights in this room, so he could see nothing.

The eerie, ethereal female voice of the doll sounded again.

"Life in this world is not equal, and doctors, as a profession, always have a deeper understanding of this—some people choose to strive for equality, while others choose to make things even more unequal."

"Taking on as much work as the money you're paid is your principle—people pay you high fees for your superb medical skills, holding extremely high expectations, but have you truly met those expectations?"

"Haven't you already tested my professional competence?"

"Is it always like this?"

With a "ding," the light in the room turned on, but it was a spotlight, casting a clearly visible circular spot on the floor.

Within the illuminated area lay an operating table, on which a pale-skinned little boy lay, appearing to be only five or six years old.

From his complexion, he seemed alive, yet no pulse or heartbeat could be heard, his chest did not rise or fall—it was as if his time had been frozen.

"He is five years old this year, suffering from congenital heart disease, and just three minutes ago he had an attack, and his condition has now reached the point where surgery is absolutely necessary."

An X-ray film fell from the ceiling; Shiler picked it up, held it up to the light above, and with just that glance, he realized—he knew this heart very well.

Typical tricuspid atresia, combined with pulmonary artery atresia—this was the last surgery Shiler performed as a surgeon.

Only back then, the child on the operating table had just turned one month old, whereas this boy is already five years old.

To be honest, this could be called a miracle of life—most severe tricuspid atresia patients who do not receive timely surgery have an extremely high mortality rate; the vast majority die from organ failure due to systemic ischemia, let alone reaching five years old—few even survive past their first birthday.

Such surgeries usually require multiple stages, and the earlier the better; although the patient is too young, organs are small, and surgical difficulty is higher, survival rates are also relatively higher.

But if the patient is too old, another extremely high-difficulty situation arises: the patient's organs have already begun to fail, and vital signs are insufficient to sustain them until the end of surgery.

Younger patients are more prone to death during recovery, but children of this age are more likely to die on the operating table, because years of deterioration have pushed their bodies to the brink of collapse.

This boy is clearly in that state—Shiler has no doubt, due to long-term ischemia, his organ development may be only 50% of his peers', and functionality may not even reach half.

The fact that he is still alive—if not for this doll fabricating a person—would indeed be called a miracle.

As the saying goes, surgeons don't fear complex conditions, only low vital signs—besides the psychological pressure from low survival rates, intraoperative death is a major blow to medical staff.

Especially when the surgery itself isn't complex, but requires constant resuscitation and maintenance of vital signs, everyone gives their all yet still cannot save the patient, forced to watch helplessly as they die—calling it a blow is an understatement; it's easy to leave a psychological scar.

If it's a first-time intern entering the operating room, they'll at least feel miserable for a month afterward, dreaming about why they couldn't save them.

Of course, if someone survives the surgery but later dies from complications or other causes, doctors may feel regret, but since they didn't face death directly, they won't feel so helpless.

The moment Shiler saw that X-ray, he understood what the doll meant.

The doll had once confided in the priest at Nehuleit Manor, saying he had performed surgery on a child, which was very successful, but the child died for other reasons.

This time, however, the child doesn't need other reasons—just keeping him alive on the operating table is already immensely difficult.

Aside from a heart rate monitor, there is no other equipment in this room—no emergency conditions at all; vital signs must be judged solely by the doctor's experience, and hygiene conditions need not even be mentioned.

Put it this way: performing surgery under these conditions is roughly equivalent to chiseling a skyscraper with stone tools—not to mention tricuspid atresia patients, even a doctor brought in for acute appendicitis would have to think twice.

Just as Shiler was about to speak, a television hidden in the dark corner of the room flickered on, showing a man's face; Shiler focused and realized it was Thomas Wayne.

But upon closer inspection, this Thomas Wayne looked somewhat different from the one Shiler had seen before—this Thomas was very young, appearing under thirty, though slightly fatigued, his face showed no signs of hardship.

Shiler seemed to recall something, looked down, and indeed, the skeleton of the boy on the bed bore a faint resemblance to Bruce Wayne—but because the boy was truly skin and bones, and so young, Shiler couldn't recognize him at first.

Even if Shiler walked over now and looked closely, he could only make out one or two hints of Bruce Wayne's likeness—after all, the boy's condition differs from a mummy only by a few bandages; discerning the features of a desiccated corpse is still quite difficult.

"Doctor, doctor! Can you see me? I am Thomas Wayne, head of the Wayne family—they say you can save him, please, doctor, please save little Bruce!!"

At that moment, a woman rushed into the frame; Shiler looked and saw it was indeed Martha—though young Martha's makeup was smudged from crying, she patted Thomas's arm while saying: "You shouldn't have listened to those people! You're sending little Bruce straight to hell!"

"We have no other choice, Martha!" Thomas said angrily: "We've summoned the best doctors in the world, but they're powerless—if there's even a sliver of hope, I won't give up."

"You said it yourself—doctors worldwide are powerless—does this mysterious doctor actually have a solution?! Give me back my child—I'd rather he pass peacefully!"

While the couple argued, Shiler recalled which universe's Batman had heart disease, thinking and thinking until he actually remembered one.

In future Batman stories, Batman seems to have retired due to heart disease and old age, but his heart condition probably wasn't this severe—otherwise, how could he have lived to old age?

Wait—this could be a world without Batman, precisely because Batman was born with severe congenital heart disease and died in childhood, so the subsequent Batman stories never happened, and the protagonist is someone else.

That's also possible, after all—DC has many comics, some of which never mention Batman's existence, and Bruce Wayne might appear in them, but since he's not the protagonist, he never shows up—so it's also possible he died.

As Shiler pondered all this, Thomas's voice came from the television: "Doctor, please—just save my son, and I will pay any price..."

Shiler's eyes "swished" open.

At this time, the Wayne family should not yet be the world's richest, but they are certainly very wealthy—and what changes would occur in a world that should not have Batman but now does? Just thinking about it amused Shiler.

So Shiler stepped forward to examine little Bruce's condition—actually, there wasn't much to see, because his time was frozen, and from the current situation, it couldn't be arbitrarily unfrozen; outwardly, only his dire condition could be discerned.

"Have you performed surgery before?" Shiler asked.

Thomas seemed startled by the voice appearing out of nowhere, but quickly replied: "No surgical treatment has been performed, but a biopsy has been done."

Shiler furrowed his brow deeply—given the Wayne family's resources, they shouldn't have missed the optimal surgical window, and they'd already done an open-chest biopsy, yet no surgery followed—what situation could stump world-class surgeons?

Judging from the X-ray alone, if Bruce's condition hadn't worsened to this point, surgery would be difficult but not impossible—under generous rewards, brave souls emerge; even if top surgeons worldwide united, could they still not devise a plan?

Then it must be that the biopsy revealed something—Shiler thought: those doctors must have seen something on Bruce's heart they were helpless against, which is why they dared not operate.

Even if all top surgeons worldwide refused to operate, Shiler didn't think summoning the doll would solve it—he did have surgical experience, but nowhere near the godlike hands of Strange.

Even if Strange truly came, seeing this operating room's condition, he'd surely turn and leave—this can no longer be said to lack surgical conditions; dare to cut here, and even Thanos would have to give you a thumbs-up.

But still, that saying holds: Shiler wants money, not life—in this world, there's no money he dares not earn.

After clearing his throat, he said: "I can save him, but I need a sacrificial offering."

Thomas widened his eyes and said: "You're not a doctor? Aren't you supposed to perform surgery on him?"

"Do you think this place looks like it could host surgery?"

Thomas seemed able to see the room's scene through a screen—after all, as the saying goes, long illness makes one a doctor; little Bruce has been ill so long, he's seen many hospitals, big and small; Shiler's dark, grimy room indeed doesn't look like an operating theater.

"I am a pope—don't ask which sect, just know I can save him, but you must offer a sacrificial offering."

"What kind of sacrificial offering do you want?"

"All of your family's wealth."

Thomas stared in shock at the screen, then said: "But... but even if I'm willing, how would you take it?"

Just nod your head, I'll handle it.

Thomas held Martha, who had been crying beside him, and said: "If you are God, my answer is 'yes'; we are willing to give everything to save our son."

"As long as you can save little Bruce, we are willing to give all our possessions; take whatever you can carry—we only want our child! As long as you can keep him alive!" Martha cried.

Shiler rolled up his sleeves and said: "That's easily done."