Chapter 3372: Miraculous Physician (Part 27)

In order to save energy for the relatively difficult surgery at night, not many patients were received today. Almost after completing the quantity target, they announced the suspension of business. The wooden man was also very sensible; even if they didn't receive patients for half an afternoon, he didn't come to find trouble.

The remaining time was basically spent determining Stark's condition. The good news was that after judgment and examination, the bullet wasn't that hard to take out. The bad news was that Stark's state was indeed not good.

He was having intermittent fevers, and his body temperature fluctuated greatly. At the same time, the wound on his abdomen had become inflamed; even after the bullet was taken out and sutured, the inflammation didn't disappear that quickly.

Rabbit meat soup did replenish his strength, but the intake of protein would also aggravate the inflammation. But conditions were limited, and there was no better method, so he could only choose the lesser of two evils.

When dusk arrived, Stark was somewhat unconscious, and his body temperature rose to an unprecedented height; physical cooling was useless. Wanda concocted fever-reducing potion for him, but after drinking it, it only played a role for a period of time, and soon he started having a fever again.

Surgery shouldn't be performed when body temperature is abnormal, so they could only drag it on. It wasn't until the second half of the night that Stark's body temperature stabilized; clearly, the medicinal properties accumulated by the potion played a role.

The time until dawn wasn't much, so Strange could only cut quickly, betting that the bullet wasn't far from his incision.

Just as the incision was cut, Strange felt a bit pleasantly surprised, because from the state of the muscles next to it, it could be judged that the distance of the bullet was closer than he imagined, and taking it out directly was no problem.

But just as he expanded the incision slightly and prepared to push aside the muscle plexus to take the bullet out directly, he suddenly saw that the femoral nerve below the muscle was a bit black.

Strange immediately leaned over to look, but this wasn't his hallucination. The color of the femoral nerve was a bit wrong. He had been a neurosurgeon for so many years and had never seen this situation.

The patient's state and the position where he cut had no problems, so the problem should be with the foreign object stuck behind the nerve.

Sure enough, Strange pushed aside the two branches of the femoral nerve and saw the bullet hidden underneath. Although the size was similar to the one taken out before, a rune was carved on the bullet.

"Magic bullet?" Schiller also saw it and asked.

Both looked at Wanda. Wanda was helping them hold the light bulb. After leaning over to look, she said: "I saw them chasing fugitives in the vegetable market in Westchester before. The fugitive couldn't move at all after just taking a shot in the calf. Maybe there really are magic bullets."

Strange felt a bit tricky. Now he only needed to take tweezers and clamp it gently to take the bullet out, but if he touched the bullet and triggered some kind of magic effect, leading to femoral nerve damage, or even worse, endangering the sciatic nerve, then it would be completely finished.

Schiller captured Strange's fleeting hesitation. Before he could open his mouth to persuade, Strange threw away the tweezers in his hand directly, put his fingers through the bifurcation of the femoral nerve, and pinched the bullet out.

With a "clatter," the sound of the bullet falling into the tray was like heavenly music, and Wanda breathed a long sigh of relief.

Schiller went to look at Strange, and Strange acted as if nothing had happened, took off his gloves and threw them aside.

The surgery ended smoothly, and Strange held a water cup to drink water to replenish moisture. Wanda started checking whether various tools were complete like a real nurse.

Schiller also held a cup of hot water and rested against the wall, giving Strange a thumbs up by the way and saying: "Indeed very handsome, Mr. Hand of God."

"Hmph." Strange snorted lightly, neither proud nor humble, as if he had just done a trivial little thing.

"People who are always entangled can't be surgeons. Because when facing various accidents during surgery, the most important thing isn't what to choose, but to choose at the fastest speed. As long as the speed is fast enough, death will eventually be slower than me by one step."

Strange's voice echoed in the operating room. Schiller nodded and said: "I think one point you said is very right. The intelligence of thinking about what is best to choose is not as important as the determination to choose decisively. This is the case in many things."

"So now I am standing here, and he is lying there," Strange looked at Stark who was still unconscious on the operating table and said.

Schiller nodded and said: "Tony's biggest problem is being too entangled. I dare say, if it weren't for him always being entangled about whether to take or abandon the witness, he might not have been injured so heavily."

"He pays you so much money every quarter, but you didn't help him solve this problem."

"Can't solve it. After all, I am not the heart of God." Schiller smiled and said, "Besides, being entangled a bit more isn't bad either. People always treat meaningless entanglement as deep consideration. If the result doesn't satisfy them, they will only feel it should be so."

"Tony is also like this. If it weren't for him being an entangled person, treating the thinking process of whether to save the witness or not as the embodiment of his genius wisdom, and then feeling he had tried his best after harming himself like this, we probably wouldn't have to listen to his complaints all the time."

Time passed very quickly, and the few of them didn't sleep for another night. After dawn, they transferred Stark to the inpatient room to let him recuperate there. Of course, the main reason was not to let him see the process of them treating other patients. Otherwise, even if everything changed, he still had a great possibility of recognizing the true identity of the quack doctors.

Schiller, standing by the window to welcome the first ray of morning light, saw the raven flying onto the window frame and said: "Good morning, roast chicken, are you hungry?"

"You are as shameless as that cat in the back alley of Wisteria Lane," the raven opened its mouth and said.

Schiller accepted his praise happily. He looked up at the raven and said: "You come, and Detective Poirot comes. Can I understand that you know him better than us?"

"I came here originally to say this, if you didn't want to roast me, I would have finished saying it." the raven said.

"What do you want to say?"

"You can save him, but it's best not to let him leave."

"Why?"

"Because he wants to spread the things here." the raven said.

Schiller narrowed his eyes slightly. The words the raven said made his speculation about the raven's stance change. So he actually hoped to blockade the town?

"I know you are very confused, why a big plague broke out in the town, people still don't run away, and there are even people who actively block the townspeople who want to run away."

"Isn't it because this group of people can't be infected with the plague? Like Wood, like you. The ones staying in the town are just puppets. If I'm not mistaken, your main bodies should all be in Westchester, right?"

"Yes." the raven didn't deny it either, he said, "Puppets are indeed not afraid of plague infection, but puppets are also very precious to us. The number of puppet crystals in your hands is very scarce, and making puppets also consumes a lot of our energy."

"Then what do you want me to say? Your dedication is really moving?"

"I'm just telling you, we pay so much, not just to kill the people in the town, because this has no meaning to us, and we can't even recover the cost of making puppets."

"Is that so? So many people died, but you don't take parts to sell for money; no wonder you lose money." Schiller said with some disdain.

Don't know if the raven was shocked by these words or speechless, in short, he was silent.

After a long while, he opened his mouth and said: "Coming to this hospital proves that you are not the cursed ones. You can spend this disaster safely here, as long as you don't interfere with the blockade of the town."

"Why do you want to blockade this place? Besides the reason for the plague spreading..."

"The plague won't spread." the raven gave an unexpected answer, he said, "To be precise, this is not a plague, but a kind of curse. It will only happen to specific cursed ones, and has nothing to do with innocent people like you."

This finally got to the point. Schiller pinched the grass-soil block in his hand and said: "Where did the curse come from?"

"This requires you to understand it yourself; if he is willing to tell you, you will always know." the raven flapped its wings, stared at Schiller and said, "If you knew the truth, you wouldn't want to be a person who gets in the way. It seems this Detective gentleman is your friend, then don't let him do this either."

After saying that, the raven flew away.

"Yes, I probably understand." Schiller said to himself while walking back, "Abused little girl, curse passed down for several centuries, plague that breaks out every certain number of years, cursed ones playing patients and innocent people playing doctors..."

"But what does this have to do with me?" Schiller laughed lightly and said, "I only know that someone deducted my money, pulled out my teeth, and wanted to cut my tongue."

Because the work schedule was delayed for a night, Schiller started pinching clay again during the leisure time in the morning. Wanda was sleeping in the lounge, Strange was working in the operating room, so he transferred the position to the inpatient room.

Just at this time, Stark woke up leisurely. He could already sit up with difficulty. Schiller heated some rabbit meat soup for him, and he leaned against the wall, watching Schiller pinch clay while drinking.

"What are you doing?" Stark asked.

Schiller simply explained his plan to him. Very predictably, he harvested a white eye from Stark.

"Building firelocks?? Are you serious?!" Stark shook his head and said, "In a magic world where steam drives everything, you actually want to build that kind of primitive firearm?"

"Materials and venues are limited, and more importantly, I am a psychologist. If I don't build firearms, what should I build?"

"Just knew you couldn't do it." Stark shook his head and said, "But it doesn't matter, the great Stark is here to help you. When I recover from my illness, I guarantee to build you a good gun."

"You intend to stay here?"

"Of course not, I definitely want to go out. But if the injury isn't healed, going out is also a drag on Steve."

"Aren't you afraid he will have an accident?"

"I don't worry about him." Stark showed his consistent stubbornness and said, "Although his physique has become an ordinary person, his battlefield experience can't be eliminated. He is much more powerful than me now."

"Even if it's just him alone, doesn't he still have to protect the witness?" Schiller said unintentionally while pinching clay, "Even if you recover from your injury and go out, you are still an ordinary person. Besides protecting the witness, he still has to protect you; isn't that still a drag? Better not go out at all."

Stark suddenly said suspiciously: "These words sound familiar? Did a black bird tell you something?"

"No. I'm just worried about you guys."

"Sure enough, it's that damn crow! He is in the same group as the people who blocked the town; they just want to kill these innocent people! Damn politicians!"

"You are right, even if I recover from my injury, it is very difficult to deal with this group of cunning guys. I must think of a way..."

In the corner that Stark didn't see, Schiller, who put down the clay, revealed a smile.

?? Schiller: Starkology Expert

? (End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 3373 =====