Chapter 233: Payment Received

The tinker's words made all of Old White's subordinates hesitate.

If no one else were present, they might have actually done it. But now, with a crowd here, whoever dares to step forward is giving the others a chance to avenge the boss and rightfully take his place.

So at this moment, no one dared to move.

Even Old White the Fatty, though raging with fury, now clearly understood his predicament. He glared at the other medical staff and shouted, "Fuck! Damn it! Goddamn it! Is there anyone among you who can continue this surgery?"

Several assistant doctors and nurses, terrified of being implicated, hurriedly stepped back a few paces. If this surgery were truly simple, like a routine appendectomy, they would have stepped up.

But a hepatic duct resection is inherently a very difficult type of surgery; none of those present had even seen one performed. Furthermore, the tinker's method did not follow the standard procedure of a regular surgeon, which only confused them further.

At a time like this, how could anyone jump out and claim they could or could not do it? That would be no different from seeking death.

Seeing everyone's reaction, the tinker smiled with even greater arrogance and smugness. He said, "Well? Is the price of one million dollars reasonable? You should know, doctors are people you cannot afford to offend." Saying this, he blew another puff of smoke directly into the other man's face.

"Do you have no shred of medical ethics? Have you forgotten the Hippocratic Oath?"

"Oh, you even know Hippocrates. Impressive, impressive." The tinker flicked a bit of ash into the man's mouth, causing Old White the Fatty to cry out in agony, before he finally spoke:

"You cannot expect someone who has never attended medical school and holds no medical license to have taken such a nonsensical oath. Besides, what good is an oath? How many people break their promises?"

"You!" Old White the Fatty barely lifted his neck, glaring furiously at this damn quack. He gritted his teeth and said, "Fine! I'll pay! It's just one million dollars; I can afford it. Now finish this surgery for me."

"Ha, I often see people who break their promises. I only work when I see money. Without money, you'll have to figure it out yourself. Maybe find a nice cemetery, a comfortable coffin to lie in, and a group of pretty dancers to strip on your grave."

"Ah, damn it. If you have the guts, leave me here to die. Otherwise, once I recover my mobility, I will personally..."

The tinker simply pressed the cigar directly into Old White's body. The fat touching the cigar tip made a distinct 'sizzle' sound. He merely asked, "Personally do what?"

"Take the cigarette out! Get that damn cigar out of my stomach! Any of you, go get me one million dollars right now! Crush this pickled radish who doesn't eat dog meat!" Old White the Fatty roared at his subordinates.

"Hey, if you had just brought the money out earlier, it would have been fine. Saved us from putting on such a farce, how troublesome." The tinker smiled triumphantly, then went back to puffing on his cigar with loud 'pop pop pop' sounds.

However, the earlier action of pressing the cigarette had been a bit too much; the tip had caught some bodily fluids and was nearly extinguished. So, while waiting for the money to arrive, he walked out of the operating room to get a lighter and relight the cigar.

Then, ignoring the sterilization rules of the sterile room, he walked back into the inflatable operating room. This series of reckless maneuvers made the unemployed nurses, who had come for a little money, tremble with fear.

In a proper hospital, it would be strange if he wasn't sued to death.

But do not think that black-market doctors are beyond the law. The surgery will eventually be completed. When the time comes and they can no longer hold leverage over the other party, everyone has already started imagining how they will die.

One young Miss with weak psychological resilience had already started to sob.

Is it hard for a gang to raise money? Not at all, because their money cannot be deposited in banks anyway, so they just need to go to where they keep their cash and take it. Unless they truly have no money.

So it did not take much time before someone arrived carrying two heavy large handbags.

They carried them directly into the operating room, placed them in front of the tinker, and unzipped them. The leader said, "It's all small bills; there are ones, fives, tens, and twenties, but the total is one million. Do you want to count it on the spot?"

The tinker casually weighed the bags in his hand, then zipped them back up and said, "Take them out and place them next to my handbag. Once I see you've put them down, I'll begin."

Saying this, the tinker put the cigar back in his mouth and held out his hands in front of a nurse, signaling for her to help him put on surgical gloves.

At a time like this, no one dared to defy this lead surgeon. Even though the person lying on the operating table was seething with hatred, he would not let his opened abdomen be unhappy.

Old White the Fatty's subordinates naturally followed instructions, carrying the large handbags full of money out and placing them next to the small bag the tinker had brought.

With everything ready, the tinker finally picked up the scalpel again and began the excision. He first removed the cancerous bile duct, cutting away the abnormally colored hyperplastic tissue and throwing it into a metal basin designated for collected specimens.

Then he cut away the liver tissue where the cancer cells had spread and threw it into the same place.

During the process, the tinker did not forget to advise, "Your blood pressure is very high right now. Don't get so angry; it's bad for your body and not very friendly to the person performing the surgery."

"Do you know that the blood vessels here look like they are about to burst? If they really burst, it will be a huge hassle for me to clean up. General blood pressure medication won't do much for your condition; maintaining a good mood is more important."

"How can I have a good mood? Tell me! What kind of good mood should I have?" Old White the Fatty became more and more agitated as he spoke, and even started panting.

According to standard surgical procedure, in such a situation, medication would usually be added to the patient's IV drip to adjust their physical condition. But the tinker seemed unaware of this, only wielding the scalpel and ignoring everything else.

The assistant doctors and nurses, seeing the lesion finally removed, breathed a sigh of relief, only to become anxious again immediately after.

With this lead surgeon acting so recklessly, could they even survive to leave after the surgery was completed?

Just before suturing and ligating the excised area, the tinker stopped his movements again. He turned and asked the two henchmen who had stayed inside the operating room, "Do you have a phone here? I just remembered I have a very important call to make."

Old White the Fatty had just calmed down, but his emotions, which hadn't settled for long, flared up again. He shouted, "Can't you finish the surgery before making that damn phone call of yours!"

"Then it will be too late. This call is very important; if I don't make it, I won't be able to sleep tonight." The tinker, with the cigar in his mouth, said with a smile.

"You damn... get him the phone!" Old White the Fatty didn't finish his curse, swallowed his words, and changed his tone to order his subordinate.

(End of this chapter)