The days of being a spiritual mentor in Meiman.

Chapter 3383 Miraculous Doctor (27)

Chapter 3383 Miraculous Doctor (Twenty-Seven)

In order to save energy for the relatively difficult surgeries in the evening, they did not receive too many patients today. They announced the closure of the business when they had almost reached the target number. The wooden man was also very sensible. Even though they had not received any patients for half an afternoon, they did not come to cause trouble.

The rest of the time was basically spent on determining Stark's condition. The good news was that after judgment and inspection, the bullet was not that difficult to remove. The bad news was that Stark's condition was indeed not good.

He had intermittent fevers, and his body temperature fluctuated greatly. At the same time, the wound on his abdomen had become somewhat inflamed, and even though the bullet had been removed and sutured, the inflammation did not subside quickly.

The rabbit soup did replenish his physical strength, but the intake of protein would also aggravate inflammation. However, due to limited conditions and no better method, he could only choose the lesser of two evils.

When dusk came, Stark was somewhat unconscious, and his body temperature rose to an unprecedented high. Physical cooling was no longer effective. Wanda prepared a fever-reducing potion for him, but it only worked for a while, and soon he started to have a fever again.

It was not suitable to perform surgery when the body temperature was abnormal, so they could only delay it. It was not until the second half of the night that Stark's body temperature stabilized. It was obvious that the accumulated medicinal properties of the medicine had taken effect.

There was not much time left until dawn, so Strange had to cut quickly and gamble that the bullet would not be far from his knife.

As soon as the knife cut open, Strange felt a little surprised, because from the state of the muscles next to it, he could tell that the bullet was closer than he thought, so it would be no problem to take it out directly.

But just as he slightly expanded the incision and was about to push aside the muscle cluster to take the bullet out directly, he suddenly saw that the femoral nerve under the muscle was a little black.

Strange immediately leaned in to take a closer look, but this was not an illusion. The color of the femoral nerve was wrong. He had never seen anything like this before in all his years as a neurosurgeon.

There was nothing wrong with the patient's condition or the location of the incision, so the problem must be 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 it was about the same size as the one he had taken out before, there was a rune engraved on the bullet.

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

They both looked at Wanda, who was holding the light bulb for them. She leaned over to take a look and said, "I saw them chasing a fugitive in a Westchester market. The fugitive was only shot in the calf and couldn't move at all. Maybe there really is a magic bullet."

Strange felt a little tricky. Now he could just use tweezers to gently pinch the bullet out, but if he touched the bullet and triggered some kind of magical effect, causing damage to the femoral nerve, or even more seriously, endangering the sciatic nerve, then he would be completely finished.

Schiller caught Strange's fleeting hesitation. Before he could persuade him, Strange dropped the tweezers in his hand, pierced his fingers through the bifurcation of the femoral nerve, and squeezed the bullet out.

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

Schiller went to see Strange, who took off his gloves and threw them aside as if nothing had happened.

The operation was successfully completed, and Strange drank water from the cup to replenish his water. Wanda began to check whether all the tools were complete like a real nurse.

Schiller also took a cup of hot water and rested against the wall. He gave Strange a thumbs up and said, "You are really handsome, Mr. God's Hand."

"Hmph." Strange snorted lightly, neither proud nor humble, as if he had just done something insignificant.

"People who are always struggling cannot become surgeons. Because when facing various unexpected events during surgery, the most important thing is not what to choose, but to choose as quickly as possible. As long as the speed is fast enough, death will eventually be one step slower than me."

Strange's voice echoed in the operating room. Schiller nodded and said, "I think you are right about one thing. The intelligence to think about the best choice is not as important as the determination to choose decisively. This is true for many things."

"So now I'm standing here and he's lying there." Strange said, looking at Stark who was still unconscious on the operating table.

Schiller nodded and said, "Tony's biggest problem is that he is too conflicted. I dare say that if he hadn't been struggling over whether to take the witness with him or abandon him, he might not have been injured so badly."

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

"It can't be solved. After all, I'm not the heart of God." Schiller smiled and said, "Besides, there's nothing wrong with being entangled for a while. People always regard meaningless entanglements as careful consideration. If the results don't satisfy them, they will just think it's what they deserve."

"It's the same with Tony. If he wasn't such a conflicted person, and if he didn't regard the thought process of whether to save the witness as a manifestation of his genius and wisdom, and if he didn't think he had done his best after hurting himself like this, then we would probably have to listen to his complaints all the time."

Time passed quickly, and they did not sleep all night. After dawn, they transferred Stark to the inpatient ward and let him recuperate there. Of course, the main reason was that he could not see the process of them treating other patients. Otherwise, even if everything changed, he would still have a great chance of recognizing the true identity of the unscrupulous quack doctor.

Schiller, standing at the window to greet the first rays of morning light, saw a raven flying to the window frame and said, "Good morning, roast chicken, are you hungry?"

"You are as shameless as the cat at the end of Azalea Street," said the raven.

Schiller accepted the compliment with pleasure. He looked up at the raven and said, "When you come, the great detective Poirot comes. Can I understand that you know him better than we do?"

"That's what I came here to say, and if you don't want to roast me, I'd have said it all," said the raven.

"What do you want to say?"

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

"why?"

"Because he wants to spread what's happening here." said the raven.

Schiller narrowed his eyes slightly. What the raven said changed his guess about the raven's position. So he actually wanted to blockade the town?

"I know you are wondering why people didn't flee when a plague broke out in the town. Some even took the initiative to stop townspeople from escaping."

"Isn't it because these people can't be infected with the plague? For example, Wood, for example, you. You who are staying in the town are just puppets. If I'm not mistaken, your real bodies should all be in Westchester, right?"

"Yes." Raven did not deny it. He said, "Puppets are indeed not afraid of being infected by the plague, but puppets are also very valuable to us. The number of puppet crystals in your hand is very scarce, and making puppets will also take a lot of our energy."

"So what do you want me to say? Is your dedication really touching?"

"I just want to tell you that we paid so much not just to kill the people in the town, because it means nothing to us. We can't even recover the cost of making the puppet."

"Really? So many people died, but you didn't sell the spare parts. No wonder you're losing money." Schiller said with some disdain.

I don’t know whether Raven was shocked by these words or speechless, but he remained silent anyway.

After a long while, he spoke: "You came to this hospital to prove that you are not cursed. You can survive this disaster here safely, as long as you don't interfere with the blockade of the town."

"Why did you seal this place off? Any reason other than the spread of the plague..."

"The plague will not spread." Raven gave an unexpected answer. He said, "To be precise, this is not a plague, but a curse. It will only happen to certain cursed people, and has nothing to do with innocent people like you."

This finally got to the point. Schiller held the clod of grass in his hand and said, "How did the curse come about?"

"You need to understand it by yourselves. If he is willing to tell you, you will know it." The raven flapped its wings and stared at Schiller and said, "If you knew the truth, you wouldn't want to be a hindrance. It seems that this detective is your friend, so don't let him do this."

After saying that, the raven flew away.

"Yes, I roughly understand it." Schiller said as he walked back, muttering to himself, "The abused little girl, the curse that has been passed down for centuries, the plague that breaks out every certain number of years, the cursed who play the role of patient and the innocent who play the role of doctor..."

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

Because the work was delayed overnight, Schiller took advantage of his free time in the morning to start molding clay. Wanda was sleeping in the lounge and Strange was working in the operating room, so he moved his position to the inpatient room.

At this time, Stark woke up slowly. He could barely sit up now. Schiller heated up some rabbit soup for him. He leaned against the wall, drinking it while watching Schiller kneading clay.

"What are you doing?" Stark asked.

Schiller briefly explained his plan to him, and as expected, Stark rolled his eyes.

"Making a musket? Are you serious?!" Stark shook his head and said, "In a magical world where steam drives everything, you actually want to make that kind of primitive musket?"

"The materials and space are limited. More importantly, I'm a fucking psychiatrist. What else can I make if not a musket?"

"I 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 promise to make you a good gun."

"Are you planning on staying here?"

"Of course not. I will definitely go out. But if my injury is not healed, I will be a burden to Steve if I go out."

"Aren't you afraid that something might happen to him?"

"I'm not worried about him." Stark showed his usual toughness. He said, "Although his physique has become that of an ordinary person now, his battlefield experience cannot be eliminated. He is much stronger than me now."

"It's fine if he's alone, but doesn't he have to protect the witness?" Schiller said casually while kneading the clay. "Even if you recover and go out, you're still an ordinary person. In addition to protecting the witness, he has to protect you as well. Isn't he still a burden? It's better not to go out at all."

Stark suddenly said suspiciously: "Why does this sound familiar? Did a black bird say something to you?"

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

"It's that damn crow! He is in cahoots with the people who blocked the town. They just want to kill these innocent people! Damn politicians!"

"You're right. Even if I recover from my injuries, it will be difficult to deal with these cunning guys. I must think of a way..."

In a corner where Stark couldn't see, Schiller put down the clay and smiled.

Schiller: Starkology expert