A Hospital in Another World?

Garrett Nordmark had treated several through-and-through abdominal injuries in his previous life and even one after crossing over to this world. However, a characteristic of such injuries is that:

No two through-and-through wound patients are alike.

Different victims, different organ locations, different thicknesses, different materials of the penetrating object, different penetration sites, and even slightly different organ positions... lead to vastly different outcomes. Some victims might have a rod thrust into them, piercing through the liver, spleen, breaking major blood vessels...

They might die before reaching the hospital, or barely cling to life upon arrival, only for their blood pressure to plummet as soon as the abdomen is opened, dying before the doctors can locate the blood vessels.

So, Garrett didn’t take this patient’s injuries lightly. Fortunately, after examining the patient from all angles and combining it with magical X-ray, he felt somewhat confident that the patient might still be salvageable:

The iron bar entered through the 11th rib space at the back and exited above the pubic symphysis. This location, being somewhat distant from the spine, probably avoided the liver and spleen as well as the abdominal aorta and inferior vena cava. In other words, there was a low chance of immediate severe bleeding or causing irreparable disability.

Additionally, upon the patient’s arrival, Garrett had glanced at the bloodstains on his clothes. Based on his extensive clinical experience, the patient had probably lost no more than 500cc of blood so far... Factoring in intraoperative bleeding, with some luck, it could be kept under 800cc, a dangerous yet manageable figure.

Having made his assessment, Garrett volunteered to help. However, the elderly man beside the patient eyed him skeptically and asked:

"You? Are you sure you can do it?"

Garrett was momentarily taken aback. He reached for his oak staff, silently raising it—the staff’s tip adorned with three sturdy green leaves, clearly indicating a seasoned third-level priest. The old man hesitated for a moment, then bowed deeply to Garrett, his face crinkling with worry:

"Thank you for your kindness, Priest. But... uh, if possible, could we wait for a higher-ranking healer to arrive?"

His expression was anxious, almost fearful, as if afraid Garrett would take offense. Garrett softened, squatting to meet his gaze:

"Of course. Don’t worry, Brother Matthew is very kind... then, shall I attend to the other injured in the meantime?"

Choosing a doctor is a family’s right, he understood. A main doctor versus a department head, he’d choose the head physician too. Such situations were common to him, not worth getting upset over. Seeing the old man’s frightened demeanor, Garrett even squatted down to reassure him gently.

The old man breathed a sigh of relief, nodding vigorously. Garrett offered a reassuring smile and stepped back. He quickly donned surgical scrubs and, along with the clinic’s three junior priests and the two apprentices he brought, attended to the other injured. Cleaning wounds, bandaging, setting bones, stitching...

Well, skip the stitching, because with healing spells available, they hadn’t even bothered to stock suture thread, simply guiding positive energy to accelerate wound healing.

Busy with these tasks, half an hour passed unnoticed. Sweat poured down Brother Matthew’s face, his glances towards the door growing more frequent, while the patient’s breaths grew fainter, signaling the near exhaustion of the healing spells.

Finally, hurried footsteps sounded. Brother Matthew’s face lit up with hope, only to see a fourth-level priestess of the Spring Water Goddess rush in behind his colleague:

"The Temple Knights are out on exercises, and the archbishops went with them! Only three of us were left in the temple!"

The priest sent for help rushed in with the news. The newly arrived priest nodded to Matthew and immediately began to pray. Soft, water-like blue light emanated from her hands, silently enveloping the patient.

However, the difference between levels four and five wasn’t just one level, but a qualitative leap, with many powerful divine spells out of reach. As soon as Matthew ceased his prayers, it was visibly clear that the patient’s vitals began to destabilize—

"That... Priestess, how much longer can you hold on? Can my son be saved?" The old man asked anxiously, crouching beside. The priestess wiped sweat from her brow and shook her head:

"At most half an hour—"

Despair darkened the old man’s eyes. The Temple of the War God was especially remote, and even if they had gone for help at the same time, it might be over an hour before anyone could arrive.

The sailors Garrett had just treated gathered around. With slings on their arms and limps in their steps, they formed a circle around the patient, clamoring:

"Please, Priestess, you must save our first mate!"

"Yes, our first mate

is the best!"

"Last time Old Tom nearly fell into the sea, it was he who dashed over without a second thought to pull him back, even breaking his arm in the process!"

"And the time before that..."

These injured were sailors, their voices loud even when wounded, causing a racket in the clinic loud enough to flip the ceiling. The priestess, overwhelmed by the noise, finally shouted:

"Quiet!"

"Exactly, quiet!" Garrett, having treated the last wound, came over to intervene:

"Who’s ever heard of prayers needing no quiet? Out, all of you! No clamoring here!"

Having treated about half of the injured, the sailors respected Garrett enough to silence themselves and step back. The young priestess gave Garrett a grateful look and continued her prayer, another handful of light rain falling from her hands as she took a hurried breath, whispering:

"My divine spells are almost exhausted. —Do you have any mana potions?"

They would be used for Brother Matthew first. The two healers and the patient’s family exchanged helpless looks in their eyes.

The patient let out a low moan, writhing slightly, as fresh blood surged from his back again. Obviously, the priestess’s healing spells were weakening, no longer able to stanch his pain.

"Andrei, don’t move! Don’t move!"

The old man stepped forward, holding his son’s body. Trying to make him more comfortable without applying pressure, his hands trembled as he looked around frantically:

Who could save his son?

Who?

As his gaze shifted, he suddenly noticed Garrett standing silently to the side. The old man’s eyes brightened, but he dared not speak, only pleading with his eyes.

Garrett sighed lightly and nodded. The old man released his hands and turned, falling to his knees before Garrett:

"Priest—"

"Stand up and speak! Get up!"

Garrett hurried to help him up. The old man grabbed Garrett’s arms, clinging to him with all his weight:

"Please, Priest, save my son! I beg you! You mentioned earlier that you could try—"

"Don’t worry, don’t hurry." Garrett calmly assured him. "I’m not unwilling to help. But the priestess is currently treating him, you—"

"My divine spells are almost spent! You go!" The priestess of the Spring Water Temple stepped aside without any displeasure, immediately making way. Garrett breathed a sigh of relief, thanked her with a nod, and stepped forward to the patient:

"Brother Matthew, let’s move him to the surgery room!"

The surgery room was located in the northwest corner of the clinic’s first floor, the furthest from the hall, with the door tightly shut. Lifting the stretcher agitated the patient’s internal injuries, causing him to cry out in pain again. The old man pleaded urgently:

"Please, Priest, relieve his pain! He’ll die from it at this rate! If he can’t help but struggle, it’ll make his injuries worse!"

"...I wish I could." Brother Matthew sighed helplessly. "I’ve almost used up all my higher-level divine spells, saving the last one for a critical moment. Lower-level spells won’t alleviate the pain... Garrett, what are you doing?"

"I’ll give it a try." Garrett had already bent down. He aimed his fingers at the patient’s back, where the iron bar had penetrated, and began to chant softly. As the spell took effect, Matthew could clearly see the patient’s back muscles relax slightly.

Garrett didn’t stop there; he moved in front of the patient and cast another spell. After finishing, he leaned down and asked:

"...Do you feel better now? Does it still hurt?"

The human body’s surface has a dense distribution of pain receptors, making it sensitive to pain. Internal organs, however, are less sensitive to pain. Of course, if the iron bar truly hit a critical spot and tugged at nerves, I couldn’t help much. I could only try to adjust the scope of the spell as much as possible...

"It’s a bit better..." The patient answered weakly. The young priestess looked on in surprise but hesitated to ask, while Brother Matthew directly inquired:

"It really eased the pain! Garrett, how did you do that?"

"I’ll tell you later," Garrett responded briefly. He directed others to move the patient into the surgery room, positioned him properly, and pulled out a small bottle of glycerin. He applied it over the patient’s abdominal skin and activated an ultrasound spell:

"Hmm, not much fluid in the abdominal cavity, seems the bleeding inside isn’t too severe... the bar is a bit far from the liver... and the spleen too... there’s an issue with the intestines, but it’s not serious... the kidneys... the kidneys are bad!"

He muttered under his breath, incessantly. Everyone around, whether they understood his actions or not, dared not interrupt, standing silently to the side. After examining the patient, Garrett

rushed to wash his hands, calling out to Brother Matthew as he went:

"Brother Matthew, get some seeds! Find the finest, vine-like ones without fuzz, soak them in alcohol, I need them!"

Water flowed loudly. Without specialized antiseptic hand wash available, Garrett had to use the most traditional surgical handwashing technique, scrubbing from fingertips to upper arms repeatedly. After washing, he hurried back to the patient, applied a strip of glycerin to his left palm, and scattered the seeds Matthew handed him across it.

The seeds temporarily adhered to his palm in a line. Garrett, with his right hand on the patient’s abdomen, activated an ultrasound spell with his left hand gripping the iron rod, focusing on energizing the seeds—

Slender vines, barely thicker than hair, emerged from his hands. They densely entwined, leaving no gaps between them, weaving a verdant sheath around the iron rod, closely adhering to it and silently advancing forward.

Silently, they penetrated into the patient’s abdominal cavity and emerged from the back. Then, Garrett forcefully contracted his palm, the vines seemingly retracting slightly inward before subtly expanding outward.

"Brother Matthew, stabilize the iron rod! Follow its direction! Pull!"

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