A Hospital in Another World?

Of course, Garrett couldn’t just let Wegran go.

Far from letting him go, he yelled, "Lie down!" and reached out to press him down. What a joke—just had his lungs washed, and he’s thinking of dancing instead of obediently lying down to breathe in oxygen?

Garrett’s physical combat ability was at most a first level (perhaps it had even degraded to zero). Even with the strength of a "Bull’s Might" spell, it was impossible for him to hold down a dwarf warrior. Luckily, he didn’t have to do it himself:

Since the successful lung cleansing, a golden "Miracle Doctor" label seemed to be attached to Garrett. A shout and a gesture from him were enough to have others rush to assist in pinning the person down...

Four dwarf priests standing by the operating table lunged forward. Two on each side, one pressing an arm and another the shoulder; those at the feet did the same with the knees and hips. All four pressing down with most of their weight, Wegran let out a "ugh" and rolled his eyes back.

This roll of the eyes happened just as the fifth priest, a dwarf elder overseeing the contract, stood at his head, raising his war hammer high, its light shimmering menacingly.

Wegran & Garrett: Perhaps this isn’t necessary...

Nonetheless, under the significant external pressure, Wegran showed excellent compliance: lying down when told, breathing oxygen when asked, and remaining silent when instructed to do so. As for winking and making faces, Garrett chose to ignore it.

Garrett stayed by his side, gradually reducing the oxygen flow. With the priests continuously casting healing spells, by noon, Wegran’s recovery had progressed to a point where he could stop breathing oxygen!

"Bloodline Identification - Modification" was cast, and the screen showed a bright red, indistinguishable from arterial blood.

Wegran leapt up again.

"HAHAHAHA! I did it! My lung cleansing was a success! I feel—unprecedentedly great! Come on, let’s arm wrestle! Let’s run laps! Let’s spar!"

Garrett: "…Sit down! Who allowed you to move! Let’s measure your lung capacity! Let me check your lungs again!"

The test results were very encouraging. The forced expiratory volume in 1 second, lung capacity, and maximum ventilation rate, these three representative lung function values, improved by 15%, 8%, and 21%, respectively. Garrett, still not reassured, conducted an ultrasound with Wegran, showing almost complete absorption of the fluid in the lungs—

You have to understand, the fluid left in the lungs was a whopping over 500 milliliters!

...Is the healing spell’s absorption function for lung fluid that strong?

If so, perhaps observation and oxygen therapy wouldn’t need to be as prolonged—after all, he heard gossip from respiratory department colleagues that miners, foundry workers, welders coming in for lung cleansing usually had to be hospitalized for 14 days, and those with pneumothorax, nearly 30 days…

Garrett noted this in the medical record book, reminding himself to pay special attention to this in future medical care. His gaze followed Wegran as he ran out of the room, laughing and thumping his chest. Anyone passing by was grabbed by him and subjected to a boastful explanation.

...And as soon as he grabbed one, at least 10 others would come to see...

"Look, this is the water washed out of my lungs!" The entire house echoed with his booming voice. The bearded dwarf stood tall, pointing at the line of drainage bottles. His white beard almost flicked over his shoulders:

"This is from the first wash! Dirty, isn’t it! Just like washing clothes, the first wash is always the dirtiest!"

The bottles were lined up for all to see, arranged in two rows with labels, making the comparison even clearer:

The water from the first wash had a layer of mud and dust, the bottom of the bottle was black;

The second wash had noticeably less dust;

By the third, the water was clearer, until the last bottle, where not a speck of dust or dirt could be seen inside or at the bottom.

"I told you he’s a miracle doctor! He can open up a chest, cut open a heart, and still save a life! Fill someone’s lungs with water, then suck it out, and the person still lives! I won’t lie to you, I feel fantastic now! Like I’m lighter by two pounds!"

"Miracle Doctor" Garrett sat by the bed, holding the medical record book, jotting down thoughts in the margins:

During the patient’s surgery, two instances of hypoxemia occurred, managed with timely drainage and irrigation fluid, oxygenation, and divine spells (?) to turn the tide. It’s unclear whether there was an imbalance in blood pH; lack of electrocardiogram monitoring is a concern; hopefully, related spells will be developed soon...

Sigh, it’s troubling.

At least having a CT scan would be nice. Performing a high-volume whole lung lavage without CT, just relying on X-ray images, always feels somewhat unreliable...

After successfully completing Wegran’s lung cleansing that afternoon, Garrett performed another treatment. This time, the crowd outside, eager to watch, had multiplied several times, and the number of priests standing in the room under the guise of assisting but actually there to observe, had increased to fifteen...

Thankfully, dwarf homes are large. If the room were only the size of a standard operating theater with strict requirements for a sterile environment, Garrett would have no choice but to send people away.

The afternoon’s treatment was also a great success. In the evening, Garrett returned to the trading delegation’s quarters, continuing to pack for tomorrow’s journey with the selection team to climb the mountain. Midway through his preparations, he was summoned by Archmage Serrano.

Upon entering, three dwarf elders and four assistants were lined up in the conference room, presenting a setup reminiscent of trade negotiations.

"Garrett, given the outstanding effects of the lung cleansing treatment, the Dwarf Kingdom is considering inviting you to stay longer," Archmage Serrano began straightforwardly.

"They hope you can reside in the royal court temporarily to treat as many patients as possible, under the same conditions as before—of course, with additional compensation. Do you agree?"

Garrett looked around. To the left of Archmage Serrano, Mage Simond winked at him encouragingly; to the right, Harifa, who had previously worked on steam engines with him, looked serious, seemingly disapproving. The Archmage’s expression was inscrutable, making it impossible to tell whether he was for or against the proposal.

So, is this an invitation, or are they expecting me to decline on my own?

How long would I need to stay? Until all patients are treated? That seems impossible, doesn’t it?

If I don’t return with the trade delegation, will I come back on my own, or will the Dwarf Kingdom provide an escort?

Garrett hesitated. However, his desire to treat patients ultimately prevailed, and he was about to agree when he felt a sharp kick under the table, painful enough to make him wince. Looking down reflexively, he saw Harifa under the table, spreading his hand open to reveal a holy symbol.

The Radiant Lord’s.

!!!

Garrett shivered. The selection battle wasn’t over yet, and there were still plots afoot!

He immediately swallowed his words of agreement, mustering a smile:

"Personally, I would be very eager to help my dwarf brothers and recover their health as much as possible. However, as a member of the council’s trade delegation, I must follow the council’s arrangements. How about this: let’s discuss this matter again after the selection event ends and the new king is crowned?"

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