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    Chapter 17: Can Healing Techniques Be Imagined?

    “Wow—it’s a Healing Technique!”

    “He actually released a Healing Technique!”

    “Little Gretel, you’re amazing!”

    A low murmur rose in the hall. Children five or six years old, seven or eight years old, half-grown lads, farmers, and farm wives, all jostled to get a better look. Gretel’s three comrades, the spearman Remon, the archer Ton, and the shield fighter Wally, had to link arms in a semicircle just to prevent the spectators from crowding their captain.

    Pastor Johannes Littlejohn’s face was flushed with excitement, his freckles shining like stars. In contrast, the expression on Knight Roman’s face grew even more sullen—

    Divine Grace could be boasted about, but Divine Techniques were undeniable. With a real, tangible Healing Technique flowing from his hands, the young man in the coarse linen tunic was undoubtedly blessed by the gods.

    And at least nominally, all priests were equals: As Cleric Donald had said, “We are all servants of God.” Especially those who served different gods, they had no authority over each other. It was a preposterous notion that a Knight of the Temple would command a pastor.

    What a pity. It was too bad that he couldn’t find fault with the rude little peasant boy…

    He slowly withdrew his hand from his sword. Unaware, Gretel, with his back to him, immersed himself in his own thoughts:

    The Hippocratic Oath.

    From ancient Greece to the present day, over two thousand five hundred years, tens of millions, even hundreds of millions of doctors have upheld it.

    “The health of the people is the supreme law.”

    Since 1991, generation after generation of Chinese medical students have recited this oath as they stepped into the medical profession. From then on, curing the sick and saving lives became their duty. In the face of disaster, they donned white coats, like warriors fearlessly marching forward.

    Year after year, the power of this accumulated faith was immense—

    If it was possible, if there was a chance, that a single drop of this power fell upon me, it would be enough for me to stand on my own two feet in this strange new world.

    Thank you, Hippocrates. Thank you to my predecessors and mentors. Thank you to all the doctors who have been fighting, in the past, in the present, and in the future…

    Gretel’s thoughts soared. He forced himself to snap out of it, focusing his attention on the injured man:

    I have finally managed to release a Healing Technique, I must use it wisely, I must not waste it!

    Sterilize and disinfect the abdominal wound!

    Achieve the effect of a wash with antibiotics! Prevent post-operative infection!

    The rectus abdominis muscles should heal, the greater omentum should heal, the peritoneum and subcutaneous fascia should heal! If I have a little extra power left, then I’ll try to heal the other wounds on his body…

    Uh… so how do I get this Healing Technique to work properly and do what I want it to do?

    Gretel was completely clueless.

    If he were a full-fledged pastor, or even a pastor’s apprentice, he would have been taught the methods during his training. How to guide it with his mind, what key points to pay attention to, not only would he be instructed but he would also observe, watching countless times before releasing his first Healing Technique.

    The problem was, Gretel was a complete novice when it came to Healing Techniques. The whole “Natural God’s enlightenment” was a story he fabricated…

    No choice, I’ll have to wing it!

    Gretel started to imagine. He strained to recall everything he had seen during the surgery and his understanding of human anatomy from his years of clinical experience. Then, bit by bit, he carefully outlined it in his mind…

    A divine stream of light washed over the abdomen. Wherever it touched, Staphylococcus aureus, Escherichia coli, Pseudomonas aeruginosa… various kinds of bacteria were all destroyed (Gretel even imagined the images of these bacteria);

    Under the white light, platelets gathered in large numbers at the various wounds, blood coagulated, and sealed the wounds;

    Just like when the Healing Potion was poured on, the deep red rectus abdominis muscle, the light-white rectus sheath, the loose greater omentum, the torn mesentery, his stitches or the unstitched abdominal wounds, layer by layer, rapidly grew together;

    Granulation tissue proliferated, blood vessels grew, epithelial cells crawled, and finally, the injured tissue returned to its original state…

    Gretel had no idea how much effect this imagining would have. He just closed his eyes, focused all his attention on it, on it. He painted the events that would happen or should happen in the abdominal cavity, using his solid knowledge and his ability to draw in his imagination.

    Fortunately, every surgeon was an artist, or at least a soul artist, often drawing anatomical diagrams for patients to explain things during their clinical work. To outline all of this in his mind was no problem for Gretel.

    He concentrated on his mental imagery, and to the observers, it appeared as if he was diligently guiding the Healing Technique. The hall became quiet, the soldiers and farmers nudged each other, all stopping their whispers and even trying to breathe more softly.

    Only a few children were oblivious to the hushed atmosphere, laughing and playing. But soon they were enveloped in the rough hands of the farm wives who forcefully covered their mouths.

    The room was silent. Gretel could only hear the crackling of the torches and the deliberately stifled breaths of the people around him. In the quiet, a long, loud sound suddenly rang out:

    “Pfft—“

    It was a loud, long, distinct sound. The warriors around Captain Kalen were stunned for a moment, and then burst into laughter:

    “Hahaha, the captain farted!”

    “The captain actually farted!”

    The warriors laughed and giggled, falling into a heap. Amidst the laughter, Gretel opened his eyes and jumped up excitedly. Just like when he was a resident doctor, the first time he performed an appendectomy, when he heard the patient’s first fart:

    “He passed gas!”

    He clenched his fists, raised them high, and waved them vigorously in the air. Surgery successful! Recovery excellent! His imagining—which was, after all, just imagining—seemed to work!

    “Uncle Kalen, your gut is healed!”

    Captain Kalen, however, was still dazed. It wasn’t until Gretel said it a second time that he finally came to, still a little incredulous:

    “Healed?”

    “Healed!”

    “It’s healed already?”

    “At least it’s starting to work! Passing gas means his intestines have resumed peristalsis, Uncle Kalen, you can eat now!”

    “Great!”

    Captain Kalen was excited, the warriors were excited, and Kalen’s former comrade, farmer Edmund, was even more excited. As soon as he heard Gretel announce that he could eat, he immediately turned around and called out:

    “Boys! Bring the food in! Good wine, good dishes, big chunks of mutton, bring it all in!”

    Ugh… He should have said less. Gretel quickly jumped up to stop him: “No! He can only drink some milk! At most, some porridge! Nothing else!”

    “What? Didn’t you say it was healed?”

    “The newly healed area can’t take too much…”

    Calls, objections, explanations—it all blended into a chaotic din. Amidst the clamor, Knight Roman folded his arms, watching Gretel coldly, his eyes sharp.

    *****

    “The health of the people is the supreme law.”

    To all medical workers.

    Thanks to @YinHuaXi for donating 200 starting coins to the protagonist. This book has established its first character card, it’s the protagonist. You see, right? Please give the protagonist some love, if you have any donations, you can conveniently donate to the protagonist, it’s the same thing, but the Star Shine Value will go up and you can earn some publicity!~~~

    I feel like I can stay on the light novel channel’s home page for another day ^^

    (End of Chapter)

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