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    Chapter 24: I will not use my medical skills to harm others!

    A Necromancer and a former deputy director of the Emergency Department, discussing bones endlessly, as if they had met their soulmate. After chatting for half the night, the Necromancer, Andrew Lynn, momentarily lost himself, reaching across the table to grab Gretel’s wrist:

    “My dear friend! You are perfectly suited to become a Necromancer, what do you say, will you join us in the Black Raven Swamp? I can introduce you to…

    Right! I will ask my mentor! My mentor is an 11th-level Archmage, maybe after he breaks through the limit, he will help you become a Lich!”

    Gretel: “…”

    Thank you, but I am not really interested.

    I feel I haven’t lived enough.

    However, the Necromancer’s suggestion was not without its appeal. Gretel flipped his wrist and forcefully grasped the other’s hand:

    “I am more interested in elemental magic. Mr. Lynn, you mentioned the Mage Tower and the Magic Council, can you introduce me to them?”

    “Ah—Elemental magic, elemental magic.” The Necromancer dramatically spread his arms. Raising his head towards the sky, his tone was sonorous and fluctuating, like a climactic passage in an opera:

    “Everyone likes elemental magic, at least, they would choose Alchemy or Summoning. As for the poor Necromancer lineage, every time they invite someone, they hear these answers:

    ‘Respected Mr. Lynn, I prefer elemental magic…’

    ‘Respected Mr. Lynn, I prefer Alchemy…’

    Except for those who are filled with the deepest sorrow, wanting to resurrect loved ones, no one, no adult, would choose the great Necromancy!”

    Gretel was completely embarrassed. It was interesting to observe someone with a dramatic personality from afar, but being close to them was a bit overwhelming. He dodged the Necromancer’s flying saliva, his mind working at full speed, thinking wildly:

    Is this guy a dramatic personality?

    Or is he having a manic episode?

    The racing thoughts I just observed, are there other manifestations to confirm this?

    Does Necromancy affect the body’s hormone secretion, and in turn affect people’s mental state?

    There’s no EEG, no routine biochemical tests to be done in this broken world…

    “Uh… If it’s inconvenient…”

    “Convenient! Of course it’s convenient!”

    Lynn, the Lawmaster, stepped forward enthusiastically. Gretel couldn’t dodge in time, he was grabbed by both arms, his face splashed with spittle:

    “Although the Northern Master who runs the Mage Tower is fat, irritable, and loves to drink, he once explored the Hall Sea Canyon with me and fought against the iron-clad guys from the Radiant Church! My dear friend, rest assured, with my letter of recommendation, he will definitely accept you!”

    The Necromancer swirled like the wind to the desk, spread out a piece of parchment, and scribbled a few strokes:

    “Take it!”

    “Uh, thank you so much…”

    “It’s a small matter!” Lynn waved his hand generously. He glanced at the doorway, suddenly grinning mischievously, and leaned close to Gretel:

    “By the way, that knight’s hand, is it really useless? Can’t it be cured?”

    “He didn’t stitch his tendons.” Gretel shrugged.

    “Can you treat him?”

    Gretel hesitated for a moment, neither nodding nor shaking his head. Stitching hand tendons, he could do it if he really had to, but it was primarily the work of hand surgeons—a delicate surgery, stitching tendons, blood vessels, and nerves one by one, requiring a microscope to do it well. After several hours of surgery, taking off the microscope would leave you dizzy.

    Besides, there were no microscopes here, no microsurgical needles. The treatment effect, although better than no treatment, was predictable.

    Besides, he wasn’t good at this either. Gretel remembered clearly that in his previous life, when he was in school, he could only suture four or five mouse tails per class—the blood vessels in the mouse tail are similar in thickness to those in the hand, and the cheapest material for practicing basic skills.

    And the strongest student in the class, the one who was later snatched by hand surgery, had a highest record of 12.

    However, in the eyes of Lynn, the Necromancer, Gretel’s non-denial was a confirmation. The Necromancer’s eyes lit up:

    “Then how do you treat it? … Or, I’ll drag him in and you can treat him right in front of me?”

    No anesthesia, no disinfection, no hemostasis, directly on the hand? This is too brutal, absolutely not!

    Gretel opened his mouth, not knowing how to answer—or where to start complaining. However, the Necromancer had already acted, waving his hand, the stone door separating the hall and the inner room opened again, and the black cat leaped down.

    Gretel saw a black light flash in front of him. The black cat, named “Mr. Troka,” was still normal size when it jumped, but it landed as big as a lynx, and when it reached the door, it was already the size of a leopard.

    The deep roar of the beast was accompanied by a rattling sound of broken bones, followed by Roman Knight’s scream.

    “Let me go—let me go!”

    Roman Knight struggled constantly, his voice growing louder. Exclaims erupted in the hall, countless people were startled by the change, and Donald, the Priest’s voice was particularly loud:

    “Release him! Lawmaster, please let him go! —Gretel! Gretel!!!”

    Gretel stood there stunned.

    Two days after arriving in this strange world, he was pinned down, had a sword pointed at his throat, was forced to be drafted, and was attacked by monsters… The dangers he had encountered were more than in the past month or even a year.

    However, at no moment had he felt as cold as he did now.

    A person who was superior to him just hours ago, who could even threaten his life, was now dragged in by a magical pet, just because the Necromancer was curious and wanted to see some unusual surgery.

    I’m a fish on the chopping board, helpless.

    But in a world like this, the chopping board of one moment could become the fish of the next, who could say?

    “That’s not good…”

    Gretel’s head shook like a windmill. The Necromancer thought he had a grudge against the knight and didn’t want to treat him, so he tried to persuade him:

    “Just treat him and let me see! I’ll just… ”

    He drew a line in the air with his palm. Gretel was sweating, shaking his head again. His head buzzed, feeling like his two ears and six auditory ossicles were about to be shaken out.

    “Don’t want to kill? Then… treat him first, then cut his tendons?”

    In two sentences, the black cat that transformed into a leopard had already dragged the knight to the stone door. At the moment of life and death, the injured knight unleashed his full potential, his hands clutching desperately at the edge of the stone door. He raised his head and stared intently at Gretel, his gaze a mixture of anger and despair.

    Crack!

    The edge of the stone door broke under the knight’s fingers. Gretel shuddered:

    “No!”

    He turned around, took a step forward, and stood in front of the Necromancer. Looking directly into the other’s eyes, his gaze was firm:

    “I won’t do that. I’ve sworn, I will never use my medical skills to harm others!”

    Thank you @balalala_ for your 100 starting point coins!

    Please continue to invest, we’re only 21 points short of 100 investments! We’ll have a small promotion then, please, please!

    (End of Chapter)

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