It can’t be that hard to open a hospital in another world, right? 29

“Gretel!”

Captain Kalen reprimanded softly. Captain Flynn stepped forward, seemingly intending to shield Gretel behind him. Around them, the City Guard warriors exchanged surprised whispers.

Pastor Johannes Littlejohn gasped. He immediately covered his mouth with both hands, but his eyes darted back and forth between Gretel and the bald-headed bishop. Every freckle on his little face expressed worry.

The bald-headed bishop was greatly surprised.

He scrutinized Gretel from head to toe, from his rough linen waistcoat, the same as everyone else’s, to his right hand that was still clutching the chicken bone, and then to his left hand that was holding the injured man’s wrist, his fingertips resting on his pulse. After a moment of contemplation, he asked cautiously:

“Child, do you know what you’re doing?”

“I do.”

“Then do you know the extent of this man’s injuries and how he needs to be treated?”

“Severe chest trauma, multiple broken ribs, each one broken in more than one place. Some ribs have pierced his lungs.” Gretel answered without hesitation: “The ribs need to be realigned and reconnected, and the damaged lungs and pleura need to be repaired. My Healing Technique isn’t strong enough for that. I’ll leave it to you.”

And adjusting blood pressure, restoring mediastinal position, repositioning displaced lungs… Of course, after a Healing Technique is cast, the lungs will be repaired and can breathe normally, so the mediastinum and lungs should be able to slowly move back into place on their own, but I won’t tell you that.

“Then why are you holding onto that thing?”

To maintain thoracic cavity pressure balance… Gretel thought. But if he had to explain it to the other man, he would have to draw a diagram first, then spend ten minutes explaining what pressure is. What if the other man didn’t understand? He might have to do a Heidelberg experiment or something, that would be a real pain.

Dude! The guy’s waiting to be saved!

“Uh… uh, this is a long story…”

Gretel blinked frantically. You treat him first, then I’ll explain everything later? Don’t worry, I’ll be right here, not going anywhere!

“Ah… alright, alright. We’ll talk about it later.” The bald-headed bishop laughed happily. He no longer pursued the question, clasped his hands together in front of his chest, and began to murmur a prayer.

This prayer lasted much longer than the time it took Littlejohn to cast his Healing Technique. Gretel felt like it went on for at least ten minutes. He listened to the injured man’s breathing, used the chicken bone to maintain pressure balance, and secretly broke out in a cold sweat:

Good thing I refused to let go. If this man had been left in your hands, by the time your Healing Technique finished chanting, he would have been suffocated to death!

The Bishop’s intervention was truly impressive. When his chanting ended, what fell down wasn’t a white light, but a gentle, milky white rain. It looked, surprisingly, somewhat gentle.

The light rain fell, and the injured man’s chest immediately swelled, muscles stretched, ribs realigned, as if invisible hands were pulling and pressing. His breathing also became smoother. After a while, he took a sharp breath, and began to cough up bloody phlegm.

Gretel quickly withdrew the chicken bone. The light rain, as expected, dripped gently. The wound he had made with the dagger vanished in an instant.

—The Healing Technique is so convenient.

Gretel sincerely envied him.

If he had this thing in his previous life, he wouldn’t have to make patients hold an oxygen tube in their mouths, hang a drainage bottle on them, and check the drainage volume every few days. If something was wrong, he’d have to call for help immediately…

If he had three or five patients like this in a single night, he’d have to stay up all night watching them. Forget about sit-ups.

The effects of the Healing Technique were immediate. As soon as the bald-headed bishop’s Healing Technique stopped, Sir Silo, who had been seriously injured, propped himself up on the ground and sat up. He took two deep breaths, savored the sweetness of the air, and immediately bowed:

“Thank you, Great War God.”

“Thank you, Great War God!”

The City Guard soldiers and the War God pastors present all prayed in unison.

Gretel reflexively bowed and clasped his hands. He was about to pray with everyone else when he suddenly remembered his own persona, a person who received divine inspiration from the Natural God… Thanking the War God didn’t seem right?

He felt like an outsider.

Gretel’s mind raced, trying to figure out how to avoid being burned at the stake. On the other side, the bald-headed bishop finally finished receiving Sir Silo’s gratitude, and with a happy smile, he stepped forward and pulled Gretel in front of the knight:

“Actually, you should thank this young man more. If not for him, we might have been too late when we arrived.”

Sir Silo heaved a sigh of relief. He had been having trouble breathing, but he wasn’t unconscious, so he knew what was happening around him. He had heard Gretel’s shouts, his arguments, his pleas for help, every single detail. After being stabbed in the chest, the ease of breathing was immediate.

But… to thank a new recruit from the City Guard in front of the Bishop of the War God Temple, was he the one who didn’t want to get along, or was he the one who didn’t want the kid to get along?

Fortunately, the Bishop spoke up. Sir Silo seized the opportunity and turned to Gretel, pulling him:

“I was about to say that! Gretel, thank you so much!”

“It’s nothing. It’s what I should be doing.”

Gretel answered very skillfully. His tone was calm, his expression indifferent, the same as countless times in his previous life when he had saved patients and received thanks from them and their families. Sir Silo was slightly stunned. He squinted and examined Gretel carefully. When he spoke again, his tone and address had changed to an equal footing:

“Thank you, Gretel. —Well, tonight, please come to my house, let me show you my gratitude!”

“Uh, that’s not necessary… This is what I should be doing…”

Gretel tried hard to decline, but Sir Silo kept thanking him and inviting him. The bald-headed bishop watched with a smile for a while, then suddenly turned serious and swept his gaze over Littlejohn, who was leaning against the tail end of the line:

“John, is this the young healer you mentioned?”

Gretel was startled and quickly looked at John. Littlejohn nodded frantically at him, his face split into a wide smile, radiating joy. Then he made a face and stuck his tongue out towards the Spring Water Goddess Temple.

Gretel’s heart warmed.

That Roman knight had returned seriously injured, clearly a threat. The man was crippled, but his family connections were not. Who knows if he held a grudge or not, and who knows if he would retaliate or not.

—Of course, Gretel couldn’t use someone else’s hand to kill him, and he couldn’t bring himself to kill the Necromancer… He was still a law-abiding citizen in his previous life…

So Captain Kalen immediately brought him back to the barracks to report to the superiors. Now it seemed that Littlejohn had also reported the matter to the War God Temple, and it seemed like he was also seeking protection and security for himself.

Gretel gratefully nodded to Littlejohn. The bald-headed bishop saw their interaction and didn’t probe further. Instead, he made an invitation:

“Hello, young healer. What you did just now was very interesting. We’ve also encountered many warriors who died before we could treat them. Could you tell us in detail about the method you used?”

“Of course!”

Gretel answered without hesitation.

(End of Chapter)

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