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    Chapter 46: Let me show you a surgery

    “What do you mean my diagram? ”

    “Is stealing a diagram not stealing? Or are you outright robbing?”

    Grett opened his mouth, deciding not to argue with the Bishop. He continued to shout at Baron Knight:

    “Besides, even if you cut it open, what do I use to pull your muscle? Use my hands?”

    ” …Why can’t you use your hands?”

    Grett was exasperated. He plopped back into his seat, taking several deep breaths, and couldn’t help but begin to question life. —Did my ability to educate patients on public health decline? In my previous life, this was clear enough for anyone to understand!

    And the bald Bishop obviously understood… how come these knights still…

    Forget it, the understanding of a layman should never be compared to that of a caster. How should I explain it then… Should I perform a surgery on the spot…

    Good idea!

    Grett’s eyes lit up. He calmed his emotions, stood up calmly, and smiled at Baron Knight:

    “Here’s the deal, I’ll go find a pig leg—or a lamb leg, and cut it open right now, so you can see how the treatment works. — Bishop, can you wait for me for a bit?”

    “Where would you go to find a pig leg at this late hour?” The bald Bishop frowned. After some thought, he took the initiative, grabbed Grett and walked away: “Forget it, come with me!”

    ” —Wait! My scalpel! The knife!”

    The bald Bishop strode ahead. Grett was dragged by one hand, stumbling and panting, struggling to catch his breath. The other hand, holding the surgical instruments, was swinging back and forth, until finally, Flynn Knight couldn’t bear it any longer, stepped forward, and took the surgical box in his hand.

    Grett followed behind the Bishop, the path getting brighter and busier as they went. As they walked, they arrived at a brightly lit, smoky tavern with dozens of men shouting and laughing inside. The bald Bishop barged in, shouting:

    “Old man, do you have a pig leg?”

    “There’s half a leg left!” A distant voice replied from the back of the counter. “Should I roast it for you?”

    “I want it raw! — Take me to the kitchen!”

    The Bishop replied loudly. He walked straight through the crowd, the three knights following close behind. The men drinking and chatting in the bar instantly parted, like the parting of the Red Sea by Moses. Grett, a young boy sandwiched in the middle, actually managed to pass through smoothly, without being stopped outside the kitchen door.

    The kitchen was bustling. A head chef and three or four assistants were running back and forth, as if they had an acceleration halo under their feet. The bald Bishop rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a pig leg, looked at it, turned to Grett and asked:

    “Can we use this?”

    ” —Put my leg down!”

    A roar came from the other side. The head chef charged forward with a cleaver, stopping just in time: “L-Lord Bishop!”

    The bald Bishop nodded absentmindedly, still staring at Grett. Grett stretched his neck, looked at the pig leg, found that the joints at both ends of the large bone had already been cut, and immediately shook his head. The bald Bishop immediately put down the pig leg:

    “Do you have a lamb leg?”

    “No…”

    The bald Bishop frowned. The head chef peeked out, snatched the pig leg and ran away, as if he was afraid the pig leg would be taken away a second too late. The bald Bishop ignored him, thought for a moment, and asked Grett:

    “Would a live one do?”

    “I guess so…”

    Grett answered instinctively before he realized it. The bald Bishop nodded, got up and left. A moment later, to Grett’s astonishment, he brought in a bleating live sheep, threw it directly on the meat table: “Can we use this?”

    Bishop!

    Are you really grabbing it right now?

    Grett was stunned. The bald Bishop, seeing that he didn’t respond, coughed and asked again: “Can we use this?”

    “Yes, yes!” Grett snapped out of it and quickly replied: “It’s just…”

    “Just what?”

    Grett stretched out his hand. The live sheep, panicked, pawed at the table, almost kicking his hand. He quickly retracted his hand, turned his head and spread his hands out to the Bishop.

    Well, it’s like this. You bring a living thing here, and you don’t even give me a sedative, how am I going to do surgery? — A baton is a sedative, too!

    The bald Bishop laughed heartily. He bowed his head and prayed briefly, then snapped his fingers. In a flash, white light, like arrows and spears, bound the live sheep to the table. The sheep lay on its back, its hooves pawing frantically, its nostrils twitching, yet it could not even utter a whimper.

    Ah… doing surgery this way is much more comfortable… Grett sighed happily, stood in front of the meat table, and looked around:

    “Flynn, please hand me the box. Siro, you can see better from the left side, no need to stand on your toes like that… Bishop, it’s a bit dark here, can you please cast a light spell?”

    At this time, the bar owner also slipped in, looking at the bald Bishop and the sheep he brought in with the head chef. Unexpectedly, as they looked, the bald Bishop stood to the side, while Grett stood firmly in front of the table, opening the wooden box and picking up the scalpel.

    As soon as the scalpel was in his hand, Grett immediately gained an air of authority. Just like when he performed countless surgeries and taught interns in his previous life, he began to operate while giving instructions:

    “Well, before treatment, we need to shave the fur around the area. — Baron, don’t laugh, you’ll need to shave yourself with a razor if you’re going to do this later. — Then, first cut open the skin, don’t cut too deep…”

    As he spoke, the tip of the scalpel had already cut into the sheep’s leg skin, making a light and smooth incision. The skin split as the knife cut through it, and the blood below seemed to have been stunned, pausing visibly before seeping out in a thin line.

    “Wow…”

    A low murmur of admiration came from the kitchen. The owner who came to watch the fun, the assistants helping the head chef, all gaped, watching the bald Bishop do as he was told, binding the sheep when he was told, and casting the light spell when he was told. The owner even poked the head chef hard:

    “Hey, who is this young man?”

    “Don’t talk!”

    The head chef retorted without thinking. He watched Grett’s dancing scalpel, his eyes glued to it:

    “This knife technique is really beautiful… one cut and only the skin is injured, not the flesh, not even much blood is flowing, beautiful!”

    Grett himself wasn’t very satisfied. Honestly, he was more familiar with human skin, and with one cut, he could definitely cut only the skin and not damage the underlying fascia. He had dissected white mice and rabbits in his previous life, but he hadn’t dissected many sheep. Grett looked at the blood stain on the scalpel and sighed softly:

    “This knife isn’t sharp enough… Baron, if the knife was faster, the bleeding when I cut your wrist would be half as much…”

    “I’ll go find a knife!” Baron Knight replied. Grett sighed:

    “It’s not any knife that will do, it has to be the shape I want… Next, pull the skin to both sides, this way we do the least damage. Bishop, please pull the retractor!”

    He gave the order, and the bald Bishop obediently took the retractor and pulled it back. Grett split his attention between the retractor and his hands, continuously working:

    “Pull back, pull back, use more force… Good, like that, hold it steady!”

    The head chef and the bar owner were speechless. The bald Bishop was silent, diligently pulling the retractor…

    This is another chapter that has been urgently modified again… Every time I modify it, it becomes two chapters, then three chapters, and so on.

    (End of chapter)

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