Chapter 1

Deputy Director of the Emergency Department, Wu Zhou, woke up from a coma, feeling someone pounding on him.

"Little Gret, Little Gret..."

The person kept pounding and calling out. Wu Zhou forced his eyes open, only to see darkness. The person didn't stop, and after failing to wake him with pounding, grabbed his shoulders and shook him back and forth:

"Little Gret, wake up! How are you?"

Wu Zhou's head swayed with the force, and he realized he was lying face down, his face buried in the dirt. Taking a breath, he was met with a mix of blood, earth, and some unknown strange smell.

"Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough..."

He reflexively arched his back and coughed hard. As he coughed, he angrily thought:

Who took care of him? How could they let him lie face down? Don't they know that unconscious people shouldn't be on their stomachs? They could choke on their vomit and die!

I'll make them practice emergency procedures ten times when I get back!

No, twenty times!

Wu Zhou's professional instincts kicked in, and he harshly criticized the unreliable nurses, interns, and residents in his mind. After a bout of criticism, he lifted his head, tears streaming from his eyes, and looked around, only to be stunned.

Where are the operating lights?

Where is the operating table?

Where is the stretcher?

Where are the doctors and nurses in white, rushing around?

Where is the hospital?

The surgical building was gone, and the laminar flow operating room was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a low, dilapidated house with a stone wall and a thatched roof, the gaps filled with dirt. At the base of the wall was a half-person-high circle, empty inside, with a few rotten grass stalks poking out...

What the hell is this?

Wasn't I in the emergency room?

Wu Zhou's head buzzed, and his body went limp, almost collapsing again. He remembered being busy from 9 AM until 4 AM, just finishing a major emergency surgery. He had performed a splenectomy, liver repair, and intestinal repair, and after ensuring there was no active bleeding, he had instructed his assistant to close the incision, and then everything went black...

"Little Gret, are you feeling better?"

Wu Zhou turned his head stiffly, his pupils slowly focusing. The person shaking him was a red-haired, muscular man with a high nose and deep-set eyes, a typical Western appearance. He wore a tattered linen vest, his arms bulging, and held a bow in his hand.

The vest was more like a rectangular piece of cloth folded and sewn, with holes for the arms and neck. The edges were frayed, and it was so dirty that its original color was unrecognizable.

...The only thing noticeable was how sparse the linen was, even medical gauze in the operating room was better.

Wu Zhou looked down at himself.

The same linen.

The same vest.

The same... uh, his shoes seemed to have an extra toe showing?

For a moment, Wu Zhou's vision went black again, and he wished he could just faint.

Why did they bring me here? The patient I was treating was alive! At the very least, their vital signs were stable, and the surgery was successful...

Let me go back!

I need to participate in the emergency rescue!

Unfortunately, no deity heard his prayers. The emergency rescue did come—ten steps away, a series of sharp cries erupted:

"Help—"

"Captain—Captain—"

"Oh no—his intestines are coming out!"

Wu Zhou instantly forgot all his complaints. As always, when he heard a call for help, he ran without hesitation:

"I'm coming!"

However, someone was faster—perhaps closer. By the time Wu Zhou, panting, reached halfway, he saw someone kneeling beside the injured person, muttering something.

Then, a beam of white light shot from the person's clasped hands, landing directly on the injured person.

In the white light, the bloody wound visibly began to heal.

Wu Zhou slammed on the brakes!

What did I just see?

"Time-lapse Photography Shows How Wounds Heal"?

"High-Energy Particle Beams Promote Wound Healing"?

A single beam of white light healing a wound... what is this?

Right, this is...

A healing spell!

Two sets of memories surfaced. One belonged to Wu Zhou, from countless novels, games, and animations he had seen; the other belonged to the original owner of this body. Regardless, both sets of memories led to the same conclusion:

A healing spell, which calls upon divine power to achieve a healing effect. Even the lowest-level healing spell can instantly heal minor wounds, and at the highest level, it can even bring the dead back to life...

So, the person casting the healing spell is a priest?

Wu Zhou glanced quickly. The kneeling priest was the best-dressed among them:

A light brown linen robe, the front hem reaching the ground, the back hem covering the calves. The neckline and cuffs were finely hemmed, and a deep brown line outlined a shield shape on the chest.

Emmm...

The class of spellcasters is indeed higher...

Wu Zhou silently commented, then turned to the injured person. The injured man was a middle-aged, muscular man with brown hair, brown eyes, and a messy beard. His equipment was better than the others, at least he had a leather armor, but it hadn't protected him. A large tear in the leather armor exposed a bloody mass of intestines.

In comparison, the multiple bleeding wounds on his arms and legs were minor.

The injured man was leaning against a tree stump, his eyes half-open, nearly unconscious. A young man who looked somewhat like him knelt beside him, trembling and looking at the wound with hope—

The gruesome, jagged wound, which looked like it had been torn by something, was writhing, contracting, closing, and the bleeding was slowing...

Wu Zhou's eyes lit up. The healing spell in this world was truly fascinating, with immediate results! If he could have a healing spell during surgery, it would be great...

Before he could finish his thought, the white light... disappeared.

Only a small part of the wound had healed, and the intestines were still exposed.

Wu Zhou: "..."

Priest: "..."

The young man's face darkened. He held the injured man's intestines in his hands, staring at the priest for a moment. Seeing the priest's repeated efforts and incantations produce no white light, he finally shouted:

"Keep going!—Please, one more! The captain is badly hurt!"

"I... I can't!" The priest was young, only fifteen or sixteen, his face red and on the verge of tears. Being shouted at, the freckles on his face seemed to bulge:

"I'm just an apprentice! I can't save him..."

The young man's eyes quickly lost their hope. He despaired, lowered his head, and trembled as he tried to push the intestines back—

"Don't move!"

Wu Zhou shouted. As soon as he spoke, he realized something was wrong: the language he used wasn't Chinese, English, or any language he had learned before, but he could speak it. The people around him were also speaking a language he had never heard before, but he understood it!

What's happening?

Wu Zhou was bewildered. But one look at the injured man, and he pushed his confusion aside: an injured person was the call to action for an emergency doctor. Even if the sky fell, the earth sank, the sun exploded, or everyone had been transported to another world, he had to finish the rescue and ensure the patient's safety first!

He continued shouting: "Don't push it back! Do you have a clean bowl?—No? Then hold it! Don't move!"