Chapter 16

Gret instantly felt a chill.

He had witnessed countless medical disputes, from unreasonable arguments lasting four hours to the placement of wreaths and burning of paper money in the emergency room; from patients being hit with IV stands to being slashed with knives—oh, the last one, he only saw the aftermath cleaned up by security.

But never before had he felt so close to death.

Blasphemy! The Inquisition! The stake!

On the first day of his arrival, just when he had narrowly escaped one crisis, was he going to be burned alive?

Gret was drenched in cold sweat, wishing he could flee on the spot. However, seeing the cold tip of the sword in Knight Roman's hand and Captain Karen's pale face, a surge of anger rose within him, making him forget all his fear:

If you have a problem, come at me! What does it mean to draw your sword at a patient?

Gret suddenly stood up. His heart pounded fiercely in his chest, and the sound of blood rushing filled his ears. Before he could speak, the priest Donald frowned and shouted:

"Roman! Put your sword away!"

Since the priest had spoken, Knight Roman couldn't refuse. He grunted and slowly sheathed his sword, still looking unwilling to let it go. Across from Gret, the young priest John also stood up, leaning forward with his hand on the table, his tone indignant:

"Gret can use healing magic! I swear by the War God, I saw it with my own eyes today! You say you don't know him, but how could you, the nobles of the city, know the servant of the Nature God!"

Gret: "…"

Is it really that poor, the Church of the Nature God?

Several memories floated in his mind.

Gret shivered, finally remembering why he felt the Nature God had no temple—

Indeed, there was none. This church didn't have grand temples like those of the War God and the Spring Goddess. They often just found a small hill, circled it with stones, and worshipped there. If there were no stone circles, they would simply find an oak tree and pray under it...

The priests of the Spring Goddess wore silk robes and rode in carriages;

The War God's temple was behind the city guard's barracks, where high-ranking priests wore bright armor, one hand holding a shield, the other a warhammer, running in the ranks of warriors, looking more like warriors than the warriors themselves;

The servants of the Nature God wore rough, gray linen robes, carrying oak staffs with sprouts, walking through the streets and alleys. From the slums to the fields, and from the fields to the forests. One word: poor.

Even the elders weren't much better. Gret remembered someone gossiping to him that when the city lord summoned high-ranking spellcasters for a meeting, the elder of the Nature God's church would wear a linen robe, carry an oak staff, and walk there on foot...

No wonder his teammates weren't surprised, but rather a bit disappointed, when he claimed to have received divine inspiration from the Nature God.

Who wouldn't be disappointed if their parents knew their child joined a new, utterly poor organization where even a promotion wouldn't bring much of a raise? Just like in his previous life, when his mother felt both heartache and reluctance when he applied to the emergency department...

Gret was lost in thought, his heart feeling sour and soft, until a loud shout jolted him awake:

"You saw him use healing magic, and you saw the Nature God give him divine inspiration?—Just because you say so? Aren't you afraid of blaspheming the gods?"

Gret was startled by the shout. Knight Roman was a head taller than him, with a rugged face and short, dark brown hair standing on end, making his angry shout particularly intimidating. Gret instinctively shrank back, but before he could respond, the young John stepped forward:

"Then, just because you say it isn't, it isn't?!"

The young priest faced him boldly.

Although one was a powerful knight and the other just a priest apprentice, the knights of the Spring Goddess' temple had no authority over the priests of the War God.

There was no need to unnecessarily offend someone. When it came to defending a companion, young John could argue with righteous indignation:

"Gret has shown so many unheard-of skills, and you still can't determine if it's divine inspiration? Can you be sure the great Nature God hasn't given him inspiration? Or do you doubt the grace of the Nature God?!"

Laughter immediately broke out, high and low.

The young farm boys giggled, the older farmers turned away to hide their smiles, and Gret's teammates openly grinned.

Unlike the War God's temple, which always protected everyone, and the Nature God's church, which dressed simply and often helped with livestock and farming, the temple of the Spring Goddess was full of "city nobles" who put on airs and did little, so the people had no good feelings toward them.

Knight Roman's face darkened. Even Priest Donald looked uncomfortable: a knight and a priest apprentice from another temple arguing was one thing, but accusing each other of blasphemy was a serious matter.

Priest Donald cleared his throat, stood up gracefully, and with a noble demeanor, smiled and scanned the room. The laughter in the hall slowly subsided, and Priest Donald turned to Gret, leaning forward slightly:

"Mr. Nordmark, to be honest, I am also very interested in your healing magic. Your companion is also injured—"

He left his seat, took Gret by the arm, and walked him to Captain Karen:

"I'm sure you want to heal him. Could you perhaps cast a healing spell for us to observe?"

"..."

Gret hesitated. The young priest called out again:

"He has already used it today!—How could he possibly use it again so late?"

"It's fine if you can't cast it tonight," Priest Donald smiled, not at all offended. "You can cast it tomorrow. I must see it then..."

The two of them subtly argued. Gret ignored them, his mind blank, trying hard to think:

Healing magic... healing magic...

How did I cast it?

Right, at the time, I was thinking, if I could, I hope Uncle Karen's wound heals faster...

No response.

Think again.

Still no response.

Gret adjusted his breathing, focused his mind. He recalled the original owner's relationship with Uncle Karen, fully mobilized his emotions, and then, word by word, silently recited:

"If I could, I hope Uncle Karen's wound heals faster."

Still no response... This kind of mysticism is not my forte T_T

Gret deeply reflected on himself, deciding to return to rationality. Don't panic, he told himself, let's analyze the possible prerequisites for casting healing magic:

Target, method, motivation?

One, target, a strong desire. This is probably satisfied, but since it didn't work, it must be a necessary but not sufficient condition;

Two, method, understanding the spell model. When he first cast the healing magic, he didn't have a spell model in his mind, so this is probably not a necessary condition, at least not for the lowest-level healing magic...?

Three, motivation. If the power source of a car is gasoline, and the power source of magic is mana, then the power source of divine magic... is probably faith?

What is my faith?

"Omnipotent Nature God..."

After silently praying, there was no response.

The Nature God really doesn't care about me. The divine inspiration was probably just my own boast.

"By the healing god Apollo, Asclepius, and all the gods of heaven and earth, I solemnly swear..."

Still no response.

In the dimly lit hall, only the torches on the walls crackled, as if mocking him.

Gret's forehead was slightly sweaty. Why no response? Why can't I cast the healing magic? Could it be true, as those Westerners say, that Chinese people have no faith...

Impossible!

Chinese people do have faith! I—have faith!

Calm down!

Think again!

What is my faith?

Is it the country? The country is far away in another time and space, and I can never return, so it can no longer be my motivation;

Is it Marxism? He never joined the party, and his faith was never that pure;

Is it ancestors and history? Gret didn't feel that ancestors and history were his driving force...

Then, what is it?

If I have faith, if I really have faith—

It must be saving lives and healing the sick!

Saving one life after another, treating one patient after another;

Day shifts, night shifts, often exhausted, but hearing the 120 ambulance, he would muster his strength and rush forward;

Occasionally curing, often helping, always comforting...

Since entering the medical field, seven years of combined bachelor's and master's studies, over ten years of clinical work, all the love and dedication condensed into this!

Unconsciously, Gret raised his right fist to his ear. His eyes fixed straight ahead, as if a bright red flag was waving in the air before him:

"Health entrusted, life entrusted..."

The familiar oath rolled off his tongue, each syllable heavy and weighty.

Clean, abundant white light silently descended.

At that moment, Gret's eyes welled with tears.