Chapter 17

"Wow—It's a healing spell!"

"Really, a healing spell was cast!"

"Little Gret, you're amazing!"

A low murmur of excitement rippled through the hall. Children aged five to eight, young lads, farmers, and farmwives all jostled to get a closer look. Gret's three comrades, the spearman Raymond, the archer Thorne, and the shield warrior Wally, had to hold hands and form a semicircle to keep the crowd from crowding their captain.

The young priest John's face was alight with excitement, his freckles glowing. In contrast, Knight Roman's expression darkened even more—

Divine favor could be boasted about, but divine magic could not be faked. With a genuine healing spell emanating from his hand, the young man in the coarse linen vest was at least truly blessed by a deity.

And among the clergy, at least nominally, all were equal: as Canon Donald had said earlier, "We are all servants of the gods." Especially when they belonged to different deities, none could command the others, and it was even more absurd for a temple knight to have authority over a priest.

What a pity, that insolent commoner boy, I can't find fault with him anymore...

He slowly withdrew his hand from the sword. Gret, who was facing away from him, was completely unaware, lost in his own thoughts:

The Hippocratic Oath.

From ancient Greece to the present day, for nearly 2,500 years, generation after generation, millions, even tens of millions of doctors have adhered to this oath.

Entrusted with health, entrusted with life.

Since 1991, class after class of Chinese medical students have recited this oath as they entered the medical field. From then on, healing and saving lives became their duty, and in times of great disasters, they donned their white coats like warriors and moved forward fearlessly.

Year after year, the accumulated power of faith is immense—

If possible, if there is a chance, even a drop of divine favor falling upon me would be enough to help me stand firm in this strange world.

Thank you, Hippocrates, thank you, my predecessors and mentors, thank you, all the doctors who have been fighting, past, present, and future...

Gret's thoughts raced. In the next moment, he forced himself to snap back to reality and focus on the injured man:

The healing spell I finally managed to cast must be used effectively; I can't waste it!

Sterilize and disinfect the abdominal wound!

Achieve the effect of an antibiotic rinse! Prevent postoperative infection!

Heal the rectus abdominis, the greater omentum, the peritoneum, and the superficial fascia! If there's any strength left, let the other wounds on the body heal as much as possible...

Uh... So, how do I make this healing spell work as I want it to?

Gret had no idea.

If he were a full-fledged priest or even a priest's apprentice, he would have had a mentor to guide him from the beginning, teaching him how to focus his mind, what key points to pay attention to, and allowing him to observe and practice. He would have seen the casting of the first healing spell countless times before he did it himself.

The problem was, Gret was a complete novice when it came to healing spells, and the divine inspiration from the nature deity was something he had boasted about...

With no other choice, he had to guess!

Gret began to visualize. He tried to recall everything he had seen during the surgery and his years of clinical experience in understanding human anatomy. Then, in his mind, he carefully sketched out...

Sacred light flowed through the abdominal cavity. Wherever it went, Staphylococcus aureus, Escherichia coli, Pseudomonas aeruginosa... all kinds of bacteria were eliminated (Gret even visualized the images of these bacteria);

Under the white light, platelets gathered in large numbers, blood clotted, and wounds were sealed;

Just like when healing potions were applied, the deep red rectus abdominis, the light white rectus sheath, the loose greater omentum, the torn mesentery, and the abdominal wounds he had sutured or not, all began to grow rapidly, layer by layer;

Granulation tissue formed, blood vessels grew, epithelial cells climbed, and finally, the once injured tissues were restored to their original, unharmed state...

Gret didn't know how effective his visualization was. He just closed his eyes and focused, using his solid knowledge and visualization skills to depict everything that should happen in the abdominal cavity.

Fortunately, every surgeon is a draftsman, or at least a soulful draftsman. In their daily clinical work, they often draw anatomical diagrams to explain to patients. For Gret, visualizing all this in his mind was not difficult.

He focused on his visualization, and to the onlookers, it looked like he was trying hard to guide the healing spell. The hall gradually fell silent, and the warriors and farmers nudged each other, stopping their whispers and even trying to breathe lightly.

Only a few children, fearless and ignorant, continued to laugh and play. But they were soon pulled close by the rough hands of the farmwives and had their mouths covered.

Silence reigned. Gret could only hear the crackling of the torches and the heavy, suppressed breathing around him. In the silence, a long sound suddenly echoed:

"Pfft—"

This sound was loud, long, and distinctive. The warriors surrounding Captain Karen were stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter:

"Ha ha ha, Captain farted!"

"Captain actually farted!"

The warriors laughed heartily. In the laughter, Gret's eyes opened, and he jumped up excitedly. Just like when he was a resident and heard the first fart after his first appendectomy:

"Gas passed!"

He clenched his fists and raised them high, waving them toward the sky. The surgery was successful! Recovery was good! His visualization—let's call it visualization—seemed to work!

"Uncle Karen, your intestines have healed!"

Captain Karen was somewhat dazed. It wasn't until Gret repeated it that he snapped out of his daze, still not quite believing:

"Better?"

"Better!"

"Already healed?"

"At least they're working! Passing gas means the intestines have resumed peristalsis, Uncle Karen, you can eat now!"

"Great!"

Captain Karen was excited, the warriors were excited, and Karen's former comrade, the farmer Uncle Edmund, was even more excited. As soon as Gret announced that he could eat, he immediately turned and called out:

"Boys! Bring the food! Good wine, good food, large pieces of lamb, bring them all!"

Sweat... One less word. Gret quickly jumped up to stop him: "No! He can only drink some milk! At most, some thin porridge! Nothing else!"

"What? Didn't you say they've healed?"

"The newly healed areas can't withstand much stress..."

The calls, the stops, and the explanations all mixed into a chaotic din. Amid the noise, Knight Roman crossed his arms and watched Gret coldly, his eyes icy.

******

Entrusted with health, entrusted with life.

A tribute to all medical workers.