Chapter 44

The two knights hurriedly took their leave and departed. Gret spent another day copying books the next day, and when he returned home in the evening, he indeed saw Knights Flynn and Siro, along with a bearded middle-aged man, waiting at the door.

In addition to the three of them, there was an unexpected visitor who was clinging to the door, grinning and laughing. Gret hadn't even approached when he saw the large, shiny head of the visitor, which was particularly eye-catching:

"Your Excellency, the Bishop?"

"Ah, little Gret, you're back!" The bald bishop waved his hand casually and without any formality. He then casually dragged someone out from between the two knights:

"Are you going to treat his injuries?"

Gret: "..." Can you at least tell me who that person is?

He greeted them and asked the two knights with his eyes. As he approached, he caught a very familiar smell from the middle-aged man.

This smell is so familiar... Gret sniffed and was suddenly startled:

"You smoke?"

Is there tobacco in this world now?

Has the Age of Exploration begun?

Rubber, quinine, coffee, cocoa, and coca, which doctors both love and hate, have these things already been introduced?

And the three great crops: corn, potatoes, and sweet potatoes, have they also been introduced?

Gret struggled to pull his thoughts back. He opened the door and invited them in. The bald bishop stepped in without any hesitation, and the three knights followed behind, looking miserable, and asked as they walked:

"Your Excellency, why are you here..."

"I couldn't treat this injury! Now that little Gret says he might be able to, of course I have to come and see!"

"Do you really believe he can treat it?"

"Well, little Gret's methods are a bit different from others. If he says he can treat it, I'll come and see, right?"

After Knight Barren injured his wrist, he sought medical help from various places and even made a large donation to the Temple of the War God. However, despite repeated healing spells, the bald bishop could only tell him: the tendons in his wrist were severed, and there was nothing that could be done.

Seeing the knight leave in despair, never to be able to draw a bow again, the bald bishop was not without pain. So when he heard there was a possibility of a cure, even though it wasn't proper to pry into others' secrets, he still pushed his way in.

The five of them crowded in—three of them were knights, and one was even more knight-like in build—making the twenty-square-meter room feel like it was about to burst. Worse still, the room only had two chairs, one of which was broken...

Gret looked around. For the examination, he could only ask the patient to sit in the intact chair. He carefully sat on the broken chair himself, and the others had to be dismissed with an apologetic smile. They could sit on the bed or stand as they pleased. Gret gathered his thoughts and began to ask:

"Knight Barren?"

"Yes."

"Did you... injure your wrist three years ago? What is the current situation?"

"Yes... I injured my right wrist..."

As Gret asked, he quietly observed the other man. Knight Barren was at least seven or eight years older than the other two knights, with a weathered appearance, a scruffy beard, and a weary look. His complexion was dark, and his eye bags were loose, but when Gret asked his name, he lifted his eyes, and a faint light could be seen in them.

Looking at his torso, although Knight Barren had been injured for three years, his build was still solid, and his belly was not protruding. His left bicep was highly developed, while the muscles in his right arm were visibly lax.

Hmm... The patient has been maintaining his exercise and has a strong desire to recover. Gret, the former emergency room doctor, Nordmark, noted this in his mind and extended his hand:

"Let me see your right hand."

Knight Barren obediently extended his hand, palm up, and placed it on the table. Gret leaned over the oil lamp to examine it closely. A scar, red and worm-like, lay on the inside of his right wrist. The bald bishop's paw immediately reached out, but before he could point to the wound, Gret sighed:

"How does your wrist feel? Can't bend it inward? Can you still extend it outward?"

"How did you know?"

Knight Barren instinctively glanced to the side. On his left was Knight Flynn, and on his right was Knight Siro, both denying in unison:

"We didn't tell him!"

Gret pouted. He wanted to continue asking, but the bald bishop's hand flipped and blocked between him and the patient, determined to get an answer:

"How did you know!"

Gret rolled his eyes. He glared at the bald bishop, but it was no use, and he had to retreat. He took a breath and pointed to Knight Barren's wrist, explaining:

"It's so obvious! He injured the inside of his wrist, not the outside. The tendons on the inside control the inward bending of the wrist, so he can definitely extend it outward!"

"Ah... Oh." The bald bishop withdrew his hand: "So, what exactly was injured? Why couldn't I treat it at the time?"

Gret wiped his sweat. Which tendon was injured—how could he know without a physical examination! However, as long as it wasn't the right hand...

Hand tendon injuries, this kind of surgery, Gret could perform. The problem was that the current surgical instruments were too crude...

He shooed away the bald bishop, focused, and began to examine Knight Barren. In the twenty-square-meter room, the knights gathered in a group, even holding their breath. Under the lamplight, Gret's clear instructions echoed one by one:

"Come, bend your wrist."

"Extend your wrist."

"Spread it outward."

"Pull it inward."

"Bend your elbow."

"Rotate your arm forward, yes, just like that."

"Bend your thumb, good, straighten it... index finger... middle finger..."

Bending, stretching, rotating, pressing. Gret examined carefully, and Knight Barren cooperated fully. The only headache was the bald bishop, who kept asking questions after each examination:

"Why do you need to do this? What's the result?"

Finally, the examination was complete. Gret took a deep breath and confidently concluded:

"Rupture of the flexor carpi radialis tendon."

"What... what?"

Looking left and right, the three knights, six eyes wide open, stared at Gret in confusion. The bald bishop's large head stretched over again, firing questions like a machine gun:

"What exactly was injured? What were you doing when you made him move his wrist like that?—Can it be treated?"

So many questions...

Gret's head was spinning. He finally couldn't take it anymore, slapped the table, and suddenly burst out:

"I'll explain it to you later! Can't! Do!"

There are over a dozen tendons, from systemic anatomy to local anatomy, and then how to examine and diagnose, it would take at least a whole class! Can we focus on the patient first!

The bald bishop was stunned by his outburst, staring at Gret, seemingly unable to believe that this child could be so forceful. After blinking for a while, he finally reacted, dazedly responding:

"Ah... Oh..."

He retreated reluctantly. Knight Barren looked at his wrist and asked cautiously:

"Can it be treated?"