Chapter 3383 The Magical Doctor (Twenty-Seven)
In order to accumulate physical strength for the relatively difficult surgery at night, I did not receive too many patients today. I almost completed the number target and announced that the business was closed. The wooden man was also very aware of it. Even though they did not accept patients for half an afternoon, they did not come to cause trouble.
The rest of the time is basically determined by Stark's condition. The good news is that after judgment and inspection, the bullet is not that difficult to obtain. The bad news is that Stark's condition is indeed not good.
He was having an intermittent fever and his body temperature fluctuated greatly. At the same time, the wound on his abdomen was already a little inflamed. Even if the bullet had been removed and the suture was done, the inflammation would not be eliminated so quickly.
Rabbit broth did replenish his physical strength, but protein intake will also aggravate inflammation. However, the conditions are limited and there is no better way, so we can only choose the milder of the two evils.
When dusk arrived, Stark was a little confused and his body temperature rose to an unprecedented level. The physical cooling was useless. Wanda prepared a potion to reduce fever for him, but after drinking it, he only had a role for a while and soon started to have a fever again.
When the body temperature is abnormal, surgery is not suitable, so they can only drag it all the time. It was not until the second half of the night that Stark's body temperature stabilized, and it was obvious that the accumulated medicinal properties of the drug played a role.
It was not much time before dawn, so Strange could only take a quick knife and bet a bullet not far from his knife edge.
As soon as the blade opened, Strange felt a little surprised, because it could be judged from the muscle state next to him that the distance of the bullet was closer than he thought, so it would be no problem to take it out directly.
But just as he expanded the blade slightly and was about to push away the muscle plexus and take out the bullet directly, he suddenly saw that the femoral nerve under the muscle was a little black.
Strange immediately looked closer, but this was not his hallucination. The color of the femoral nerve was a little wrong. He had never seen such a situation after being a neurosurgeon for so many years.
There is no problem with the patient's condition and the position of his surgery, so the problem should be that it is a foreign object stuck behind the nerve.
Sure enough, Strange pushed away the two branches of the femoral nerve and saw the bullet hidden below. Although the size was similar to the one I took out before, a rune was carved on it.
"Are the magic bullet?" Schiller also saw it and asked.
Both of them looked at Wanda. Wanda was helping them hold the light bulb. She leaned over and looked at it and said, "I saw them chasing fugitives at the vegetable market in Westchester before. The fugitive was shot in the calf and could not move at all. Maybe there was a magic bullet."
Strange felt a little tricky. Now he could just take the bullet out with tweezers and just hold it gently, but if he touched the bullet and triggered some magic effect, causing damage to the femoral nerve, or even a little more serious, endangering the sciatic nerve, then it would be completely done.
Schiller caught Strange's hesitation flashed. Before he could persuade him, Strange threw down the tweezers in his hand, passed through the fork of the femoral nerve with his fingers, and pinched the bullet out.
With a "clang", the sound of the bullet falling on the plate was like the sound of nature, and Wanda breathed a sigh of relief.
Schiller went to see Strange. Strange seemed to have nothing happened, took off his gloves and threw them aside.
The operation was over successfully, and Strange took a cup of water to rehydrate it. Wanda began to check whether the various tools were complete like a real nurse.
Schiller also brought a cup of hot water to rest against the wall, and gave Strange a thumbs up and said, "It's really handsome, Mr. Hand of God."
"Hmph." Strange snorted softly, neither proud nor humble, as if he had just done a trivial matter that was irrelevant.
"A person who is always confused cannot be a surgeon. Because when facing various accidents in the operation, the most important thing is not what to choose, but choose as fast as possible. As long as the speed is fast enough, death will eventually slow me down."
Strange's voice echoed in the operating room. Schiller nodded and said, "There is one thing I think you are right. Thinking about what is the best intelligence to choose, but not the determination to choose decisively. This is the case in many things."
"So now I'm standing here, and he's lying there." Strange said to Stark, who was lying on the operating table.
Schiller nodded and said, "Tony's biggest problem is that he is too entangled. I dare say that if he hadn't been struggling with him or abandoning the witness, he might not have suffered such severe injuries."
"He paid you so much money in a quarter, but you didn't help him solve this problem."
"It can't be solved. After all, I'm not the heart of God." Schiller said with a smile, "Besides, there's nothing wrong with tangling more. People always regard meaningless entanglement as thoughtful thinking. If the result does not satisfy them, they will only feel that it should be."
"The same is true for Tony. If he hadn't been a tangled person and regarded the thinking process of saving witnesses as a manifestation of his genius wisdom, and after he had made himself like this, he felt that he had done his best, then we would have been listening to his complaints all the time."
Time flies, and several people haven't slept for the night. After dawn, they transferred Stark to the hospital room and let him recuperate there. Of course, the main reason is that they cannot see their treatment of other patients. Otherwise, even if everything changes, he will still have a high possibility of recognizing the true identity of the unscrupulous quack doctor.
Schiller, who was standing in front of the window to welcome the first ray of morning light, saw the raven flying to the window frame and said, "Good morning, roast chicken, are you hungry?"
"You are as shameless as the cat on the streets of the Rhododendron." The Raven said.
Schiller accepted his praise with pleasure. He looked up at the Raven and said, "As soon as you come, Detective Poirot comes. Can I understand that you know him better than we do?"
"I was going to talk about this, if you didn't want to bake me, I'd finished it," said Raven.
"What do you want to say?"
"You can save him, but it's better not let him go."
"Why?"
"Because he wants to spread the story here," said Raven.
Schiller narrowed his eyes slightly. What Raven said changed his speculation about Raven's position. So he actually hoped to block the town?
"I know you are confused about why a great plague broke out in the town, and people didn't run away, and there were even people who took the initiative to stop the townsmen who wanted to escape."
"Isn't it because these people can't get infected with the plague? For example, Wood, like you. All those who stay in the town are just puppets. If I'm right, your body should be in Westchester, right?"
"Yes." Raven did not deny it, he said, "Puppets are indeed not afraid of plague, but puppets are also very precious to us. The number of puppet crystals in your hand is very rare, and it takes a lot of our energy to make puppets."
"So what do you want me to say? Are your efforts really touching?"
"I just want to tell you that we paid so much, not just to kill people in the town, because it doesn't make any sense to us, and we can't even collect the cost of making puppets."
"Is that true? So many people have died, but you don't sell the parts for money. No wonder you lose money." Schiller said disdainfully.
I don’t know if Raven was shocked by these words or was speechless, but he was silent.
After a while, he spoke, "I will come to this hospital and prove that you are not cursed. You can survive this disaster here with steadily as long as you do not interfere with the town's blockade."
"Why do you want to block here? The reasons other than the spread of the plague..."
"The plague will not spread." Raven gave an unexpected answer, saying, "To be precise, it is not a plague, but a curse. It will only happen to specific cursed persons and have nothing to do with innocent people like you."
Now he finally got to the point. Schiller pinched the grass and soil on his hand and said, "How did the curse come about?"
"You need to know it yourself, and you will know it if he wants to tell you." Raven flapped his wings and stared at Shiller, "If you know the truth, you won't want to be the guy in the way. It seems that Mr. Detective is your friend, so don't let him do that."
After saying that, the raven flew away.
"Yes, I roughly understand." Schiller said while walking back to himself, "The abused little girl has passed on the curse for centuries, and the plague that will break out every certain period of time, the cursed person who plays the patient and the innocent person who plays the doctor..."
"But what does this have to do with me?" Schiller chuckled, "I only know that someone has deducted my money, pulled my teeth, and wanted to cut my tongue."
Because of the delay of the construction period for the night, Schiller took advantage of his leisure in the morning to start pinching clay again. Wanda sleeps in the lounge and Strange works in the operating room, so he transfers his position to the hospital room.
At this time, Stark was awake. He could barely sit up now. Schiller warmed him up some rabbit broth. He leaned against the wall, watching Schiller pinch the clay while drinking.
"What are you doing?" Stark asked.
Schiller briefly explained his plan to him. He was very unexpectedly able to win a roll of his eyes from Stark.
"Making muskets?? Are you serious?!" Stark shook his head and said, "In a magical world where steam drives everything, do you actually want to build that kind of primitive musket?"
"There are limited materials and venues, and more importantly, I'm a fucking psychiatrist. What to do if I don't make muskets?"
"I knew you couldn't do it," Stark said, shaking his head, "but it's okay, the great Stark is here to help you. When I get sick, I promise to make a good gun for you."
"You're going to stay here?"
"Of course not, I definitely want to go out. But if the injury is not cured, going out will also drag Steve down."
"Aren't you afraid something happened to him?"
"I'm not worried about him." Stark showed his usual stubbornness, saying, "Although his physique has become an ordinary person, his battlefield experience cannot be eliminated. He is much better than me now."
"It's okay if he's alone, don't he have to protect witnesses?" Schiller pretended to be unintentional while pinching clay, "Even if you're healed from injury, you're still an ordinary person. In addition to protecting witnesses, he has to protect you. Isn't it still a drag? Why not just go out."
Stark suddenly said suspiciously: "How come this sounds familiar? Is there a black bird saying something to you?"
"No. I'm just worried about you."
"It's indeed that damn crow! He is in the same group as those who blocked the town. They just want to kill these innocent people! Damn politicians!"
"You are right. Even if I recover from the injury, it will be difficult to deal with these cunning guys. I have to think of a way..."
In the corner that Stark didn't see, Schiller smiled when he put down the clay.
Chapter completed!