As the young cleric shouted in celebration, a wave of relieved sighs rippled through the people surrounding Wu Zhou.

  The young man kneeling with the patient’s intestines in his hands bowed his head deeply. He lifted his arms slightly higher and murmured quietly:

  “By the God of War…”

  “By the God of War…” echoed the red-haired archer on the other side, still pressing down on the wounded man’s arm. He leaned over with genuine awe in his voice.

  “Little Gret, you’re amazing.”

  Wu Zhou, however, didn’t look the slightest bit pleased.

  Every fiber of his focus was locked onto his fingers.

  The hepatic pedicle was fragile. Too little pressure—bleeding wouldn’t stop. Too much—and the vessels would tear, triggering catastrophic hemorrhage.

  There was no margin for error. No forgiveness. Just pure surgical instinct and experience.

  And even if the bleeding had stopped for now, this was only step one—the start of a very long and dangerous road ahead.

  Boots stomped rapidly behind him. The soldier Wu Zhou had sent to boil water rushed back with a sloshing wooden bucket, muttered a quick “By the God of War,” and then hesitantly asked:

  “Little Gret… is he gonna be okay now?”

  Okay now? Seriously?!

  Wu Zhou scowled.

  You couldn’t block hepatic blood flow at room temperature for more than 30 minutes—any longer and the liver would start to necrotize.

  In other words, he had 30 minutes. Thirty minutes to fix everything. Or the man would die.

  And what did he have to work with?

  No blood transfusion. No gauze. No getin sponges. No hemostatic powder. No surgical thread. No sutures. Not even a single vascur cmp.

  A crushing wave of panic surged through him. A fear that belonged not just to him—but also to the lingering soul of the body’s previous owner.

  Wu Zhou looked up sharply, eyes bloodshot without even realizing it, and locked onto the young cleric.

  “You!” he shouted, voice hoarse and desperate. “Cast healing magic—on the liver! Aim it at my hand! Now!”

  The cleric flinched hard, pale as paper. The blush from earlier had drained from his face completely, even his freckles looked like they were fading.

  His reply trembled, on the verge of sobbing:

  “I-I really can’t anymore… I used up all my healing spells…”

  “Then what do you have?!”

  “Only… o-only one bottle. A low-grade healing potion…”

  …

  What the hell?!

  A low-grade healing potion?! Are you kidding me?!

  Wu Zhou nearly bcked out on the spot. If the director of his hospital or the chief surgical nurse dared say something like that mid-operation, he’d have verbally shredded them against the nearest wall.

  This is liver suturing, man! Not a scraped knee!

  Do you even know if that potion passes GMP standards? Where’s the approval number? Is it expired?!

  He wanted surgical tools. He wanted sutures. He wanted lidocaine, cmps, or at the very least—a bottle of iodine, just to disinfect!

  Things had happened too fast. No gear, no setup. He hadn’t even washed his damn hands before reaching into a man’s open gut!

  And this was what he got?

  A low-grade. Healing. Potion.

  But just then, a stream of memories surged into his mind. Vivid images fshed rapidly before his eyes:

  A tiny gss vial held between his fingers. Inside, a faintly glowing golden liquid. Poured onto torn flesh— Wounds wriggling shut. Bleeding vanishing without a trace.

  Wu Zhou exhaled—slow, heavy.

  His right hand still cmped tightly on the hepatic pedicle. He extended his left, palm open, voice low and steady:

  “Give it to me.”

  Maybe it was Wu Zhou’s tone—sharp, no-nonsense—or maybe it was because no one else had any better ideas. The young cleric hesitated, then cautiously removed his hand from the wounded man’s right arm. Seeing that the bleeding hadn’t resumed, he immediately began fumbling through his robe pockets.

  After a moment, he pulled out a tiny vial of potion and handed it over.

  The bottle was no more than an inch and a half tall, as thick as a thumb. Its gss shimmered, crystal clear. Wu Zhou couldn’t help but grumble internally:

  Shouldn’t this kind of stuff be in amber bottles?

  Still muttering to himself, he bit off the cork stopper, flipped the bottle, and poured its contents directly over the torn liver tissue.

  And just like that—another miracle unfolded before his eyes.

  The shredded liver began to squirm gently, regenerating in real time. Granution tissue formed. The gash sealed. The omentum crept over like a silken net...

  By the time he took his second breath, the liver in his hand was whole again—intact, unmarred.

  Wu Zhou cautiously loosened his grip. Beneath his fingertips, the artery pulsed softly, and the surface of the liver—once pale and bloodless—blushed with renewed life.

  Perfect.

  Vascur reconnection successful. Perfusion normal.

  The liver… lived.

  “Woooow…”

  A hushed gasp slipped out. Wu Zhou lifted his eyes and saw the young cleric gawking at him, neck craned, jaw dropped. His wide eyes and open mouth formed three round little “O”s.

  “You can… save people like that?”

  “No,” Wu Zhou drawled dryly.

  The cleric blinked, disappointment fshing across his face.

  Seeing the look, half-indignant and half-heartbroken, Wu Zhou zily expined:

  “Sure, pouring healing potion on a wound takes two seconds… But knowing where the bleeding is, how to open the abdomen, and how to expose the damaged organ...”

  With every word, the boy’s shoulders slumped lower, and even his freckles seemed to dim.

  By the time Wu Zhou dragged out the st few sylbles, the kid finished the sentence himself, head hanging:

  “…takes ten years to learn.”

  Exactly.

  Five to seven years of med school. Surgical residency. Trauma training. A pile of certifications and grueling exams.

  Wu Zhou didn’t bother eborating. He turned his focus back to the patient. Now that the man’s life was no longer on the brink, it was time to deal with the intestines and all the other messy wounds.

  He gnced down at the healing potion in his hand. The bottle was nearly empty—only a few drops clung to the gss at the bottom, shimmering faintly with golden light, pulsating softly like a heartbeat.

  Incredible effects. But thinking those st few drops could fix everything? Two words:

  Keep dreaming.

  Time to get real and sort out the bowels.

  Wu Zhou carefully pulled his right hand out from beneath the patient’s liver. He took two steps back, scanning the area, and unched into a rapid-fire string of orders:

  “Got soap?—What? Just soapberries? Fine, give them here. I need to wash my hands.”

  “Any boiled water? Just this bag? Not enough. Start another pot!—And throw the needles and thread in too. Let them boil!”

  “Got hard liquor? …You do?! Amazing. Hand it over!”

  The red-haired archer and the blond soldier who’d been running around with buckets earlier were instantly back in motion, dashing like they were in a battlefield drill.

  The young cleric gnced around, eyes wide and curious. “Why are you washing your hands again?”

  “—That was emergency bleeding control back there, genius! If I’d waited even one more second, the guy would've bled out!”

  In life-or-death situations, hygiene takes a backseat. But still—back in the hospital, he’d at least have grabbed a fistful of iodine scrub first. Now that the worst was under control and the next step was handling exposed intestines, there was no way Wu Zhou’s surgeon pride would let him skip proper handwashing.

  He scrubbed his hands with soapberries over a wooden bucket full of steaming water brought by the red-haired archer. He made a point of not looking at the stains along the bucket rim.

  Calling them “stains” was being polite. The entire bucket—from rim to base—was bck with filth. Who knew how long it had been since it was st cleaned?

  Or if it had ever been cleaned at all.

  And as for how this water compared to actual tap water? Or how many microbes were swimming in it?

  Yeah… best not to think about that.

  (End of Chapter 3)

  Want to read ahead?

  Chapters 4–40+ are already avaible on Patreon!Support the transtion and get early access here: https:///c/WuxiaNovelTranstions?redirect=true