"Well done."
After who knows how long, the dical area is once again bustling. The mountain eagles return, clutching and carrying the second batch of nets, delivering them to the dragon’s nest. Ophelia, taking up the rear, now in her elf form, silently observes:
The dical area is unusually lively. Eight mountain eagles, twenty or so injured (so of the lightly wounded sharing a net among two or three), my niece, the young mage, and a follower brought by the young mage. So are groaning, so are screaming, and the mountain eagles peek around, occasionally flapping their wings...
With so many injured and onlookers, without soone to maintain order, it would surely descend into chaos. However, the dical area is orderly. The mountain eagles line up against the wall, the severely injured each have a bed to lie on, and the young mage runs back and forth, directing others:
"One bed per injured, don’t crowd! I’ll check on each of you one by one!"
"Cyrilla, cast a healing spell! Keep him alive!"
"Your injury isn’t severe, find a chair to sit!"
"Bernard, pull to the sides! Pull! Pull! Good, stop!... Cyrilla, healing spell!"
"You! Co here and watch this bottle, call
when it’s full!"
The only voice heard across the field is his, feet swiftly moving, not stopping for a mont. Newly arrived injured are efficiently sorted like flowing water. Ophelia, upon closer inspection, notes that each injured has a conspicuous red, yellow, or green marker.
Those with red and yellow markers all lie on beds, those with green markers and injured legs are given chairs, sitting at the foot of the beds to keep an eye on the lightly injured, those with injured hands are sent to run errands...
The severity of injuries is orderly managed. With only two healers on site, their effectiveness is multiplied. Ophelia thinks to herself that not even she could do better.
"Little one, how about it? Need help?"
The silver dragon lady chuckles softly, gracefully approaching. All eyes instantly turn towards her, the lightly wounded struggle to stand, the severely injured try to prop themselves up, and the mountain eagles standing against the wall fold their wings, bowing deeply, their beaks nearly touching the ground.
Bernard bows to the silver dragon lady, Cyrilla raises her hand, happily greeting her aunt. Only Garrett remains with his back to the door, one ear pressed against the stethoscope, raising his palm to keep an injured trying to get up down:
"Lie down!—Lady, you’re back? It’s great to have your help, please cast a healing spell, he has three broken ribs and lung damage—"
Ah, like the bald bishop, lifting a healing spell effortlessly, pulling muscles, joining broken bones, treating lung damage, I really can’t do it...
Garrett sighs inwardly. anwhile, a clean silver light has already shot out from Ophelia’s hand, landing on the injured’s chest. Friction sounds co through the stethoscope, and soon, the patient’s breathing returns to normal.
"Phew... done." Garrett breathes a sigh of relief, straightening up. Behind him, Ophelia’s eyes light up, a ripple quietly erging around her ears:
This copper tube seems quite interesting? Those breathing sounds, the heartbeat, I’ve never heard them so clearly before...
Of course, now is not the ti to ask. Ophelia takes another look and then splits up with Garrett, each treating the injured separately. Ah, red, yellow, green, matching the injured’s conditions, who’s more urgent, clear at a glance...
This young mage is becoming more and more interesting.
The two work back to back, one with high-level healing spells, the other with years of dical experience from a previous life, achieving exceptionally high treatnt efficiency.
In less than an hour, the only ones left lying in the dical area are the barbarian elders, who have been left with a divine spell that only allows their eyeballs to move.
"Is it his stomach that hurts?"
Garrett bends over to observe beside the elder’s bed. This old man, with white hair and beard, has loose muscles on the arms dangling beside the bed, evidently lacking much physical combat strength, clearly a spellcaster of the tribe.
The Black Gate Peninsula is barren, with a harsh living environnt. Apart from leaders and spellcasters, few barbarians live to old age. And aged spellcasters, compared to warriors of the sa age, can retain more combat strength and have a higher probability of longevity.
"Yes, their tribe’s elder." Ophelia stands beside Garrett, looking down at the old man with a slight sigh.
She rembers this spellcaster’s youthful vigor, climbing the dragon’s nest;
Rembers him leading his people into the monster’s den in response to the mountain eagle tribe’s plea for help;
Rembers him climbing mountains with injuries to seek dragon nest moss to treat his daughter’s chronic illness;
Ti flies, she seems to have only closed her eyes for a mont, and this barbarian has already grown old.
"Yes, it’s him." The silver dragon lady’s voice is ethereal, gently slow:
"Under severe pain, the spellcaster can hardly concentrate, nor can he heal himself. Young mage, take a look, what is his illness? How should it be treated?"
Garrett takes a deep breath. Stomach pain, sudden severe stomach pain—clinically known as acute abdon. This thing is the hardest to deal with!
Divided by cause, acute abdon must consider inflammatory diseases, gastrointestinal perforation, obstruction or strangulation, abdominal vascular lesions, organ rupture and hemorrhage, as well as thoracic diseases, poisoning, and tabolic diseases, and other diseases difficult to categorize;
Divided by organ, any organ in the abdon, blood vessels, and peritoneum might be the culprit, oh, and can’t forget the heart and lungs;
Divided by departnt, internal dicine, surgery, gynecology, every departnt’s diseases must be considered. Not asking you to be certain, at least think to call colleagues from these departnts for consultation...
Right, also can’t forget, there’s a possibility of several acute abdons existing at the sa ti. Its diagnostic and treatnt process is so complicated, a mind map can only cover a small part.
Garrett is cautious. He carefully observes, the old man’s face doesn’t show much pain, probably because the divine spell temporarily cut off his pain sensation. Considering reducing the patient’s pain, he first does not request the release of the divine spell, but turns to the elder’s tribespeople:
"When did he start feeling pain? How long has it been? Besides the pain, is there any other abnormality?"
A group of barbarians answer all at once. Garrett listens carefully, occasionally asking a few questions, quickly summarizing the basic situation:
The whaling ship drifted at sea for nearly half a month, everyone was scrimping, subsisting on hard bread and dried at, always hungry. Two days ago, they were lucky to catch a whale, and after killing and rendering it, everyone feasted on the fat whale at...
Then, in less than a day, the elder suffered from severe abdominal pain, vomiting, fever, imdiately collapsing.
Alright... the symptoms sound quite typical, next, it’s ti for a physical examination...
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