dical Center.
Operating Room #1.
"Ah!"
In the observation room above, redith let out a startled cry.
Adam was moving way too fast, his actions were intense, almost violent.
How could Bonnie's fragile body possibly withstand such force?
And it wasn't just redith—
Even Leonard, who had absolute confidence in Adam, was montarily stunned.
"Dr. Green!"
Ti was critical. Adam imdiately called out loudly.
Leonard snapped out of it and rushed forward to begin the surgery.
"Blood pressure is stable, heartbeat is normal!"
A surgical nurse exclaid in surprise, "The bleeding has actually stopped!"
"Beautiful work!"
Leonard couldn't help but praise Adam as he watched his hand embedded in Bonnie's chest.
On the other side, Dr. Burke was using an electric saw to cut away the excess steel pipe so that Mr. Maynard could be laid down for surgery.
anwhile, the second surgical team—doctors and nurses alike—couldn't help but sneak glances at Adam's hand.
Just monts ago, they all thought they were seeing things.
Now, they were completely stunned.
Adam wasn't just blindly improvising—he had truly stopped the arterial hemorrhage.
It was absolutely unbelievable.
But no one dared to question it.
Because as soon as the steel pipe was cut away and Mr. Maynard was laid down, both ergency surgeries comnced simultaneously.
Everyone beca fully engrossed in their work.
Originally, the priority had been to save Mr. Maynard because, compared to the seemingly lifeless Bonnie, his chances of survival were slightly higher. But that didn't an he was guaranteed to survive.
And indeed, it was touch and go.
The second team, led by Dr. Burke and Dr. Shepherd, faced one life-threatening crisis after another.
anwhile, the first team had Leonard as the lead surgeon and Dr. Bailey assisting.
There were also complications, of course—
But surprisingly, fewer than those in the second team.
As the surgeries neared their final stages, a collective sigh of relief spread through the room. Yet, everyone found themselves repeatedly glancing at Adam's hand, which had remained in Bonnie's chest throughout the procedure.
"Adam, how did you do it?"
Leonard voiced the question that was on everyone's mind while continuing the operation.
"Nothing special."
Adam chuckled. "Just three simple words—speed, precision, and stability."
Everyone: "..."
"Co on... give us a real explanation."
Leonard sighed but still gave Adam the chance to bask in the mont.
After all, they were on the sa team.
"There's really not much to explain."
Adam clarified, "First, I simulated Bonnie's injuries in my mind. Then, I assessed the angle of the steel pipe and extracted it in the most stable way possible to avoid unnecessary pressure.
Once it was removed, I imdiately used my hand to replace the steel pipe, accurately blocking the artery. Of course, all of this had to be done extrely fast. Luckily, my speed is decent."
Everyone: "..."
That actually made perfect sense!
It really was just a matter of speed, precision, and stability.
But aside from Adam, who the hell could pull that off?
Lifting a person weighing over a hundred pounds with one hand and extracting a pipe at an exact angle without a milliter of error?
What kind of doctor even has that kind of strength? If they did, wouldn't it make more sense to beco a prizefighter and earn easy money?
And replacing the pipe with his hand, precisely blocking the artery, relying purely on his vision and speed?
If a doctor had that level of hand-eye coordination, wouldn't they be better off becoming a world-class magician like David Copperfield?
Not to ntion... what the hell did he an by "simulating the injuries in his mind"?
"Adam, I think your bare-hand hemorrhage control should beco an official dical technique."
Leonard broke the silence with a completely serious expression.
Adam simply gave a modest smile.
This technique had the elegance of the "Flying Dragon Cloud Hand," the precision of "Dragon Claw Hand," and the effectiveness of "Acupuncture Point Sealing."
He was quite proud of it.
But this wasn't so Eastern martial arts novel, so he couldn't na it sothing profound.
"Hand of God" would be a decent alternative—
But in this country, naming sothing after God was a great way to attract extremist attention, so it was best to let it go.
The surgery lasted a long ti—
But in the end, both patients survived.
Adam didn't stick around to enjoy the praise. The mont he left the operating room, he jumped right into the next ergency case.
There were over three hundred casualties from the derailed train.
Given the efficiency of the Arican rescue system, at this point, many victims were probably just now being discovered and loaded onto ambulances.
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Dr. Bailey wasn't joking when she refused to let redith sleep—
Every critical patient required multiple staff mbers.
For cases like Bonnie and Mr. Maynard, entire teams of doctors and nurses worked for hours to save just two people.
anwhile, those with milder injuries—
Might have already deteriorated into critical conditions while waiting.
The ergency room was in complete chaos, desperately needing more hands on deck.
As Adam approached, he witnessed a tragic case unfold right before his eyes.
A middle-aged African Arican woman, her hair styled in nurous small braids, was holding a constantly ringing phone but had stopped responding.
When her friend nudged her—
Thud.
She collapsed onto the floor.
"OMG!"
Her friend scread. "Sobody help! Doctor! Help!"
Ironically, the friend who was now unconscious wasn't even the injured one—
She had been perfectly fine despite the disaster.
Monts earlier, she had been busy answering calls from concerned family mbers, laughing and mocking the whole situation.
She had even ridiculed the young doctors like George, calling them "kids" who had no business in dicine.
She had been talking nonstop for hours, annoying not just the dical staff but even the other patients.
Then, finally tired, she decided to rest her head on the bedside table—
Still holding her phone, ready to resu her chatter at any mont.
And just like that—
Without warning—
She never woke up.
"Code Blue! I need assistance!"
George, who was right beside her, imdiately checked her condition and shouted.
Adam quickly walked over, examined her, and shook his head. "She lost too much blood. She's already gone. Call it."
"Blood loss?" George was in disbelief. "I didn't even see any external bleeding! She never ntioned anything. She wasn't even a patient!"
"Internal bleeding."
Adam gave him a reassuring look. "It's not your fault, George. Call it."
"Ti of death—8:23 AM."
George checked the clock and made the announcent, his face blank.
As much as he had despised her constant insults—
At this mont, he wished she could wake up and keep complaining about how young he looked.
"Don't space out. Check on the others—make sure no one else is bleeding internally without realizing it."
Adam gave him a nudge.
"Oh—oh, right."
George quickly responded.
Adam, anwhile, turned his full attention to the influx of new critical patients, his mind working at full speed as he scanned the ergency room for anyone else who might be at risk without knowing it.
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