This World Is Seriously Ill

Two bottles of bright red blood were injected into the patient's body. The hunter gradually stopped struggling, his expression growing peaceful. Granulation tissue wriggled along both sides of the abdominal wound, healing at an unimaginable speed.

Seeing his old partner Gascoigne breathing steadily and color returning to his pale face, Henrik finally unclenched his fists and let out a relieved breath.

"Thanks. Once Gascoigne recovers, I'll treat you to a drink tomorrow!"

The Old Hunter looked at the unfamiliar face in the clinic and gratefully struck his chest in salute. After giving Yosefka a few instructions, he rose and led his companions back toward the Forbidden Forest.

Before they left, the female doctor remembered to divide the small Blood Vials she had prepared into three portions and hand them to the hunting party.

Though these small Blood Vials could treat ordinary tears and wounds and restore stamina, they had limited effect on nearly fatal injuries like the one just now. Still, something was better than nothing.

After all, the patient had likely made it to the clinic only because the hunters had used up all their own supplies on him.

As long as she said nothing and they said nothing, the higher-ups would turn a blind eye to certain issues involving medicine consumption.

After an hour of commotion, the clinic doors closed once more.

Yosefka let out a relieved sigh and slumped wearily into a chair with her cup raised. Kevin skillfully refilled the female doctor's steaming black tea to ease her fatigue.

"You were a huge help just now. Interested in staying at the clinic to help out?"

"I'll consider it..."

Kevin did not answer directly. Instead, his attention was drawn to the label on the Blood Vial.

The white paper affixed to its surface bore images of a