The Finally Completed Surgery

The Tinkerer certainly didn't want to get himself ripped off and have to go to the Police Station or the FBI Los Angeles Office. Practicing medicine without a license is a crime in any country, and can result not only in fines but also imprisonment.

But he didn't want to finish the surgery too quickly, giving the Old Bai, fat man a chance to escape. How to perform the surgery at the perfect moment, without anyone noticing anything amiss, was not a difficult task for him, given his Super Brain and senses.

As for the option of not completing the surgery and relying on his Steel Body to withstand the bullets and force his way out, that was not in the Tinkerer's plan. Completing the surgery was to justify the one million tael reward he had received.

Secondly, if the work is only half done and then handed over to someone else to finish, who should be credited for the success or failure if that person survives, dies from a failed surgery, or dies from a post-operative infection?

This wasn't because the Tinkerer coveted the credit or wanted to harm anyone; rather, he himself wanted proof that he was capable of performing such a difficult surgery.

So the Tinkerer kept an eye on the police's arrival while finishing up the surgery.

His movements were fluid and smooth, without any deliberate pauses to drag things out. However, compared to his performance after the abdominal surgery, several experienced medical staff could tell that his speed was significantly slower.

Everyone tacitly remained silent. They were all unsure if they would be implicated by the surgeon's reckless and dangerous actions, so their only hope was the police who were on their way.

As long as they insist they were forced to assist in the surgery, they shouldn't be punished too severely. After all, they don't have licenses that can be revoked, and they're already out of the hospital system; as long as they don't die, their situation doesn't seem to be much worse.

Once the gallbladder and liver have been ligated, the Tinkerer picks up the syringe used to extract the fat and infuses it back into its original location.

The young white man, holding a gun to the Tinkerer's head, cursed and said, "What are you doing? Are you trying to stall for time?"

"You don't know anything. If you dare say you do, I'll just replace you. I'll give you a chance to prove yourself and show your loyalty, and maybe you'll get a promotion and a raise later."

"I just don't understand, that's why I'm asking."

"Alright, I'll explain it to you properly." With that, the Tinkerer stopped what he was doing and turned to look at the man who was pointing a gun at him.

The Tinkerer's actions drew loud rebukes not only from the Old Bai, overweight man lying on the operating table, but also from the young white man with the gun, who yelled, "Don't stop! Keep going with the surgery!"

"That's something you shouldn't be asking. Is it my fault?" the Tinkerer said, feigning grievance. But he turned back to his work.

Just as the Tinkerer had finally injected all the fat back into place, covered the exposed belly again, and was preparing to do the final stitches, everyone should have been Panasonic a sigh of relief. Unexpectedly, the sound of police sirens came from afar, clearly audible.

The group, who had been relatively calm, now clearly panicked. They kept glancing at their leader, who was undergoing surgery, not just to see if it was finished, but perhaps more secretly hoping that their leader would tell them to run first.

Andrew Saxon could certainly see the look in everyone's eyes, but how could he possibly bring himself to say it? He didn't want to test his subordinates' loyalty, or end up being the only one left on the operating table, obediently waiting to be arrested by the police.

The closer it got to this point, the calmer he became, no longer urging the Tinkerer to hurry up. All that was left was to stitch the belly back up; if he slowed the repairman down by talking, he would only regret it later.

Right now, everyone's attention is focused on three things: the approaching police sirens, their prepared vehicles and escape routes, and of course, the progress of the Tinkerer's surgery.

Finally, the stitching was completed and the last knot was tied. The Tinkerer then used scissors to cut off the remaining thread.

Seeing this, the young white man who had been staring at the Tinkerer pushed the gun forward again, poking it at the back of the head, ready to fire.

The Tinkerer calmly turned around and looked at the man, saying, "Hey, don't be in such a hurry. Your boss still has the needles in his body; he won't be able to move. And shouldn't the wound be covered with gauze? Without protection, it's easy for it to get infected and die."

"It's just removing the needle and bandages, you can do that yourself, right?" The smug young white man threatened to shoot.

He seemed eager to see the other man's panicked expression and hear him beg for mercy. However, the Tinkerer was completely uncooperative, instead swiftly inserting a pre-hidden scalpel into his wrist!

"You damn... what did you do to me!" After being stabbed, the young white man wanted to pull the trigger and finish off the person in front of him.

Unexpectedly, he couldn't move his fingers. His hand and wrist, holding the gun, seemed to have lost all strength, hanging limply downwards, almost causing the pistol to slip from his grasp. All he could do was scream in panic.

But by then, the sound of police storming in could be heard, and those guarding the outer perimeter began exchanging fire with the police. The gunfight escalated rapidly, almost instantly, until most of them had emptied their magazines.

Ignoring whether the needles had been removed or the wounds were bandaged, the Old Bai man made a decisive move. No longer hesitating about whether to kill the young doctor who had blackmailed him, no matter how much he hated him, he shouted:

"Ignore him, bring the car over, and put me in it. Leave them here and let them explain what happened to the police themselves."

The Rolls-Royce that the Tinkerer had brought was already waiting outside the inflatable operating room. A group of people went through a sterilization tunnel to push the portable operating table next to the car so their boss could get in.

The medical staff trapped inside the inflatable operating room, including the Tinkerer, dared not fight the group of armed men for the only exit.

Their actions were exactly as Old Bai Fatty had instructed: only their own men could get on the truck, and once they were loaded, they sped away. The medical staff who were a step behind and emerged from the inflatable operating room could only stare at the warehouse where the gang members had all fled, exchanging bewildered glances.

The Tinkerer took off his surgical gown and tossed it aside wherever he could find a spot.

The other medical staff were in a different situation than the Tinkerer; instead of putting on an extra layer of clothing, they changed directly into surgical gowns. However, it was clearly not a time to change clothes safely, so they simply took off and discarded their blood-stained gloves.

Watching the Tinkerer pick up the two large bags of money and the small bag containing his own medical tools, he was about to leave.

The bewildered group didn't dare to act alone, so they all picked up their belongings and followed the Tinkerer.