Help Me Up! I Can Still Sew!

Wu Zhou, the deputy director of the Emergency Department, woke up from his coma feeling someone patting him vigorously.

"Little Grete, Little Grete..."

The person called out while patting him. Wu Zhou forced his eyes open, but everything was pitch black. The guy calling him wouldn't stop. When patting failed, he grabbed Wu Zhou's shoulders and shook him back and forth.

"Little Grete, wake up! How are you?!"

Wu Zhou shook his head with the other person's force and realized he was face down, his face seemingly buried in the dirt. He took a breath, and his nose and mouth filled with the smell of blood, dirt, and some other strange smell he couldn't identify.

"Cough cough cough cough cough..."

He reflexively arched his back and coughed desperately. While coughing, he roared in his mind:

Who put me here? Why are they letting me lie face down like this? Don't they know people in a coma shouldn't be prone? Inhaling vomit can cause suffocation!

I'll definitely make them practice emergency procedures ten times!

No, twenty times!

Wu Zhou's professional habits kicked in. He silently berated the unreliable nurses, interns, and residents. After finishing his mental tirade, he raised his teary eyes, coughed, and looked around, only to be stunned on the spot.

Where was the surgical lamp?

Where was the operating table?

Where was the gurney?

Where were the doctors and nurses in white scrubs, constantly on the move?

Where was the hospital?!

The surgical building was gone, and the laminar flow operating room had vanished. In its place stood a low, dilapidated shack with stone walls, a thatched roof, and mud haphazardly stuffed into the cracks. A half-person-high circle was built at the base of the wall, an empty patch of dirt inside with a few withered blades of grass sticking out...

What the hell is this?

I wasn't in the middle of emergency rescue!

Wu Zhou's head buzzed, and his body went weak. He almost collapsed again. He only remembered being busy non-stop from nine in the morning until four in the morning. He had just finished a major emergency surgery. Spleen removal, liver repair, intestinal patching. After confirming no active bleeding, he instructed his assistant to suture and then everything went black...

"Little Grete, are you feeling any better!"

Wu Zhou stiffly turned his head, his pupils slowly focusing. The one shaking him was a burly man with red hair, a high nose, and deep-set eyes – a typical Western appearance. He wore a ragged burlap vest, his muscular arms exposed, and he carried a bow in his hand.

The vest was less like clothing and more like a folded and sewn rectangular piece of cloth, with openings for the armpits and a hole for the head. The collar, cuffs, and seams were frayed, with no hemming, and it was so dirty that its original color was indistinguishable.

...The only thing visible was how extremely sparse the burlap was; medical gauze in the operating room was better than it.

Wu Zhou looked down at himself.

The same burlap.

The same vest.

The same... uh, his shoes seemed to have an extra toe sticking out compared to the man's?

In an instant, Wu Zhou's vision went black again. He truly wished he could just pass out.

Why did they throw me here? I saved the patient I was rescuing! At least, until I fainted, his vital signs were stable, and the surgery was successful...

Put me back!

I want to participate in the emergency rescue!

Unfortunately, no deity heard his prayer. The emergency rescue, however, did arrive – about ten steps away, a series of sharp exclamations erupted:

"Help—"

"Captain— Captain—"

"Oh no— his intestines are coming out!"

Wu Zhou instantly forgot all his complaints. Just like every time he heard a cry for help, he ran towards the sound without hesitation:

"Coming!"

However, someone was faster – or rather, closer. Wu Zhou, panting, reached halfway and saw a person kneeling beside the injured, head bowed, muttering something.

Immediately after, a white light shot out from the person's clasped hands, landing directly on the injured.

In the white light, the bloody wound visibly began to heal.

Wu Zhou slammed on the brakes!

What did I just see?

Time-lapse photography tells you how wounds heal?

A study on the promotion of wound healing by high-energy particle radiation?

What kind of magic is it for a wound to heal just from a beam of white light...?

Right, this thing is...

It's a Healing Spell!

Two sets of memories surfaced simultaneously. One belonged to Wu Zhou, from the countless novels, games, and animations he had read; the other belonged to the original owner of this body. Regardless, both sets of memories led to the same conclusion:

Healing Spell: invokes the power of the gods to achieve healing effects. Even the lowest level Healing Spell can immediately heal minor wounds, and at the highest level, it can even bring the dead back to life...

So, the one casting Healing Spell is the priest?

Wu Zhou quickly glanced over. The priest kneeling in prayer was the best-dressed among them:

He wore a light brown linen robe, its front hem reaching the ground and its back hem covering his calves. The collar and cuffs were finely hemmed, and a circle of dark brown thread on the center of his chest outlined the shape of a shield.

emmmm...

The social standing of spellcasters is indeed quite high...

Wu Zhou muttered to himself, turning to the injured. The wounded man was a strong fellow in his thirties or forties, with brown hair, brown eyes, and a messy beard. His equipment was better than others, at least he had a piece of leather armor, but it hadn't protected him. The leather armor had a large tear on the abdomen, and a large cluster of bloody intestines had fallen out.

In comparison, the bleeding from his arms and legs was no longer considered a serious injury.

The injured man leaned against a tree stump, his eyes half-open and half-closed, on the verge of losing consciousness. A younger man, somewhat resembling the injured man, knelt beside him, trembling and looking at the wound with hopeful eyes—

The gruesome, everted wound with uneven edges, as if torn by something, writhed, contracted, closed, shortened in length, and the bleeding gradually slowed...

Wu Zhou's eyes lit up. Healing Spell in this world is truly interesting, with immediate results! If only he could have Healing Spell's help during surgery...

Before he could finish thinking, the white light... was gone.

Only a small section had healed, and the abdominal wound with exposed intestines showed no further change.

Wu Zhou: "..."

Priest: "..."

The young man kneeling beside the injured man's face instantly darkened. He cupped the injured man's protruding intestines in his hands, staring expectantly at the priest for a moment. Seeing him try and try again, chanting and chanting, yet no white light appearing in his hands, he finally couldn't help but shout:

"Continue!—Please, cast it again! The captain is severely wounded!"

"I... I can't!" The priest wasn't much older, only fifteen or sixteen, his face flushed red, and he was on the verge of tears from anxiety. At the shout, the freckles on his face seemed to swell:

"I'm just an apprentice! I can't save him..."

The young man's eyes quickly lost all hope. He despairingly lowered his head, his hands trembling as he cupped the injured man's intestines and tried to push them back in—

"Don't move!"

Wu Zhou shouted. As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized something was wrong: the language he shouted wasn't Chinese, English, or any language he had learned before, yet he somehow knew how to speak it. Including the shouts of the others just now, it was also a language he had never heard before, yet he understood it!

What happened?

Wu Zhou was bewildered. However, after glancing at the injured man, he cast aside his doubts: someone was injured, and that was the emergency doctor's battle cry. Even if the sky fell, the earth caved in, the sun exploded, and everyone transmigrated, he had to finish his rescue and get the patient out of danger first!

He continued to shout, "Don't push them back in! Do you have a clean bowl?—No? Then just hold them! Don't move!"

Starting a new book, please continue to support me!