Can healing spells be made up?

"Wow—it's a Healing Spell!"

"He actually cast a Healing Spell!"

"Little Grete, you're amazing!"

A low murmur rippled through the hall. Children aged five, six, seven, and eight, along with farmers and their wives, all jostled to get closer. Gret's three companions—Spearman Raymond, Archer Thorn, and Shield Warrior Wally—had to link arms in a semicircle to prevent the audience from crowding their captain.

Young Priest John's face was flushed with excitement, his freckles seemingly shining. In contrast, the Roman Knight's expression grew even more somber—

Divine Grace could be boasted about, but Divine Arts were undeniable. With a genuine Healing Spell cast from his hands, this youth in a coarse linen vest was, at the very least, truly favored by the gods.

And among clergy, at least nominally, all were equal: as Priest Donald had said, "We are all servants of the gods." Especially when belonging to different gods, no one could control the other, and it was preposterous for a Temple Knight to interfere with a Priest.

What a shame, that rude peasant boy couldn't be troubled...

He slowly retracted his hand, which had been gripping his sword. Gret, with his back to him, was completely oblivious, lost in his own thoughts:

The Hippocratic Oath.

From ancient Greece to the present day, for nearly two thousand five hundred years, generation after generation, tens of millions, even hundreds of millions, of doctors have believed and practiced it.

Health is entrusted, lives are committed.

Since 1991, batch after batch of Chinese medical students have stepped into the medical field reciting this oath. From then on, healing the sick and saving people became their sacred duty, and in times of great disaster, they would don their white coats and advance fearlessly like warriors.

Year after year, the accumulated power of faith, how immense it must be—

If possible, if there was even a drop of it that could fall upon me from the unseen realms, it would be enough for me to gain a foothold in this unfamiliar world.

Thank you, Hippocrates, thank you, senior teachers and mentors, thank you to the doctors who have fought, are fighting, and will fight in the past, present, and future...

Gret's thoughts raced. The next moment, he forced himself to refocus, concentrating his attention on the injured person:

This hard-won Healing Spell must be used effectively and not wasted!

Sterilize and reduce inflammation of the abdominal wound!

Achieve the effect of antibiotic irrigation! Prevent postoperative infection!

Heal the rectus abdominis, the greater omentum, the peritoneum, and the superficial fascia! If there's any residual power, heal other wounds on the body as much as possible...

Uh... So, how do I make this Healing Spell work obediently and do what I want it to do?

Gret was completely clueless.

If he were a full-fledged priest, or even a priest apprentice, a mentor would have taught him the methods during his studies. How to guide it with his mind, what key points to pay attention to, not only teaching but also observing, and before casting his first Healing Spell, he would have watched countless times.

The problem was, student Gret was an absolute novice when it came to Healing Spells. The enlightenment from the Nature God was just something he'd bluffed about...

There was no other way, he'd have to improvise!

Gret began to visualize. He desperately recalled everything he had seen during the surgery and his understanding of human anatomy from years of clinical experience. Then, in his mind, bit by bit, he carefully sketched it out...

A sacred flow of light cleansed the abdominal cavity. Wherever it went, Staphylococcus aureus, E. coli, Pseudomonas aeruginosa... all sorts of bacteria were eliminated (Gret even imagined pictures of these bacteria);

Under the white light, at the various damaged sites, platelets gathered in large numbers, blood coagulated, and the wounds were sealed;

Just like when the healing potion was applied, the deep red rectus abdominis muscles, the pale white rectus sheath, the loose greater omentum, the torn mesentery, the abdominal wounds he had suton or hadn't had time to suture, layer by layer, each rapidly regenerated;

Granulation tissue proliferated, blood vessels grew, epithelial cells climbed, and finally, the previously injured tissues were restored to their intact state...

Gret didn't know how effective this visualization would be. He simply closed his eyes, concentrating intently, thinking. Using solid knowledge and the ability to paint in his imagination, he depicted everything that was happening, or should be happening, inside the abdominal cavity.

Fortunately, every surgeon is an artist, or at least a soul artist; during their daily clinical work, they often draw anatomical diagrams to explain to patients. Sketching all of this in his mind was not difficult for Gret.

As he concentrated on his visualization, to outsiders, it looked like he was diligently guiding the Healing Spell. The hall gradually fell silent. Warriors and farmers nudged each other, their whispers ceasing, and they even tried to lighten their breathing.

Only a few children, fearless and unaware, giggled and played. But they were quickly pulled close by the rough hands of the farmer's wives, their mouths firmly covered.

Silence enveloped the surroundings. Gret could only hear the crackling of the torches and the deliberately suppressed heavy breathing from all around. In the silence, a long sound suddenly broke out:

"Pfft—"

The sound was loud, drawn-out, and distinctive. The warriors surrounding Captain Karen in the hall paused for a moment, then burst into laughter:

"Hahahaha, the Captain farted!"

"The Captain actually farted!"

The warriors roared with laughter, completely amused. Amidst the laughter, Gret's eyes snapped open, and he jumped up excitedly. Just like when he was a resident physician and heard the patient's first fart after his first appendectomy:

"He's passed gas!"

He clenched his fists, raised them high towards the sky, and waved them forcefully. The surgery was a success! Recovery was good! His visualization—let's just call it visualization for now—seemed to have worked!

"Uncle Karen, your intestines have healed!"

Captain Karen, however, looked somewhat stunned. It wasn't until Gret said it for the second time that he seemed to snap back to reality, still disbelieving:

"It's healed?"

"It's healed!"

"It's healed just like that?"

"At least it's started working! Passing gas means your intestines have resumed peristalsis. Uncle Karen, you can eat now!"

"That's great!"

Captain Karen was excited, the warriors were excited, and Uncle Edmond, the farmer and Captain Karen's former comrade, was even more excited than them. As soon as he heard Gret announce that they could eat, he immediately turned back and called out:

"Lads! Bring out the food quickly! Fine wine, good dishes, big chunks of mutton, bring it all out!"

Sweat... Gret jumped up to stop him, saying, "No! He can only drink some milk! Thin porridge at most! He can't eat anything else!"

"What? Didn't you say he's already healed?"

"The area that just healed can't handle any strain..."

Calls, stops, explanations, all mixed into a chaotic hubbub. Amidst the noise, the Roman Knights crossed their arms and looked coldly at Gret, their eyes chilling.

******

Health is entrusted, lives are placed in your hands.

Salute to all medical workers.

Thank you @Yin Hua Xi for the 200 Qidian coins tipped to the protagonist. The book has established its first character card, which is the protagonist. You all saw it, right? Please often go give the protagonist a thumbs-up. If you have tips, you can tip the protagonist as well, it's the same, but if the Star Shine value goes up, you can accumulate a promotion~~~

I feel like I can extend my stay on the front page of the light novel channel for another day ^^