Danger! Tension Pneumothorax! Danger!

"How was it, how was it?"

As soon as Gret stepped off the mountain, his companions swarmed around him, asking eagerly. Gret lowered his head, somewhat dejected:

"Magister German said to let me audit first..."

He recounted the negotiation process. To his surprise, his companions were all excited, especially Captain Karen and the Young Priest John. Captain Karen, experienced and knowledgeable, was the first to offer comfort:

"This treatment is already very good. Little Grete, you don't know, but in the city, how many children of noble families don't even have the right to audit at the Mage Tower!"

"And they waived the tuition fees too!"

The Young Priest valued this more. He even used the experience of his companions to comfort Gret:

"In our Temple alone, there are many collateral relatives of nobles and children of Knights who can only train at the Temple because they can't afford to learn magic!"

Can't afford... magic?

Gret forced a smile. The tuition for auditors was waived, but the materials for transcribing spells had to be self-provided; listening to Magister German's lectures was free, but asking his disciples for guidance – who knew if they would help without payment.

He could manage to eat only black bread if he was embarrassed, but traveling between the city and the Mage Tower every day, could he rely on his two legs?

Everything cost money.

And the original body's monthly salary was only 5 Silver Coins. After filling his stomach, he could only afford clothes made of coarse linen.

Gret was filled with worry, but he dared not show it, lest Uncle Karen and the others worry too. He rode into the city with the team, heading towards the barracks. As he observed the city streets along the way, his worry grew.

The City Guard's barracks were near the North Gate. Gret and the others entered through the West Gate and took a half-circle route. The streets they passed, while not the most prosperous, should not have been considered... However, as far as Gret could see, the streets were lined with dilapidated wooden houses, with doors and windows that let in the wind and leaned precariously.

The hems of the women's skirts were patched over and over. Gret saw a little girl, about six or seven years old, peeking out from a wooden house doorway. When she saw him looking, she shyly shrank back, then peeked out again. The hem of the girl's clothes was tattered, barely covering half her thighs. Even younger boys played naked in the corner by the wall...

At the bakery on the street corner, almost all the bread displayed was black bread.

The streets were not paved with flagstones, and there were no sewers on either side, nor any public sanitation facilities. Garbage was piled up everywhere, and sewage flowed freely. Where the horses' hooves stepped, there were mud pits.

Dark yellow mud splattered constantly. Gret really didn't want to think about what was in the mud.

One word: poverty.

In such a poor city, how much money could he possibly earn to support himself? Gret had no idea.

He hoped the barracks would be a little more helpful... No, even if they were, it had nothing to do with him. Would they promote him and give him a raise?

He'd be spending all his time at the Mage Tower from now on. It would be good enough if the City Guard didn't dismiss him.

Gret, full of apprehension, followed Captain Karen into the barracks. He still had a picture in the original body's memory of what the barracks looked like, but upon actually entering, he was still slightly shocked:

Hartland City's City Guard wasn't large, only about two hundred men, not even as many as a county police station in his previous life. Of course, whether a small city's population could compare to a county in his previous life was anyone's guess;

It wasn't small either. After all, two hundred men gathered, trained, and fought in this area daily. Gret had already witnessed the combat prowess of Knights against the Roman Knight. If the space was small, it truly wouldn't be enough for them to exert themselves...

Like now. On the training ground, which was larger than a school playground, two Knights were fighting, raising clouds of dust. The roar of clashing weapons could be heard by Gret even from half the training ground away. Captain Karen immediately stopped:

"The Captain and Knight Xiro are sparring! Our Lieutenant Captain is also here, come, let's go over there..."

The City Guard had 200 men, with one Captain, Stephen Nolan, a Level 7 Knight; and four Lieutenant Captains, all of Knight strength, equivalent to Level 5 or higher among Warriors. Gret vaguely remembered that the original body's father was also a Lieutenant Captain of the City Guard before he died in battle.

As for old warriors like Uncle Karen, who couldn't break through to Knight level, were getting older, and their bodies were starting to decline, they could only remain Squad Leaders...

The Lieutenant Captain of Uncle Karen's squad, Knight Flynn, looked to be around thirty-five or thirty-six years old, in his prime. After hearing Captain Karen's report, he glanced towards the Spring Goddess's Temple and sneered:

"So you believe whatever they say? -- You think our City Guard can be bullied just like that?"

Gret's heart eased. Knight Flynn beckoned him closer and asked with a smile:

"You've comprehended the Healing Spell? And you want to learn magic? How many times a month will you go?"

"Magister German allows me to go every day," Gret replied honestly. After speaking, he hesitated and said with a look of embarrassment:

"Captain Flynn, can I... can I ask you to..."

"What?"

Knight Flynn asked with interest. Gret tried his best not to blush:

"It's just that I'll be going to the Mage Tower to study these days and can't participate in patrols. Can I... not have my salary deducted for now..."

Long-term absence from work, not paid leave, and still expecting full salary – this was unheard of in Gret's previous life. He stammered awkwardly, and after finally finishing his sentence, he heard Knight Flynn burst into laughter:

"Little Grete, you... you!"

Gret was stunned. Knight Flynn laughed heartily, tears even streaming from his eyes. He wiped them away with his hand:

"You're actually worried about salary deductions! Silly child, you, you... Hahahaha!"

This burst of laughter was astonishing. The two Knights sparring on the field were distracted. Knight Xiro's hand slowed, and he was unable to block in time, being sent flying with a bang!

"Ah!!!"

The surrounding Warriors cried out in alarm. A group of people turned and ran inside. Gret had only taken a few steps when he heard someone shout:

"Priest! Quickly call a Priest!"

The tone was urgent and shrill. It was exactly the same as the tone of family members shouting "Doctor!" in the emergency room in his previous life.

Gret quickened his pace even more. He rushed into the crowd and peeked through the gaps, his breath catching in his throat.

The injured person was curled up on the ground, his lips purplish, his hands clutching his chest. His eyes were wide like a goldfish's, and he opened his mouth wide, gasping as if he were suffocating. The veins on his neck bulged like earthworms, sweat poured down his face, and he struggled desperately.

This is...

"Get his clothes off! Hurry!"

Without him needing to say anything, the Warriors beside him were already frantically tearing at the injured person's clothes. For external trauma patients, removing clothes immediately to allow the Priest to treat them was practically a consensus among the Warriors. Once the clothes were off, the wound came into view, and Gret's brows immediately furrowed.

The injured person's chest was unnaturally contorted. Ribs were broken, the chest wall had collapsed, and sharp bone fragments were pushing up against the skin at an angle. Even more dangerous was the right side of the thoracic cavity, which was unusually full.

The distance between several ribs was noticeably widened. With each inhale and exhale, the collapsed part of the right chest would suddenly sink in, then pop out.

Combining this with the previous symptoms of bluish lips, distended carotid arteries, and difficulty breathing, Gret immediately thought of a term:

Tension Pneumothorax!