Your Hand, I Can Heal

Two Knights took their leave in a hurry. The next day, Gret spent another day copying books. When he returned home in the evening, he found Knight Flynn and Knight Xiluo, who had visited the previous day, waiting at his doorstep with a scruffy middle-aged man.

Besides the three of them, there was an unexpected visitor, who was shamelessly and cheekily lingering by the door. Before Gret even got close, he noticed the visitor's large, shiny, bald head, which was particularly eye-catching:

"Bishop?"

"Ah, Little Grete, you're back!" the bald Bishop called out casually, waving a hand as if they were old friends. With a swift movement, he pulled someone out from between the two Knights:

"You're going to treat his injury?"

Gret: "..." Could you at least tell me who that person is first?

He stepped forward to greet them, simultaneously questioning the two Knights with his eyes. As he approached, he smelled a very familiar stench from the middle-aged man.

This smell is so familiar... Gret twitched his nose and was suddenly startled:

"You smoke?"

Does this world have tobacco already?

Has the Age of Discovery begun?

Rubber, quinine, coffee, cocoa, and the ancient coca that doctors both love and hate – have all these things arrived?

And the three great artifacts of high yield: corn, potatoes, and sweet potatoes – have these crops also made their way here?

Gret forcefully pulled his thoughts back. He opened his door and invited them in. The bald Bishop stepped inside without any hesitation, followed by the three Knights with grim expressions. As they walked, one of them asked:

"Bishop, what are you doing here..."

"I treated this wound before and couldn't heal it! Now that Little Grete says he might be able to, of course I have to come and see!"

"Do you really believe he can heal it?"

"Well, Little Grete's methods are a bit different from others. If he says he can heal it, I'll just come and take a look, right?"

Back then, after Knight Balen injured his wrist, he sought treatment from various sources and even made a large donation to the Temple of the God of War for their help. However, despite repeated applications of the Healing Spell, the bald Bishop could only tell him: his tendons were severed, and he was powerless to help.

Watching the Knight leave dejectedly, unable to draw his bow ever again, the bald Bishop felt a pang of regret. So, as soon as he heard there was a possibility of healing, even though prying into someone else's secrets wasn't ideal, he shamelessly squeezed his way in.

Five people crowded into the room – three of them Knights, and one whose bearing was even more knightly than a Knight's – and the twenty-square-meter cabin felt like it was about to burst. To make matters worse, there were only two chairs in the small room, and one of them was broken...

Gret looked around. For the examination, he had to ask the patient to sit. He carefully sat on the broken chair himself. As for the others, he had to dismiss them with an apologetic smile. They could sit on the bed or stand, whatever they pleased. Gret gathered his focus and began to ask:

"Knight Balen?"

"I am."

"You are... the one who injured your wrist three years ago? What's the situation now?"

"Yes... I injured my right wrist..."

As Gret asked questions, he quietly observed the man. Judging by his appearance, Balen was at least seven or eight years older than the other two Knights. His face was weathered, his beard was scraggly, and he looked travel-worn. His complexion was dull, and his eye bags were loose. Only when Gret asked his name did he lift his eyes, revealing a flicker of light within them.

Looking at his torso again, although Knight Balen had been injured for three years, his physique was still solid, and his belly hadn't protruded. The biceps on his left arm bulged prominently, while the muscles on his right arm were visibly looser.

Hmm... The patient has been consistently exercising, and his desire for recovery is strong. Gret, the former emergency room doctor, Nordmark, made a mental note and extended his hand:

"Let me see your right hand."

Knight Balen obediently extended his hand, palm up, placing it flat on the table. Gret leaned down under the oil lamp to examine it. A red, raised scar, like an earthworm, lay across the pulse point of his right wrist. The bald Bishop's large hand immediately reached over, about to point at the wound and explain, but Gret had already let out a sigh of relief:

"How does your wrist feel? You can't bend it inwards? But you can still extend it outwards, right?"

"How did you know?"

Knight Balen subconsciously glanced to the side. Knight Flynn on his left and Knight Xiluo on his right denied in unison:

"We didn't tell him!"

Gret pursed his lips. He wanted to continue asking, but the bald Bishop flipped his hand, blocking the space between him and the patient, looking determined not to give up until he got an answer:

"How did you know!"

Gret rolled his eyes. He glared at the bald Bishop with his eyes, but it was no use; he had to retreat. Taking a breath, he pointed at Knight Balen's wrist and explained:

"It's so obvious! He injured the inside of his wrist, not the outside. The tendons on the inside are responsible for bending the wrist inwards. Since the outside wasn't injured, he can definitely extend it outwards!"

"Ah... Oh." The bald Bishop retracted his hand. "So, where exactly was it injured? And why couldn't I treat it back then?"

Gret wiped sweat from his brow. Which tendon was injured – how could he know without an examination! However, no matter what, as long as it wasn't his right hand...

Gret could perform surgery for tendon injuries in the hand. The problem was that the surgical instruments available were too crude...

He glared at the bald Bishop, then focused his attention and began to examine Knight Balen. In the twenty-square-meter cabin, the Knights huddled together, even their breathing suppressed to the lowest level. Under the lamplight, Gret's clear instructions rang out one by one:

"Come, flex your wrist."

"Straighten your wrist."

"Abduct it outwards."

"Adduct it inwards."

"Bend your elbow."

"Rotate your forearm forward, yes, just like that."

"Bend your thumb, good, straighten it... index finger... middle finger..."

Flexing, rotating, pressing. Gret examined it meticulously, and Knight Balen cooperated fully. The only annoyance was the bald Bishop hovering nearby, asking after every check, "Why are you doing this? What's the result?"

Finally, the examination was over. Gret let out a long sigh of relief and confidently delivered his conclusion:

"Radial Flexor Tendon Rupture."

"Wh-what?"

Looking left, looking right. Including the one directly in front, the three Knights were dumbfounded, staring blankly at Gret. The bald Bishop's large head once again loomed over, bombarding Gret with questions:

"What broke? What were you doing having him twist and turn like that? --Can it be cured?"

So many questions...

Gret's head was spinning from the noise. He finally lost his patience, slammed the table, and suddenly exploded:

"I'll explain it to you slowly later, okay?! No!"

There were over a dozen tendons. Explaining from systemic anatomy to regional anatomy, then to how to examine and diagnose, would take at least a whole class! Can we please focus on the patient first!

The bald Bishop was taken aback by Gret's outburst, staring at him as if disbelieving the child could erupt with such force. He blinked a few times, and after a while, he slowly responded, somewhat dazed:

"Ah... oh..."

He sheepishly withdrew. Knight Balen looked at his wrist and asked cautiously, "Can it be treated?"

Yesterday, 21 collections were added!

Although it was only 30% of the peak, it was much better compared to recent days!

It seems changing the text was effective... I'll continue revising through tears...

Please collect, please recommend, please leave reviews... please give all kinds of support