Robbing the Rich, Distributing Surgical Knives

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, the bald Bishop strained to retract the hook. He leaned back, craning his neck forward to get a clear view of Gret's every move, his body bent into a "C" shape. Knight Xiluo, unable to watch any longer, stepped forward to take the hook, only to hear Gret shout:

"Give me some fine needles! Toothpicks will do!"

Gret separated each muscle on the lamb leg and inserted toothpicks between them as markers. Then, he beckoned everyone to look. "Lord Balen, you see, there are many muscles here. On your arm, the tendon of one of them is broken—"

As he spoke, he flipped the blade and flicked it upwards. With a "snap," the tendon broke. The entire muscle retracted upwards on the spot, the silvery-white tendon disappearing back into the muscle group.

"So, we need to find it again now..."

Gret tilted his head, spread his hands, and pointed at the lamb leg. The meaning was quite clear:

Go find it yourself.

Knight Balen: "..."

Knight Flynn and Knight Xiluo: "..."

The bald Bishop leaned in, looking from all angles. After a long while, he rolled up his sleeves and began to pry into the separated muscle blocks with brute force. After much effort, his hands were covered in blood, but he actually managed to find the retracted muscle. He pinched it between two fingers and tried to pull it out—

"Whoa!" It slipped!

"Whoa!" It slipped again!

For the third time, the bald Bishop learned his lesson. He used the tips of his fingernails to firmly grip the muscle strip. Veins bulged on his wrist, and with a rip—

He tore a hole in the perfectly good lamb leg meat.

"Ah, ah, ah, don't, don't!"

Gret couldn't stand it any longer. "Bishop, you can't use brute force here. You need proper tools... Someone, get me an anatomical forceps... No, do you have tweezers? No? Then get me two narrow, flat iron strips, and more retractors!"

"Go get them!"

The bald Bishop and several Knights commanded simultaneously. The kitchen bustled with activity, and within half a cup of tea's time, what Gret needed was delivered. Although the long iron strips were uneven and the retractors were bent by the Knights themselves, Gret weighed them for a long time and could only resign himself:

This will have to do...

He carefully parted the muscle strips and used the retractors to hold them, calling to the two Knights, "Pull! Pull it apart!"

"Hng—"

Knight Balen's left arm bulged as he pulled with all his might. The lamb leg meat made creaking sounds, stretching inch by inch. This time, no hole was torn in the meat. As the broken tendon approached the other end, Gret immediately gave orders:

"Good! Right here, hold steady, don't move!—Bishop, please cast a Healing Spell to reconnect the two ends of the tendon!"

White light fell. A group of people crowded around to look. The tendon, cut by the scalpel, had indeed reconnected!

"So that's how it's treated!"

"This way is much clearer! Old Balen, look, your hand tendons can be reconnected like this too!"

"Little Grete, you're amazing!"

The Knights marveled. The bald Bishop, emboldened, decided to heal the sheep completely. As soon as the restraining Divine Arts were released, the sheep was put down and bolted away.

...It limped slightly.

"Little Grete, why is it still limping?"

"That's why I said you need proper tools!"

"What do you need?"

The bald Bishop asked in a deep voice. Gret's eyes lit up.

The set of Surgical Instruments that Necromancer Lynn had given him was better than nothing. The blades were wavy, the surgical scissors were so dull they could only trim flowers, there was only one retractor, and Vascular Forceps? What were Vascular Forceps?

In terms of variety and precision, Gret, with his 21st-century experience, found them utterly lacking.

But if he had to find someone to custom-make them, Gret weighed his own wallet and felt guilty.

He had originally planned to save up bit by bit, but now the Temple had taken the initiative—

The Temple had money!

They had influence!

Let's hit the rich and divide the scalpels! Don't be polite with the wealthy!

"It's hard to explain in a few words," he said, looking expectantly at the bald Bishop. "Why don't I go home first and draw them for you to see?"

About the time it took to eat a meal, the bald Bishop looked at the large sheet of paper, filled with drawings and dense annotations of various surgical instruments, and his eyes widened in surprise.

"What are these?"

"Scalpel handles."

"This?"

"Round blades. These are curved blades, triangular blades, all sizes from large to small..."

"And this?"

"Vascular Forceps."

"Why did you draw two of the same kind!"

"Oh, this isn't vascular forceps, it's a needle holder. This is fine tissue forceps, large flat forceps, small flat forceps. These are mosquito forceps, and these are pointed mosquito forceps. These are serrated scissors, curved oblique scissors, straight oblique scissors, and these are large curve, medium curve, small curve...

Right, mosquito forceps, pointed mosquito forceps, fine tissue forceps, and vascular forceps are relatively small. A blacksmith's hands are rough, so it's best to find a jeweler to make them."

"This, so many?!"

The bald Bishop's jaw dropped. Gret sighed, "This is just what we urgently need right now. We're still a long way from getting all the equipment together..."

On which surgery did the instrument nurse's cart not have dozens of dazzling instruments? It was simply impossible to start.

Zero sense of security.

Knight Balen looked at the diagrams on the paper, then at the wound on his wrist, and gradually lowered his head. His expression flickered, sometimes bright, sometimes dim, and finally, he clenched his fist tightly.

"I..."

Gret had been watching his expression. He had seen this kind of struggle, hesitation, and finally, determination countless times in his previous life:

Families with tight budgets, when deciding whether to sell everything they owned, whether to go bankrupt, to risk it all for a chance at a cure, always looked like this, pacing back and forth in the emergency room, at the payment window, in the lobby.

He couldn't manage too much back then. Three hundred and sixty-five days a year, with dozens or hundreds of patients a day, there were always a few who were financially struggling. But this time, he could finally manage.

Gret placed a hand on Knight Balen's shoulder at the right moment. He looked up and gave the bald Bishop a brilliant smile, his tone firm:

"Bishop, could I trouble you to make a set of these instruments? After they're done, I'll bring Knight Balen to the Temple to complete this treatment. I can also write down these diagrams and the entire treatment process in detail—"

The bald Bishop's brow slowly relaxed. He deliberately shook his head:

"Just these?"

"Aren't these enough?" Gret was full of confidence. "Bishop, among the believers of the Temple of the God of War, there are many Warriors, right? How many of them have old injuries that can't be healed? I don't know them, but you certainly do, right?"

The bald Bishop nodded slightly. Indeed, among those he knew, there were more than ten high-level Warriors who had retired due to old injuries—

"Many of these Warriors are wealthy, aren't they? Guess what they'd be willing to do for the Temple if they knew their old injuries could be healed and they could return to the battlefield? —No other Temple can treat them, only the Temple of the God of War!"

"You mean, only the Temple of the God of War?" The bald Bishop was moved. Gret spread his hands:

"In any case, I don't want to teach the Spring Water Temple..."

As for the Church of the Nature God, cough, the Divine Revelation User identity was fake, and it was best to avoid them.

The bald Bishop lowered his head and pondered. The more he thought about it, the more feasible the proposal seemed. He looked at Gret and burst into laughter:

"You little brat! You plan to get a set of scalpels for free just by teaching us how to treat them?"

"Just tell me if you can do it..." Gret chuckled. The bald Bishop slapped him on the shoulder:

"Can I say no?"

"Ouch—Don't hit me! If you break me, no one will be able to perform surgery!"

Beat the rich!

Distribute scalpels!

Distribute collections, recommendations, investments, and reviews