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Corleone's voice carried on the wind, reaching the chaotic battlefield below with perfect clarity.

As expected, several Soldiers of the North soon followed the sound and rode up the rise, forming a semicircle around them.

Once again, Harag Stow led the charge. His gray eyes settled directly on Corleone, and he demanded suspiciously, "Hey! You!"

"Did you just say you were... a doctor?"

His tone brimmed with distrust, and his warhammer remained firmly in his grip.

But Hogg's injuries left Stow no choice but to come over and try to grasp this last lifeline for him.

At that, Corleone straightened his less-than-brawny back. The aura of [Dignity Lv2] bolstered his bearing as he raised his head, his face wearing the confidence of a professional.

"I already told you, I'm a doctor."

He met Stow's gaze fearlessly and repeated, "And the best doctor in all the Riverlands!"

Stow frowned and glanced at the cloaked Jaime, whom he had deemed a "plague-ridden wretch," recalling that Corleone had indeed claimed to be a doctor earlier.

With Hogg's life hanging by a thread, he could no longer afford to worry about all that.

"Good! Come with me, doctor!"

Stow raised his warhammer and barked an imperious order. "One of my men is badly wounded. He needs treatment immediately!"

Hearing this, Corleone immediately let just the right hint of difficulty show on his face.

He glanced hesitantly at the cloaked Jaime beside him and faltered, "But... young master Derek's illness... he needs someone looking after him. I must..."

"Forget that fucking plague-ridden wretch!"

Seeing Corleone hesitate, Stow cut him off roughly, his face showing utter impatience. "Let him wait to die on his own!"

"Or..."

He abruptly raised his warhammer and pointed it at Jaime. "I'll cut him down right now, so you can free yourself up to save my man!"

"Your choice!"

At his words, several Soldiers of the North immediately drew their longswords, aiming their cold, gleaming blades at Jaime with murderous intent.

Corleone seemed frightened by this naked threat. He froze for a moment, then his face took on a look of resignation and helplessness. Like a deflated ball, he said dejectedly, "Since... since that's how it is, I'll go with you."

But just as they were all about to urge their horses forward, Stow suddenly shouted, "Stop!"

Everyone froze. He eyed Brienne and the others warily and said coldly, "Only the doctor comes with us!"

"These companions of yours must stay here!"

"Absolutely not!"

At those words, Brienne immediately objected sharply, placing her brown-bear-like bulk in front of and to one side of Corleone. "Corleone is our..."

"The only doctor in our party. I can't let him take that risk!"

Her voice was stiff, but its protective intent was unmistakable, directed toward both Corleone and Arya.

At Brienne's fierce roar, Yego and Walton also drew their weapons, facing off against Stow and his men.

Seeing them protect the doctor so anxiously, Stow did not fly into a rage. Instead, he grinned, exposing a mouthful of yellow teeth. "Good! Your medical skills must be fucking amazing if they're this reluctant to let you go!"

He considered it but still refused to budge, offering a compromise. "You can follow, but you have to stay at least half a league away and wait there!"

"Once my man is treated, naturally I'll give your precious doctor back!"

"Otherwise..."

As he spoke, Stow shook his warhammer, the threat plain enough.

With things having reached this point, Corleone naturally knew that going too far would be as bad as not going far enough.

Continuing to act reluctant would only provoke an even stronger reaction.

"All right. We'll do as Captain Stow says."

He took a deep breath, his expression regaining its composure, and turned to instruct Brienne and the others. "Stay right here. Don't go anywhere. I'll return once I've treated him."

At that, Corleone looked at the cloaked Jaime and emphasized his next instruction. "Make absolutely sure you give young master Derek his medicine on time!"

Beneath the cloak, Jaime's green eyes met Corleone's, their exchanged glance conveying a message only the two of them understood.

With that, Corleone hesitated no further. He squeezed his horse's flanks of his own accord and rode toward Stow and his men.

With Hogg so badly wounded, they wasted no words and spurred their horses on, reaching the wounded man in little more than ten breaths.

Hogg lay on the ground, his face as white as paper from blood loss. A soldier was pressing hard against the top of his thigh, but blood kept welling up between his fingers.

Corleone immediately dismounted and crouched beside Hogg with a thoroughly professional air, quickly examining the wound.

With the combined assistance of [Insight Lv1] and [Surgery Lv2], he soon reached a diagnosis.

The wound was on the inner thigh, not particularly long, but deep. The blood was bright red and gushed out in spurts with each heartbeat rather than seeping slowly.

These were the classic signs of arterial bleeding!

It was extremely critical. Without immediate, effective action to stop the bleeding, he would soon die of blood loss.

Fortunately, the wound at the bleeding site was not large, and the rate of blood loss had not yet reached the point where nothing could save him.

There should still be a chance to save him.

Come to think of it, this fellow really was unlucky. Getting slashed on the inner thigh during a fight was truly absurd.

Still, his injury deserved some thanks, since it gave Corleone a chance to get in among these Soldiers of the North.

"How is he?"

Stow crouched anxiously beside him, his eyes fixed on Hogg's pale face and the blood that kept gushing out. He urged, "Can he still be saved?"

"It's very tricky."

Corleone's brow furrowed deeply, his expression grave, but his voice remained utterly calm, making him seem thoroughly professional. "The main artery in his thigh has been injured. He's losing blood too quickly."

Stow knew nothing of arteries or veins, but the simple, readily understandable phrase "losing blood too quickly" made him understand immediately.

The usually unyielding northern soldier actually grew so anxious that he grabbed Corleone's shoulder, a hint of pleading in his voice. "Save him, doctor!"

"You have to save him. As long as you save Hogg, I'll give you back all your Gold Dragons... no, I'll give you twice as much!"

Hearing this, Corleone raised his head and looked at Stow, the corners of his mouth slowly curling into a meaningful, confident smile.

He's getting desperate. He's getting desperate!

Corleone quickly opened the medical bag he carried with him, glancing a short distance away at The Hound, whose hands several Soldiers of the North were binding as they hauled on a rope, pull by pull, to hoist him into a tree.

Then he crouched down and deftly took out his hemostats, suturing needle, and thread.

"Don't worry, Captain Stow."

Corleone grinned and declared with absolute confidence, "Without my permission, not even the Stranger can take his life."

"After all, I'm the best doctor in all the Riverlands. Of all the patients I've treated, not a single one has ever given me a bad review!"