What should I do?

Garrett watched Prince Rothgar in silence. The flickering firelight reflected on the dwarf’s face, turning it a reddish-brown, nearly the same color as his large beard. If it were his previous life, with a top-tier hospital as his backup, his answer would have been straightforward:

Go for a lung wash.

Based on his previous life’s experience, a full lung lavage would increase lung capacity by about 10% after a three-month re-examination—

And he would direct the patient to the respiratory department to register for a comprehensive check-up: complete blood count, liver function tests, kidney function tests, full coagulation panel, erythrocyte sedimentation rate, chest X-ray, electrocardiogram, ultrasound, CT scan, lung function tests…

But now, he had none of that. All these supportive tests, which help doctors rule out contraindications and assist in emergency management during surgery, were virtually unavailable to Garrett. After much thought, he asked a different question:

"How high is the mountain we’re going to climb?"

This question genuinely stumped Prince Rothgar. Dwarves excel at mining, and experienced miners could roughly estimate how deep a mountain could be mined or how much ore could be extracted; but asking them to gauge the height of a mountain, from its base to its peak, was another matter.

For mountains they had mined, they had some idea; for those unmined, not so much. The mountain they were to climb for the king-selection event was a sacred mountain to the dwarves, never formally surveyed—

"It takes three days to climb." He recalled the stories his father had told him and seriously informed Garrett:

"From the base to the peak, it takes three days."

Garrett was silent. Who’s asking how many days it takes? I’m asking about the altitude! Altitude sickness can occur above 3,000 meters, causing chest tightness, palpitations, shortness of breath, and in rare cases, developing into high altitude pulmonary edema. Even if he agreed to the surgery and Prince Rothgar accepted it, and the surgery was perfectly successful—

If the fluid in the lungs hadn’t been fully absorbed and lung function hadn’t fully recovered before climbing a mountain above 3,000 meters, it would be a death wish!

Any respiratory physician from his previous life would have been furious to know a patient was so reckless.

But forcing a dwarf was useless. Some things can’t be forced out of desperation, like advanced mathematics, or the exact altitude of a certain mountain. Garrett thought for a moment and changed his question:

"Is there snow on the mountain in summer?"

"There’s snow."

"Permanent snow?"

"Right, you can see the snow from the base of the mountain."

That meant the mountain was higher than the snow line. The problem was, the snow line isn’t a fixed number; it’s above 5,000 meters in the tropics, but near the Arctic Circle, it could be only 2,000 meters. So, the question now was, where was the dwarven royal court located?

Garrett didn’t know the latitude of this place, only that Nevis City wasn’t very hot in summer nor too cold in winter, with a temperate maritime climate. The dwarven royal court was even further north than Nevis City, so the snow line here was probably around 2,500 meters, unlikely to exceed 3,000 meters—

Assuming this place’s values were similar to Earth’s.

"How high is the summer snow on the mountain?"

"It’s quite large." Prince Rothgar gestured with his hands: "You can see it from the base. The elders say, at the hottest time of summer, climbing to the top, you still have to tread on snow for a whole day. That last day is tough, not even mountain goats can reach the top, you can only rely on yourself. Every step you take, you’re gasping for breath…"

After much questioning, Garrett was finally able to confirm that the peak’s altitude was definitely above 3,000 meters, probably not exceeding 4,000 meters—forgive his poor geography. No wonder the last part of the king-selection battle stated, "The last ones to complete face a battle"! �

A group of dwarves, who had spent years mining and blacksmithing, suffering from impaired lung function, carrying weapons to the top under the effects of altitude sickness—summer might be bearable, but in winter, if one or two managed to survive, it would be considered lucky!

Climbing to such a height, the probability of altitude sickness was high. According to Garrett’s character, or rather, a doctor’s prudence, he treated the unknown as a certainty, assuming altitude sickness would occur.

In that case, lung washing and such could be temporarily shelved. Garrett gathered his thoughts and seriously addressed Prince Rothgar:

"First of all, these days, you’re not allowed to smoke!"

"Oh..." Prince Rothgar regretfully looked at the pipe attached to his waist. After a moment of indecision, he nodded firmly: "Alright!"

He removed the pipe, took a deep sniff of the tobacco scent, and then stuffed it into his bag. Garrett watched as his short, thick arms reached down, likely pushing the pipe to the very bottom of the backpack, and nodded in approval:

"Secondly, if there are any medicines that can help you cough up phlegm, remember to take them every day. Miners’ lungs are not good because of the dust accumulated in them. The more you can cough out, the better."

This was also agreed upon, but when it came to the third point, Prince Rothgar shook his head repeatedly, refusing to agree no matter what:

"Me, not forge? Not work in front of the furnace? That’s impossible. The weapons and armor for the selection battle must be crafted by the candidates themselves!"

Indeed, this was the rule for selecting a new dwarf king. Whether a prince, the head of the knight’s order, or the chiefs of various tribes, the weapons and armor they used had to be forged by their own hands.

Even if there were steam hammers available, they still had to personally use tongs to place the iron in the furnace until it was red-hot, then place it under the hammer. The forge was a bustling place, where everyone could clearly see each candidate’s performance. Anyone who slacked off, even if they advanced, would not be respected.

However, stopping exposure to dust was a necessary condition for treating pneumoconiosis. Garrett persuaded back and forth several times, turning the data tables upside down to explain, but Prince Rothgar refused to agree. Left with no other choice, Garrett resorted to an alternative plan:

"In that case, wear your mask properly when you’re working, and I’ll cast Bubble Shield for you. As soon as the Bubble Shield is about to expire, come find me for a renewal, no slacking!"

Besides this, Garrett also obtained some expectorant herbs, extracted their oil, and had Prince Rothgar breathe in the vaporized medicinal oil. He himself sat by a water pot, his palms against the pot, emitting ultrasound waves focused on adjusting the wavelength, power, and targeting...

The pot bubbled, and a fine mist rose up, which Prince Rothgar inhaled deeply into his lungs. Soon after, he turned and coughed out thick, black phlegm.

With these measures in place, Prince Rothgar began to feel his breathing gradually improve, and his chest no longer felt constricted. As the steam hammer clanged away, shaping the first war hammer, he plunged into the royal court’s nearby pool and managed to swim a dozen meters farther than before.

Seeing the prince’s lung function improve, eliminating the immediate need for a risky lung wash surgery, Garrett felt relieved. With the forge’s rhythm, breastplates, shoulder guards, and leg armors took shape, everyone beaming:

The progress was rapid!

Completing the full set of armor within half a month was possible!

Then, he could don the full armor and join the battle for the kingship! Compared to those who had only crafted a weapon or a weapon plus a breastplate, wearing full armor naturally offered a huge advantage!

Garrett was also happy. His skills had greatly improved, and for five consecutive days, he hadn’t accidentally killed a single rabbit. The team allocated him a large room, with rabbit cages lined up, twenty rabbits hopping around:

Alive!

Alive!

Eating normally, normal body temperature, and in good spirits!

After a few more trials to ensure a 100% success rate, he could consider moving to clinical trials!

Of course, not now. With the mountain climb approaching in two days, he needed to organize his gear. Clothing, tents, food, water—even if his teammates would prepare, Garrett also wanted to pack a set in his spatial bag!

After checking on the rabbits and bidding farewell to his teammates, he returned to the Mithril District’s trade delegation residence to report to Archmage Serrano and discuss obtaining a couple of self-defense items. Oh, and he needed to ask the archmage to prepare a few bottles of oxygen, just in case they needed to breathe oxygen on the high mountain…

Just as he was discussing with the archmage, Gavin burst in, sweating profusely:

"Garrett! You need to come quick! My grandfather’s in bad shape!"

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