Chapter 519: We’re No Longer the Most Knowledgeable About Blood, Woo Woo

"Is oxygenated arterial blood tasty?"

"That’s good to hear."

In the midst of Viscount Seibesh’s continuous exclamations of surprise, Garrett neatly packed up the test tubes and smiled slightly:

"So, does this little trick convince your esteemed Marquess to join the research?"

"Definitely not enough!" Viscount Seibesh held up a half-burned cup of blood to his nose, sniffed it carefully, and then carefully rolled it on his tongue:

"The treated blood does taste a bit better, but it can’t compare to fresh arterial blood! It’s sour and has a bad odor."

Oh, that’s definitely different. Venous blood carries metabolic waste from the body, carbon dioxide, excess electrolytes, and various other substances. Arterial blood carries oxygen and nutrients.

That’s why an extracorporeal circulation device uses semipermeable membranes and such, to let oxygen in and carbon dioxide out, and to filter out things like uric acid. If you ask me to make one now, I can’t do it either.

Garrett remained calm. Uric acid, carbon dioxide, electrolytes, various ions, all dissolved in the plasma. If we can’t make a semi-permeable membrane, we’ll just separate it out!

"If you don’t like the taste, I have other methods. Want to try?"

"Yes!"

"Good, go to the hospital!"

There’s a centrifuge in the hospital. Blood treated with an anti-coagulation spell spun in the centrifuge, humming away, perfectly separating the blood cells from the plasma.

Garrett didn’t bother distinguishing stem cells, lymphocytes, white blood cells, or platelets. He just released all the blood cells, adjusted the hematocrit, and added saline—potassium chloride and calcium chloride mixed in—pouring it in.

Stirred evenly, centrifuged again to wash off the remaining plasma. Then, adjusted the standard blood cell hematocrit ratio and added more saline.

Clinically, blood transfusions also mix blood cells with saline. He grunted and bubbled oxygen through it, turning the color to bright red.

"Here, try this—"

Viscount Seibesh took it skeptically. He held it, gently swayed it to observe the depth of color and clarity, checking for any residue or bubbles.

"Drinking blood from a beaker feels odd. Can we use a goblet next time?"

No way. Garrett rolled his eyes at him. Seeing you taste blood with the pose of a wine connoisseur does seem odd to me!

Viscount Seibesh had enough of swaying the blood. He brought it to his nose, flaring his nostrils, trying to draw in the molecules above the beaker:

"No taste?"

He frowned incredulously, sniffed again and again, and finally took a big gulp. Then, turned to Garrett, deeply upset:

"Master Nordmark, you’ve wasted it! How can it have no taste at all, it’s bland—just like—"

"Alcohol?"

Garrett supplied the word for him. Viscount Seibesh looked at him blankly, as Garrett handed him a few milliliters of alcohol to taste. The Viscount downed it and nodded vigorously:

"Exactly! It’s still the same stuff, just tasteless! How did you manage that! Such good flavor, all ruined by you!"

Of course. Garrett shrugged.

Just like extracting alcohol from wine. Those complex aromatic compounds—the components that make up the flavor, such as esters and fusel oils—are all left behind. Swallowing it feels like drinking a burning liquid. Taste? What is that?

And those components that the blood races think are flavorful, Garrett guessed, are probably things like thyroxine, adrenaline, androgens, estrogens, all dissolved in the plasma.

The blood cells were separated, washed, and plasma removed. Then, mixed with saline...

Sorry, that definitely tastes bland. It’s even worse than high-purity vodka, at least that still has a kick.

But it’s still drinkable. Viscount Seibesh sipped slowly, cherishing a cup of blood, frowning:

"It’s still drinkable, yeah, can’t compare to fresh human blood, but it’s not bad. You don’t know, sometimes when I’m out, without a blood slave, and can’t find a good hunting target, the blood I suck smells so bad..."

Garrett: ...Thank you, I really don’t want to hear it. Can you not tell me your one hundred and eighty thoughts about hunting and bloodsucking?

Obviously not. Viscount Seibesh muttered, rambled, took a sip of blood, and said a few words. Finally, after he had gulped it down, he suddenly sighed heavily and squatted on the ground like a potato.

Garrett: "What’s the matter now?"

"I never thought of these methods... I don’t understand why it turned out this way..." Viscount Seibesh held his head and sobbed:

"We are no longer the most knowledgeable about blood..."

...What’s there to be proud of about this hollow reputation?

Garrett didn’t understand. But that didn’t stop him from taking advantage of the situation:

"So, do you want to join my research?—If you join, and we succeed, you’ll still be the most knowledgeable about blood! I’ll add you as the first author!"

"Okay!"

The potato sprouted, grew a stalk, and rose. Viscount Seibesh jumped up, rubbing his hands together:

"Where do we start?"

Start by verifying blood types. Or rather, start by verifying that the blood races also have blood types. Garrett was somewhat confident about this: the blood races, though undead, were once humans. Since they were humans, then, probably, maybe, they might have blood types?

They also have rejection reactions. That’s a kind of verification, isn’t it?

Viscount Seibesh frowned, extending his right hand. Mumbling continuously:

"I’m at a loss, why did you have to draw my blood... If I knew we were doing this today, I would have brought a descendant over, and you could have drawn his instead... Ouch! Be gentle!"

"I’m already being gentle..." Garrett, expressionless, pressed here and there on the inside of his right elbow. It’s not that I want to press hard, but your brachial vein is so deflated, I can barely get to it!

Fortunately, his skills hadn’t declined. Emergency medical procedures, establishing venous access, he always had to step in when things were urgent, couldn’t always wait for the nurses. After pressing for a while, he finally found the spot and poked the needle into the vein.

Then.

Then.

Garrett looked at the syringe, then at the fluid gushing out in the tube, then at Viscount Seibesh. This blood isn’t right!

The liquid drawn from the blood vessels, why is it so pale!

I’ve treated patients whose hemoglobin dropped to 30g/l, and even they weren’t this pale! Are you trying to pass off a drop of blood diluted with 5ml of saline as real?

Under his questioning and accusing gaze, Viscount Seibesh turned pale and looked away:

"What are you looking at me for?—The true blood of the blood race isn’t so easily obtained! Give me some time!"

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