The woman’s face was deathly pale as she leaned against the operating table, swaying as if she might collapse. Garrett sighed softly, about to continue persuading her gently when a sudden green light fell without warning, pinning her in place, unable to speak or move.

It was Elder Elwin who had acted. His third-tier "Nature’s Comfort" was similar to the "Peace Spell" from the Temple of the God of War, the effects akin to general anesthesia.

"Elder, you should focus on the task at hand," Elder Elwin’s voice was stern:

"Whether it can be saved or not, you must try first before discussing. This hand is so decayed, the later you act, the less hope remains—stop wasting time talking to her!"

Isn’t this supposed to be about pre-surgery discussions, informed consent?

Garrett grimaced, thinking: Having been in this world for so long, he still wasn’t accustomed to its rules. What are medical ethics? What is patient informed consent?

To the healer, to the caster, the patient’s role was one of earth to their sky. It was good enough that they were willing to save you, let alone exhaust themselves persuading and chattering.

Dream on!

"Teacher, please talk to the Archbishop. If amputation is necessary, make sure her husband agrees!" He bent his head to debride the wound, muttering:

"It would be best if both spouses agree! Don’t force them, don’t demand, don’t shout at them! It’s their hand, their life, they need to agree!"

"I understand!" Elder Elwin replied gruffly. He stepped out and yelled a few words, but still worried about his disciple, he returned. Standing by, he frowned at the mangled hand:

"Do you need any help? Should I cast a healing spell?"

"Not for now." Garrett’s gaze was somber. He pointed to Aunt Rita’s abdomen:

"Teacher, you know where the pancreas is? Treat the pancreas a bit, let her blood sugar drop…"

How was insulin originally extracted from the pancreas? What reagent, what steps, what reaction?

Garrett had no clue. The only thing he knew was that not many years later, the Chinese were the first to synthesize insulin artificially...

But directly smashing the pancreas and injecting it into a body was definitely not a good idea, a sure recipe for disaster. With no better options, he had to indirectly ask Elder Elwin to directly cast a healing spell to take care of the patient’s pancreas.

Well, treating the pancreas would definitely benefit the blood sugar, so that’s settled!

He lowered his head, the mage’s hand and the scalpel flying up and down as he continued debriding. This process, to an outsider, was particularly grim:

Liquefied fat, washed away drop by drop by saline, falling into a basin below;

The pale, discolored, necrotic superficial fascia, mercilessly cut away;

Beneath the necrotic skin, the deep fascia was torn open, pus sucked out, set aside for bacterial culture;

Muscles, tendons, blood vessels—any tissue that had lost its vitality and elasticity, all meticulously cleaned...

Before long, aside from the thumb, the four other fingers, the back of the hand, the palm, the bones were starkly visible. Garrett took a deep breath, turned his head, and called out:

"Seraina! Seraina!"

"Coming!"

Miss Silver Dragon hurried out. Garrett raised his right hand, thumb and index finger forming a circle in front of his eyes:

"Seraina, bring me a magnifying glass! The one we used last time for the arm, six times magnification!"

"Right away!"

With a flick of her hand, phosphorescence twinkled. Before Garrett, the almost halved palm was magnified a full six times.

The next task... was even more daunting.

Garrett quietly closed his eyes. Debride, debride, clear all the necrotic tissue while preserving as much viable tissue as possible.

Especially Aunt Rita’s hand, with so little tissue left, if not enough normal tissue was preserved, even if the debridement was successful, it would be hard to regenerate...

Under the six-fold magnification, Garrett operated with almost minimally invasive precision. The scalpel glided quietly along the boundary between necrotic and normal tissue. A piece, then another, then a strand...

From Elder Elwin and Seraina’s direction, the depth the scalpel sunk between each of Garrett’s strokes was so minimal it was almost invisible.

Seraina, curious, mimicked a scalpel-holding gesture, hovering in mid-air. In seconds, her fingertips visibly moved up and down.

"This is tough."

Miss Silver Dragon secretly stuck out her

tongue. Garrett suddenly spoke in a hoarse whisper, slightly tilting his head:

"Wipe the sweat."

Seraina quickly flew out a mage’s hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Garrett slightly closed his eyes, inwardly sighing:

Why, even with the beautiful Silver Dragon girl around, was it only a mage’s hand that came to wipe his sweat...

A mage’s hand is really not a good thing!

Just then, there was a sudden commotion outside the operating room. Several men were shouting, their voices straining, among them, a deep and urgent voice shouted the loudest:

"Rita! Rita! Let me in! How is she? Why cut off her hand?"

Garrett quickly looked towards the right side of the operating table. Aunt Rita lay there, still held motionless and speechless by magic, her pupils dilated, clearly very agitated.

Don’t!

Your blood pressure will rise!

Garrett sighed, reluctantly casting a calming spell, hoping it would help her relax. Alas, without a test comparison, it was hard to know how effective it would be...

"Calm down! There’s surgery happening inside!"

Only the bald bishop’s voice was louder. From the sounds of physical collisions outside, it seemed the bishop was single-handedly driving away the patient’s family members.

Of course, for a high-ranking warrior, a high-ranking caster, doing such things was effortless...

The outside of the operating room quickly quieted down. Garrett took a breath of relief and continued to work diligently. The dorsal arteries of the hand, the arteries of the fingers... branches of the ulnar nerve, branches of the median nerve, branches of the radial nerve... muscles... tendons...

Save a little if you can; keep as much alive as you can!

Suddenly, footsteps hurriedly approached. The thin wooden door of the operating room was hammered "thud thud" loudly. Fortunately, the person did not intend to push the door open, but after hammering a few times, they shouted from outside:

"Rita! Rita don’t be afraid! We’ll listen to the priests! If they say it can be saved, it will be saved, if they say it needs to be cut off, it will be cut off! Don’t be afraid! Survive! If your hand is broken, I’ll take care of you for life! I’ll take care of you for life!!!"

On the operating table, the woman lay facing up, her gaze fixed upwards, her eyes shimmering with tears.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by Aunomay