A Hospital in Another World?

Elder Brock had been watching Garrett closely. Hearing Garrett mention, "We can try to reattach the severed arm," he frowned and immediately walked over.

Before he could even ask, the elven girl beside Garrett had already crisply spoken up:

"Garrett, can you really reattach it?—Regeneration is a seventh-tier divine spell! I can’t even do it! Can you really manage it?"

Indeed, that is a seventh-tier divine spell!

Elder Brock had heard of this classification. Beyond the Wasteland, humans categorize spells from first to ninth tier. Below that are apprentice spells, and above, the legendary ranks of ninth tier and beyond.

A seventh-tier divine spell implies at least a level 13 priest or a mage of the same level specializing in medical magic could perform it!

And Garrett?

The classification of power in the Wasteland is not so detailed. They only go as far as low, middle, and high tiers.

According to Elder Brock’s perception, Garrett was about mid-tier—just entering mid-tier, the kind that had just stabilized. And Elder Brock himself was already at a moderate level among high-tier casters.

Could Garrett manage it?

Elder Brock, holding his bone staff, couldn’t help but step forward once, and then again. Was this young human healer boasting recklessly to obtain the spirit totem?

Or, was it out of genuine concern for the warrior’s condition, even at the risk of depleting his own power?

Either way, it wasn’t a good sign.

Elder Brock’s bushy eyebrows quivered slightly as he gazed at Garrett, hesitating whether to speak. However, at the end of his gaze, Garrett had already started to smile lightly.

"Ah, I really can reattach it." He smiled confidently, undeterred, looking into the eyes of the silver dragon girl:

"Seraila, trust me. This surgery isn’t too difficult, within my capabilities—of course, I’ll still need a little help from you—"

Reattaching a limb, in clinical terms, is considered a level three surgery. Meaning, a highly experienced senior physician could lead it, while a less experienced senior physician could perform it under the guidance of a superior.

And himself, before he crossed over, had already been a deputy chief physician.

Of course, microsurgery for limb reattachment differs significantly from emergency surgery. In reality, specific surgical qualifications are required, and it’s not something one can just decide to do.

But the success of a limb reattachment surgery largely depends on the healing process. If there’s no bleeding in the vessels and blood flow can be restored, the surgery is half-successful.

He wouldn’t even need to suture the vessels!

"Then let’s get started quickly!" Seraila urged immediately. Garrett waved his hand with a smile:

"Wait a moment, let me prepare—Hmm, one last question, has it really only been as long as a meal since this arm was severed?"

He didn’t look at the injured warrior but towards a few recently healed comrades who had brought him back. The four soldiers nodded continuously, especially the one who had carried him back, assuring repeatedly:

"Definitely less than a meal. If it had been longer, we wouldn’t have had the chance to escape from the clutches of the black cloud leopard—"

Alright, that’s fine. Garrett summoned a floating disc, placing surgical tools onto it one by one: a scalpel, hemostats, saline, irrigation equipment, and a silver rod embedded with fine glass fibers for guiding the healing spells.

Lastly, a palm-sized magnifying glass, with cleansing spells and saline washing over it back and forth, repeatedly cleansing.

"Seraila, help me fix this magnifying glass in place later, don’t let it float around. For reattaching the limb, I’m counting on it!"

No need for a microscope, just a magnifying glass would suffice. Though limb reattachment is a part of microsurgery, it’s not as intricate as reattaching fingers.

The required magnification is only about 2.5 to 6 times.

In 1963, Professor Chen from the Chinese Academy of Sciences successfully led the world’s first limb reattachment surgery. He didn’t use a microscope; relying solely on his eyesight and experience, he completed the surgery.

A magnifying glass is sufficient!

"This thing?" Seraila leaned in to take a closer look, wrinkling her nose. Then, she formed a circle with her right index finger and thumb, extending it under Garrett’s nose:

"Will this work?"

The scene under her fingers shrank and then magnified, fluctuating repeatedly. Garrett steadied his mind and carefully checked the magnification:

"It could work.

But Seraila, as you know..."

"Sterile... operation... I know, I know!" The silver dragon girl jumped back, scrunching her nose. Before Garrett could inquire further, she murmured a couple of phrases and casually waved her hand.

Immediately, a semi-transparent bubble appeared in front of Garrett. As the silver dragon girl gestured, it rose and fell, moving continuously.

"Is it okay now?"

"It’s good!—Old rules, set up the emergency cabin, hang the shadowless lamp, I’m going to wash up!"

In an instant, the surrounding healers exchanged glances, simultaneously rubbing their hands in preparation.

The emergency cabin could only accommodate ten people. Besides Garrett, Seraila, the patient, and the host Elder Brock, the other bystander spots were up for grabs.

Ping-pong, ping-pong, ping-pong...

Garrett was undisturbed. Cleansing spells, soap washing, and water creation spells were summoned for water flow. He smoothly completed the pre-surgery preparations, summoned a floating disc as a stool to sit on, rubbed his hands, and began—

Debridement.

Of course, it’s debridement. Every surgical procedure starts with thorough debridement...

Rinse, rinse, rinse, rinse, rinse!

First, wash the severed limb with soap and a brush, don’t even think about sterility—start with a cleansing spell;

Then, rinse thoroughly with a large amount of sterile saline;

Next, change gloves, apply another set of cleansing spells, and scrub the edges of the wound with another brush and soap;

Following that, 3% iodine tincture? 75% ethanol?

Wishful thinking—holy saline to the rescue!

After rinsing, routine draping follows, and then comes the scalpel, hemostats, cold light flashing, moving swiftly. Seraila sat obediently aside, watching Garrett as he tackled the severed limb, shivering involuntarily.

Even though the arm had been bitten off by the black cloud leopard and wasn’t attached to his body, every time the blade flashed, cutting off a small piece of muscle or a short segment of a blood vessel, he instinctively trembled.

It’s terrifying, the methods of human healers, why are they so dreadful... When the elder treated him, it was merely a flash of red light on his arm break, and then it was healed...

"Sir... my arm, it can be reattached, right... I won’t die, will I..."

"It shouldn’t be too likely. Your arm has grown a bit, but luckily it hasn’t been detached for long, so it shouldn’t be fatal," Garrett answered without lifting his head.

His gaze shifted, scanning the half of the severed arm held up by Mage Hand. The palm, wrist, forearm, and half of the upper arm—

"Is it bad to attach an arm that has grown?" Elder Feathers stepped forward, unable to resist asking:

"Isn’t a longer severed arm less likely to die completely, and shouldn’t it be easier to reattach?"

"Elder, a severed limb generates toxins, you know..."

Garrett sighed. To be precise, such high-severance limbs, because they are rich in muscles, will start to release toxic substances such as potassium ions, myoglobin, and peptides due to degeneration and necrosis under normal temperatures after 6 to 8 hours of ischemia.

These accumulate in the tissue fluids and blood of the severed limb. If not reattached, that’s one thing; but once reattached, they will surely flow throughout the body.

"So, attaching a toxic limb back to a person means the person will die?—Then, what kind of limb is non-toxic?"

Elder Brock spoke softly, almost to himself. He always remembered that dreadful failure, his first attempt at casting Regeneration to reattach a limb for a high-ranking warrior of his tribe—

During the spell, there was a powerful force draining his magic power. It was as if the warrior’s body was saying: "Not enough, not enough, to make me recover, this amount of healing is far from enough..."

And it turned out to be not enough. The leg was reattached, but a day later, the warrior fell into a coma, struggled for another two days and nights, and ultimately, couldn’t be saved. That failure was etched deeply into his memory.

His teacher who taught him the Regeneration spell had also said: "This spell, it’s better to let the limb regrow rather than reattach the severed one. If it doesn’t regrow fully the first time, you can try again; but if the reattachment goes wrong, the person will die!"

Elder Brock discreetly observed Garrett, pretending to be indifferent. Such valuable knowledge—would this young human healer mention it? What would he ask in exchange, perhaps, for a spirit totem?

Actually, if the secret to reattaching limbs were exchanged for

a spirit totem, it wouldn’t be a bad deal. But as a tribal elder, he always hoped to exchange for a bit more...

Unexpectedly, Garrett didn’t set any conditions. He gazed at the severed limb, looking at the ghastly pale bone stub, the horrifying break, the blood vessels, muscles, and tendons, his hands fluttering, casually tossing out a remark:

"If the time is short, it’s no problem; if it’s long, it gets troublesome. Generally, such a long arm or leg, if severed for 6 to 8 hours, can’t be reattached—"

Toxic substances entering the body can cause systemic reactions, even leading to death, clinically referred to as reperfusion injury. Thus, the reattachment time for high-severance limbs is strictly controlled within 6 to 8 hours.

Fortunately, not much time had passed since the injury. The rugged constitution of barbarians should still withstand it.

Alas, unable to perform liver function or kidney function tests, unable to administer timely targeted medications, if something goes wrong, they could only rely on healing spells to tough it out—

Garrett muttered to himself, hastening his pace. Behind him, Elder Brock silently concentrated, memorizing every word and every action of Garrett’s. Perhaps, a trick here could improve the success rate of Regeneration by 10%?

Later on, a few elders who were lucky enough to squeeze in, although they had no qualifications to cast Regeneration, were also desperately memorizing, almost wishing they could take out a notebook and copy down every detail.

Reattaching a limb, ah!

Such a rare sight, ah!

If this human healer succeeded, just these methods, just these few words, could be exchanged for a treasure among other tribes’ healers...

Huh?

What is this servant of the God of Nature doing?

Why is he holding a strange tube, sucking up some saline, and starting to inject it into the severed limb?

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