Bernard happily cut lamb legs every day, happily enjoying hot pot lamb.
Garrett happily enjoyed hot pot lamb every day, happily conducting research.
The cesarean section research was progressing steadily, with Priest Joanna having perford five consecutive surgeries without needing his guidance;
The clinical trial of streptomycin was advancing smoothly, with Anita Winvey and two priests from the Naturalist Church who had been recruited, rooting themselves in the hospital, curing a batch of pneumonia and scarlet fever cases with promising results;
The rabies vaccine report had been submitted, and a new project proposal was being drafted;
The CT project was progressing slowly, with Grand Mage Doane Belsa having found a group of people to verify the technology from various directions, with only the Plastics School’s input still pending;
The famine relief project...
Oh, that last one wasn’t his responsibility.
He had now created a batch of canine scoliosis models, all from large dogs aged 2.5 to 3 months, weighing 4 to 6 kilograms. According to the growth pattern of mice, they would need to be raised for three months before the scoliosis could be stabilized, and the wires could be removed with the situation under control.
For now, Garrett could only practice on mice and rabbits. The results were disheartening: each attempt resulted in death or paralysis:
"Snap."
"Ah—"
It was over, with blood spurting wildly. Apparently, a major blood vessel was hit during surgery, leading to massive bleeding. The surgical field was so flooded with blood that nothing was visible.
There was no choice but to switch to another rabbit. This ti, Garrett was extra cautious, operating with heightened care:
"Snap snap."
"Snap snap."
Good, the periosteum was successfully peeled off, and the protruding parts were removed, with bleeding under 10ml. With the aid of healing spells, these issues were manageable. Next, cast growth spells, cast growth spells...
Finished, the rabbit’s hind legs were paralyzed, unable to move even when poked with a knife. It seed the spinal cord was injured during surgery, causing spinal shock and lower limb paralysis.
No choice but to switch to another rabbit. This ti, the rabbit didn’t die nor beco paralyzed, but after a few hops, it collapsed completely...
Spinal instability. Tragedy.
"Boss, are we not having hot pot lamb today?"
"...Eat!"
The rabbits would be kept at the hospital to supplent the staff’s als! Yes, it’s definitely not because he didn’t eat spicy rabbit heads, stir-fried rabbit strips, frost rabbit at, pickled rabbit, or cold rabbit... 𝔯ÀNＯꞖË𝘴
Garrett struggled in the cycle of making animal models and performing surgeries on rabbits. The more he did, the more frustrated and anxious he beca:
"Ah, the progress is so slow... At this rate, when will I be able to perform surgery on humans, and when will I be able to operate on that lord’s son?"
"Will the alliance progress on that side be delayed because of ..."
Garrett was overestimating the speed of communication in this world. In fact, Mrs. Alva had taken five days to deliver his paper and mouse bones to the seaside;
Arranging for a smuggling ship to ferry the items across the strait took another five days;
The spy in Ostend, under the Radiant Church’s watchful eye, hiding and concealing, took another five days to deliver the items to the Count...
Then, the Count and Countess could lock themselves in a secret room, carefully reading the paper and examining the mouse skeletons to estimate the research progress.
"So... the curved spine, each piece, deforms like this..."
The Countess gently stroked the tiny bones, carefully comparing them to the normal mouse spines sent along. The Count, however, had no interest in pure academic issues, frowning as he flipped through the paper:
"Twelve mice... two died during surgery, ten survived... asured the spinal angles... created a three-dinsional image... developed a new thod for asuring the three-dinsional shape of the spine... don’t you think sothing’s wrong?"
"What?"
"The mage who achieved this, is it really the sa Nordmark mage we heard about? This involves cutting spines and tying wires, looking more like necromancy!"
Yet that Nordmark mage’s previous papers clearly stated he was from the Plastics School... Why would soone from the Plastics School ss with mouse bones?
Even if it were the Transmutation or Conjuration School’s dical branch, it would make more sense... but the Plastics School?
Is it possible that another mage is standing behind Nordmark, conducting the research and publishing under his na?
"To be honest, I would trust Nordmark mage with my child. A mage who fights epidemics and serves poor pregnant won shouldn’t harm my child," Count Ostend frowned deeply:
"But if it falls into the hands of those necromancers..."
Even if secretly sent to the countryside, accompanied and cared for by trusted aides, rather than growing up by his side, it was still his eldest son, now his only son, and possibly his only child in the future.
Even if it couldn’t be cured, he hoped he could live a safe and peaceful life.
The Countess laughed. This man, after living together for over a decade, still didn’t fully grasp the direction and imagination of a mage’s developnt.
A Plastics School mage loving dical pursuits and playing with bones isn’t strange at all. Moreover, with a hospital in his hands and surely a bunch of mages under him, capable of collaborating with other schools...
If the council took this project seriously, achieving so much in a short ti wouldn’t be inexplicable.
"By the way, since they’ve made so progress, we should show so sincerity," the Countess nudged her husband:
"Can we release those detained ships? Even if not the ships, at least the crew?"
"Alright... I’ll negotiate with the Archbishop..."
The Count got up with a face full of frustration. Ah, another trip to the church, more offerings to the Radiant Lord, wearing a coarse white robe, wet hair, kneeling until his knees hurt in front of the altar...
No choice, for his son, to stockpile food and maintain peace with the Archbishop and the Radiant Church, he had to endure...
After a long three days of worship, offerings, and negotiations, the rchant ships left in Ostend departed the port after leaving half their valuable goods as offerings.
On the ship’s side, an inconspicuous small crew mber carefully touched the whip marks on his body while pulling the sail rope.
"So close... almost died this ti... Escaping, how lucky..."
This mission’s completion points should be enough to redeem the [Dragon’s Breath Hand], right?
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