The Healing Nun was ruthlessly kicked out.
The three-ter-wide matron took matters into her own hands.
It felt like Rod’s people were going to split apart.
The nun’s fingers were thicker than his arms, and her strength surpassed that of a hundred-thousand-ton hydraulic press. Rod felt as if there were ten thousand bulls stampeding on his back, with forty thousand iron hooves trampling his soul.
She kept nagging while she kneaded rcilessly.
"... These stubborn girls are such a headache, never willing to follow any prohibition. If I don’t discipline them, it won’t take many days before my dical center will have to shut down."
Rod couldn’t believe it: "Aren’t you guys a formal institution? Didn’t I co here to treat amnesia?"
"Of course, we are a formal institution."
Matron Youse increased the pressure in her hands, and Rod felt that his waist was about to break as his throat gave out a groan under the unbearable pressure.
"The Holy Church’s first-level dical center, the cover page of the Healing Cult’s dical list, there’s no institution more formal than ours. All our Healing Nuns are excellent graduates from Jinworth Academy, with perfect scores in nursing and healing courses... And I, Youse of Red Rose Street, am a legend of Jinworth Academy, the only dical practitioner to achieve full marks in the combat course!"
Rod’s mouth was in pain.
"Then why don’t you go fight?"
Matron Youse sounded slightly surprised: "I’m logistics personnel. Combat is, of course, the responsibility of combatants. How could I overstep my duties? Oh... are you worried that I’m not professional enough? Hehe, little guy, rest assured, no one is better at treating amnesia than I am."
This was the part Rod found hardest to understand.
"Is your thod of treatnt just massaging?"
Matron Youse laughed: "Of course not, this is just to make contact with your spirit, to bring your soul into a deep state of tranquility. The real treatnt hasn’t even started yet."
A thought suddenly struck Rod’s mind.
Could that be the reason he entered that strange world just now?
"So, you’re saying that was my dream’s spiritual world?"
"The headache I’m experiencing, could it be caused by that stele? The Husky that’s wreaking havoc in my head, is that actually that black specter?"
Connecting the dots with a series of bizarre encounters, Rod had an ominous feeling.
Could that Dream World have anything to do with the migration team’s matter?
Am I really the murderer?
No, not necessarily.
I should think positive, maybe I can find so clues within the Dream World.
That’s right, I still rember the style of those few unfamiliar characters, I can ask the matron about them later.
While he was pondering, he heard Matron Youse continue:
"Young man, you’re very lucky. Not just anyone can co to a first-level dical center. For that, you have to thank Mr. Vimier. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be in front of ."
Rod asked, "Mr. Vimier... Is that the White Wolf?"
"Yes, how do you not recognize him... Oh, you’ve lost your mory, poor little fellow."
Matron Youse looked at him with sympathy.
"I promise you, in the na of Youse, that I will cure you, to the extent that you’ll rember even when you wet your pants as a child."
Rod was slightly embarrassed: "Thank you, you are truly kind people. At first, I thought you might be one of those shady establishnts..."
Matron Youse smiled faintly and said, "The Healing Cult, besides treating the spiritual body and the physical body, also assus the role of a spirit doctor. hence, the nuns are very easygoing, and clean, tender lads like you are their favorite. It’s inevitable they might get carried away with their official duties... But don’t worry, as long as I’m here, your virtue won’t fall into their clutches."
Please don’t ddle, let them co... Rod complained internally, feeling the image of the kingdom becoming sowhat blurred in his mind.
He originally thought he was in a harsh, isolated, and ignorant society akin to feudal dynasties or the Middle Ages, but it turned out to be more enlightened than he had imagined. Matron Youse’s humor and openness showed no sign of that ignorant fanaticism.
She might be just an individual, but it gives insight into a broader view.
Is this really a group of humans who managed to survive in such a harsh and dark environnt?
In his fragnted mory, most of the ti in this world it was dark, people hid under the protection of firelight, living carefully, working timidly—mighty warriors fought beasts in the darkness, sotis winning, sotis suffering devastating losses.
Here, death was a common occurrence, the Black Fog a dreadful and untouchable presence. Life was monotonous and repetitive: eating, sleeping, checking the lamps, working in factories, workshops, mines, or fields; nothing more.
It was only when the flas burned brightly that there was a leisurely entertainnt and smiling faces all around at get-togethers.
Fortunately, an entity called the Holy White Tree purified the land and water, providing them with relatively good harvests.
So, they didn’t starve very often.
Besides eating and drinking, passing a certain test to beco a warrior and then moving to the Upper City of the Royal City was their biggest dream.
However, everything in his mory seed different from the experiences he was having here.
Rod fell into contemplation.
After what seed like an eternity, the hellish massage finally ended.
Matron Youse smiled: "There, now your spirit has entered a deep state of tranquility, you must be feeling very comfortable, just perfect for the next ’Return of the Spirit’ ritual I’ll perform."
Rod’s whole body ached as he weakly responded.
Matron Youse stood up, placing her broad palm on the back of his head.
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