Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics

The upgraded surgery room had become much more spacious, but they didn't rush to accept more patients. Instead, they planned to rest for the morning and speed up in the afternoon.

Strange was cleaning a wound for the first patient. Even after a sleepless night, he didn't feel tired. There was nothing else to do here, so he might as well heal a patient first.

Wanda went to the ward to rest. Perhaps due to her frequent consumption of awakening potions, she had developed some resistance. After staying up all night, she still felt a bit sleepy and fell asleep on the hospital bed as soon as she lay down.

She entered a dream, but perhaps because she hadn't been here long enough, the dream was blurry, like she was being chased in a pitch-black world.

Shiller was in the rest room smelting ores. He placed the ores collected from the bodies of the patients into the modified furnace, and the magic-controlled automatic bellows blew the flames brighter. Shiller watched the ores in the fire with gleaming eyes.

The three of them were each busy with their tasks, and none of them noticed that the text on the paper on the desk had disappeared, only to be replaced by new text.

"First aid doctors' code of conduct:

1: If you find the eyes in the portrait moving, immediately grind Bright Eyes Grass and Aconite Root into powder and put it into a small incense cage, place it at the bottom of the portrait until the eye closes and tears up.

2: If you find the fireplace flame flickering three times, immediately remove all the wood from the fireplace, and stay away from it until the flame stabilizes.

3: If you find the reflection in the full-body mirror becoming distorted, immediately hide in the wardrobe, and recite the Death Prayer backwards three times, until the reflection returns to normal.

4: If you find the patient's skin on the hospital bed starting to show signs of dissolution, immediately drop your own blood on the patient until the symptoms disappear.

5: Failure to follow the above rules will result in severe consequences. Please proceed with caution."

Standing in front of the operating table, Strange felt as if something was watching him, an oppressively uncomfortable gaze that seemed to penetrate to the bone, yet he could not find its source.

"I shouldn't have drunk that tea." Strange muttered to himself, "Staying up affects my condition, but luckily the patient isn't too troublesome..."

The faint sound of something like rubbing on the surface of paper gradually approached him. Strange looked down to see specks of blood on the floor between his feet.

Strange froze on the spot.

He looked up at the patient on the operating table. The patient's main symptom was skin ulceration, and although there was pus, there was no bleeding.

Strange couldn't help but glance between his own legs, finding nothing amiss. He breathed a sigh of relief, then carefully stepped around the pool of blood to the other side of the operating table, continuing with his work.

However, it wasn't long before he looked down and saw more blood in front of him, seemingly spreading from under the operating table.

Now Strange sensed something was wrong. He put down his tools, and just as he looked up, he saw the eyes in the portrait opposite turn into two bloody cavities, from which blood was gushing.

Strange paused for a moment. He didn't know what was happening and felt like calling for someone, but thinking about how most of yesterday's work was handled by Wanda and how tired she must be, it wouldn't be right to wake her up like this.

"Shiller definitely won't be roused; when he's engrossed in something, he won't hear even if the sky falls."

Strange opted for the simplest solution.

He first took a rag, threw it to the floor, and stepped on it, wiping the blood in front of him, then went over to the operation panel, got a basin, and placed it under the portrait to catch the blood flowing out.

Although simple, this method proved effective. The blood flowing out from above the frame was caught in the basin, churning but unable to spill over. Strange tossed two more rags into it, which soaked up a significant amount of blood.

After hastily dealing with the situation, Strange returned to the patient. He increased his pace and finished the remaining work in just over ten minutes, then returned the patient back into the passage.

But the portrait of Dr. Foster also increased its bleeding rate, and it could now be described as a river of blood. The small basin couldn't contain so much blood, most of which spilled out, filling the room with a strong smell of blood.

Strange was no longer contemplating whether or not to wake up Wanda. He was considering how to explain to her when she woke up that he had turned the operating room into this state in just an hour.

How Wanda would react, he didn't know. He only knew that if this were at the New York Elderly Association Hospital, he would be scolded by the head nurse of neurosurgery until next year.

Strange was not someone adept at tidying up. To be precise, surgeons are not this kind of people. What they are best at is walking away after surgery, leaving a mess for interns and nurses to deal with.

They might even take some items from the operating room with them, causing the nurses to search for an entire afternoon. As everyone frantically searched for the items, it was like a serial killer returning to the crime scene to observe the police, standing dazedly in the crowd repeatedly saying, "I don't have it."

Looking at the whole mess in front of him, Strange felt helpless, wanting to tidy up but not knowing where to start, overwhelmed by a sense of powerlessness.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in his head. He remembered that the intelligence manual had mentioned a disease called waterfall hemorrhage syndrome, characterized by massive bleeding. The treatment manual's suggestion was to apply a powder made from blending several herbs to the affected area for emergency hemostasis.

Though Strange was a surgeon, he was not an ordinary surgeon and still retained some knowledge of pharmacology.

He knew that if this emergency treatment method could stop the bleeding, it meant that the herbal powder contained blood-coagulating components. He didn't need to worry about the principle behind it; as long as it worked, that was all that mattered.

Hurrying to the shelf, Strange hardly had time to carefully identify which herbs were which. He just grabbed a bunch of them, placing the excess on the nearby workbench.

Luckily, the new operating room was equipped with an automatic grinder, which appeared to be steam-powered. Strange tossed the herbs into it all at once, grinding them into a powder.

He did not know the correct way to use the powder; he just scattered it wherever there was blood. Fortunately, his guess was right—the herbs indeed had coagulating properties, and soon the blood on the ground had congealed into clots.

But Strange quickly found that the eyes in the portrait were still bleeding incessantly. If he didn't deal with the source, the blood would just keep increasing, impossible to clean up.

Strange moved a wooden step stool over, used it to elevate himself, and smeared the remaining powder over the eyes of the portrait. Before long, he made the portrait a complete mess, looking as though it was wearing sunglasses.

This somewhat slowed the speed at which blood flowed out, but it still didn't solve the problem at its root.

The continuously flowing blood soon washed away the herbal powder. At this point, the blood on the floor had also begun to form ominous patterns.

Strange had already picked up a mop from the side of the workbench, intending to make a final effort. But at that moment, he noticed that the pattern formed by the coagulated blood looked familiar.

Wasn't this the same pattern that appeared beneath the feet of the little girl he had visioned in his dreams when she was hanged, resembling a Magic Array?

Staring at the Array for a while, Strange confirmed his guess. However, he also knew that if he allowed the Array to be completed, something very bad might happen. So he simply filled a bucket with water and splashed it onto the floor.

The water washed away part of the blood, slowing the formation of the Array, but the rest of the blood continued to flow towards it.

Now Strange was absolutely out of ideas. He went to knock on the door of the hospital room, from which came the sounds of Wanda waking up.

As soon as Wanda opened the door, she was stunned.

The floor was covered in blood. Apart from the fluid blood, there were also dark red clots and diluted pink bloody water from the washing. The entire floor, a mix of deep and light red, was almost unrecognizable from its original color.

Wanda gasped in shock, while Strange stood beside her, not daring to utter a word.

"What happened here?!" Wanda couldn't help but ask, "Where did all this blood come from, what happened to the last patient?"

"It's not from a patient." Strange pointed at the portrait by the side, saying, "That painting started bleeding for some reason."

Wanda looked at the portrait, scratching her head in confusion, not understanding what was going on, but she didn't intend to delve into it. What she needed to do now was to quickly deal with this mess.

Wanda took a deep breath, beckoned, and the mop flew to her hand. She rolled up her sleeves and then said, "This Mr. Foster must also be a renowned doctor, right? How could he make the operating room this messy?"

Strange guiltily looked away.

Wanda first used two brooms to sweep all the blood clots on the floor into the bucket. However, because the herbal powder Strange had sprinkled was uneven, some powdery residue remained on the floor, mixing with the liquid blood, completely sticking to the floor.

Wanda placed two buckets beneath the portrait to catch the blood. She boiled water in pots, making warm water which she then sprinkled on the floor. Next, she used mops and cloths to absorb the blood and squeeze it into the buckets.

But she soon encountered a problem: the blood was flowing out too fast, and the buckets were quickly filling up. Moreover, this blood was not ordinary; it seemed to have a life of its own, and when placed in a container, it furiously splashed out, uncontrollable.

Wanda tried controlling the buckets to hover over a drain, but the blood wouldn't pour out. Some of the drops that did fall out even seemed to fly back in, making it impossible to dispose of.

As the buckets were almost used up and blood was about to spill onto the floor again, Shiller, who was in the rest room, heard the commotion and came out.

He was stunned the moment he pushed open the door.

To the left, buckets full of either fresh blood or blood clots. To the right, two pots boiling vigorously, with a variety of herbs arranged on the workbench beside them.

Deeply shocked, Shiller looked at the two and exclaimed, "You two are having a hotpot and didn't invite me?!"

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