Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics-Chapter 4325 - 3421: Divine Doctor with Wonderful Hands (28)

Stark stared dumbfounded at the blast furnace in the resting room.

Th𝓮 most uptodate nov𝑒ls are publish𝒆d on ƒreewebηoveℓ.com.

After two days of rest, he was barely able to walk. The operating room had been busy recently, and many patients were staying in the wards, so Stark had moved to the resting room to continue recuperating.

But what he didn't expect was that the scene in the resting room was like an opening thunder strike. Gosh, I, Iron Man, haven't even started smelting yet, and you, a psychiatrist, have already set up a blast furnace?

"Can this thing really produce anything?" Stark looked at the furnace, puzzled, and said, "Although theoretically it's possible, theoretically, the temperature of the flames certainly isn't enough..."

"Whether the temperature of the flames is sufficient or not, why don't you try and find out?" said Shiller, standing behind him.

Stark hesitated, but since he couldn't easily squat down, he sat on the nearby bed, took a long iron poker, and stirred inside the furnace. When the bellows were operated, he saw flames that were nearly white in color.

"That's not right, is it? It's clearly impossible for this structure to raise the flame temperature so high. Could there be something wrong with the flames?"

This greatly piqued Stark's interest. He would rather hobble over on one leg to figure out what was going on with this stove.

Shiller gave him some ore and let Stark figure it out on his own. Actually, he wasn't very clear about the principles behind the furnace either.

Especially puzzling was why, periodically, the furnace would get especially hot, making it unbearable to stay in the resting room, yet the efficiency of smelting ore would increase.

He could only understand it as a game mechanic, a reward prepared for innovative players like him.

Shiller paid no mind to Stark, as he had very important matters to attend to. Most importantly was to realize his previous plan, which was to infect patients and control their time of death.

But this time, it wasn't to prevent them from noticing anything amiss, but rather he was finally going to make a move on that woodman, Wood.

In the past two days, Shiller had extracted almost all the information about the outside world from Stark's mouth. Amongst the most important was his two visits to the guide room.

Although the last time, Steve had escorted him and he didn't see anything, the time before that he had seen everything clearly.

At the other end of the corridor was a room about the size of a junior operating room. Half of it contained an office with glass windows, where a woodman with many arms sat.

People had to queue in front of the glass window for initial check-ups and payment, then proceed to the nearby resting room to wait. After their name was called, they would go to the other side of the window, where there was a wall full of pipe entrances.

Wood would use his long wooden arms to pick up patients and stuff them into one of the pipes, sending them through the pipes to different operating rooms for treatment.

Recovering patients would also drop down from the same pipe, be caught by Wood's arms, and then thrown out of the hospital from a window on one side.

Yes, this hospital indeed had no wards; people left immediately after surgery, with no lingering allowed. Even if you died right after being discharged, no one cared.

The exterior appearance of the hospital didn't look unusual; it was just a very common residential building from the Victorian Era. However, possibly due to an outbreak, there were a lot of patients coming for treatment.

Some people wanted to cause trouble, and Wood would impale them with his sharp wooden arms. Seeing that they couldn't mess with this woodman, many people began bullying the weaker patients, taking over their spots in the queue.

Although some patients were weak, they were not easily bullied; eventually, outside split into factions fighting violently. When Stark first arrived, the floors and walls outside were covered with blood that had not been cleaned up in time. Many fresh corpses leaned against the walls, waiting to be thrown out by Wood.

Shiller didn't care about who was right or wrong in the background of the story. He only knew that he was the most innocent one.

In this game world, he was just an ordinary doctor. Even if his skills were not as sharp and his healing rate was low, he hadn't done anything bad.

Having his money docked by that damn Wood was one thing, being trapped in a room unable to leave, and even experiencing the pain of tooth extraction and tongue-severing in dreams was another. And now someone even dared to come and criticize him.

Shiller wasn't new to physical restraints; how could he accept this humiliation?

So, he decided to put his previous idea into practice, which was to precisely control the timing of the patients' illnesses, so that they would fall ill right when they were returning to the guide room. This would greatly increase Wood's workload.

This wasn't the end. This woodman was still capable of a fight. Ordinary patients might not cause him any harm even if they fell ill, so it had to be a particularly severe disease, paired with some magic damage that the woodman feared.

Shiller chose the Werewolf Virus, the same disease that the previous mine hero, Nova, had. From his observations, when this disease flared up, it resembled the extreme manic symptoms of schizophrenic patients, disregarding muscle limitations and indiscriminately attacking all targets.

Moreover, those who were bitten could easily contract the virus, the disease progressed rapidly, and they also attacked indiscriminately once they fell ill.

Although the patients were all mere mortals and might not be able to defeat the woodman, if they could kill all the patients waiting, Wood would not receive any consultation fees. It was very important for Shiller that Wood could not earn money.

And not only could he not earn money, but he would also lose money. Shiller had learned that what sat in the waiting room outside was actually a wooden puppet. And Raven mentioned that these puppets were expensive. Bear Caregiver's offered reward for puppet crystal cores confirmed this.

As long as every patient could cause damage to the puppet, with the accumulation of damage, it wouldn't be long before the puppet would have to be scrapped. Then Wood would have to replace it with a new puppet. Shiller didn't believe Wood had an infinite stock. When the puppets ran out, that would see what Wood could do.

Physical damage alone was not enough. Shiller decided to add some magic damage, such as pus-filled blisters that squirt corrosive liquid, fungi that produce hallucinogenic spores, and flesh buds that spew flames. He bombarded him with every disease featuring these aggressive symptoms. The whole person became a super Poison King, bidding all to die!

To cultivate these Poison Kings, Shiller filled the operating tables in the operating room and the beds in the wards, with even more placed on the floor. He precisely calculated their onset times. Just as all the diseases were about to activate, he sent the patients back through the corridor.

Unable to see the situation on the other side, Shiller could only judge from the faint sounds. His timing was exact. The moment the patient touched ground, before they could even be thrown out, they were already stricken with disease and rushed out roaring.

Chaos ensued on the other side. Shiller heard several screams, seemingly someone was bitten. He also heard sounds of heavy items falling and something whipping the ground, it must have been Wood taking action.

Before the commotion over there had even settled down, Shiller sent another one over. The noise intensified.

Shiller just kept throwing all the patients he had cultivated over the past few days over there. The sounds from the other side were thunderous, and it appeared that Wood, no matter how many hands he had, was having trouble controlling the situation.

Seizing this opportunity, Shiller made a bold move—he picked up the pliers and crawled into the pipeline himself.

The moment he lay down, he felt a warm breeze blow over the back of his head. Then he started floating in the passage and "whooshed" to the end of the pipeline in a flash.

Without time to ponder the underlying mechanics, Shiller landed and quickly surveyed his surroundings.

The consulting room was in total chaos. The floor, walls, and ceiling were dyed a deep crimson, with a thick layer of plasma floating everywhere. Nearly all the waiting patients had been wiped out, making the mutilated Woodman in the middle of the room stand out even more.

Upon seeing that smooth wooden head, Shiller almost reflexively lunged forward and began hammering at the head.

The few remaining legs of the wooden monster stabbed towards Shiller. Shiller dodged backward and, holding the pliers, stood in the center of the room watching the Woodman.

"What are you doing? You madman!!" Wood roared, "Why must you persistently torment me?!"

"How much salary do you pay me every day?" Shiller asked.

The wooden monster's movement stiffened, clearly taken aback. It seemed that, for all his calculations, he had not anticipated Shiller asking this question.

"Are you really insane? Is your brain filled with mush? Don't you know that the hospital's operating room is a shelter. Should I pay you for providing a safe haven?!"

"Since that's the case, we really need to settle this." Shiller snorted coldly, "Why did the plague break out?"

"Because... because..." Wood took a deep breath, "It's their deserved fate."

"You said 'they', not 'us', right?" Shiller caught the loophole in his words, "Everyone in the operating room are innocents. They are the Noah chosen by God, meant to preserve the human race's seed during the apocalypse."

"Since so, it's only right that you provide us shelter. But I bet God didn't allow you to make us work intensely in the shelter without compensation, did he?"

"I... You..." Wood stammered for a while, then said, "This is part of the punishment they must endure. You all are not only innocents but also executioners! This is what you are supposed to do!"

"If this is our duty, then we should have corresponding rights. What rights do we have?"

"You can survive!"

"But if the plague hadn't erupted, we would have survived anyway."

"The plague is their just deserts!"

"But not ours!"

Shiller stepped forward and said bluntly, "No matter what grand revenge plot you and some brat are orchestrating, deciding who is guilty and who is innocent, I don't have to agree with that outcome, God cannot judge me."

"I was already capable of surviving, it's your calamity that has affected my quality of life. Making me work for you unremunerated. You yourself have been profiting immensely."

"This proves that no matter how morally correct what you say sounds, this matter to you is just a business. Even if it coincidentally aligns with some evil spirit's revenge plot, it doesn't prove that you are not a bastard exploiting us."

"Now, give me money for the house, make me a couple of dishes, then you can leave!"

Wood, infuriated, swung his long wooden arms wildly, with sharp thin arms thrusting towards Shiller like arrows off their strings.

Shiller rolled away and pulled out something from behind—a torch ignited by the fireplace flames.

"Whoosh," the intense flame blazed. Amidst the flames, a shadow rose vaguely, a monster composed of white flames, over two meters tall, appeared in the room.

Wood stepped back in alarm and just as he was about to look towards Shiller's figure, found that Shiller had crawled back into the original pipeline and "whooshed" back to the operating room.