Chapter 208


    More than just Garrett leaped into action.


    Beside the elderly dwarf, two younger dwarves, one on each side, also jumped up. They hastilyid the old man t on a stool, then realized it was wrong and lifted him back onto the ground...


    Garrett: "..." No! Regardless of the reason for his breathing difficulties, whether it’s heart and lung disease, blocked airways, or asthma, people shouldn’t lie t!


    Heart and lung disease patients should be propped up, those with blocked airways should beid face down for back tapping, and there are different positions for other conditions. They shouldn’t be lying t!


    "Get him up! Help him up!"


    He shouted as he ran forward. It was chaotic all around, with no one paying him any attention, not even ncing his way. The old dwarfy t on the ground, one dwarf kneeling beside him in prayer, the other spinning around in circles, calling out:


    "Where’s my hammer? Where’s my hammer?!"


    Do they need a hammer now?! Garrett couldn’t help but feel speechless. However, the dwarf on the left had already lifted his hammer, raised it high, and a white light shot out from the hammerhead, directly onto the old dwarf. The effect was immediate, and the painful expression on the old dwarf’s face suddenly rxed.


    Oh... the hammer is a divine equipment, alright. Garrett quickly nced at the handle, which was spotted and smoked, looking like it was used for ironwork on a regr basis. Perhaps, for dwarves, this is indeed quite normal?Just like how a bald bishop goes into battle with a staff...


    The dwarf on the right also found his own hammer. With one dwarf kneeling beside the patient’s head and the other beside his feet, they both began to pray. Beam after beam of white light continued to fall on the old dwarf.


    By now, the incident had rmed the entire tavern. Drinking, arm wrestling, all activities came to a halt as every dwarf stood up from their stools. Nearly a hundred pairs of eyes stared fixedly at the tform, awaiting the oue of the treatment, hoping for Elder Talbert to turn the situation around.


    Initially, the treatment by the two dwarf priests seemed effective, but after less than half a minute, it began to deteriorate. The time for relief gradually shortened, the patient’splexion grew worse, and the two dwarf priests exchanged worried nces, sweat dripping from their foreheads. One of them raised his voice:


    "Brothers, please help me in prayer—"


    "Let me take a look at him!"


    Garrett interrupted. As soon as he sensed something was wrong, he rushed forward. However, being just a level-one warrior, and even more so after bing a mage, his physical abilities were limited. Jumping over stools, weaving through tables, climbing onto the tform, it was a difficult journey, but he finally made it. Peering down, he saw the old dwarf’s face changing color, his throat wheezing and wheezing like a bellows—


    This is bad!


    This is airway obstruction!


    Garrett immediately dropped to his knees and reached out to start treatment. But before he could do anything, a short, steel-like arm blocked his way, almost pushing him over:


    "Who are you? Get away!"


    "I’m a doctor! —I’m a healer!"


    ...No response. The dwarf priest kneeling beside the old dwarf’s head continued to extend his arm, ring at him fiercely, refusing to let him approach. With a sudden realization, Garrett thought:


    I spoke in themonnguage of humans! He’s speaking Dwarvish! He might not understand me!


    Stupid! Garrett hurriedly chanted, casting a spell of understandingnguage on the dwarf. He exined loudly once again, while simultaneously casting a healing spell to prove that he was indeed a priest. The dwarf priest’s expression softened slightly, and he raised his hand, gesturing for Garrett to help with the treatment.


    Garrett eagerly dove in. Opening the old dwarf’s mouth, he indeed saw sticky phlegm inside. It was indeed phlegm blocking the airway... damn it, what’s the use of casting healing spells if you don’t clear the phlegm and open the airway first!


    This world with divine magic is such a nuisance! Everything is left to divine magic, without it, you don’t know how to treat illnesses!


    Garrett cursed inwardly, his brain spinning. In his previous life, he would have inserted a phlegm suction tube and connected it to a negative pressure aspirator, sucking it out with a gurgling sound. It would take as little as 5 seconds or as much as 15 seconds, but it would definitely clear the phlegm. But now...


    Where’s the phlegm suction tube?


    Where’s the negative pressure aspirator?


    Where’s the power source???


    The patient’splexion worsened. Garrett dared not hesitate any longer. His right hand moved quickly, scooping out the phlegm from the old dwarf’s mouth. Chunk by chunk of sticky phlegm was scooped out, but the patient still showed no signs of improvement. His body even began to convulse, like a fish out of water, struggling violently.


    He’s hypoxic!


    With airway obstruction, decreasing blood oxygen saturation, the body’s instinct is to struggle fiercely, fighting for life in its final moments!


    "Hold him down!"


    Garrett shouted. With his left hand lifting the old dwarf’s chin, tilting his head back, and his right hand deeply into the patient’s mouth, he probed towards the back of the throat and the uv, stimting the gag reflex to induce more violent coughing in the patient. His fingers were covered in a lot of phlegm, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough!


    The airway still wasn’t clear!


    Phlegm must be suctioned!


    The old dwarf’splexion had turned from white to purple, then from purple to blue, and his struggles were getting weaker. There wasn’t much time left. In humans, brain hypoxia leads to irreversible damage if itsts more than 3 minutes. And a dwarf’s brain, supported by divine magic, couldst a few minutes...


    Garrett didn’t want to think about it, much less gamble. He made up his mind, pinched the old dwarf’s nose with his left hand, leaned forward, and sealed the old dwarf’s mouth with his own!


    Inhale deeply! Using the negative pressure formed between the oral cavity and the mouth to help suck out the phlegm in the airway, allowing the patient’s airway to clear!


    The bubble spell on his head shattered silently.


    A foul-smelling, sticky liquid surged into his mouth. The smell of tobo, bad breath, and who knows what other foul odors mixed together and assaulted him.


    Garrett was on the brink of suffocation. His eyes stung, and tears flowed down immediately.


    But he couldn’t ck off, let alone leave! He forcefully took a breath, then another, finally turning his head and spitting out a mouthful of thick phlegm. Before others could react, Garrett took a deep breath, leaned down, and repeated the process.


    One mouthful!


    Another mouthful!


    And another!


    Suck out all the phlegm!


    Clear the airway!


    Race against death!


    "F#@%&......"


    "&%@￥......"


    It was chaotic all around, with people eximing, shouting, and seemingly someone yelling at him. Garrett ignored it all, focusing all his attention on saving the patient. He didn’t know how many mouthfuls of phlegm he had sucked out, but suddenly, the resistance in his hand surged upwards again, and the patient began to struggle once more.


    "Ho... ho... ho..."


    Weak but desperate gasps for breath emanated from the old dwarf’s decrepit body. There was still phlegm in the airway, but it was now clear, and the old dwarf began to breathe in fresh air with all his might, delivering oxygen to every cell through his lung’s alveoli...


    The faint sound of his breathing was like music to Garrett’s ears. He let go of his hands and copsed backward, sitting on the ground, unable to help but smile.


    As he smiled, he turned his head to the side and halfy on the ground, coughing and retching. Uncontroble tears streamed down his face in no time.


    Several rough hands helped him up. Someone pressed him onto a wooden stump, someone handed him water, someone handed him a towel—the towel was as rough as canvas—someone pounded his back with the force of a pile driver, shouting in his ear:


    "Good friend! Good brother!"


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