Chapter 377 Cleanse the Lungs! Cleanse Your Lungs! Wash My Lungs!

"What? Master Tarbot?"

Gretel jumped up, and was immediately grabbed by Gavin, running away. Archmage Serrano glanced at Mage Ximond. The medical magician nodded and followed slowly:

Half for Master Talbot. Everyone has been walking together all the way here. Even if the mission is over just to deliver the person to the destination, we still hope that the old dwarf will be well. Not to mention, with this master here, there will be one more person who can speak for the Magic Council;

Half for Gretel. Serrano has learned a lot about this little mage's ability to escape, and he can come up with surprises anytime and anywhere. Now that Master Tarbot is critically ill, Serrano is really afraid that he will act impulsively and make some risky move——

For example, wash the old man's lungs or something?

Having someone watching makes me feel more at ease.

Wizard Hemond followed Gretel - the tracking spell on his body threw an acceleration spell on himself, and he arrived at the old dwarf's residence without much speeding up. The room was already in chaos, with people shouting, running, trying to wake up the old dwarf, shouting for the priest...

In the chaos, Gretel rushed in and rushed to the old man's bedside. A [Distinguish Bloodline·Change] was thrown up, and he immediately ordered the old dwarf to be given high-flow oxygen. Improve the working efficiency of the oxygen generator, improve the purity of oxygen, and increase the speed of oxygen supply——

Just kidding, the color of the light curtain fed back by the newly developed blood oxygen identification magic tends to be dark red! If it gets darker, it will be the color of venous blood!

"Get out of the way! Get out of the way! Get out of the way! Let him take oxygen!" Gretel's urgent voice immediately suppressed the entire audience. The whole room heard him shout alone:

"Bernard, shake it faster! Shake it faster!"

"...What are you doing? If you don't use the healing technique immediately, why are you asking people to shake the poles and blow the bellows?"

In the crowd, a dwarf priest with white hair frowned and asked. He was old, and the skin on his arms was as shriveled as Master Tarbot's. Even when he asked questions, his voice was gentle and slow. While speaking, the healing technique did not stop for a moment, and the gentle white light shot out from the head of the war hammer, wave by wave, gently sweeping over Master Talbot.

Grete was too busy adjusting the oxygen tube—no, spawning vines—to answer. On the contrary, Master Tarbert's disciple, Vigeland, who had escorted him all the way back, stood by and explained to him:

"The teacher felt uncomfortable along the way, and he only recovered by breathing in this gas."

The old pastor hummed and stopped talking. Master Ximond also retracted his steps and stopped rushing into the crowd:

...Sure enough, it was right to come and take a look. The little guy rushed forward and presided over the rescue, regardless of whether he could be saved alive, or how many high-ranking priests were at the scene, or how shocking the methods were - just like the time he rescued the orcs, he had to open his chest if he disagreed. That's heartbreaking...

If Grete hears his voice, he will definitely retort: ​​Of course he must preside over the rescue! In terms of treatment skills, he may be beaten by high-ranking priests; in terms of rescuing critically ill patients, he can definitely stand up and say: I am the professional!

…In fact, some are too professional. For example, when it comes to oxygen inhalation, the correct instruction should be "Increase the oxygen flow rate, use a mask to inhale oxygen, and the oxygen flow rate is 10 liters/minute..."

However, no one at the scene understood his instructions. Gretel could only look at the size of the air pump, listen to the hissing sound in the hollow vines, and kept shouting:

"Gavin, follow my command and blow the bellows! Pull! Push! Pull! Push! Pull! Push!"

...very resentful. What he needs now is an anesthesiologist, an anesthesiologist in the modern sense, not a priest who can only throw painkilling magic. Grete silently cursed, his eyes and hands never stopping.

The surgeon is in charge of the disease, and the anesthesiologist is in charge of life. Such tasks as adjusting oxygen flow, oxygen concentration, temperature and humidity are obviously the responsibility of the anesthesiologist!

Fortunately, the handling of high-flow oxygen inhalation is very correct. After a lot of tossing, Master Tarbot finally recovered, half-leaning on the bed and breathing heavily. Gretel was able to stop and wiped his sweat:

"We are out of danger for the time being... Tonight, don't let Master lie flat, half-reclined, and keep low-flow oxygen... This is the oxygen generator, keep it on and don't stop it. Don't be tired these days, don't smoke, keep it up The mood is stable... Others in the room are not allowed to smoke. It is best not to light a fire in the room, but keep warm..."

He rattled off the doctor's orders one by one, fearing that missing any of them would worsen his condition. It took him a long time to finish the instructions and let out a long breath:

"There is nothing else to pay attention to. You take good care of Master, I'm leaving..."

"Gretel!" Gavin rushed forward and grabbed him:

"Is there no other way? Grandpa, grandpa, besides being careful all the time, is there no other way to cure it?"

Gretel shook his head silently. Pneumoconiosis is irreversible, especially in the late stages, when there is extensive fibrosis and widespread infection in the lungs. Basically, the only path is to collapse and wait for death. ——At least, that was the case in his previous life.

And here, if divine magic was effective against pneumoconiosis, there wouldn't be so many dwarves bothered by the disease. To put it bluntly, Master Tarbert is also a level 13 priest, so it doesn't necessarily mean that he can't even cure himself.

Gavin dropped his shoulders in disappointment. However, Vigeland stretched out his arm, stopped Gretel, and looked at him eagerly:

"What about the ones you've been researching recently? What about... lung cleaning? Can it be used now?"

"cannot!"

"Can't!"

Two voices answered simultaneously. One is Gretel and the other is Master Hemond. As the mage answered, he squeezed into the crowd and reached out to hold Gretel:

"That technology would even choke animals to death, so it can't be used on humans!"

"But... Gretel has fed 20 rabbits in the past few days, and none of them have died!"

The little guy doesn't tell anyone anything, and he can't even keep up with the people who help him get out of trouble. Master Ximond cursed secretly, and when he was about to refute, a majestic voice suddenly sounded from the corner of the crowd:

"What about lung cleansing? Will it help?"

The dwarves instantly separated to both sides. Master Hemond looked along the empty space and could only let go of Gretel and bowed his head in greeting:

"Your Majesty the King."

"Your Majesty the King." Grete followed and saluted. He immediately raised his head and explained seriously:

"The method of washing the lungs is to pour clean salt water into the lungs and then pump it out to bring out the dust in the lungs. This technique is very dangerous and may cause people to choke to death. - Moreover, Master Tarbert He is too old and physically weak. He will not be able to withstand this method and will die!"

He explained in as much detail as possible, trying to dispel the dwarves' thoughts - originally, Master Tarbot was too old and had a lot of contraindications, so he would never be able to perform this kind of surgery. Unexpectedly, the king listened carefully and smiled:

"So, your method is used to help us expel dust from our lungs and restore health?"

"Yes, it is……"

"So, what do you think of me? Can you do it on me?"