Volume 2 Chapter 6: The Fake Performance and the Real Deal

Hearing Frank’s gravelly voice, the townsfolk instinctively cleared a path and turned around. A young gentleman was stepping out of the crowd, neatly dressed with a small medical kit in hand. His handsome face radiated a confident, friendly smile.

Audiya Town’s only doctors had already perished utterly. Though no one wanted to voice it, the residents knew this well. They didn’t recognize this young man and doubted he could cure the vicious illness that had baffled even their veteran physicians.

Yet, people often cling to a shred of naive hope until faced with harsh reality. Now, that shred rested on this young doctor, especially when one of their own collapsed in the street—shattering the pretend peace the whole town had carefully maintained.

“He’s too gravely ill to be moved home,” Qin Lun knelt beside the patient, examining his eyes and tongue. Qin Lun’s face turned serious as he called over his shoulder, “Frank! Get some help to put up a small tent nearby. I must perform surgery immediately!”

“Right away, Young Master! I’ll fetch help.” Frank pushed through the crowd. Moments later, he returned to the square with several local youths carrying canvas sheets.

A small canvas tent quickly appeared at the center of Audiya Town’s plaza. It enclosed three sides while leaving one open. It seemed the young doctor needed light—or deliberately created an opening facing the crowd, letting them witness the procedure firsthand.

Watching events unfold as intended, Qin Lun allowed himself a faint smile. But when he looked down, his brow furrowed. The patient lying beside him—eyes shut tight—had wildly darting eyeballs beneath his lids. Cold sweat beaded his forehead. Clearly, he’d heard Qin Lun mention surgery.

Qin Lun pressed two fingers lightly against the man’s carotid artery. Soon, the patient’s panicked breathing steadied. The frantic eye movement ceased as well. This time, real unconsciousness—from oxygen deprivation—took hold.

Opening his medical kit, Qin Lun drew liquid from a small, clear tube into a syringe, injecting it completely into a vein on the patient’s arm. This liquid, an anesthetic extracted from a plant in this world, left not a single drop behind.

Following anesthesia, Qin Lun donned a mask and thin leather gloves. He unrolled a leather case revealing a complete set of surgical tools. Without rubber here, tanned animal hide was the only option for gloves.

In reality, the anesthetic dose was far too slight for full sedation, insufficient for a major chest surgery. Operating in the grimy town square was sheer madness too.

Normally, infection would kill the patient regardless of surgical success, overwhelming even antibiotics. But today, even if other doctors existed in Audiya, no one intervened. This plague was quick and fatal. If surgery failed, death was certain—why not try everything? Protesting Qin Lun’s methods would only invite blame anyway.

Truth was, had genuine doctors remained, Qin Lun wouldn’t have attempted this. Performing publicly aimed to build his reputation. Another doctor could expose him later, ruining everything.

Qin Lun had studied the medical texts brought from Stan’s annex, gaining basic knowledge of this world’s physiology. Combined with his own clinical training, he possessed enough theory.

Though not formally a surgeon, his hands were steadier than most neurosurgeons—his nickname “The Dissector” suited him well.

But success wasn’t guaranteed by skill alone. Qin Lun’s true confidence lay in the “World Tree Dew.”

Taking a deep breath, Qin Lun focused. His sharp scalpel traced a hairline cut down the patient’s chest toward the navel, blood dotting the incision. After this vertical slice, he made two angled cuts inward along each collarbone, forming a ‘Y’-shaped wound.

This method wasn’t standard surgical practice—it resembled a dissection autopsy. But Qin Lun lacked modern imaging. A single cut wouldn’t reveal the internal situation.

Piercing skin and tissue, Qin Lun forced the patient’s breastbone apart, exposing the bloody chest cavity. The skeletal patient wore an agonized expression despite unconsciousness—the anesthetic too weak—and his heart hammered wildly.

Knowing the surgery couldn’t drag on, Qin Lun swiftly noted clusters of green specks dotting the organs inside. Like mold, they tainted the organs—not yet rotten—amid a strange smell filling the cavity.

He made no attempt to scrape away the infected patches. This spread resembled advanced cancer—surgery was hopeless. But this operation was mere theater anyway; the green flecks didn’t concern him.

Qin Lun sliced decisively, removing a badly infected section of intestine. He took Frank’s flat flask, forced several mouthfuls of its diluted “World Tree Dew” into the patient, then poured the remainder evenly into the open body cavity.

The dew didn’t disappoint. The green specks shrank back like prey, vanishing visibly. The patient’s taut face even relaxed slightly.

Relieved, Qin Lun nodded at a nearby barmaid helping out. She wiped the sweat from his forehead. Then, needle and thread in hand, he began stitching.

Within half an hour, Qin Lun finished this “live” surgery at astonishing speed.

When the patient’s family rushed in and carried the plague survivor—now conscious—out of the tent… When Frank proudly held up the rotting, green section of intestine wrapped in burlap for all to see… Audiya Town’s plaza erupted in waves of joyous cheering at last.

“Hooray! Hooray!”

…

“Morrison, is he truly alright?” Katharine asked, watching Qin Lun anxiously.

“Of course. His family must burn everything he touched so he won’t catch it again. Then he should recover fully.” Qin Lun calmly nibbled a pastry Katharine had brought.

“Thank goodness!” Katharine breathed out. Her eyes sparked with fervent admiration as she stared at him. “He got lucky, didn’t he?”

“Our luck was equally good,” Qin Lun replied, his smile holding deeper meaning.

Lucky ones included Morrison…and himself. Completing this Otherworld Mission conventionally would’ve been impossible. Mafa’s “World Tree Dew” was a shortcut.

Noon’s surgical display was planned. It resulted from Qin Lun’s pact with Katharine. Morrison was merely Katharine’s neighbor—struck by plague symptoms days earlier. His family prepared to exile him from town.

Strong physically, Morrison’s sickness wasn’t advanced yet. His street collapse? Entirely staged. The surgery though? Utterly real. Qin Lun saved him.

This show was devised even before Qin Lun reached Audiya Town.

Why choose Katharine’s inn over the busier one? Firstly, the bustling innkeeper was a middle-aged man; Katharine a woman. Secondly, a thriving businessman would prove harder to bribe.

Women loved gossip. Where men avoided questions, women obtained detailed answers. Business-hungry Katharine was easily tempted by money. Qin Lun planned to spend his last coins bribing her to arrange the surgery spectacle.

Unexpectedly, she proved ideal. Though it took some “charm,” she found Morrison—a flawless aid. A male innkeeper bribed with cash alone couldn’t have secured someone with Morrison’s bravery for this risky game.

Morrison’s family cooperated eagerly too. Despairing already, they grabbed this slim chance. Curing Morrison turned this fake show into undeniable truth—the rotten green intestine ripped from his body was overwhelmingly real.

With crowdtown witnesses, the spectacle succeeded perfectly. Now Qin Lun waited only for Baron Albert to summon him.

In following days, Katharine’s inn became the town hub. Residents hiding plague-struck kin openly sought Qin Lun’s help. The beaming middle-aged hostess hadn’t seen such profits in years. She attended Qin Lun’s needs obsessively nightly.

Qin Lun neither refused calls to heal nor agreed easily. Selecting patients carefully, he’d already wasted two precious drops of Mafa’s dew. The thumb-sized vial held perhaps four drops remaining, far too few to save these others.

Yet not every suffering villager bore the green plague. Qin Lun located several with ordinary illnesses—prime candidates. Employing antibiotics precious as Gold in this world—”Wisteria Compound”—he achieved miraculous cures too.

After the fifth villager walked cured from Katharine’s inn…the Baron of Albert Castle sent messengers at last, inviting Qin Lun to the fortress on the town’s outskirts.