Chapter 18: Saving One Person, Gaining One Point of Merit?

At this moment!

Zhao Feng scanned the surroundings, his expression shifting slightly as a look of astonishment surfaced.

"That military doctor, don't you use fire to sterilize your blades and then disinfect them with strong liquor?"

Seeing the military doctor beside him preparing to use a small knife to cut through the flesh of a soldier pierced by an arrow to retrieve it, Zhao Feng asked in sudden surprise.

When he had retrieved the arrow earlier, the wound wasn't too deep, so he hadn't needed to cut into the flesh.

"What sterilization with fire? What disinfection with strong liquor?"

Hearing Zhao Feng's words, the military doctor looked bewildered.

"Huh?"

Hearing the doctor's retort, Zhao Feng was actually the one left stunned.

This basic medical common sense was something even a child in the future would understand.

How could a military doctor of this era not know it?

"Strong liquor is for drinking; if you're drunk, it won't hurt as much."

"As for sterilizing with fire, that is utter nonsense. What is the purpose?"

"Just rest well now that you've been treated," the doctor said, feeling somewhat displeased that his medical skills were being questioned.

"Brother Zhao."

"This military doctor is a famous divine physician in our army. His name is Master Chen, and his medical skills were passed down from a Great Physician."

"It is precisely because of Physician Chen's presence in our Lantian Camp's infirmary that many of our brothers have been able to escape the gates of hell," a soldier sitting beside Zhao Feng whispered.

Judging by his attire, he was not logistics personnel, but a true soldier.

However, news had already spread through the army that Zhao Feng had slain the Tyrant Kite, so many soldiers naturally knew of him.

*He doesn't even know how to disinfect? This "divine physician" is a fraud,* Zhao Feng thought to himself. *Or perhaps the concept of disinfection simply doesn't exist in this era. No wonder so many people in the camp contract tetanus; without disinfection, it's a miracle if they don't.*

"Brother, what is the survival rate of the infirmary?" Zhao Feng asked the soldier beside him.

"What do you mean by 'survival rate'?" the soldier asked, puzzled.

"Uh." Zhao Feng paused, realizing his terminology was a bit too advanced. After a moment of thought, he added, "I mean, out of ten people who enter the infirmary, how many manage to live?"

"That depends on the Heavens. If they don't contract the 'Seven-Day Wind' and don't bleed out, there is a high chance of survival. But if they catch the Seven-Day Wind, they are doomed. Of course, if they suffer internal injuries and cannot stop the bleeding, they are also doomed."

"Light wounds don't count, but for heavy injuries involving internal organs, if one out of ten survives, it's considered good. If a divine physician like Physician Chen treats them personally, it can increase the chances of survival by a few percent," the soldier replied after thinking it over.

"You know quite a lot, brother," Zhao Feng remarked.

"Sigh."

"I've been in this infirmary several times. By the grace of the Heavens, the gates of hell haven't claimed me yet," the soldier sighed, offering a bitter smile.

*Do I have to stand by and watch them die from the Seven-Day Wind?*

Looking at the soldiers in the infirmary wailing in constant pain, Zhao Feng felt a pang of heartache.

If he hadn't known these details, he might not have felt such psychological pressure, but he knew the consequences of failing to disinfect.

*I am a soldier of Qin now. Though I am in logistics, I am still a soldier. If I stand by and watch my brothers die, I won't be able to live with myself.*

With that thought, Zhao Feng made his decision.

He slowly rose from his cot and walked toward Physician Chen.

"Physician Chen."

"I know you were taught by a master and possess extraordinary skills. But since this concerns the lives of our fellow brothers-in-arms, I must offer a few suggestions," Zhao Feng said with a serious expression.

"Speak."

Master Chen stopped his work and looked at Zhao Feng with suspicion.

"First, the knives used to cut flesh must be sterilized with intense fire. This will burn away the filthy toxins of the Seven-Day Wind. After a knife has treated one soldier, it must be immediately cleaned and then passed through fire to destroy the toxins, preventing cross-infection."

"Second, the wounds should be rinsed with strong liquor, which can also serve to clear the Seven-Day Wind toxins."

"If we follow my method, the survival rate of the soldiers in this army could increase by at least thirty percent."

"Of course, the strong liquor available now isn't true strong liquor, but it will have to suffice for now," Zhao Feng said solemnly.

After a moment of deep thought, Master Chen stared at Zhao Feng and asked, "Are you proficient in medicine?"

"I wouldn't say proficient, but my mother was a top-tier physician. I have learned much through osmosis since childhood," Zhao Feng replied.

"I have never heard of sterilizing blades with fire or cleansing wounds with liquor. If I truly attempt to treat people this way and something goes wrong, not only will I be held responsible, but so will you."

"Are you certain you want me to use this method?" Master Chen asked sternly.

Zhao Feng glanced at the surrounding brothers wailing in pain, some of whom were already at death's door.

"If the method I suggest works, countless brothers can be saved. If there is an accident, I will take full responsibility," Zhao Feng replied with unwavering determination.

Seeing this stance, a flash of admiration crossed Master Chen's eyes.

"Someone!"

"Prepare fire! Prepare strong liquor!" Master Chen immediately ordered his subordinates.

A moment later, a subordinate brought over a brazier, and strong liquor was placed nearby.

"Tell me how to proceed, and I will perform the treatment," Master Chen said, looking at Zhao Feng.

"I'll do it."

Zhao Feng took the small knife directly from Master Chen's hand.

He first held the knife over the fire to roast it. Once it was sufficiently heated, Zhao Feng approached the heavily injured, unconscious soldier.

*Heaven protect us.*

Having acquired basic medical skills, retrieving an arrow was naturally simple, but Zhao Feng still felt a bit nervous for his first time.

After calming himself for a moment, looking at the arrow embedded deep in the flesh, Zhao Feng made his move.

He poured strong liquor over the wound, then used the knife to cut through the flesh and extract the arrow. As the arrowhead came out, blood began to flow uncontrollably.

"Sutures!" Zhao Feng shouted immediately.

"What sutures?" Master Chen asked in confusion.

"Stitching the wound!" Zhao Feng replied without looking back.

But as soon as the words left his mouth, Zhao Feng jerked his head around. "Don't the wounds of the injured need to be stitched?"

"After removing the arrowhead, we apply hemostatic powder. What is the use of stitching?" Master Chen asked, bewildered.

*No wonder the survival rate is so low. The medical skills of this era are truly lacking.*

*Wait, it seems suturing didn't appear until the Western Han dynasty; it doesn't exist in this era yet,* Zhao Feng thought to himself.

He then fumbled in his robes—in reality, he was retrieving a needle and thread from his system space.

Under Master Chen's astonished gaze, Zhao Feng stitched the soldier's wound.

Once stitched, the bleeding significantly subsided. Zhao Feng immediately took out hemostatic powder from the side and applied it.

As Zhao Feng finished his first medical procedure, a prompt suddenly appeared on his panel: "Treated one person. Gained 1 point of Merit."

*Saving people grants Merit?*

Seeing this sudden prompt, Zhao Feng was momentarily stunned; this was something he hadn't expected.

"What is the use of this Merit?" Zhao Feng immediately communicated with the system.