Iron Powder and Spellcaster

The cell is still the same as before, but the environment has been slightly improved.

The guards brought in a lot of straw and hay and spread it over the pitted mortar floor.

The cell doors are also unlocked, and warrant officers are free to use the guard toilets without having to fetch buckets from their cells.

The information delivered by Major General Antonio gave the warrant officers confidence. As he said, the customs is now in a difficult position and does not dare to do anything to these army officers. It even has to try its best to meet the requirements of the warrant officers.

In the cell, Winters and his contemporaries were watching with interest the famous doctor invited by the customs to treat Major Moritz.

"Don't crowd over here!" The old doctor glared at the warrant officers and scolded them in a bad tone: "There are so many people around, it's so dark that you can't see anything clearly, please get out of the way! Let some wind come in!"

The old doctor was wearing monk-style robes made of fine silk. He has a beautiful goatee on his chin, and his scolding tone is very much like that of a senior military officer. He is full of aura and looks like a man of great ability.

Upon hearing this, the warrant officers immediately took a few steps back obediently to make room. In order not to block the light, they all sat on the ground. But they still couldn't restrain their curiosity and craned their necks to watch.

The warrant officers gave Major Moritz the area with the best ventilation and lighting in the cell. Under him was the only straw mattress in the entire cell. But no matter what, this is just a prison cell, not a nursing home. The doctor is obviously not satisfied with the environment here.

This famous doctor from Aquamarine City, who was said to have been hired by the anti-smuggling company with a large sum of money, put his right hand on Major Moritz's wrist, gently twirled his beard with his left hand, and lowered his eyelids, thoughtfully.

"What are you doing?" Winters gently poked Bud's leg and asked quietly.

Bud narrowed his eyes and thought for a while: "Maybe he is diagnosing the pulse, right? Treating people by feeling the pulse. I have read about this diagnostic method in a book before, it seems to be in the "Medical Classics"?" Bud shook his head. He shook his head: "I can't remember clearly."

"Medicine box!" The old doctor's eyes flashed, and he changed from a puppet back to a living person. It was obvious that he had come to a conclusion: "Bring me the medicine box."

The assistant who came with him hurriedly took down the wooden medicine box slung across his body and handed it to the old doctor with both hands respectfully.

The warrant officers' emotions were instantly aroused, and the atmosphere in the cell began to become restless.

They are really bored. A group of lively and active young men sit in jail without any entertainment activities to pass the time. Now, even giving them a stick can keep them entertained for a long time.

The doctor took off a key hanging on a string around his neck and opened the golden lock of the wooden box with a click. Although this wooden box is small, there is a secret inside. As the lid is lifted, the entire wooden box slowly unfolds like petals.

The warrant officers who were sitting on the ground and watching all let out a sound of admiration.

There was an imperceptible proud smile on the old doctor's lips. In this aquamarine city, everyone, whether they were powerful officials or wealthy businessmen, were amazed when they saw his carefully crafted medicine chest.

Winters watched as the famous doctor opened his exquisite medicine cabinet and took out... a knife from one of the compartments.

Wait, knife?

Winters' originally excited smile froze. He was horrified to see the old doctor holding the major's hand with his left hand, picking up a knife with his right hand and about to cut the major's wrist.

There were several exclamations from the cell.

"Wait a minute!" Winters shouted anxiously, jumped up and rushed to the major's side, grabbed the old doctor's wrist and twisted it hard, snatched the knife away, and asked in a stern voice: "What are you going to do?"

When the doctor's assistant saw the teacher being beaten, he became anxious and wanted to fight Winters. However, as soon as he raised his arm, he was dragged down and subdued by Winters.

The doctor was almost frightened to death by Winters. He was already in his fifties and sixties. His old arms and legs could not withstand this attack. His wrist was almost broken by Winters. He asked tremblingly: "You, You, what are you going to do?"

Winters was angry and laughing. He gestured to the doctor with the knife in his hand: "What I'm asking is what are you going to do with this?"

The old gentleman regained his composure a little. He collected his emotions and said angrily: "You came to ask me to treat this gentleman."

“Yeah, that’s right, but what are you doing out there with a knife?

The doctor was so angry that Winters was so angry that he sneered and asked, "I am treating this gentleman, do I still need to explain to you?"

"If you are willing to explain, of course I am willing to listen." Winters pushed back without being humble or condescending.

"Hahaha." The doctor laughed angrily at Winters: "Have you read "Muluo Medical Sutra"?"

"I haven't read it."

"Have you read the Proverbs of Clardy?"

"I haven't read it."

"Have you read "On Water, Air, Fire and Earth"? Have you read "On Trauma"? Have you read "Hedegar's Notes"?"

"nothing."

"Then do you understand the theory of body fluids?"

"don't know."

The old doctor was furious: "Then what do you want to do? You don't understand anything and you want me to explain it to you?"

Winters was also very angry: "You want to cut the major's wrist with a knife, I will never agree!"

"What do you know?" The old doctor pointed at Winters' nose and scolded: "This gentleman drank too much salt water after drowning. His body fluids were imbalanced and poisonous blood accumulated in his liver. The liver and his right arm are the exterior and interior of each other. Just release the poisonous blood on his right arm!"

"I've only heard of soldiers losing blood and dying on the battlefield, but I've never heard that bloodletting can save people!"

"That's nonsense. Where did you learn medical skills? How dare you act so arrogantly in front of me?" The old man blew his beard and glared.

Winters replied coldly: "Army Academy!"

"Doesn't the Army Academy teach killing? Does it also teach medical skills?"

"Military schools don't teach medical skills, but I learned something in hygiene class: if there is bleeding from a wound, you have to find a way to stop it, but no one taught me to take the initiative to bleed even though there is no trauma!"

"Can traumatic blood loss and internal toxin accumulation be regarded as the same?"

"I don't care! The major is very weak now. I absolutely cannot agree to you bleeding him. Do you only have bloodletting therapy?" Winters was too lazy to argue with the doctor and insisted that he would not allow the major to be bled. All of Winters' medical knowledge came from the health courses in military schools, which came from practical experience in the war of sovereignty.

The old man was so angry with Winters that he almost had a stroke. He yelled angrily: "If you don't let me bleed him, I won't treat him! If this gentleman's condition worsens, it will be your responsibility." !Don’t come to me!”

After saying that, he snatched his knife back from Winters, threw it into his medicine box, slammed the wooden box shut, and walked away angrily.

His assistant glanced around the cell hatefully and followed the old man in dismay.

Winters kicked the doctor away. He actually felt a little guilty, but he thought he was right this time.

He and his classmates who were sitting on the ground watching him said helplessly: "Can bloodletting be called a cure? That would really kill the major."

"Okay!" Andre cheered loudly and clapped hard: "I've long been disgusted by this pretentious old guy!" Others clapped their hands along with him, and sparse cheers rang out in the cell. applause.

Winters nodded gratefully to Andre, now seeing something endearing in Andre's character. This guy has no sense of right and wrong. In other words, this guy's sense of right and wrong is just five words: protect your own people. Our own people are all right, and our enemies are all wrong.

The major couldn't hear anything now. He only saw the doctor and Winters seem to be arguing. The medical assistant was pushed to the ground by other warrant officers, and then the doctor threw away his hands and left.

He picked up the quill and wrote a line on the paper and handed it to Winters: What happened?

Winters smiled bitterly and wrote on the paper: The doctor just now said that the toxins in your blood are accumulated in the liver, and he wanted to bleed your arm. I refused, and he left.

The major looked at it, nodded, and wrote on the paper: It's normal. The world does not agree with our medical experience and thinks that we are just a group of executioners, but we are just summarizing the rules in practice. Thank you, you were right not to let him use bloodletting.

After receiving the major's forgiveness, Winters felt at ease. In fact, he was most afraid that the major himself supported the bloodletting therapy, and running out to stop the doctor would turn into a farce.

Winters suddenly remembered that the major had not had a good meal, so he wrote: Do you want to eat?

The major shook his head. He had no appetite. The major now spends most of his time asleep and is eager to know new information. He picked up a pen and wrote: Are there any new developments in the customs now?

Winters replied: Not yet, but the attitude has softened a lot.

Looking at Major Moritz's slightly sunken cheek, Winters suddenly remembered the scene where he asked the major to aim at the opponent's head on the dock, but the major still hit the opponent's breastplate fiercely. Now that he thinks about it, it's really hilarious. .

So Winters smiled and wrote on the paper: If you had aimed at those assassins and hit them on the head, the customs would have given us medals now.

When the silver coins shot by the major with the flying arrow technique collided with the armor, Winters heard the heartbreaking sound of metal deformation, and the assassin was even beaten back repeatedly to offset the momentum.

This power is no weaker than an arrow shot from a hard bow weighing more than 100 pounds. The assassin was not wearing a helmet. If he was hit in the head, he would definitely not survive.

Major Moritz wrote with a helpless smile: His hands were shaking and he couldn't hit accurately, so he aimed at the torso.

At first glance, Winters didn't understand what the major meant, but he recalled the major's state before he disembarked, and he immediately understood.

Based on Winters' current understanding of magic, the flying arrow technique is to accelerate the object as much as possible within his casting range. In essence, it is throwing darts with the "third hand", and the accuracy depends entirely on the "feel".

The casting material used by the Major to release the Flying Arrow Technique was the silver coin he had been playing with. Winters speculated that the reason why the Major kept playing the coin trick on his hand was probably to maintain the feeling of the Flying Arrow Technique.

However, in his final days aboard the Skua, the major's hands were shaking uncontrollably due to alcohol addiction withdrawal symptoms. If you can't even do the coin trick, let alone expect any accuracy with the flying arrow trick.

General Antoine Laurent believed that spellcasters should not use any addictive substances, as addictive substances would destroy the caster's precious spell abilities.

Winters used to blindly follow the general's teachings and refuse to drink or smoke, but now Major Moritz's magic ability has been greatly reduced due to alcoholism, which has taught Winters a lesson in reality.

Winters actually wanted to persuade Major Moritz to quit drinking completely. He dreamed of becoming a powerful spellcaster like the major.

It was so ironic that a spellcaster with such a high level of magical attainments was addicted to alcohol. It was like someone was trampling on Winters' most cherished things in front of him.

But it is a big taboo for him to know someone intimately and talk deeply. Alcoholism is the major's personal choice. He has no position and no qualifications to say such things as "I am doing this for your own good."

Seeing that Major Moritz was beginning to become tired, Winters helped the major lie down and watched him fall into a deep sleep again.

——————

At the same time that Major Moritz fell asleep, he was still in the Customs Administration, still in Hurd's office, with the same few people, and the same dull atmosphere.

The customs directors were still just smoking. This time, Hurd also joined the smog-causing army.

The current situation is: Everyone from top to bottom at the Customs knows that these army trainee officers are innocent and must be sent away, but no one dares to mention it first.

No matter who proposes this solution, the customs leadership will immediately send these army plague gods away with the help of others.

But anyone who proposes this solution will be labeled as kowtowing to the Army and insulting the dignity of the Customs. This label will be mentioned repeatedly in future internal criticisms, and those who are labeled with this label will have ten thousand feet stepped on.

The department chiefs thought that Hurd was waiting for his subordinates to stand up and share the leaders' worries, and the department chiefs were waiting for Hurd to show his leadership temperament and help his subordinates to deal with the thunder.

The two chief brigades of the Veneta Army Standing Corps were gearing up outside the city, waiting for the throne to give the order to move out to rob people.

It was the director of the Anti-Smuggling Department who spoke first: "We still can't break up with the Army over such a trivial matter."

Showing weakness does not mean that he is a capitulator at heart.

"What are you afraid of? Let them come! Who are you trying to scare with cannons? Do they think we don't have cannons?" The tax director roared and wanted to fight.

People with a high tone may not necessarily be true hardliners.

"If you can't make up your mind, just follow the majority. How about an anonymous collective vote at the director level and above?"

oh? There is another guy here who wants to fish in troubled waters and try to distract the chief executive.

Hurd sat behind his desk, calmly enjoying his tobacco.

He is now fifty-eight years old, considered to be in his twilight years.

His thinking is no longer quick, his body is no longer flexible, his hair on the temples has turned gray, and age spots have begun to appear on his cheeks.

But his heart is like a mirror. Sitting on the chair of the General Director of Customs, he could clearly see everyone's little thoughts.

What does it mean to catch a few wrong warrant officers? This is just seeing that he is about to retreat, so even small things that are bigger can make the demons dance wildly.

He had already made a decision in his mind, and now he just wanted to finish smoking the pipe quietly and take a look at the quality of his subordinates.

Unless something unexpected happens, the next Chief Administrator of Customs will be selected by the 15-member committee responsible for finance from among the current directors.

Hurd had to make sure that the Veneta Republic Customs House, a place he had devoted his life to, was in the right hands.

"I'll solve it." This is a voice rarely heard in director meetings, calm and calm.

Hurd gently knocked out the ashes in the bowl.

Winters became a "medical troublemaker", but this is by no means encouraging the judges to compete with doctors in the real world for professional knowledge. It's just that in the different world where Winters lives, those barbers who have treated wounded soldiers are closer to the truth than some doctors, because practice is the only criterion for testing truth.

In addition, you may not believe it, but before the formation of modern medicine, ancient European doctors also used herbal medicine and pulse diagnosis technology.

Needless to say, herbal medicines were mostly used by monks in monasteries and left records.

As for pulse diagnosis, the first chapter of the "Autobiography" of the 16th-century Italian Benvenuto Cellini mentioned that his father knew a little Latin and medical skills, and diagnosed his pulse when he was sick, and also judged his mood through pulse diagnosis.

However, I don’t know whether this technology was introduced from the Arab region to the Latin region, or whether it was a diagnostic method used by people in the Latin region since ancient times.

P.S Thanks to Duan Shou Liu Da Wet Chest and Social Justice Lao Wang for their recommendation votes, and thanks to Lao Wang for the reward. I'm really happy that there are live people reading the stories I write.