A Hospital in Another World?

"Did the heretic really say that?"

Archbishop Jeroni’s voice was calm, neither happy nor angry. However, the bearded dwarf in front of him quickly bowed down:

"Yes, that’s exactly what he said, to decide after the election of the king. — Too cunning! If the result of the king’s election doesn’t go their way, do they intend to just walk away?"

Archbishop Jeroni pondered with his eyes lowered. The bearded dwarf took a quick glance at him before bowing his head again:

"That... lung cleansing... Can we really do it?"

"Do not doubt the mighty power of our Lord," Archbishop Jeroni replied offhandedly. The bearded dwarf quickly bowed to ask for forgiveness. After pondering for a moment, Archbishop Jeroni commanded in a gentle voice:

"Spread the word that the mage can only treat two people a day, and even if he stays in the royal court for a year, he can only treat over seven hundred people. That number of people, even if the Firehammer tribe takes them all, it won’t be enough, and others won’t be cared for. Go!"

The bearded dwarf left obediently. Archbishop Jeroni was lost in thought for a moment before taking some subordinates to visit Priest Martin to discuss:

"Can we really do that lung cleansing?"

Priest Martin was petting a rabbit on his lap, lost in thought. He had spent decades in the Northlands, treating thousands of dwarves and barbarians, including those who had worked in iron forging for centuries, suffering from chest tightness and breathlessness. He only knew to soothe and moisturize with holy power, providing some cough-relieving and phlegm-resolving herbs. As for pouring water into the lungs to cleanse...

He had thought about this idea briefly, only to discard it far away. After all, human lungs are not clothes that can be washed and scrubbed, then have the dirty water poured out. Unexpectedly, this seemingly absurd method was actually successful?

He thought hard but couldn’t understand some aspects. Garrett’s treatment process was not secret, and bits and pieces of it had always leaked out. However, trying to piece them together and think about it, there were always some barriers he couldn’t cross. For example, how to pour water into one lung without flooding the other?

When Archbishop Jeroni came to ask, Priest Martin thought for a moment, then shook his head:

"Let’s not talk about the rest, pouring water into human lungs would require the use of vines grown from heretical magic. I’ve thought about it for a long time and can’t find any substitute."

Archbishop Jeroni nodded silently. On his right, a young bishop spoke up:

"What about pouring directly without a tube?"

"How would you pour it in?" Priest Martin glanced over. The one who suggested was Bishop Klind, leaning forward in his chair, his thin lips sharp as a knife, always ready with a suggestion:

"【Drowning Spell】."

Priest Martin’s expression immediately darkened. The Drowning Spell was not a healing divine magic but a secret method used by the judiciary to interrogate prisoners—using magic to fill the prisoner’s lungs with water. The person would appear normal on the outside, but the sensation of struggling and pain was just like drowning.

The only difference was a breath left in the throat, barely enough to spit out a word or two. No matter how tough a man was, after a few rounds, he would grasp at that breath desperately to confess anything asked of him. The difference in the practitioners’ skill was merely the intensity of the divine power used and the timing of dispersing the magic—

A master could make one’s life a living hell, while a novice might end up killing the subject.

When Priest Martin was young, he had spent time in the judiciary and was familiar with various methods, having used many himself. One day, feeling something was wrong, he left for the Northlands, dedicating his life to educating barbarians. Even the small church he served in was built with his own hands, cutting stone and timber.

Recalling those days and casting a sharp glance at Bishop Klind, his gaze was as cutting as a knife. But after that glance, he quietly looked down, his voice calm:

"I don’t think it will work. If you must try, start with animals. Don’t cause human deaths."n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"Of course. We are trying this method to improve relations, not to make enemies," Archbishop Jeroni immediately smiled. However, after saying goodbye, he handed a purse to Bishop Klind:

"Find a way to try it before they descend from the mountain. It would be best to have results by then."

Bishop Klind nodded and left on his mission. What’s so difficult about the Drowning Spell? It’s just a first-level divine magic!

The 【Drowning Spell】 shared a concept with the curse spell 【Deep Breath】, except one involved filling lungs with air, and the other with water. Bishop Klind found several sheep in the kitchen and, after experimenting a few times, quickly mastered the essence of the spell. Next, it was time to test it on humans.

Holding the purse Archbishop Jeroni had given him, Klind didn’t dare to deceive or hire dwarves directly but instead wandered to the trading area. In the trading district of the dwarf king’s city, a wide variety of goods were on display, including slaves. Humans, barbarians, orcs—every type was available except dwarves, which no one dared to buy or sell there.

Bishop Klind quickly bought four slaves, all young human males. They weren’t the most expensive, but neither were they cheap. The purse from Archbishop Jeroni was half empty on the spot. Back at his residence, he called one out and cast the spell without explanation:

"【Drowning Spell】!"

The summoned slave struggled to breathe, his face turning purple as he couldn’t inhale at all, reflexively clawing at his chest. Only after he had scratched bloody marks across his chest and collapsed on the ground, curling up, did Bishop Klind wave his hand to dissipate the spell:

"How do you feel?"

The slave knelt on the ground, trembling, his forehead pressed tightly against the floor, suppressing any coughs. Bishop Klind looked down at him and nodded:

"As long as you’re alive. Stand up, let’s do it again!"

Once, twice, thrice. After three consecutive uses of the 【Drowning Spell】, the young slave collapsed, foaming at the mouth with blood, clearly on the brink of death. Bishop Klind looked at him with disgust and wiped his hands with a cloth:

"Slaves are just slaves, too frail to withstand even three times. The heretic cleanses lungs with nine treatments on one side, eighteen in total!"

Fortunately, slaves were a commodity that could be bought with money. After depleting one batch of slaves and then another, Bishop Klind finally achieved promising results with the third batch:

"Your Grace, I’ve made initial progress and can now perform the spell consecutively nine times on a single subject. —However, whether this method can truly have a healing effect remains to be verified."

"What do you need?" Archbishop Jeroni, having seen his level of spellcasting, nodded in satisfaction. Bishop Klind smoothly responded:

"I need a sick dwarf. Or, to be safer, it would be best to have several."

The next day, several dwarves from the Blackrock tribe were brought before Bishop Klind.

"Now is the time for you to dedicate yourselves to the Lord of Light and to your kin!"

---------------

• Your invaluable feedback and ratings mean the world to me. Please take a moment to rate this novel at Novelupdate.

• If you come across any mistakes within this chapter, kindly notify me in the comments below, so that I can make the necessary corrections.