Since Duan Feizhuo began working as an unlicensed doctor, he'd seen all sorts of patients: some crying and screaming, some forcing themselves to remain calm, some believing all was lost, with no will to live... But this was the first time he'd seen someone forcing him to practice medicine with a flying knife.
...This was truly an eye-opener.
The man with the flying knife called himself Goldstein. His companion was a thin, small, rodent-like man named Paimo.
Paimo lay on Duan Feizhuo's bed (the only bed in the shabby little house), clutching his abdomen. Blood gushed from beneath his fingers, quickly staining the sheets a bloody red.
Duan Feizhuo, bathed in Goldstein's menacing gaze, carefully cut open the victim's clothes with scissors.
He gasped.
Underneath the clothes lay a bloody mess of flesh, and several parallel wounds crisscrossed the victim's abdomen, as if torn by the claws of a wild animal.
What weapon could have inflicted such wounds?
What had Paimo provoked to deserve this fate?
Although extremely curious, none of this concerned Duan Feizhuo. The only thing he had to consider at the moment was how to treat the wounded.
The wounds had to be sutured, and the needles and thread had to be boiled and sterilized. Duan Feizhuo had just scooped a basin of water from the water tank when Goldstein showed his throwing knife.
"What do you want to do?" he asked coldly.
"Boil the water." Duan Feizhuo shrank back to avoid his blade.
"Don't try to do anything." Goldstein warned.
Paimo, who was lying on the bed, opened his eyes slowly and gestured to Duan Feizhuo: "Let me do it."
Duan Feizhuo looked at the seriously injured Paimo in confusion. He had difficulty even getting up, so did he want to help light a fire?
Goldstein pulled out a thin metal rod from his pocket and stuffed it into Paimo's hand.
Paimo pointed the metal rod at the basin, and with a "hiss", a stream of hot steam came out of the basin.
Duan Feizhuo was dumbfounded.
"How did you do that?" He tested the water's temperature with his finger, which was nearly cooked. "Is it magic?"
Paimo forced a smile on his pale face. "You can understand that, doctor."
- Magic exists in this world!
Duan Feizhuo seemed to hear angels trumpeting in the clouds. He had been in this world for three years, living in poverty and arduously, and now he finally discovered the unusualness of this world! Perhaps learning magic was the reason he had traveled here?
"If you know magic," Duan Feizhuo asked, "then why don't you heal yourself?"
Paimo laughed sarcastically: "I'm not good at that kind of secret art. Every profession has its own specialization, doctor."
Goldstein pushed Duan Feizhuo: "Stop talking nonsense and get to work."
Duan Feizhuo glanced at him and dipped the needle and thread into boiling water to sterilize it.
Paimo had brought some laudanum as a painkiller, so he didn't suffer as much as Ruth's father did during the operation. The operation lasted until late at night. When the moon rose high in the sky, Duan Feizhuo had finally sutured all of Paimo's wounds. He had to waste a precious candle for this.
Two operations in one day, he was almost exhausted. Goldstein stared at him the whole time like a jailer watching over a prisoner, which made him even more nervous.
He washed his bloody hands in the basin and...
He picked up the basin and walked out of the house.
"Where are you going?" Goldstein stopped him.
"I can't pour dirty water in my own house?" Duan Feizhuo said unhappily.
Goldstein pushed the door open a crack, looked out, and said coldly: "Go quickly and come back quickly, don't leave my sight
." He flipped his right hand and took out a throwing knife, as if to say: Even if you dare to run away, you can't escape my knife.
Duan Feizhuo shrank his neck, tiptoed out of the door with the basin in hand, and walked towards the nearest ditch.
Something suddenly flew over his head, and a black feather slowly fell down.
Duan Feizhuo raised his head, and it turned out to be a crow flapping its wings. Crows often gather on Muddy Street, perhaps because this street always exudes a foul smell.
The crow landed on the eaves, shook its wings, and its bright eyes reflected the cold moonlight.
Then, it spoke.
"Boss! It's that house."
Duan Feizhuo turned around subconsciously.
Bright moonlight shone across the endless rooftops of the shantytown on Muddy Street, like rolling hills covered in a layer of hoarfrost. At the junction of white and black, another figure appeared.
He strolled toward them in the moonlight, his jet-black coat fluttering in the wind, his long, silver-white hair dancing wildly.
He pulled a golden cigarette case from an inner pocket of his coat, and with a flick of his wrist, a hand-rolled cigar
emerged. He clamped the cigar between his teeth and pulled it from the case.
Noticing someone else on the street, he let out a soft "Hmm?" and lowered his bloodshot eyes to meet Duan Feizhuo's gaze on the ground.
Duan Feizhuo's mind instantly clung to a single thought:
This guy is damn beautiful! Duan Feizhuo
still remembers a small statue carved from human bone while visiting a museum. The carving was exquisite, a work of skill beyond belief, yet every time he looked at it, he couldn't help but remember that it had once been a living person.
The physically uncomfortable feeling of disgust and the exquisitely crafted beauty of the artwork were strangely combined, forming an indescribable beauty.
This man gave him exactly the same feeling as the statue.
He looked at Duan Feizhuo, but his eyes were not focused on the latter's face. He just looked in that direction blankly, as if wondering if there was anyone there.
After a few seconds - it seemed like centuries to Duan Feizhuo, the white-haired man looked away.
He put the cigarette box back into his pocket, took out a matchbox, took out a match, rubbed it lightly, and lit the cigar.
He just stood there, puffing away quietly. The cigar smoke was quickly blown away by the night wind, like snowflakes disappearing into the darkness.
The next second, he disappeared.
The cigar, still burning with sparks, slowly fell.
A silver-white shadow quickly passed by Duan Feizhuo's eyes. Duan Feizhuo rubbed his eyes, and then realized that the white-haired man had not disappeared, but was moving at a speed that could not be captured by the naked eye.
He sprinted across the rooftops, leaped onto the roof of Duan Feizhuo's house, kicked away the crumbling tiles, and jumped in through the gap between the beams.
The cigar had just fallen to the ground and went out with a "hiss". A scream rang out from inside the house. The door was thrown open in a panic, and
the sturdy Gord
Stan stumbled out and fell flat on his face. He struggled to stand up, his face covered in blood and filled with extreme fear, trying desperately to escape from something.
The white-haired man, who was so beautiful that he seemed inhuman, stepped out of the hut.
Goldstein turned around and threw a throwing knife at him, but the white-haired man blocked it with a slight raise of his hand.
Duan Feizhuo noticed that his sleeve was torn, revealing a brass-colored arm that reflected a cold metallic luster.
Duan Feizhuo suddenly realized that it was a mechanical prosthesis.
He had long discovered that this era was different from the Victorian era in history. The steam revolution was advancing by leaps and bounds, and steam-driven airships and prosthetic limbs that could connect to nerves had already appeared. Even if this world stepped directly from steampunk into the door of cyberpunk, Duan Feizhuo would not be surprised at all.
The white-haired man stepped on Goldstein's back. When he raised his leg, Duan Feizhuo clearly heard the sound of machinery running. Could it be that this guy's legs were also mechanical prostheses?
Goldstein let out a near-death scream and collapsed, motionless.
"I surrender! I surrender!"
The white-haired man's beautifully shaped lips curved slightly into a cruel smile, as if savoring a sweet fragrance that filled the air.
Duan Feizhuo could hardly tell whether he was human or ghost. If he was human, why was he so cruel? If he was a ghost... were there such beautiful ghosts in the world?
If he weren't covered in blood, this scene would have been a truly pleasing spectacle.
No, Duan Feizhuo thought. Even with his blood, the scene was still magnificent, like a warlike and bloodthirsty god rising from hell, stepping on the corpses of his enemies, so beautiful that it made one's soul tremble.
The crows on the eaves stretched their necks: "Boss, below you..."
The white-haired man leaped back.
Where he had been standing, the muddy ground suddenly exploded. A huge rat jumped out from the ground.
No, it was not a rat, but the shifty-looking Paimo.
He clutched the metal rod—or perhaps a wand, perhaps—in his right hand, clutching his abdomen with his left. Hatred and fear filled his sharp features.
"You're such a master of burrowing, Paimo," the crow scoffed. "I urge you to surrender quickly. Perhaps our leader will show mercy and spare your body."
Paimo grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth. "It's an honor to have the Night Watch commander personally arrest me.
" He pointed his wand at the crow. "I'd love to know what your superiors' expression would be when they saw their best man reduced to a corpse." "
An invisible shock wave gushed out from the wand.
The crow fell back heavily, as if hit by an invisible fist. It rolled several times on the undulating roof, and fell down with a "bang".
Paimo turned the wand again and pointed it at the white-haired man. Another shock wave surged from the wand.
The white-haired man dodged quickly, but was still a step too late. The shock wave hit his right shoulder. With a click, his right arm broke off from the shoulder, separated from his body, and flew out completely.
Several cables hung from the severed surface of his right arm, and several gears were spinning idly.
The white-haired man had a blank expression on his face, without even blinking.
It was as if what flew away just now was not his arm, but an insignificant decoration on his body.
"Is that the only trick you have?" He sneered.
Beads of sweat appeared on Paimo's forehead. He turned around abruptly and stared at Duan Feizhuo who had been huddled nearby to watch the fight.
He rushed towards Duan Feizhuo at lightning speed and clamped him with his thin arms.
"Don't come over! If you dare to move, I will blow this kid's head off!" He pressed his wand against Duan Feizhuo's chin.
Duan Feizhuo was stunned: "Brother, I just saved your life, and you are repaying me with evil like this?"
"Shut up! Otherwise I will blow your head off now.
" "If I die, you will have no hostages, right?"
The sound of birds flapping their wings came from overhead. The crow flew back to the eaves with difficulty.
"Don't get excited, Paimo," it said, "Let the young man go. He is innocent, and you will hurt him."
Paimo roared: "All of you get out of the way! Let me go! When I'm safe, I will let this kid go
." The crow shook its head.
"You don't understand, Paimo. You really will hurt him." It said with pity, "The boss is different from me. He never cares about the life or death of the hostages. "
Duan Feizhuo was stunned.
The white-haired man rushed towards the gangsters and hostages at the speed of an arrow. At the same time, a sharp blade popped out from his only remaining hand.
The last scene Duan Feizhuo witnessed was the white-haired man's unusually beautiful face approaching his eyes.
The sharp blade hit his chest, pierced his body, and then stabbed the kidnapper behind him.
Pai Mo let go, and the magic wand rolled away.
The blade was pulled out, and blood splattered.
A trace of blood splashed on the white-haired man's cheek.
Duan Feizhuo looked down at the hole in his chest that kept bleeding, and fell down weakly.
- What kind of Russian rescue is this...