I am creating a esoteric religion in London

Chapter 99 Surgery
In a closed windowless room, the air seemed too heavy to flow.

The whitewashed walls are filled with colors like deep winter snow.

The shining incandescent lights were so white that it was hard to keep your eyes open.

The pungent disinfectant smell rushed into the nasal cavity like it was going to fill the lungs.

Lying on his back on the icy table, surrounded by several strange monsters in mortal costumes, they gradually surrounded the flesh and blood on the stage with sharp blades in their hands.

The first thing to bear the brunt was a huge humanoid monster whose muscles exploded. Its body was so burly that the white doctor's uniform was bulging and almost shattered. There were blade-like bone spurs between the exposed elbow joints and metacarpal bones. A wet cloth towel was held in the palm the size of a cattail leaf fan, and the cloth towel was filled with a sweet smell.

It was Nello Backus, my old soldier in the [-]th Fusiliers of the Berkshire Brigade.

Nello covered his mouth and nose with a cloth towel with a sweet smell, and some kind of intoxicating breath poured into his body along with his breath. The stomach convulsed instinctively, and the lung lobes contracted to expel the harmful gas... Watson suppressed the resistance of the body with a strong spiritual will. He relaxed the muscles and epidermis, allowing the mundane knives to easily cut through the hard epidermis that has morphed many times, and cut the fibers of flesh and blood.

One, two, three, four, five... fourteen, fifteen.

He counted the time silently in his mind, the highly volatile chloroform gas was mixed with other additives, the effect of anesthesia rushed to his head, and his eyelids were as heavy as lead... He could still persist, but he was unwilling to persist.

Watson relaxed his mind and let the effect of anesthesia capture him. He dropped his eyes and fell into the darkness, seemingly in a coma.

Before his vision was completely dimmed, he saw that burly mountain-like monster slowly walking towards him. The sharp black hair on its body pierced the white surgical gown, and the lush long hair on its face covered the petite cotton mask. Only those eyes that bred fiery thunder were bursting with intense light.

Watson had probably passed out.

But the spirit is restrained and hidden with the hidden wings of the moth in the skull. He still maintains a clear consciousness and can still feel his life body, the dwelling place of the soul, and the physical condition existing in this world.

He felt the sharp knife tip against his thigh, and the cold foreign body sensation pierced into the flesh. The seemingly tough fibers were completely unable to block the attack of the sharp metal. As if ordered by Moses, the flesh and blood separated to the two sides, exposing the broken tibial nerve inside.

Then the monsters stopped moving, allowing the vitality of life to flow along the open wound.

Watson felt a cold breath covering his thighs, and at the same time, he seemed to hear singing in unison and the beating of drum instruments.

The singing voice is deep, the rhythm of the drumming is steady, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump... The rhythm is neither fast nor slow, and it sounds at a fixed position every second, and the rhythm is as if the heart is beating.

The sound of heartbeats from all directions reverberated in the small operating room, like a mountain stepping towards him.

Although the rhythmic beat remains the same, the sound of each drumbeat becomes heavier and more powerful, almost comparable to the roaring thunder in the sky.

Watson only felt that his heart also seemed to resonate with this rhythmic beat. Every pump of the heart became more and more powerful, and it almost burst out of his chest.

Strands of pure vitality are squeezed out from the beating of the heart, guided by the sound of drumming, attached to the high-speed flowing blood, avoiding the scars of knife wounds and guns along the way, and rushing straight to the open thigh.

Like the rain nourishing the dry rhizome, the broken nerve cord seems to be revived, the cells on both sides of the section are growing rapidly, protruding tiny granulation that is difficult to detect with the naked eye, as if two little hands are about to hold each other tightly.

The index fingers touched, the middle fingers hooked, the ring fingers entangled... Seeing that the broken nerve cord was about to heal completely, the pulsating drumming sound stopped abruptly.

The heart lost its guiding resonance, and the energy gushing out was helpless. After half of the recovery, it was unable to continue, so it could only dissipate between the thigh muscles. With the fast suturing action, the separated flesh and blood were accelerated to close together.

Watson knew that the treatment was over, and he also understood the intention of the other party. It was nothing more than using this as an excuse to further strengthen his desire to recover from the old disease, but he still kept silent, pretending to be unconscious, and waiting for the effects of the medicine to fade.

After touching No. 305 minutes and No. 20 seven seconds that he counted silently, Watson felt the effects of the medicine in his body begin to dissipate obviously. He trembled his eyelids slightly, preparing to wake up.

No. 309 minutes and 31 seconds, he began to lift his fingers.

No.40 Two minutes and nine seconds, Watson opened his eyes in a daze, and immediately felt the glare of the light, and he couldn't help squinting his eyes.

"Sir, you are awake."

Nello Backus, who was waiting at the side, was the first to notice Chief John's state. He got up from the small stool where he was temporarily resting, and hurriedly stepped forward to raise the head of the operating bed so that Watson could sit up comfortably.

"Nello..."

Watson looked around the operating room, only Nello Bax and Winfreys Morgan were left here, and the rest of the nurse assistants had left... But he could smell a familiar smell in the room, which was the smell of human blood.

But it didn't come from his own wound, but from another human being... Who is bleeding?

He looked anxiously at Dr. Winfreys who had just got up, and asked eagerly, "Mr. Morgan, is my operation still a success?"

Upon hearing this, Winfrey showed a somewhat regretful expression, "I'm sorry, Mr. John, your illness has been delayed for too long..."

Hearing these words, Watson felt as if he had been struck by a thunderbolt, his complexion suddenly darkened, disappointment climbed onto his face, and he let out a long and depressed breath. "well……"

However, Winfreys suddenly turned around and said: "It has been delayed for too long, so that the root of the disease has penetrated into the bone marrow. At present, we can only temporarily relieve the disease. If we want to fully recover, at least one more operation is required."

Watson's eyes lit up immediately, and uncontrollable joy climbed onto his face. The corners of his mouth unconsciously grinned, his heart was so surging that his voice trembled a little.

"Really, really?! Mr. Morgan, you didn't lie to me?! I only need to undergo another operation, and I can hope to fully recover and become a normal person with sound legs?!!!"

"No, no, Mr. John, you misunderstood. What I said is that you have to do it at least once more, not just one more time... However, as long as you rest at ease and gradually strengthen your body, it is indeed possible for you to recover from your condition. Even if you can't run wantonly, at least you can walk like a normal person without the assistance of crutches."

Watson's eye sockets were moist because he saw the dawn of hope. His lips trembled, opening and closing slightly, as if hesitating to speak, and searching all over his head, he couldn't organize words that could express his gratitude at the moment.

In the end, it was just eyes full of tears, struggling to reach out his hands, holding Winfreys Morgan tightly, shaking up and down heavily.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you so much, Mr. Morgan!!!"

"Your great kindness, I, John Watson, will never forget it in my life. If there is anything I can help you with in the future, just ask!"

"As long as it doesn't violate the interests of the country, even if it's killing... ahem, even if it's desperate, I will definitely complete it for you!!!"

Winfreys showed a satisfied smile, patted John's shoulder lightly, and comforted him:

"Hey, Mr. John, you are too polite. Saving patients is what our doctors should do... You should take a good rest first, and see how your recovery is after a while, and we will perform the next operation."

"Nello, you send Mr. John back to the inpatient department first, and remember to arrange a cleaner ward."

"Yes, Dean Winfreys."

Nello moved the happy old chief to the wheelchair, and pushed him to the upper-class ward that had been arranged.

It's just that behind him, which John couldn't see, he showed a look of guilt.

(End of this chapter)