More than a month had passed since Lin Yu, swayed by a mere bowl of leftovers, had taken on the role of a medic.
Her thirty-odd days within the tent had proven exceedingly dull; she found herself trembling as she passed instruments, her face ashen as she stitched incisions. The operating table was perpetually splattered with blood, and she knew she would never experience anything remotely “interesting” while confined to this place.
Only when all the wounded had been treated, or, tragically, had succumbed to their injuries, did Lin Yu find herself with a moment to spare. During these rare lulls, she would seek amusement in Nangong’s casual chatter or in the books Nangong brought into the tent.
Even so, the thickest among those books remained hidden from Lin Yu’s sight.
That, however, was inconsequential, for Lin Yu had absorbed a vast amount of knowledge, mastering the most advanced military medical techniques of the era.
The only price she paid was the strain on her eyes from reading incessantly by the dim glow of the kerosene lamp.
Much of this knowledge demanded not only practical surgical application but also a solid theoretical grounding. The strokes of the traditional characters were incredibly dense, each one as minuscule as an ant, making them particularly taxing on the eyes.
When the injuries were not severe, Nangong would take the lead, allowing Lin Yu to slowly pore over her books during periods of good sunlight. The constant moans and cries of the wounded became the designated ambient soundtrack to her diligent studies.
However, if the injuries were grave or the number of casualties surged, Lin Yu would immediately set aside her books, joining Nangong in performing surgeries or meticulously bandaging wounds and applying salves.
“Lin Yu.”
“Hmm?”
“You’ve learned quite a bit, I think it’s time I explained some advanced techniques to you.”
“…Ah, alright.”
She had already mastered the art of locating bleeding points amidst gushing wounds, swiftly clamping them shut with forceps, and could just as rapidly suture both accidental injuries and surgical incisions. Minor tasks like bandaging and changing dressings had long become second nature to her.
Her muscle strength, too, had considerably improved after a month of consistent meals, enabling her to single-handedly drag deceased patients from their beds to the burial pit, no longer needing to bother Nangong or other soldiers for assistance.
‘So, after all this time, I’ve only just begun to scratch the surface?’
“Regarding healing spells, you need to understand some basic principles.”
Lin Yu set down her book, preparing to listen intently.
‘Wait?’
“Healing spells? But I don’t know magic…”
“You’ll find a use for them someday. After all, magical technology is so advanced now; it’s not impossible for a scalpel capable of casting healing spells to appear.”
Magic wasn’t exclusively for mages; by etching spell arrays with specific materials onto precise locations, even ordinary individuals could wield magic just like a trained practitioner.
“There’s something called a ‘magic tool,’ designed specifically for those without magical talent, though it can also make it easier for the gifted to cast spells… Oh, and by the way, get your rifle out.”
Nangong’s sudden request for Lin Yu to retrieve her rifle was unexpected. Though perplexed by the intention, Lin Yu dutifully rummaged through the pile of miscellaneous gear, eventually producing the dust-laden weapon and handing it over.
Having only been maintained once and carelessly wiped, the rifle still bore traces of fine, dried earth from the trenches and mud pits embedded within its crevices.
With practiced ease, she disengaged the safety and pulled back the bolt. The bullet, ejected from the chamber, was deftly caught in her hand, which she then held up, pinching the projectile between her fingers, to display it to Lin Yu.
Contrary to Lin Yu’s expectations, the bullet was unlike any she had envisioned. Only its warhead was an orange-yellow hue; the casing itself was composed of a translucent, cylindrical material of unknown origin, which shimmered with an enchanting glow when caught by the light.
“Rifles are a type of magic tool. Spell arrays are etched inside the barrel, driven by magic stones, to fire copper-jacketed lead bullets.”
‘So it really isn’t gunpowder.’
Lin Yu possessed only a superficial understanding of this world’s military landscape. A mere glance at the trenches had instinctively led her to draw parallels between this conflict and World War I, yet it was evident that significant differences existed in certain crucial details.
Her previous life had been devoid of magic, so it seemed entirely normal for a world imbued with such power to develop all manner of peculiar and advanced technologies.
“Returning to the main point… the essence of healing spells is to promote cell division within the body, which means rapid hemostasis and accelerated wound healing. When applied correctly, they can significantly increase a casualty’s survival rate—however, for certain cells that lack the ability to divide, healing spells will be completely ineffective, and there’s no need to waste magic on such patients.”
“If your magic is depleted from continuously healing the wounded, logistics will typically provide potions for rapid replenishment. Should you even run out of those potions, you can always ask others for a few rounds of ammunition and hold them in your mouth, just like this.”
Nangong set down the rifle, then placed the thicker end of the bullet between her lips. Moments later, the translucent crystalline part vanished, leaving only the metallic warhead to clatter to the ground.
“The magic stones used to fire bullets and shells can also replenish magic, but since they aren’t purified, they cause minor harm to the body.”
An unseen force emanated from her lips. Nangong casually picked up a sterilized scalpel and drew a sharp line across her own palm.
“Ow, ow, ow…”
Blood welled from the wound, slowly dripping through her fingers onto the ground.
Composing her features, Nangong lifted her gaze, instructing Lin Yu to observe her demonstration closely. “Watch carefully, Lin Yu,” she began, “this is how healing spells are performed.”
She splayed her injured palm open, and from the center of her other hand, a faint green ‘gas’ dotted with specks of light drifted forth. As these luminous particles settled upon the wound, the scalpel’s incision healed at a visibly accelerated pace, and the bleeding ceased almost instantly.
“This is merely the most basic application. Over the many years of warfare, the army has developed numerous more ingenious uses. Now, I’ll teach you these advanced methods…”
Just as Nangong was about to instruct Lin Yu on the intricacies of employing healing spells, Lin Yu interrupted her.
“I don’t know how to do any of that… But speaking of which, Nangong, you actually know how to use magic?”
“Shh, it’s a secret.”
Hearing her utter the word “secret,” Lin Yu’s mind immediately conjured the faces of several wounded soldiers.
They had died on the operating table, their faces pallid, because their massive hemorrhages couldn’t be staunched in time, or they had simply perished en route to the tent.
‘If Nangong could have treated them with magic, if Nangong could have set up a temporary medical post a little closer to the front…’
Nangong had always maintained that a healer possessed a benevolent heart; as a medic, one should do everything within their power, save lives by all possible means, and never abandon a single casualty until the very last moment.
Her current actions clearly contradicted the very principles she had previously instilled in Lin Yu.
‘No, that’s not right…’
Nangong had also stated that the sole reason she remained a medic behind this trench was her supposed lack of magical ability. Had it been discovered that she possessed such healing spells, she would undoubtedly have been reassigned to the most ferocious front lines to tend to critically wounded soldiers.
The moment Nangong departed, the burden of eight or nine hundred lives in this trench would fall squarely upon Lin Yu’s shoulders. And if Lin Yu hadn’t been mistaken for a boy and conscripted onto the battlefield that day, she would have been consigned to the lieutenant colonel’s various concubines.
‘Could they possibly shoulder such a responsibility of healing and saving lives?’
‘Clearly not.’
Working in concert, Lin Yu and Nangong had, over thirty-odd days, wrestled more than a dozen lives back from the clutches of death. Only a handful—just over ten—had been too severely injured to save, a stark improvement compared to previous statistics. Hundreds of minor, non-life-threatening injuries had also been successfully treated.
Their quotas had long been met, and the military pay and bonuses had already been disbursed, all of which Lin Yu had sent home. This was the fruit of their combined efforts, though Nangong’s tireless toil accounted for the lion’s share.
‘If Nangong were transferred because of her magical abilities, could Lin Yu alone bear the responsibility for everyone’s lives?’
‘Clearly not.’
Having somewhat convinced herself to accept Nangong’s concealment of her magical aptitude, Lin Yu pressed further. “If it’s a secret,” she inquired, “wouldn’t it have been better to keep it hidden? Why tell me…”
“Because,” Nangong replied, her tone softening as she gently ruffled Lin Yu’s hair, “the miracle of healing cannot forever remain buried within one’s heart.”
****