Pandora Unchained: B1C2 - The Crippled Physician

It was said that a doctor’s ability could be summarized using three measures: the speed and accuracy with which they wielded their scalpel, the process in which they diagnosed their patients, and the way they balanced cutting, needling, and medicine to treat them.

Sorin had once been praised to high heaven for his dextrous use of the scalpel, which was why it was all the more painful that according to his current skill at wielding one, he would only be considered middling at best. And it would get worse with each passing year, barring some miraculous treatment even the Kepler Clan wasn’t able to afford.

Always make the shallowest incision, Sorin remembered from his father’s lectures as he ran his knife over taught and bulged skin. That applies doubly so when removing tumors and corruption. To rupture a mass is to spread it. A red line appeared on the skin, then two more to allow him to pull the skin back and pin it, revealing a black demonic pustule the size of a chicken’s egg that was on the verge of bursting.

Sorin gentle prodded at the mass with side of an acupuncture needle, revealing the acupoint the mass had chosen to inhabit. If gone untreated, the mass would use point to constantly accumulate mana and demonic corruption until it eventually metastasized, provoking organ failure on a massive scale and killing the patient within hours, if not minutes.

“This is a lot less painful than I expected,” confessed the adventurer, who’s name Sorin had already forgotten. “I was told it would feel like a stab wound and take me a week to recover.”

“Your case isn’t bad, so it’s less painful and will require only three days of light recover,” answered Sorin, as he wielded his scalpel to cut away at the mass’s minor attachments, leaving only the ‘corruption point’ the mass had used to start growing in the first place.

“Physician Sorin is just being modest.” It was Gabriella, the Sorin’s apprentice, who spoke. In truth, she would never have been his apprentice in a property city as they were roughly the same age. “You’ll find it difficult to find anyone more skilled in removing corruption in the surrounding outposts and cities.”

“Nonsense,” muttered Sorin as he continued his work. The attachment was tricky, and Gabriella’s words had distract him – another reason why she should never have been his apprentice. Gabriella was a blessing to the clinic, and a light in Sorin’s dark days. She had fiery hair that reached halfway down her shoulders and pale skin that should not have been possible outside a major city. She was also the gentlest and most kindly person Sorin had ever met.

“Really?” said the adventurer. “But I heard he was a –” she cut off her words before saying something insensitive.

“It’s fine,” said Sorin, who had long since grown used to his condition. My cultivation was crippled, you heard it correct. But you should also know that this means I used to be a cultivator, which means my hands would be steadier and my spiritual strength much vaster than any blood thickening cultivator in this outpost.

“Still, I need to apologize,” said the adventurer. “Mentioning such a thing is in poor taste.”

“Silverspire Grass Extract,” said Sorin, holding out his hand to Gabriella. She handed over a vial, and Sorin twisted the top before taking out three drops with a needle and placing it directly on the exposed connection point.

“Ouch, that smarts,” said the adventurer, flinching form the pain. But second later, the mass fell off, and her eyes widened in disbelief. “How? It was latched on so tight I thought it would pull my entire skeleton out.”

“Silverspire grass has mild antidemonic properties,” explained Sorin, removing the pins in her skin and stitching the wound closed. “The reccomended practice is to directly cut at the connection point to stop the corruption in its tracks. But in mild cases, it’s more efficient to simply frighten off the accumulation of demonic energy. In this way, one avoids damaging the patient’s acupoints and meridians.” His words sounded like they were from a textbook, because they were. He’d practically memorized his entire medical reference library.

Sorin’s practiced hands took no time at all to stitch up the incision. “Gabriella, if you would?” The apprentice physician placed a pale hand just beside the cut and began guiding life mana to where the skin had been pealed away. “Don’t fully heal the wound. Only go to eighty percent. Otherwise the wound will scar and make moving it difficult. Its far better to let the wound heal naturally while the patient exercises.

The adventurer winced as she flexed her hand and rotated her wrist. Scabs had already formed on the incision and wouldn’t hinder her as she stayed away from adventuring for the next three days or so. But Sorin didn’t say so, because adventurers rarely ever heeded that advise. “Try to take it easy for the next few days,” he said instead.

“How much do I owe you?” asked the adventurer.

“Ten silver,” replied Sorin.

The adventurer frowned. “So little?”

“I charge an appropriate amount for services rendered,” replied Sorin. “To do otherwise would go against ethical practice guidelines.”

The adventurer shook her head and took out the ten silver pieces. “You’re undercharging, Physician Sorin, just like they said you would.”

Sorin shook his head. “I’m just charging what I should. The clinic is doing well, and I see no need to increase our fees anytime soon.”

“Even so,” the adventurer said, removing two bottles from our pack. “I was told you were stubborn, but I was also told you were in need of some mugwort extract. I had a friend bring me their stock before coming.”

Sorin hesitated but accepted the bottles. “I have some clients in need that will be very thankful for your thoughtful donation.” He might not accept additional fees, but some medicines were in short supply in the outpost. They were the kind that were difficult to gather and were useful in treating non-cultivators.

“You have a heart of gold,” said the adventurer. “I’ll make sure to tell others to come here instead of the other clinic.”

“Physician Lim is a fine practitioner,” Sorin lied. “There’s no need to do such a meaningless thing.” At the very least, Physician Lim was a passably competent practitioner. He was also quite greedy, and seldom treated those lacking in coin.

Sorin cleaned the treatment area as the adventurer left. He took his time before moving onto his next patient, a familiar face in this clinic. “Lawrence, what have I told you about peeping and the inevitable consequences of doing so too much?”

“That it would imbalance my yang and throw my yin out of balance?” said Lawrence, looking cheerful despite the pustules covering his face. “It was just a small peep. Definitely not deserving of whatever she did to me.”

“She obviously sprinkled powdered crimson rash flower onto her fence and her window sills,” said Sorin. “And somehow you practically smashed your face all over those two things. Gabriella!”

“No, don’t call her,” said Lawrence. Unfortunately, Sorin’s tolerance for Lawrence’s antics had hit rock bottom. He wouldn’t refuse him treatment, but he would make it as painful as possible.

“It’s you,” said Gabriella cooly as she entered the room. “Who was the poor victim this time? And how painful should I make it?”

“Go for maximal punishment,” instructed Sorin. “This is a good opportunity to get to know the human nervous system and explore the pain tolerance of a patient. Zero anesthetic is required, but you can experiment on the effectiveness of different doses.” He then looked to the nervous rogue. “Well? You never answered her question.”

“This…” said Lawrence.

“Gabriella, would you be so kind as to get the torch and the lancing kit?” said Sorin. “It’ll leave dreadful scars on the poor man’s face, but alas, we have so little information to go on.”

“It was Margorie!” Lawrence confessed before Gabriella could leave the space. “And I wasn’t exactly peeping. She had clothes on! She was just folding laundry in her backyard! Is that really a crime punishable by poisoning?”

“Even doctors use poison on occasion,” said Sorin, though he paused and frowned as the words poured out of his mouth. The Ten Thousand Poison Cannon had been weighing on him these past few days. In fact, he hadn’t slept much since then, since the cannon wasn’t nearly as crazy as he’d made it out to be.

“Lawrence, you’re sixteen,” said Gabriella, taking out a set of silver needles from her belt pouch. “Grow up already, will you?” She leaned over to treat the pustules, and Lawrence leaned in to take a peek. But Sorin was prepared and had already stuck a needle in Lawrence’s neck.

“Since you like that position so much, I’ll have you stay in it,” said Sorin.

He watched on approvingly as Gabriella pierced the individual pustules and used her precious life mana to heal the flesh over. Redness remained, but the poison and pus were both removed. There would unfortunately be no scarring after her expert treatment.

Knowing the treatment was as good as done, Sorin’s mind reflexively began to calculate. It’s true that iron melt poison and flesh melting poison are incompatible, but could I use another mediating poison to balance out their effects? And wouldn’t it be possible to use such poisons to clear out damaged flesh and cells?

“Physician Sorin?” Sorin blinked and looked into Gabriella’s too-blue eyes.

“Yes, Gabriella?” asked Sorin.

“The treatment is finished,” said Gabriella. “Could you look over the results?”

It only took a quick scan to confirm that she’d done the best job possible. “Passable work,” said Sorin. “But you might want to work on the depth of your lancing.” As much as he liked Gabriella, he was a perfectionist. And physicians needed to constantly criticize themselves to prevent complacency.

“Noted,” said Gabriella. “Next time you do something like this, I’m going to go out of my way to cause you pain, Lawrence.”

“Thank you so much for the rescue doctors,” said Lawrence, hopping off the treatment bed. “No need to see me out. And please don’t mention this to anyone. Patient confidentiality and everything, you know?”

“I’m a bit worried about him,” said Gabriella once Lawrence had left the clinic.

“So am I,” said Sorin with a shrug. “But it’s better that he learns a lesson now than when he goes out adventuring.”

“Will he really?” asked Gabriella.

“There’s not much else to do in Bloodwood Outpost,” said Sorin. “His father was an adventurer, and so was his father’s father. And from what I can tell, he’s got the talent if not the brains to do well at it.”

The clinic was empty, so Sorin moved to grab a broom, only for Gabriella to yank it away give him a look. “You know you’re not supposed to be doing unnecessary manual labor,” she said, glancing at his chest. “Your wounds – they’ve reopened again, haven’t they?”

“They’re fine,” said Sorin. He made to take the broom back but winced as pain radiated down his pectorals.

“Men,” said Gabriella. She stomped over to the door and flipped the sign. She then lowered the curtains and pulled Sorin into a curtained off area. “Sit down,” she commanded, and Sorin could only resign himself to his fate. He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a mass of scars. There were also three bright red wounds that had never fully healed and that he used stitches and a cheap healing ointment to keep sanitary and prevent infection.

Gabriella traced his wounds with concern. “The surface should heal up within the week, but there’s not much my life mana can do to the deeper cuts.”

“Spare your mana,” said Sorin, pushing her away.

But Gabriella stubbornly pushed back. “We don’t have any patients now, so I can spare the mana.” She began pouring life mana into the deepest wounds that had reopened, then proceeded towards the shallower rips continuing outward. These were much easier to treat.

She continued in this way for a full half hour until finally, Sorin was forced to stop her. “You’ve used up 95% of your mana,” said Sorin “If you use up more, you’ll overtax yourself and affect your cultivation.”

“But I can’t cultivate all night,” said Gabriella. She’d reached the sixth stage of the blood thickening realm and was finally starting to see diminishing returns in her cultivation.

“Becoming a physician also needs careful study and memorization,” said Sorin. “Have you finished the reading I assigned?”

“Yes, I finished studying up on meridian theory, including the twelve main meridians four hidden meridians,” said Gabriella. Sorin knew there were actually eight hidden meridians, but he did not correct her on the matter. Such knowledge was carefully hoarded by the stop cultivation families. At her level, she was better off not knowing.

“Then today, you’ll read up on Remus’s theory of poison application,” said Sorin. “What? Do you think you won’t learn anything?”

“It’s not that,” said Gabriella with a grimace.

“Then what is it?” asked Sorin.

“Well… poisons are things that assassins use,” said Gabriella.

“Margorie used poison against Lawrence,” Sorin pointed out.

“That’s different,” said Gabriella.

“I don’t see how,” said Sorin.

“Anyway, poisons are what demons use against humans,” Gabriella continued. “And they’re also what some particularly hateful humans use against other humans.”

“Poisons are a key part of your studies,” said Sorin. “Not only must you recognise them to be able to treat them, but you’ll also need to be able to use poisons to fight some specialized poisons and other afflictions.” Seeing that she was still unconvinced, he sighed. “You’re a bright girl, Gabriella, and I’m happy you chose to study medicine. Studying with you these past three years has been a blessing I never expected. But there’s something you need to realize: You’re a kind girl. Too kind.”

“Is there such a thing as being too kind?” Gabriella pouted.

“There is,” said Sorin. “As physicians we amputate limbs to save lives. We cause pain to heal wounds. And sometimes, we cause irreversible injuries to our patients. Sometimes, we need to hurt people to be kind to them. But unfortunately, you’re completely incapable of making such decisions.”

He then walked up to the clinic’s bookshelf. “So… Remus’s theory on poison and application, and Warren and Rice’s debate on the ethics of poison and their use in the medical profession.”

“But that paper is considered trash,” said Gabriella.

“It’s only trash if you treat it like trash,” said Sorin. “There’s something to be learned wherever you look.” He sighed as he felt his wounds and assessed his condition. His hands were trembling, so he couldn’t hold a scalpel. His mind was also tired and preoccupied with the ‘gift’ Hope had given him a few days prior.

The Ten Thousand Poison Cannon is insane, no matter how I look at it, thought Sorin as he reviewed the medical theories he’d learned. To balance poisons is one thing, but to use the body to replace one’s mana sea? Madness.

Yet his subconscious mind was slowly warming to the idea. Just because he’d never heard about such a thing, it didn’t mean it wouldn’t work. And as long as the poisons were balanced, there should be no threat to his life.

“

“Sorin?” asked Gabriella, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Sorry, I got distracted again,” said Sorin. “And I’m clearly in no state to practice. I’m going to go home and rest.”

“That would be for the best,” said Gabriella. “Do you want me to walk you back?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Sorin. He walked over to the door and put on a thin coat. The nights were getting chilly, and his health was not what it used to be. “Send for me there’s an emergency, but I anticipate you’ll be fine.” Gabriella was a smart girl and would be able to handle most cases that bothered coming to this run-down clinic.