A Hospital in Another World?

"Have you heard? Baron Knight's hand has healed!"

"Did you hear? That knight who injured his hand three years ago and couldn't draw a bow again, his hand's healed!"

"Is it true that it was healed at the Temple of the War God?"

"It seems the Bishop healed him..."

"Oh, your sources are terribly out of touch! I heard it was done by a little lad. Even the Bishop takes orders from him, does whatever he says..."

The news of Baron Knight's old injury healing spread through Hartland City like wildfire. Those who were injured themselves, or had loved ones suffering, even those whose treatments hadn't worked well, regardless of whether they were warriors or not, everyone was intrigued.

Even Lord Joane, the city lord, summoned Baron Knight once and thoroughly inquired about his healing process.

Three days later, Bald Bishop sent a letter asking Garrett if he could heal Roman Knight's hand.

The answer was a firm no.

"He refuses to heal? He outright refuses!"

Roman Knight roared in his room.

He was only put in the penance chamber as a formality, got gifts in just a couple of days, and the High Priestess of the Spring Goddess released him. Those places, silent and lightless, where knights below Level 10 spent half a month, drove anyone crazy.

Yet, even then, he wasn't allowed to step outside the temple, not even the rear temple, confined to a small room for self-reflection. If not for his mother's letters that frequently arrived, he might have gone mad long ago.

"I'll kill him—I swear I'll kill him! Yes, I'll write a letter now, tell my mother to send someone to kill him!"

Mother and son were in sync. The middle-aged woman, Roman Knight's mother, was currently raging in the city lord's mansion. This time, she didn't bother with pretenses, pacing in the mansion's small guest room, knocking down ornaments in frustration:

"These commoners are just that—common! I've been patient enough. I said if he heals Roman, I won't pursue it, but this despicable fellow dares to refuse! I'll kill him! I will definitely kill him!"

"He didn't do it on purpose..." Lord Joane sighed. He spread out a stack of papers, a letter Garrett wrote to the War God's Bishop, densely packed with words and intricate drawings. Apart from making one dizzy with the drawings, it was sincere and informative.

How many tendons on the palm, how much finer than those on the wrist, requiring delicate instruments to prevent worsening. In that letter, it was all described vividly.

The Bald Bishop probably had thoughts of helping Garrett out of this mess, sending the letter to the lord without withholding a page. Even if Lord Joane couldn't fully understand, he could read between the lines: they genuinely couldn't do it, not out of spite towards Roman, deliberately doing nothing.

The mistress, or rather, the aging mistress, was still making a fuss. Lord Joane, tiredly supporting his forehead, said:

"What would you do to him? He never leaves the Mage Tower!"

The middle-aged woman choked. Even if she was unreasonable, she knew the Mage Tower wasn't something to tamper with. Even if she controlled the knights under her son's command and could muster hundreds of militia, it was a joke in front of the Mage Tower's power.

"I—I don't believe he'll never come out in his lifetime!"

"No laying hands on him!"

Lord Joane slapped the table. After yelling, he quickly calmed himself, trying to persuade his mistress:

"That lad is a healer! A healer! The Bishop couldn't heal Baron Knight's injury, but this lad could! Do you know how many people are counting on him for treatment? Do you know how many, if they get injured in the future, would wish for someone like him?

—If you get someone to kill him, and it's exposed, I can't even save you!"

"But—"

"No 'buts'! There's no 'but'! For Roman's injury, let's find another healer, find the Archbishop, find the High Priest! Under no circumstance are you to lay a finger on him!"

The middle-aged woman cried bitterly and left. Once on the carriage, she wiped her tears and gritted her teeth at the steward outside:

"Investigate! Find me something on that commoner! I refuse to believe there's no way to get at him!"

When the lady of the house spoke, the steward dared not delay, immediately hiring people to investigate. But after extensive searches, they couldn't find a way:

Garrett was alone, his father deceased long ago, his mother vanished many years before. Among those familiar in the city, there were only his father's old comrades; however, trying to use them to harm Garrett would be madness!

"Madam... this..."

The steward bent lower. Creaking, it felt like his bones were audible. Oh, my old waist... I should visit the temple another day. Can't afford healing but catching some divine light during prayers would soothe me for a few days!

The middle-aged woman's expression grew darker. She gently waved her fan, opening and closing the feathered fan. The crimson rouge was deeply embedded among the feathers, as if throttling an enemy's neck.

"Click," the fan bone snapped, and suddenly, the woman said:

"That commoner, is he a healer?"

"Yes."

"The Divine Emissary of the Nature God?"

"Well... he said that himself... but it must be true! Both the city guards and the temple guards have heard of it!"

"Then why has he never gone to worship?"

The steward was at a loss for words. The middle-aged woman suddenly stood up, pacing in the room, her tone growing more urgent:

"That's it! He either stays in the Mage Tower or hangs around the Temple of the War God. All this time, he's never worshipped the Nature God! He never speaks like those priests, always talking about 'Nature God'—he never says such things!

This Divine Emissary of his is definitely a sham!"

"But, the Nature God... doesn't have a temple..."

"No temple doesn't mean no followers! The worshippers of the Nature God roam the streets. It's hard in the upper city, but in the slums, wouldn't it be easier to find them!

If not, just find a random hill outside the city, as long as there's a ring of stones, you'll definitely stumble upon them!

That commoner relied on his healing arts, first got in with the Temple of the War God, then pleased the city guards, but never once sought out the followers of the Nature God. His Divine Emissary status is a sham, he's guilty!"

Snap, crackle, a few consecutive crisp sounds. The fan's bones shattered, and even the feathers were torn off in pieces, filling the room with emerald and gold, fluttering everywhere. The woman stamped the floor, her voice excited, eyes gleaming:

"Find the worshippers of the Nature God! Relay this message to them! No church tolerates a false Divine Emissary; it's disrespectful, blasphemous! Pass the message on, the worshippers of the Nature God will definitely take down that lad!"

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