A Hospital in Another World? Chapter 939: Hand Over All Outsiders to the Son of Thunder, Except...

Garrett's plan was sound and resounding:

Using the excuse of needing manpower for vaccine production, he intended to bring out everyone from the Kingdom of Kent within the Eagle God’s Kingdom. If that wasn’t possible, he would at least demand all the mages.

Hmm, this way, wouldn't Brother Lynn be successfully rescued?

There was no need for a head-on confrontation. If they really fought, the enemy might use Brother Lynn as a hostage, which would only make things more complicated...

However, unfortunately, things did not go as planned. Strictly speaking, it wasn't a failure but rather a punch that landed on soft cotton:

The High Priestess didn't pay attention to his speech; instead, she was staring eagerly at his space bag. Specifically, at the direction where those papers disappeared, her face full of melancholy...

"Hey, she really seems to believe that sticking these papers onto the Plague Maiden would get rid of her!"

Cirilla said gleefully through the mind link. Garrett was exasperated:

"Stop it!"

That golden, glittering poster with the six big characters “Om Mani Padme Hum” stuck on it, causing the whole mountain to root and close up, pressing the Monkey King underneath?

Do you think my head looks like it’s shiny and bald without a single hair, or covered in lumps like tumors?

"Divine Son, could you give us some... some..." The High Priestess stared intently at the direction where the papers disappeared, gesturing as she struggled to find the right words:

"Bring back a copy? Although I can't understand it, there are wise elders in the City of Mountains, as well as the omniscient Eagle God and Serpent God..."

Garrett pondered for a moment. It wasn't impossible. Like collaborating on a project, the project proposal and relevant materials always needed to be shared.

Moreover, there was no need to give the originals since there was always the Copy Spell.

The only problem was... it seemed like there wasn't enough paper... He stretched out his hand, palm up:

"Bring it here."

"What?"

"Paper! What else? What do you use to copy text and record important information?"

The High Priestess's lips moved as if unsure what to say, weakly gesturing. The Red Hawk Tribe’s Grand Shaman leaned back and whispered a few words to his disciple.

The disciple ran out quickly, returning soon with a large item.

"Honorable Divine Son, this is..."

Garrett no longer had the energy to mock the title "Divine Son". His eyes lowered to the item the young shaman held out before him.

At first glance, it was a brick. On closer inspection, it was still a brick, a patterned brick... The patterns were quite regular...

"A clay tablet?"

He asked without hope. The High Priestess first nodded, then shook her head:

"Not quite like what we use... they bake theirs, we dry ours in the sun..."

Garrett’s vision darkened.

He really didn't mean to discriminate against clay tablet books.

After all, in human history, regions like Mesopotamia, Crete, Mycenae, and South American civilizations like the Aztecs, Maya, or Inca all used clay tablet books.

The problem was, his papers were at least five or six thousand words long, some even tens of thousands. Copying all of them onto clay tablets?

Not to mention whether there were enough clay tablets, even if there were, how would they transport them back?

By truck?

As he was muttering to himself, a crisp “smack” sounded in the temple. The Red Hawk Tribe’s Grand Shaman smacked his young disciple on the back of the head:

"What are you standing around for! Go prepare the clay tablets!"

"Yes... yes!"

A group of young shamans rushed out, shouting as they ran:

"Hurry, hurry! Get everyone over here! Wake up the warriors! Making clay tablets is no easy task!"

"We need a lot of clay tablets! A lot! What, you don’t know how many? Make as many as you can!"

"Only this many wooden frames for making clay tablets? Go cut some more, idiot! Do I have to tell you that?"

Soon, the sound of digging mud, pouring water, and rhythmic labor chants resounded outside the temple...

Garrett closed his eyes in pain. He forced himself to ignore the noise outside—and also ignore the Silver Dragon Miss's laughter in the mind link. He solemnly said:

"I will explain what I need to do to protect over 200,000 people from smallpox. The first method is to replicate these powders as much as possible."

He pointed to the test tube of cowpox vaccine in front of the High Priestess. With a flick of his wrist, a piece of paper appeared, and the Oak Staff rolled out the Endless Ink Pen from his pocket, writing swiftly:

"In my homeland, we cultivate these powders on cows' bodies to let them grow as much as possible. However, the cows here are different in species and strength, so I’m not sure if the powders will grow."

The High Priestess looked at the vial of powder, her expression serious but puzzled, like a poor student desperately memorizing in an advanced math class, hoping to pass the final exam...

Garrett paused. After giving her some time to memorize, he continued:

"If the powders can’t reproduce on cows, we’ll need to find another medium to replicate the medicine." For example, E. coli or other bacteria:

"For this, I need someone to help me prepare the growth medium, ensure the lab’s constant temperature and humidity, and keep records. I need at least 10 literate and writing-capable people, preferably mages."

The High Priestess's gold-painted lips moved as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start. Garrett sighed:

"If both methods fail, we’ll have to directly extract the pathogen from patients and attenuate its virulence. For this, I need assistants with rich experience in disease and reproduction."

Direct reproduction, indirect reproduction, attenuated vaccine. After explaining the two technical routes and three methods, the High Priestess's beautiful face was completely stiff, even the golden powder in her deep green eyeshadow had stopped shimmering.

As for the two Golden Eagle Warriors beside her, they were staring blankly ahead, cosplaying wooden dolls. After all, their task was to fight, and such intellectual work had never been their concern...

"They don’t seem to understand..."

Cirilla said gleefully through the mind link.

Indeed, they didn’t understand. These seemingly simple words would be incomprehensible to anyone without knowledge of vaccine production... So why are you so gleeful?

Are you that happy to see others struggle?

Garrett silently grumbled, waving his hand, sending the paper he had written over:

"Take this paper and show it to your gods, wise men, or anyone else. In short, I need assistants, as many as possible—"

He summoned back the floating disc and sat on it more comfortably:

"They need to be literate, able to write, and preferably mages. Oh, and not those White Ghosts you captured, they’ll only cause trouble and delay my progress."

"If there are mages proficient in diseases and death, that would be best."

"Aren’t you going to the Eagle God’s Kingdom?"

The High Priestess asked in surprise, her dark eyelashes slightly curled, her pupils shimmering with water, reflecting only Garrett's image:

"With your status and the task at hand, we would treat you as a distinguished guest! You’ll have all the people and resources you need!—Taking the assistants through the Plague Maiden’s territory will cost many lives!"

Her pitiful and devoted demeanor could soften even the hardest hearts. Unfortunately, Garrett’s mind was set on rescuing Brother Lynn, making him immune to her charms:

"I won’t go. There are people and cows here, and most importantly, I can start working immediately. If I go with you and miss something, should I come back for it?"

Despite her repeated persuasion, the High Priestess couldn’t convince him. Reluctantly, she and the Golden Eagle Warriors bid farewell. As for the papers, she wanted to take them back, but the Copy Spell couldn’t leave text on clay tablets...

Wasting the young shamans' effort, making clay tablets with the warriors' help. Garrett cooperated, copying the text himself. However, a full clay tablet only held a tenth of one paper.

Clearly, copying all the papers exceeded their capacity.

The High Priestess reluctantly left. They hurried back, avoiding the Plague Maiden’s territory, to report the latest findings. The leaders took it seriously. The Golden Eagle Warriors’ and Serpent Women’s leaders each took a vaccine, praying to their gods:

"This is useful."

"Indeed, it is useful."

At the southern end of the Yellow Springs Road, in the grand temple hall, the Tlatoani, or “Speaker,” along with the Golden Eagle Warriors and Serpent Women, sat in their positions. The two leaders reported their findings, and the Tlatoani nodded, summarizing:

"If it’s useful, we must use it. Chivacoatl..."

He turned to the Serpent Women’s leader, simply called "Chivacoatl"—which meant "Serpent Woman":

"Gather all the outsiders in the city, whether captives or travelers, and hand them over to Tetra."

Chivacoatl smiled and complied. The city was in chaos as they rounded up people, with the prison at the pyramid’s base echoing with the sounds of chains and opening gates.

The Serpent Women and lower-level priestesses moved through the corridors, pointing and instructing the

guards to drag people from their cells:

"Out!"

"Out!"

"For what?—It’s time to serve the Eagle God’s Kingdom!"

Some rejoiced, finally seeing the light of day, while others, doing business, were dragged away, resisting and pleading. Amid the chaos, Priestess Nielda stormed to the pyramid’s upper level:

"Teacher!"

She burst through the door without greeting, shouting:

"I can’t let the person I imprisoned be released!"

Table of content - Next Chapter >>>