A Hospital in Another World? Chapter 950: Want More Bison? Face the Plague Maiden!

"Lynn:

Garrett has eaten too much!

His little snake ate half of the power from the Snake Woman Nierka! Maybe not half, but a lot. He had to rush off to meditate, or his head might explode from overeating!

So I’m writing this letter to you!

That Snake Woman underestimated Garrett and tried to challenge him but got beaten up instead! Her power is all about darkness and death, which can't stand against lightning and fire. A few super fireballs from Garrett, and she was down!

After she was defeated, the power of the Serpent God in her went wild. Another Snake Woman begged us for help, so Garrett released his little snake, and it had a feast~~~"

Lynn read this with a smile. Cirilla's excitement leapt off the page; just reading it made him imagine her animated expressions and gestures:

"The little snake rarely finds something that matches its power so well! Ah, if only it could eat the entire Serpent God, such a huge snake, it could level up three or four times!

By the way, how are you doing now? I heard they’re treating you better, has it improved? If they lock you up again, we’ll write back to Nevis and tear down this Eagle God’s Kingdom and feed the Serpent God to the little snake!

Lynn’s smile slowly widened, but his eyes grew a bit moist. Ah, Garrett had gone to such lengths to save him. Now, even the Snake Woman was beaten. He couldn’t even imagine what Garrett would do in a couple of months...

"Have you finished reading?" Chivacoatl had been watching his expressions intently, focusing entirely on the necromancer’s heartbeat, blood flow, and scent changes, frowning slightly:

Overall, he seemed quite relaxed and very happy. This meant that, for this necromancer, things were progressing in his favor. But whether this was favorable for the Eagle God’s Kingdom was still uncertain...

"Not yet... wait, I need to write a reply..." Lynn began rummaging through his space bag for paper and a pen:

"Regarding necromancy spells, Garrett has something he doesn’t understand and needs to consult me about. Creating vaccines, that’s a crucial technical point... Ah, it’s all because you’ve locked me up here. If you’d sent me over, I could’ve helped him figure it out by now!"

Chivacoatl nodded lightly and said no more. Lynn spread out his paper and pen, muttering under his breath as he wrote and thought:

"Plague Spell... Plague Spell... using the Plague Spell to infect specific targets... reduce intensity... widespread infection..."

What followed was a long, complex string of words about "functions," "droplets, contact, digestive tract, vector-borne," which left Chivacoatl utterly confused. The room filled with an air of bewilderment.

Write a bit, think a bit, write some more, think some more. Shake his head, scribble out part of what he wrote, add new words beside it, scribble some more, then start over...

Before long, Lynn’s desk was littered with crumpled paper balls.

Watching him, completely absorbed, almost buried in his papers, Chivacoatl felt a bit helpless. After a while, she took advantage of Lynn changing paper to knock on the table, causing all his papers to float up and swirl around him:

"Will Nierka be okay?"

"Ah... ah? She’ll be fine." Lynn’s eyes were still a bit dazed as he instinctively answered:

"As long as she doesn’t provoke Garrett again. Stay put and don’t challenge him, Garrett won’t harm her... But the power already consumed is definitely not coming back..."

Write, write, write... Garrett's requests are so difficult... Without experimental conditions, having to rely solely on theoretical calculations, demanding answers from him was too much... When was the messenger leaving? Could they give him a few more days?

"So, will the Son of the Dawn keep his promise to make the divine medicine for us?"

"What nonsense are you thinking?" Lynn raised his head in surprise and poked the papers:

"If he didn’t want to make the divine medicine, why would I be calculating here like crazy? I could just eat and play here, waiting for him to call his people to fetch me. Ah, don’t disturb me, where was I in my calculations..."

Chivacoatl sighed deeply and floated away. Since receiving the letter, this necromancer had gained a layer of confidence, evidently not worried about their threats. According to Tetra’s report, strong reinforcements were coming from their homeland?

As she left, she instructed the guards:

"Keep a close watch, don’t let him leave this level. Other than that, give him anything he wants: food, drinks, everything!"

Ah, Serpent God, Serpent God... Great Serpent God, can you guide us... how should we coexist with these foreign deities?

Lynn didn’t care about the Snake Woman leader’s concerns. He buried himself in calculations for a whole day and night, finally coming up with a somewhat decent plan before collapsing onto his bed, fast asleep.

As for the Golden Eagle Warriors spreading their wings and flying to deliver the manuscript to Garrett, that was beyond his concern...

Garrett was overjoyed to receive the letter. Lynn, worthy of being a level 9 necromancer, even though not specializing in plagues, was far more knowledgeable about Plague Spells than he was.

Especially about the differences and connections between the spells [Plague Fog], [Plague Touch], [Plague Spell], and [Mass Plague Spell]. Lynn wrote an extremely long letter, explaining everything clearly:

Which magic structures were the same, which were different. What the same structures did, and how the different structures worked and could be altered...

These were likely the secrets of Black Crow Swamp. Garrett thought, feeling a bit guilty, but then quickly justifying himself:

I helped save a level 9 necromancer for you, giving me this knowledge isn’t a big deal! At most, I won’t record it, won’t put it in the Thunder Horn library, and won’t teach it to anyone other than necromancers!

He followed Lynn’s spell models and went to experiment. With a piece of cowpox powder on his fingertip, he pointed at a shaved bison:

"Shh..."

A sharp wind blade flew from his fingertip, making shallow cuts on the bison's skin, so light that no blood seeped out. Then, a brown fog rose around the bison, swirling and curling...

After a moment, the fog moved to the next bison, then the next, and the next, spreading throughout the pen, eventually sinking and merging into the ground’s water.

Garrett quickly inspected the bisons and was pleased to see that the small cuts were becoming inflamed, blistering and swelling. Each bison stomped uneasily, snorting, their eyes slightly red.

They refused to eat or drink, and when someone approached, they restlessly butted their heads. Garrett’s Advanced Mage Armor had been struck two or three times, luckily repaired quickly enough to avoid mishap.

Ah, the good thing about Plague Fog is its immediate infection and onset, with no incubation period. In such time-sensitive experiments, it’s very effective!

"Bernard! Have the warriors drive the cattle out!" Garrett shouted:

"Have our people collect the blisters’ fluid into vials and start processing it into cowpox powder! Then follow the procedure to test for vaccine efficacy!"

At his command, the camp bustled into activity. Large numbers of Red Hawk Tribe and Bison Tribe warriors rushed out, three or five attending to each bison, herding them into special pens allowing only standing, no turning;

Garrett’s assistants from the Eagle Tribe each took a syringe, climbing around the pens. They pierced blisters, collected pus into vials, and sent the vials back to the lab;

Cirilla handled purification: first, she sprayed a dragon breath, rapidly freezing, then used her Silver Dragon abilities to control mist and water vapor, quickly drying the samples into powder;

Collection, weighing. Dissolving in saline for human vaccination according to Nevis’s standards...

Finally, a group of tribal warriors stood in the square, each with a deer-skin robe tightly covering their head, face, and nose, exposing only their right arms, with shallow cuts from flint or bone knives.

Garrett stood before them, holding the vial, extending it:

"Plague Spell!"

Special diluted version!

A thin, almost colorless brown mist rose, lightly brushing each warrior’s right arm...

"Conclusion: Using Plague Spell to activate cowpox powder and infect bison to produce cowpox is feasible. However, it can only be used on calves under one year old, without combat levels, and not on adult bison or magical bison..."

"Speculation: Due to the robust immunity of New World bison, they have strong resistance to minor diseases like cowpox..."

After vaccination, observation, and attempts to use human smallpox materials as spell components to infect the vaccinated, Garrett was satisfied with the results. The only problem was:

"Chief! We’re out of bison!"

"Isn’t that enough?" The Red Hawk Tribe’s chief hurried over, looking anxious. Garrett nodded, counting on his fingers:

"One bison only yields enough cowpox powder for 100 people, and each bison can only be used once. Now we need one million doses, which means at least 10,000 bison, all newborn calves..."

"The Bison God won’t agree!" The Red Hawk

Tribe’s High Shaman also came over, stomping his foot:

"We already offered a hundred as tribute and promised to grow new grass to feed the calves. Asking for 10,000 more, they definitely won’t agree!"

"Negotiate again?" Garrett looked at them expectantly:

"We’re not killing these calves, they’ll be released after use! Is that not acceptable?"

"Who told you to make so many cuts on them?—You can’t force the Bison God, it can drive tens of thousands of bison to trample any tribe!"

Garrett: "..."

Ah, mass industrial production is the best. Using E. coli to grow cowpox virus, you can make as much as you want. E. coli doesn’t complain about getting cut...

But the lab hasn’t yielded results yet. Garrett could only pin his hopes on the tribal chiefs:

"Negotiate with the Bison God again? What do they need to provide enough calves?"

The Red Hawk Tribe entrusted the Bison Tribe, the Bison Tribe entrusted the High Shaman, who asked their totem spirit to negotiate with the largest bison herds and guardian beasts.

After much negotiation, a result was finally reached:

"White Horn—the ancestral white-horned magic bull says its children are dying more and more from the Plague Maiden. If we help them deal with the Plague Maiden and push her back across a river, they’ll provide the calves!"

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