CHAPTER 678: KILL WITHOUT BURYING

After performing cesarean sections on all the women whose cervixes had dilated to over five centimeters, Garrett collapsed onto the floor of the operating room.

Before hitting the ground, he used his last breath to ask Miss Silver Dragon to go on an errand:

"Cirilla, with so many women coming in today, I have a bad feeling. Go take a look outside and see if there’s anyone suspicious..."

"Got it, leave it to me!"

Cirilla lifted him by the collar of his scrubs with two fingers and laid him flat on the operating table. Then, she flashed out of the operating room and disappeared.

Garrett was left alone, lying on the freshly cleaned operating table, eyes closed, not wanting to move a single finger.

Ah, so tired—

He had been on his feet all day, performing over 30 cesarean sections in one go!

There had been times before when he was exhausted to the point of collapse, but there was always some time to rest between surgeries while waiting for nurses and junior doctors to prep patients, sterilize drapes, administer anesthesia, and stitch up wounds...

But this time, he worked non-stop!

Moreover, it was a double drain on both his physical and mental strength!

Maintaining the Mage Hand transformed into various surgical instruments for 10 hours straight exerted a continuous mental pressure, akin to endlessly drawing silk from a reeling machine.

When the silk ran out, he collapsed.

"Next time, I must prepare a bunch of surgical instruments..." he murmured with his eyes closed.

"I want to use real hemostatic forceps for surgery, not rely on the Mage Hand to transform... It has poor stamina..."

As for the hassle of making and using these tools, well, now that he had money, he could buy good steel and have the little imp "Goldie" craft them. He could delegate sterilization to others...

Garrett was barely hanging on, while Cirilla, who had worked alongside him for 10 hours, was still lively.

Humming a tune, she bounced lightly on her feet to the hospital wall, leaped out, and surveyed the surroundings from the rooftops and treetops—

No one here.

No one here either.

This area was a slum; there didn’t seem to be any suspicious people around, though the rooftops weren’t very stable... Oh dear, repair spell, repair spell, repair spell!

Here...

Got them!

Cirilla, smug, jumped to the ground. Hands behind her back, she stood triumphantly before two men:

"What are you doing sneaking around here?"

These two obviously didn’t belong in the slums! Sneaking in an alley, whispering near the hospital, they couldn’t be up to any good!

Garrett must be looking for them!

The man in the felt hat’s pupils constricted.

This young lady was highlighted in his information: silver hair, pointed ears, elf, extremely wealthy, combat skills unknown but certainly formidable...

Not a chance to fight, then escape?

Before he could finish the thought, the reporter beside him had already taken a step back, pressing his back against the wall. Pointing at his own nose, he shouted hoarsely:

"He brought me here, I know nothing!"

The felt-hat man’s mind went blank. Without thinking, he bolted. One step, two steps, and a chill swept over his back. Before he could shiver, his vision went dark—

"Zing!"

In the final moments of his life, he seemed to hear the twang of a bowstring before falling into eternal darkness.

"Oh no!"

Cirilla’s eyes sharpened as she lunged forward. Reaching out, she pinched the air in front of the felt-hat man with her index and middle fingers—

Between her fingers, cold and hard, was half a long needle, its black tip gleaming from the joint.

Cirilla’s breath tightened. She stepped forward, turned her head, and looked at the man’s face.

The other half of the needle was embedded straight into his eye socket. A drop of black liquid oozed slowly, very slowly, from the edge of the eye.

She pulled out the needle, cast a healing spell, then another. Despite two consecutive healing spells, the man in the felt hat collapsed, lifeless.

Cirilla: ???

She looked up in the direction the needle had come from, pushed off with her foot, and flew out. After a few steps, she suddenly turned back, grabbed the reporter, and ran forward—

Only one witness left, she couldn’t let him be killed!

Even carrying someone, Miss Silver Dragon moved swiftly as a breeze. After a few steps, a figure flashed ahead and ducked into a rundown house.

There!

Cirilla quickly arrived, kicked the door open, but the room was empty. She glanced around, then crouched and punched the floor—

"Bang!"

"Yikes! Ptooey, ptooey, ptooey!"

The floor cracked open, revealing a large hole, obviously a pre-prepared escape route. Cirilla’s punch had revealed the route, splashing dirty water everywhere. It seemed this escape led to the city’s sewers...

"Ew..."

Cirilla wrinkled her nose and retreated outside. She had raised a defensive barrier in time to avoid the dirty water, but the poor reporter was drenched. The sight was truly pitiful.

Unable to bear the stench, Cirilla cast two cleaning spells on him. Then, carrying the reporter, she returned to the original spot, where the felt-hat man’s face was covered in black water, his face completely ruined...

"Ah, I can’t deal with souls..."

Cirilla muttered, summoning a Mage Hand to grab the corpse and place it on a floating disc.

One side held the reporter, the other the corpse, as she brought them back to the hospital and laid them before Garrett, recounting what had happened:

"One’s dead..."

Cough, this wasn’t Cirilla’s fault. Garrett, silently sweating as he listened halfway, thought: Silver dragons are such clean creatures; asking her to chase someone through the sewers was like asking her to turn the whole city upside down...

Garrett comforted her with a few words and then called Lord Graf, handing over the corpse and prisoner to him. Investigations and interrogations were better left to professionals...

Garrett had a good sleep. The next morning, before starting surgery, Lord Graf stood solemnly before him.

"Someone has ill intentions towards the hospital." The lord’s face was stern, as if coated with glue, ready to crack at any moment:

"Specifically, they aim to tarnish your reputation. The reporter doesn’t know who is behind it, only guessing it to be someone influential. Further investigation is needed."

Someone influential?

Garrett glanced toward the hospital entrance, a smile playing on his lips. It wasn’t possible to gather half of the city’s pregnant women here overnight without some influence. He shrugged indifferently:

"Inform the Baroness and have her investigate. We’ll continue our work and ignore this nonsense."

Throwing mud on him was just an attempt to get rid of him. Such tactics directly harmed the Queen’s interests.

In that case, let the Queen handle it! Garrett wouldn’t get involved in the nobles’ squabbles!

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