Chapter 2: Aren't We Friends Too?
Gu Ye tapped his thermos lightly against the chipped desktop.
The aluminum base knocked against the wood with a dull thud.
He stood up and walked over to the desk.
Niu Dashan dropped his full weight onto the long wooden bench.
The bench let out a groaning creak under the strain.
The man stood one eighty-five, built like a black bear.
On a normal training day, his drill commands rattled the window glass.
Now he was bent over, thick dark fingers fumbling clumsily at his combat boot laces.
Two tugs, and they wouldn't come loose. Sweat beaded on his forehead from sheer frustration.
Gu Ye walked over and pressed a hand over Niu Dashan's.
"I've got it." Gu Ye's tone was calm.
He dropped to one knee and worked the stubborn knot loose with practiced ease.
Peeled off the heavy combat boot.
A thick wave of fermented, three-day-old sour foot stench slammed into his nostrils.
Gu Ye's expression didn't change.
In his previous life in the ER, he'd seen wounds a hundred times worse.
He pinched the edge of Niu Dashan's green military sock and pulled it down.
On Niu Dashan's right heel bulged a blister the size of a pigeon's egg.
The skin had been rubbed so thin by the boot it was nearly transparent.
Inside, dark purple tissue fluid and pooled blood swelled tight.
Bloated, as if it might burst at any second.
"Damn, today's five-klick cross-country, felt like a knife blade in my boot." Niu Dashan gritted his teeth and sucked in a sharp breath.
Gu Ye didn't answer.
He straightened up, turned, and walked to the tin-and-glass cabinet against the wall.
Pulled the door open.
The sliding track had rusted, letting out a rough scraping sound.
He took out a brown glass bottle of iodophor, a pack of sterile cotton swabs, and a disposable syringe.
Turned and walked to the sink.
Twisted the old-fashioned faucet.
Cold water rushed over his hands.
Gu Ye worked up soap and scrubbed both hands together.
Palms, backs, between the fingers, under the nails.
Standard surgical seven-step handwashing.
Meticulous to the last detail.
Even for just a blister, the moment he touched medical instruments, muscle memory took over his body.
He grabbed a rough towel and dried his hands.
Tore open the packaging of a pair of disposable latex gloves.
Snap.
The latex snapped against his wrist, hugging the skin tight.
Gu Ye carried a stainless steel kidney dish back to Niu Dashan.
Knelt down again.
Niu Dashan gripped the edges of the wooden bench with both hands.
His knuckles had gone white from the strain.
"Easy there, college boy. I ain't afraid of blood, but I hate those sneaky little needles."
A fine layer of sweat had broken out across his forehead.
"Don't move."
Gu Ye tore open the syringe packaging.
Removed the barrel, leaving only the sharp needle.
Index finger and thumb gripped the hub.
His other hand pulled out a long cotton swab and soaked it in iodophor.
The cold brown liquid spread over the dark purple blister.
Starting from the center, disinfecting outward in widening circles.
Niu Dashan held his breath, every muscle tensed, waiting for the sting.
Gu Ye's eyes changed.
The lazy look vanished in an instant.
His wrist dipped slightly.
The needle tip entered at a thirty-degree angle, precisely piercing the dead skin at the blister's edge.
Not a straight stab, but a flick that opened a two-millimeter drainage hole.
His hand didn't tremble in the slightest.
Two dry cotton swabs pressed against both sides of the blister.
Even pressure, squeezing toward the center.
Pop.
Dark red blood mixed with pale yellow tissue fluid shot out through the drainage hole.
Landing neatly in the stainless steel dish.
Niu Dashan hadn't even reacted yet.
He'd expected pain.
Instead, he only felt a cool sensation on his heel, and the swollen throbbing vanished instantly.
Gu Ye had already swapped in fresh cotton swabs.
Quickly wiped away the remaining blood.
The deflated skin lay flat against the raw red flesh beneath.
He placed a square of sterile gauze over it.
Tore off two strips of medical tape, crossed them, and pressed them down firmly.
"Done."
Gu Ye stood up and tossed the bloody swabs and needle into the medical waste bin.
Peeled off the gloves and threw them in too.
Niu Dashan froze.
He stared down at his neatly bandaged heel.
Blinked.
Tentatively reached out a finger and pressed at the edge of the gauze.
"Holy shit? That's it?"
Niu Dashan looked like he'd seen a ghost.
In the past, when he'd had blisters lanced, the quack at the medical unit would just stab straight in.
Hurt so bad he'd be hopping around, blood and fluid leaking all over his boot.
This newly assigned college kid had moved so fast he hadn't even seen it.
Niu Dashan pulled his sock back on.
Shoved his foot into the combat boot.
Stood up and stomped twice on the concrete floor.
A dull thud.
"Damn, it really don't hurt no more."
Niu Dashan slapped his thigh and let out a long breath.
He turned to Gu Ye, a look of surprise in his eyes.
"Not bad, kid. Fast hands. Way better than that old Wang at the medical unit."
Gu Ye walked to the sink and turned on the faucet to wash his hands again.
"Keep it dry for three days. Come back tomorrow morning to change the dressing."
"Thanks!"
Niu Dashan waved a hand.
With his heel no longer bothering him, he stopped limping.
He pulled open the clinic door and strode out.
The door slammed shut under the spring hinge with a bang.
The clinic fell quiet again.
Gu Ye turned off the faucet.
Shook the water droplets from his hands.
At that moment, a mechanical, ice-cold synthetic voice exploded without warning in the depths of his mind.
[Ding!]
[Detected host has completed one instance of basic medical treatment.]
[Hardcore Battle Damage Repair System, beginning binding... Binding successful.]
Gu Ye froze on the spot.
Water droplets dripped from his hands into the stainless steel sink, tap-tap-tap.
In front of his eyes, the air rippled like the surface of water.
A semi-transparent blue holographic screen materialized out of thin air.
[This system is designed to create the ultimate battlefield medical environment.]
[Core judgment rule: Host may obtain system rewards for any medical action involving saving lives, treating injuries, suturing wounds, etc.]
[Battle damage repair, life without end.]
Gu Ye stared at the words on the screen.
His breathing gradually deepened.
He was a hardcore materialist surgeon.
But if reincarnation could happen, having a system in his head didn't seem all that absurd.
As long as he saved people, he'd get rewards?
Gu Ye thought of his previous life, how he'd saved countless people, and all he'd gotten in return was endless exploitation and death from overwork.
Now, saving people directly turned into visible, tangible returns.
That was a deal worth taking.
[Ding! Issuing Newbie Gift Pack.]
[Detected host currently in a military camp environment. Danger coefficient assessment in progress... Assessment complete.]
[Congratulations, Host: Max-Level Combat Arts acquired.]
The words on the screen suddenly shattered.
Transforming into countless blue points of light that surged madly into Gu Ye's forehead.
Boom!
A violent, scorching heat exploded in Gu Ye's chest.
Like swallowing a red-hot coal in one gulp.
The heat surged through his aorta, raging toward his limbs and bones.
Gu Ye's knees buckled.
Both hands slammed against the edge of the sink.
Ten fingers clamped onto the stainless steel basin, the beds of his nails turning white.
"Ugh..."
A muffled groan of pain squeezed from his throat.
His bones began to crack.
Pop-pop-pop, like a string of firecrackers had been stuffed into every joint in his body.
Muscle fibers tore under the high heat.
Then, at an impossible speed, rewove and healed.
Becoming thicker, denser.
Sweat burst from his pores instantly.
Soaking through his green PT uniform.
Gu Ye bit down hard on his tongue, using the pain to keep himself from crying out.
A thick taste of blood spread through his mouth.
Combat techniques, power generation methods, killing moves.
Flooded into his brain like a tidal wave, crude and overwhelming.
Forming muscle memory carved into his DNA.
Muay Thai elbow strikes, Brazilian jiu-jitsu chokes, the lethal strikes of military Krav Maga.
No practice needed, no thinking required.
The moment he wanted it, his body could execute the perfect response.
Ten seconds later.
The tide receded, the heat subsided.
Gu Ye released his grip on the edge of the sink.
Ten shallow fingerprints remained in the stainless steel surface.
He straightened his back.
Exhaled a long, scorching breath.
The whole world felt different.
His senses had sharpened.
He could hear the drill commands of new recruits running on the training ground outside the window, could hear the faint hum of electric current in the fluorescent light tube.
His body felt light as a feather.
But every muscle held terrifying kinetic power in reserve.
Gu Ye walked to the open space in front of the desk.
Feet naturally apart, shoulder-width.
Slightly sank his hips.
No deliberate stance, just pure instinct.
Power rose from his heels, twisted through his knees, drove through his hips.
Traveled up the great dragon of his spine, link by link.
Finally channeled into his right arm.
A basic straight punch, thrown without warning.
Crack!
The fist tore through the air.
In the small clinic, it produced a crisp sonic pop.
The shockwave stirred the air, rustling the newspaper on the desk.
Gu Ye pulled back his fist.
Looked at his hands, still slender and pale, hands accustomed to holding a scalpel.
Now, these hands could not only snatch people back from the god of death.
They could also send people straight to meet him.
Gu Ye smiled with satisfaction.
Turned and walked toward the desk, reaching for the cup of red goji tea that had steeped to lukewarm.
"Help—!"
A piercing scream suddenly tore through the quiet outside the clinic.
The voice was shrill, filled with extreme panic.
Right behind it came chaotic, scrambling footsteps, frantically closing in on the clinic.
Accompanied by ragged, heavy breathing.
Gu Ye's hand stopped in midair.
His gaze shifted to the closed door.
Bang!
The green wooden door was kicked open by a tremendous force.
The lock shattered on impact.
The metal bolt flew off, smashing into the glass medicine cabinet and leaving a white mark.
A new recruit stumbled through the doorway.
Face pale as paper, drenched in cold sweat.
He scrambled and crashed into the desk, knocking over Gu Ye's freshly brewed goji tea.
Warm water spilled across the floor, red goji berries rolling over the concrete.
The recruit's mouth opened, desperately trying to scream, but no sound came out.
Because a thick, hairy arm was wrapped tight around his throat.
A man stepped over the threshold and followed him in.
The tattered jacket on his body had been torn into strips of cloth.
The jacket was covered in large patches of dark red blood, some already dried black.
The thick stench of blood instantly overwhelmed the smell of alcohol in the room.
The man's face was fleshy and brutal, his eyes bloodshot.
A centipede-like scar ran down his left cheek, twisting with every savage expression.
In his right hand, he gripped a rusty butcher's knife.
The blade pressed tight against the recruit's carotid artery.
The sharp edge had already split the skin, a thin line of blood seeping out.
"Doctor!"
The scarred man glared at Gu Ye and let out a beast-like roar.
His throat sounded like it was clogged with a mouthful of bloody phlegm.
"Get me the bleeding medicine! Give me all the bleeding medicine you got! Now!"