MTL - He Became a Salted Fish After Inheriting Millions of Secret Arts-Chapter 2 Russian rescue

Duan Feizhuo has been an unlicensed doctor since he was an unlicensed doctor, and he has seen all kinds of patients, some crying, some trying to calm down, some thinking that everything is over and having no will to survive... but holding a throwing knife It was the first time I saw someone who forced him to practice medicine.

...that's a lot of insight.

The man with the throwing knife identified himself as Goldstein. His companion was a small, thin, rodent-looking man named Pymer.

Paimo was lying on Duan Feizhu's bed (it was also the only bed in this dilapidated hut), clutching his stomach. Blood gushed from under his fingers, staining the sheets blood red in no time.

Under Goldstein's menacing gaze, Duan Feizhuo carefully cut the injured man's clothes with scissors.

He gasped.

The flesh and blood under the clothes were bloody, and several parallel wounds ran across the wounded abdomen, as if torn apart by the claws of a ferocious beast.

What weapon could inflict such a wound?

Who did Paimo offend to end up like this?

Although extremely curious, these are not related to Duan Feizhuo. The only thing he should consider right now is how to treat the wounded.

The wound must be sutured, and the needles and threads need to be boiled and sterilized. As soon as Duan Feizhuo took a basin of water from the water tank, Goldstein showed his throwing knife.

"What do you want to do?" He asked coldly.

"Boil the water." Duan Feizhuo shrank back, avoiding his blade.

"Don't try to mess with it," Goldstein warned.

Pai Mo Youyou, who was lying on the bed, opened his eyes and gestured to Duan Feizhuo, "Let me come."

Duan Feizhuo looked at the seriously injured Paimo in confusion. He even had trouble getting up, so he still wanted to help light the fire?

Goldstein took a thin metal rod out of his pocket and stuffed it into Paimo's hand.

Paimo pointed at the water basin with the metal rod, and with a sound of "chi", a stream of hot steam burst out from the water basin.

Duan Feizhuo was dumbfounded.

"You, how did you do it?" He tried the temperature of the water with his fingers, but his fingers almost became half-cooked, "Could it be magic?"

Paimo squeezed out a smile on his pale face, "You can understand that, doctor."

- There is magic in this world!

Duan Feizhuo seemed to hear an angel blowing a trumpet in the clouds. He traveled to this world for three full years, was impoverished, had a hard time, and now he finally discovered something unusual about this world! Maybe learning magic is the purpose of his journey here?

"If you know magic," Duan Feizhuo asked, "then why don't you heal yourself?"

Paimo smiled sarcastically, "I'm not good at that kind of secret art. I have a specialty in art, doctor."

Goldstein pushed Duan Feizhuo, "Stop talking, and work faster!"

Duan Feizhuo glanced at him, then dipped the needle and thread into boiling water to sterilize it.

Pymer had brought some laudanum himself for painkillers, so he didn't suffer as much as Ruth's father did during the operation. The operation continued into the night. When the moon rose high in the sky, Duan Feizhuo finished suturing all of Paimo's wounds. For this he had to waste a precious candle.

After two surgeries a day, he was almost out of shape with exhaustion. Goldstein stared at him like a jailer guarding a prisoner the whole time, which made his nerves even more tense.

He washed the blood on his hands in the basin, picked up the basin and walked out of the house.

"Where are you going?" Goldstein stopped him.

"I can't pour dirty water in my own home, can I?" Duan Feizhuo said angrily.

Goldstein pushed the door open a gap, looked out, and said coldly, "Go and come back quickly, don't leave my sight!"

He flipped his right hand and showed the throwing knife, as if saying that even if you dare to run away, you can't run away from my knife.

Duan Feizhuo shrank his neck, tiptoed out the door with a basin in his hand, and walked towards the nearest ditch.

Something flitted overhead, and a piece of pitch-black feathers slowly fell.

Duan Feizhuo raised his head, and it turned out that a crow flapped its wings and flew by. Mud Street is often crowded with crows, perhaps because the street always smells of rancidity.

The crow stopped on the eaves, shaking its wings, and its bright eyes reflected the cold moonlight.

Then, it spoke.

"Boss! That's the house!"

Duan Feizhuo subconsciously turned around.

The bright moonlight shines on the continuous roofs of the shantytowns on Lanni Street, like rolling mountains covered with a layer of hoarfrost. At the junction of white and black, another figure appeared.

The man came walking by the moonlight, a pitch-black coat fluttering in the wind, and long silver-white hair dancing wildly.

He took out a golden cigarette case from the inner pocket of his coat, flicked his wrist, and shook out a hand-rolled cigar.

Gritting the cigar between his teeth, he pulled it out of the case.

Noticing that there were other people on the street, he gave a soft "huh?", lowered his blood-red eyes, and met Duan Feizhuo who was on the ground.

There was only one thought left in Duan Feizhuo's mind—

This guy is so **** beautiful.

Duan Feizhuo still remembers that he once visited a museum and saw a small statue made of human bones. The carving is exquisite, it can be called ingenious workmanship, but every time I see it, I will always unconsciously think that this thing used to be a living person.

The physiologically uncomfortable disgust and the exquisite beauty of the artwork are strangely combined, forming an indescribable beauty instead.

This man gave him exactly the same feeling as that statue.

He looked at Duan Feizhuo, but his eyes didn't focus on the latter's face, he just looked in that direction emptily, as if he was thinking about whether there was anyone there.

A few seconds later—to Duan Feizhuo, it seemed as long as centuries, the white-haired man looked away.

He put the cigarette case back into his pocket, took out another matchbox, took out a match, rubbed it lightly, and lit the cigar.

He just stood there, breathing quietly. The smoke from the cigars was quickly blown away by the night wind, like snowflakes disappearing into the darkness.

In the next second, he disappeared.

The cigar, still burning with sparks, fell slowly.

A silver-white shadow flew past Duan Feizhuo's eyes. Duan Feizhuo rubbed his eyes, only to realize that the white-haired man hadn't disappeared, but was moving at a speed that the naked eye couldn't catch.

He ran on the roof, jumped onto the roof of Duan Feizhuo's house, kicked the crumbling tiles away, and jumped in through the gap between the beams.

The cigar just fell to the ground at this moment, and it went out with a "chi".

There was a scream in the house. The door slammed open in a panic, and the burly Goldstein stumbled out and fell to the ground. He struggled to prop up his body, with an expression of extreme fear on his blood-splattered face, desperately trying to escape from something.

The white-haired man, so beautiful that he was not human, stepped out of the hut.

Goldstein turned around and threw a throwing knife at him, and the white-haired man blocked it with a slight raise of his hand.

Duan Feizhuo noticed that his sleeve was torn, revealing a section of brass-colored arm, reflecting the cold metallic luster.

Duan Feizhuo suddenly realized that it was a mechanical prosthesis.

He has long discovered that this era is different from the Victorian era in history. The steam revolution is advancing vigorously. Steam-driven airships and prosthetic limbs that can connect nerves have appeared. Duan Feizhuo wouldn't be surprised even if the world went directly from steampunk to cyberpunk.

The white-haired man stepped on Goldstein's back. When he raised his leg, Duan Feizhu could clearly hear the sound of machinery running. Could it be that this guy even has a mechanical prosthetic leg?

Goldstein uttered a near-breathing scream and collapsed.

"I surrender! I surrender!"

The white-haired man's well-shaped lips were slightly curved into a cruel smile, as if savoring some sweet fragrance in the air.

Duan Feizhuo could hardly tell whether he was a human or a ghost. If he is human, why is he so murderous? If he is a ghost...is there such a good-looking ghost in the world?

If it weren't for the blood stains on his body, this picture would really be regarded as a pleasing spectacle.

wrong. Duan Feizhuo thought to himself. Even though his body was covered in blood, this scene is absolutely wonderful, like a warlike and bloodthirsty **** rising from **** stepping on the bones of his enemies, it is so beautiful that it makes people's soul tremble.

The crow on the eaves stretches its neck "Boss, it's under you!"

The white-haired man jumped back.

Where he was standing before, the muddy ground exploded instantly. A huge mouse popped out of the ground.

No, that wasn't a mouse, it was Pymer with the sly eyebrows and mouse eyes.

He grasped the metal rod with his right hand, maybe it should be called a wand, and his left hand was covering his stomach, his sharp face was full of hatred and fear.

"It's you who are so good at digging holes, Paimo." The crow laughed loudly, "I advise you to surrender as soon as possible. Maybe our boss will be merciful and leave your whole body behind."

Paimo grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth, "It's an honor for the commander of the night police to arrest me in person!"

He pointed his wand at the crow, "I'd really like to know what kind of expression your boss will show when he sees the capable man turning into a corpse."

An invisible shock wave erupted from the wand.

The crow fell back heavily, as if hit by an invisible fist. It rolled several times on the undulating roof and fell down with a "bang".

Pimer turned his wand again, pointing at the white-haired man. Another shock wave gushed out of the wand.

The white-haired man dodged quickly, but he was still a step too late. The shock wave hit his right shoulder. With a click, his right arm broke from his shoulder, separated from his body, and flew out entirely.

Several cables hang down from the truncated part of the right arm, and several gears are spinning idly.

The white-haired man was expressionless and didn't even blink his eyes, as if it wasn't his arm that flew away just now, but a dispensable decoration on his body.

"Is that the only trick?" He smiled contemptuously.

Beads of sweat stood on Paimo's forehead. He turned around abruptly, and stared straight at Duan Feizhuo who had been watching the battle by the side.

He rushed towards Duan Feizhuo with lightning speed and held him with his thin arms.

"Don't come here! If you dare to move, I'll blow this kid's head off!" He pressed his wand against Duan Feizhuo's chin.

Duan Feizhuo was stunned, "Brother, I saved your life just now, and you just want to repay your kindness like this?"

"Shut up! Or I'll blow your head off right now!"

"If I die, don't you have no hostages?"

Overhead came the sound of a bird flapping its wings. The crow flew back to the eaves with difficulty.

"Don't get excited, Pymer," it said, "let the young man go, he's innocent, and you'll kill him."

Paimo roared, "Get out of the way, all of you! Let me go! When I am safe, I will let this kid go!"

Crow shook his head.

"You don't understand, Pymer. You're going to kill him." It said pityingly. "Boss is not like me. He never cares about the hostages."

Duan Feizhuo was dumbfounded.

The white-haired man rushed towards the gangsters and hostages at the speed of an arrow. At the same time, a sharp blade popped out from his remaining hand.

The last scene Duan Feizhuo witnessed was the strangely beautiful face of the white-haired man bullying him.

The sharp blade hit his chest, pierced his body, and then stabbed the kidnapper behind him.

Paimo let go, and the wand rolled away.

The blade was drawn out, and blood spattered.

A drop of blood splashed on the white-haired man's cheek.

Duan Feizhuo looked down at the hole in his chest where blood was constantly oozing out, and fell powerlessly down.

—What kind of Russian rescue is this...