Chapter 4

The hallway outside the operating room was deserted, only Mr. Anderson pacing back and forth anxiously.

Korina, as the scrub nurse, had also gone in. Tony clearly wanted to give her a share of the credit to help her secure a permanent position.

Time ticked by, second by second.

Four fifteen. Four twenty.

Suddenly, the airtight door of the operating room opened a crack.

An anesthesiologist, covered in sweat, rushed out.

He yelled frantically at the nurse’s station:

“Blood bank! More blood! Type AB blood! Quickly!”

Anderson grabbed the anesthesiologist’s arm, his hand trembling:

“What’s going on? Aren’t they doing a splenectomy? Why do you need more blood?”

The anesthesiologist’s face was pale, his eyes darting away:

“The… the bleeding is too massive… can’t find the source of bleeding…”

“What do you mean you can’t find the source of bleeding?!”

Anderson roared like thunder.

Just then, the operating room door opened again.

Dr. Miller, the Director, arrived hurriedly with several specialists, clearly having received a critical report.

“What’s the situation? What is Tony doing?”

The Director demanded, pulling on his scrubs.

I emerged from the corner, my voice hoarse but firm.

“Director, it’s a ruptured interstitial pregnancy.”

“Tony can’t find the bleeding source because he’s been rummaging around the spleen up top, but the bleeding point is in the uterine horn below.”

The Director abruptly stopped, turning to look at me.

He saw the bruises on my face and the blood at the corner of my mouth.

“Anthony? What are you doing here?”

“What you’re saying, is it true?”

“Let me in.”

I met the Director’s gaze, without any hesitation.

“Right now, only I can locate the spot and stop the bleeding within a minute.”

“If I fail, I’ll never practice medicine again, and I’ll serve time in prison as restitution.”

The Director looked at me deeply, with scrutiny and the resolve of a desperate gamble.

The monitoring alarms inside were already echoing in the hallway – the wailing of a heart about to stop.

“Get in! Scrub in!” The Director growled.

Anderson tried to stop me, but the Director silenced him with a look:

“Shut up, unless you want your wife to die!”

I sprinted into the changing room.

In that moment, I felt my blood boiling.

Three minutes later.

I entered the operating room.

The operating table was a scene of hell.

Blood-soaked gauze littered the floor, and the monitors emitted piercing alarms.

Tony, his hands covered in blood, was frantically rummaging around inside the patient’s abdomen.

He had completely broken down, muttering to himself:

“Impossible… why isn’t it there… the spleen is fine… where is the blood coming from…”

Korina cowered in a corner, trembling, instruments scattered all over the floor, too terrified to do anything but whimper.

“Get out of the way!”

I charged forward, forcefully using my shoulder to shove Tony, sending him stumbling backward and falling to the floor.

“You… Anthony? What are you doing?!”

Tony looked at me in terror.

I ignored him, my hands swiftly reaching into the pelvic cavity.

Hot. Scalding blood.

But I didn’t need my eyes; my hands were my eyes.

Countless dissection practices in my past life.

Made my fingertips, the moment they touched that pulsating rupture.

Form a muscle memory.

Found it!

My left hand tightened instantly, gripping the ruptured uterine horn artery.

In that very moment.

*Sizzle—*

The blood that had been gushing violently suddenly stopped.

The blood pressure readings on the monitor, which had been plummeting, finally stabilized.

Then slowly began to rise.

The entire room fell silent.

The anesthesiologist’s eyes widened, looking at me as if he’d seen a ghost:

“Did… did you stop it?”

I looked up, casting a cold glance at Tony on the floor, then at Korina in the corner.

“Did you see that, you quack?!”

“Prepare for uterine horn wedge resection!”

The next ten minutes were my domain.

Excision, suturing, ligation—each movement was precise and flawless.

When I cut the last suture, the patient’s vital signs were completely stable.

From that bloody mess.

I retrieved the culprit.

An abnormally developed embryonic tissue.

Tony lay limp on the floor, his face ashen.

He knew he was finished.

The surgery ended.

I removed my blood-soaked gloves and walked out of the operating room.

Outside the door, Anderson had already learned everything.

This titan of the business world now bowed deeply to me.

“Miracle worker! Anthony is a miracle worker!”

“I’m a fool! I was blind to your talent! I wronged you so terribly!”

“Thank you for saving my wife’s life!”

He cried with gratitude.

I stepped aside, not helping him up, and simply said calmly:

“It’s a doctor’s duty.”

“However,”

I changed the subject, my gaze sweeping past him to Korina, who had just sneaked out of the operating room and was furtively fiddling with her phone.

She was hiding behind a pillar, thinking no one saw her, her fingers rapidly tapping on the screen.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

A notification from the main group chat.

A cold smirk touched my lips.

“Mr. Anderson, I appreciate your gratitude. But I might be facing trouble again now.”

“Trouble?”

Anderson paused, then rose from the floor.

I took out my phone, opened the hospital’s five-hundred-person group chat, and handed the screen to Anderson.

In the group, Korina had just sent a new message and tagged everyone.

[Korina: I was really scared today.]

[Even though it was to save a life, Anthony was too much in the operating room…]

[How can he just grope around in such a private area? ]

[And keep his hand in there for so long… He looked like he was really enjoying it.]

[Everyone, judge for yourselves, even if the patient was under anesthesia, he shouldn’t take advantage to molest her, right? image.jpg]

Attached was a photo taken from an extremely unflattering angle.

In the picture, my hand was deep inside the patient’s abdominal cavity. Due to the exertion, my expression looked somewhat strained.

But after she added a filter, it genuinely appeared to have a perverted, lecherous quality.

Anderson looked at the phone screen, his face shifting from confusion to disbelief, and finally to a dark, explosive red.

He had been standing right beside me.

He had personally watched me snatch his wife back from the jaws of death.

He had personally seen that nurse terrified and useless in the operating room, yet now she was spreading such malicious lies online.

“Is that… the nurse from just now?”

Anderson gritted his teeth.

I took back my phone and said calmly:

“Yes, she says I was molesting the patient.”

“Mr. Anderson, it seems I’m in for a rough legal battle.”

Anderson spun around abruptly, glaring fiercely at the triumphant figure behind the pillar.

“Fine… very fine!”

“Daring to spread rumors about my wife’s savior, and using my wife’s surgery photo as material for sexual slander!”

Anderson pulled out his phone and dialed a number:

“Get my entire legal department here! I want this b*tch to rot in jail!”