Chapter 208

Chapter 208

More than just Garrett leaped into action.

Beside the elderly dwarf, two younger dwarves, one on each side, also jumped up. They hastily laid the old man flat on a stool, then realized it was wrong and lifted him back onto the ground...

Garrett: "..." No! Regardless of the reason for his breathing difficulties, whether it’s heart and lung disease, blocked airways, or asthma, people shouldn’t lie flat!

Heart and lung disease patients should be propped up, those with blocked airways should be laid face down for back tapping, and there are different positions for other conditions. They shouldn’t be lying flat!

"Get him up! Help him up!"

He shouted as he ran forward. It was chaotic all around, with no one paying him any attention, not even glancing his way. The old dwarf lay flat on the ground, one dwarf kneeling beside him in prayer, the other spinning around in circles, calling out:

"Where’s my hammer? Where’s my hammer?!"

Do they need a hammer now?! Garrett couldn’t help but feel speechless. However, the dwarf on the left had already lifted his hammer, raised it high, and a white light shot out from the hammerhead, directly onto the old dwarf. The effect was immediate, and the painful expression on the old dwarf’s face suddenly relaxed.

Oh... the hammer is a divine equipment, alright. Garrett quickly glanced at the handle, which was spotted and smoked, looking like it was used for ironwork on a regular basis. Perhaps, for dwarves, this is indeed quite normal?

Just like how a bald bishop goes into battle with a staff...

The dwarf on the right also found his own hammer. With one dwarf kneeling beside the patient’s head and the other beside his feet, they both began to pray. Beam after beam of white light continued to fall on the old dwarf.

By now, the incident had alarmed the entire tavern. Drinking, arm wrestling, all activities came to a halt as every dwarf stood up from their stools. Nearly a hundred pairs of eyes stared fixedly at the platform, awaiting the outcome of the treatment, hoping for Elder Talbert to turn the situation around.

Initially, the treatment by the two dwarf priests seemed effective, but after less than half a minute, it began to deteriorate. The time for relief gradually shortened, the patient’s complexion grew worse, and the two dwarf priests exchanged worried glances, sweat dripping from their foreheads. One of them raised his voice:

"Brothers, please help me in prayer—"

"Let me take a look at him!"

Garrett interrupted. As soon as he sensed something was wrong, he rushed forward. However, being just a level-one warrior, and even more so after becoming a mage, his physical abilities were limited. Jumping over stools, weaving through tables, climbing onto the platform, it was a difficult journey, but he finally made it. Peering down, he saw the old dwarf’s face changing color, his throat wheezing and wheezing like a bellows—

This is bad!

This is airway obstruction!

Garrett immediately dropped to his knees and reached out to start treatment. But before he could do anything, a short, steel-like arm blocked his way, almost pushing him over:

"Who are you? Get away!"

The bubble spell on his head shattered silently.

A foul-smelling, sticky liquid surged into his mouth. The smell of tobacco, bad breath, and who knows what other foul odors mixed together and assaulted him.

Garrett was on the brink of suffocation. His eyes stung, and tears flowed down immediately.

But he couldn’t slack off, let alone leave! He forcefully took a breath, then another, finally turning his head and spitting out a mouthful of thick phlegm. Before others could react, Garrett took a deep breath, leaned down, and repeated the process.

One mouthful!

Another mouthful!

And another!

Suck out all the phlegm!

Clear the airway!

Race against death!

"F#@%&......"

"&%@¥......"

It was chaotic all around, with people exclaiming, shouting, and seemingly someone yelling at him. Garrett ignored it all, focusing all his attention on saving the patient. He didn’t know how many mouthfuls of phlegm he had sucked out, but suddenly, the resistance in his hand surged upwards again, and the patient began to struggle once more.

"Ho... ho... ho..."

Weak but desperate gasps for breath emanated from the old dwarf’s decrepit body. There was still phlegm in the airway, but it was now clear, and the old dwarf began to breathe in fresh air with all his might, delivering oxygen to every cell through his lung’s alveoli...

The faint sound of his breathing was like music to Garrett’s ears. He let go of his hands and collapsed backward, sitting on the ground, unable to help but smile.

As he smiled, he turned his head to the side and half-lay on the ground, coughing and retching. Uncontrollable tears streamed down his face in no time.

Several rough hands helped him up. Someone pressed him onto a wooden stump, someone handed him water, someone handed him a towel—the towel was as rough as canvas—someone pounded his back with the force of a pile driver, shouting in his ear:

"Good friend! Good brother!"

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