Chapter 317: Time is Money, My Friend

Garrett Nordmark briskly exited the infectious disease hospital, calling out as he walked:

"All priests of the God of Nature’s congregation! To my Mage Tower! All of you! Leave your work, leave your patients! Immediately!!!"

He amplified his voice with a spell, echoing through the building. Responses followed one after another from behind:

"Right away!"

"Coming!"

"In a moment!"

Garrett didn’t wait for them; he continued forward. Just off the steps, a horse galloped towards him, kicking up dust. The rider, a knight, leaped down and hurriedly grabbed Garrett:

"I’ve arrived! What happened that there are so many patients all of a sudden? What illness is it? What else needs to be done?"

The visitor, tall and with a rugged face weathered by experience, was none other than Johnny Colin, the Minister of Emergency Management. Minister Colin had interacted with Garrett a few times before and knew that Garrett wouldn’t bother anyone without good reason. Once Garrett sought his help, he immediately dispatched emergency management personnel according to the original plan.

A group of individuals in black, along with Garrett’s apprentices, were busy sealing off streets, conducting door-to-door visits, collecting samples for testing. Colin didn’t lead the team himself; instead, he sat in the city hall, pressing those in charge to dispatch patrol teams to assist. The Emergency Management Department handled urgent matters related to magicians, and manpower was always insufficient. In such times, it was crucial to pull the city hall into the fray!

He was no stranger to plagues and estimated that the first wave would involve dozens, if not hundreds, of patients. However, as the carriages went back and forth, the reported numbers kept rising, surpassing two hundred in just a morning. Johnny Colin could no longer stay put and personally visited Garrett to inquire about the situation.

Garrett grabbed his hand, continuing towards the outside of the hospital while quickening his pace:

"I was just looking for you! Do you remember the time we chased spies in the middle of the night, finding horses with black spots and soldiers falling ill?—It’s that disease, but this time the water source is contaminated, making the pathogen spread through the gastrointestinal tract, which is even more dangerous! I need your help!"

Johnny Colin shivered. He vividly remembered that operation; his entire department was mobilized in the middle of the night, running along mountain roads for two whole days and nights. It was said that such a large mobilization was due to a prophecy made by a high-ranking diviner predicting a major calamity.

And now, Garrett mentioned it was even more dangerous than before...

"What do you need me to do?" he asked solemnly. Garrett’s response was swift:

"Three things. First, screen the residents of those twelve buildings again for any signs of discomfort and bring them to the hospital as soon as possible;

Second, collect water samples from the drainage pipes of each floor, and if possible, from the main valves of each building. If the water is confirmed to be contaminated, trace it back to the source as soon as possible;

Third, based on the resident list, bring those who are working or studying outside to the hospital. Disinfect the places where these people have stayed, using double the concentration of disinfectant! Double! And you and your subordinates, be very careful while executing tasks, don’t touch any food before washing hands and changing clothes after returning home—"

"I’ll arrange it immediately!" Johnny, leading his horse, followed Garrett and immediately mounted again upon hearing these requests. He took a few steps, then suddenly turned back, glancing over Garrett’s shoulder:

"Is your infectious disease hospital big enough to accommodate so many people?"

Garrett’s expression turned troubled. His infectious disease hospital had a capacity of 1000 beds—planning under the assumption that if all these beds were utilized, all healers in the city would be gathered to quickly discharge cured patients...

Next to the hospital was a quarantine observation area capable of holding 1000 individuals. Now, it seemed grossly insufficient; just accommodating all residents from those twelve buildings for observation would require doubling the number of beds.

With no other options, he might have to gamble on muscle injections... Garrett’s thoughts raced. Without treatment, they were doomed anyway, so injecting large doses of penicillin into muscles... Right, he also needed to prepare injection needles!

Normally, the injection needles in the Mage Tower were made on-the-spot for animal experiments, no more than 50 at a time, and destroyed after use. How many patients were there now? How many syringes needed to be prepared?

Garrett sat down in the storage room. Opening his space bag, he took out a large piece of glass, a piece of dwarf-special metal—supposedly a secret formula that doesn’t rust—and a large bag of gold coins. He grabbed a handful of gold coins and dropped them on the floor, creating a tinkling sound.

These were strategic materials for emergency situations. Garrett had always kept them sealed, reluctant to use them, but now was the time for large-scale deployment!

He gripped a silver bell. Squeezing almost to the point of extracting water from its surface, he declared firmly:

"Time is money, my friend!"

His speech was quick and steady, without any odd intonations. Blue smoke soon emerged from the bell, and a little demon jumped down. Garrett pointed to the materials on the ground, speaking urgently:

"Make syringes! 10ml ones! Start with 1000! Fast!"

The little demon’s hands fluttered. The glass, metal, and gold coins on the ground silently melted as if thrown into a magical furnace. The metal was cut, pressed into thin sheets, curled, and trimmed to ensure the needle tubes were straight and uniform, with a sharp be

veled tip, while maintaining sufficient strength and smoothness;

The glass turned red, liquefied, flowed, rising into the air, shaped into hollow syringes, their ends opened to wrap around the metal needle tips;

The other end was seamlessly designed for smooth pushing without any leaks...

One syringe after another, shining brightly, appeared in front of Garrett. The process was slow, only managing to produce 2 per minute, meaning only 120 could be made in an hour!

"Can you go any faster?" he urged:

"Can you increase the speed by 5 times? Make 600 per hour?"

Muscle injection procedures were simple; with a bit of training, each student could perform them independently. If the production of penicillin and syringes could keep up, and 600 patients could be injected within an hour—then perhaps, hundreds of lives could be saved!

The little demon concentrated on manipulating the magic, not answering him. Only after another syringe landed on the ground did it raspily reply:

"It costs money. To increase the speed by 5 times, 25 times the amount of gold coins is needed."

"Take it!"

Garrett lifted the bag of coins, not bothering to count, and poured them out.

Time is money, my friend!

At this moment, time was life!

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