American Medicine: I survived the death knell thanks to the devil.

"I heard from the emergency room staff that his speed in stopping bleeding with his bare hands is something that medical school can't teach."

"Some people say he used to be a military doctor for Blackwater International and spent several years in the Middle East."

"That Blackwater International, the top mercenary group in the US? Really?"

"Aren't you spreading rumors? I have reliable information that Lynn is a 'cleaner' who does dirty work for those five Mafia families."

……

Cassie leaned against the edge of the triage desk, stuffing a dry sandwich into her mouth while checking the doctor's orders on the tablet.

When she heard the word "cleaner", she almost choked on a lettuce leaf.

"Cassie, weren't you involved in that bone tuberculosis case?"

A blonde nurse touched her arm, her eyes lighting up.

"You must have his private number, right? How about we arrange a get-together this weekend? Or give us a hint, what kind of girl does he like?"

Several girls immediately gathered around, their eyes full of anticipation.

There are also young resident physicians, but there are more nurses.

Their future is not as promising as that of resident doctors. Many of them rely on their beauty and hope to find a good husband at the hospital so they will never have to worry about anything in this life.

Even in a divorce, there is alimony.

In this world of fame and fortune that worships the strong, a young chief resident with top-notch skills, a mysterious background, and the ability to trample even academic cliques underfoot has a fatal attraction.

Cassie swallowed the sandwich, giving a tired and helpless bitter smile.

"Stop joking, ladies. I'm just a poor resident doctor with nearly 300,000 in student loans, who can't even afford a single room in Manhattan and sleeps in parking lots every day."

She spread her hands, "He's now Old Hudson's favorite, a rising star in orthopedics."

"I'm just a tool for running errands and finding information. I don't even know what kind of coffee he usually drinks. How am I qualified to climb such a high branch?"

The girls let out a disappointed sigh, but quickly huddled together again, continuing to speculate about which secret tycoon Lynn was the illegitimate son of.

Cassie turned around and continued tapping on the screen without changing her expression.

Climbing the social ladder?

She was actually barely able to suppress the secret delight in her heart.

The international mercenaries you see as unattainable are actually cheaters who need 30 lives to play Contra.

The mafia cleaners you've been imagining are actually worried about finding clients for their shady clinics.

They've shared tens of thousands of dollars, tinged with the stench of blood, and eaten top-quality Italian handmade pizzas together.

This privilege of having the privilege of trampling on young, blonde beauties in the metropolis and enjoying exclusive secrets gave Cassie an unprecedented mental orgasm.

……

The shift handover ended in the early hours of the morning.

Cassie took off his scrub suit, put on an inconspicuous black hoodie, and strode towards the deepest part of the hospital's underground parking lot.

The newly purchased secondhand RV was parked quietly in a blind spot of the surveillance camera.

The car door opened, and Lynn was sitting next to the modified stainless steel operating table, looking down at the defibrillator's battery level.

Veteran Satch sat in the driver's seat, slowly loading .45 caliber brass hollow-point bullets into a single-stack magazine of a retired Marine Corps M45A1 tactical pistol.

"Click, click."

The crisp sound of metal rubbing together was exceptionally clear in the cramped space.

"Something big is happening?" Cassie immediately got into action, locking the car doors behind her back.

Lynn nodded.

"That was an encrypted call from Joe."

"The order was huge, but he specifically reminded me to be careful."

Cassie paused for a moment as she sorted through the medicines.

"That gangster Joe, who treats gunshot wounds like it's nothing, is actually warning us to be careful?"

He said the patient was extremely impatient.

Lynn added, "The exact words were: If things aren't right, don't explain, don't try to save me, just run."

For a ruthless gangster to issue such a warning, it means that tonight's opponent is definitely an extremely dangerous and unpredictable individual.

Sachi wasn't a professional doctor after all, and the collaboration hadn't gone smoothly last time. Despite the risks, Lynn decided to bring Cassie along.

After all, she also received a 30% commission, something she would have to face sooner or later.

Cassie's fear and excitement exploded simultaneously in his veins.

Without hesitation, she decisively sat in the passenger seat.

"clear."

"Let's go," Lynn ordered.

Sachi turned the key.

The muffled sound of an engine echoed through the underground parking garage.

The RV then merged into the dazzling nightscape and traffic of New York City.

They stopped in the shadows of an abandoned factory in the South Bronx.

A dull knock broke the silence.

Three long lines, one short line, and another long line—that was the code Joe gave us.

Cassie opened the side door, and a strong smell of tequila mixed with the stench of blood rushed into the carriage.

The man who came in was of Mexican descent.

He wore a flashy silk shirt with the collar open, revealing a thick gold chain and a large tattoo on his chest.

He clutched his right forearm tightly with his left hand, blood dripping from between his fingers onto the RV's anti-slip mat.

The man looked up, and when Lynn saw his eyes, she remembered a giant lizard she had seen in an animal documentary when she was a child.

It seems to be called...

"Komodo Dragon"

He nervously scanned the equipment inside the carriage, finally focusing on Lynn.

"Joe said you're the best doctor in the Bronx?"

He grinned, revealing two gold-plated front teeth, his smile radiant.

The moment the man entered, Sachi, sitting in the driver's seat, tensed up all his muscles and his right hand silently slid towards the M45A1 tactical pistol at his waist.

Sachi stared at the man through the rearview mirror, while simultaneously casting an extremely dangerous warning glance at Lynn.

Lynn remained calm, put on sterile gloves, and pointed to the stainless steel operating table.

"Sit down and place your hands flat."

The man strode over, plopped down unceremoniously, and threw his bloodied right arm onto the table.

He seemed oblivious to the pain, instead watching Lynn's movements with great interest, his nostrils flaring rapidly.

Lynn picked up the scissors and cut open the blood-soaked sleeve of her shirt.

The exposed wound was a penetrating wound.

The blade pierced the forearm from the outside and exited from the inside.

Lynn picked up the saline solution and rinsed the wound. Her gaze lingered on the edge of the wound for half a second, and her pupils contracted slightly.

Not right.

Emergency room doctors are very familiar with knife wounds.

Knife wounds from street fights are usually accompanied by struggle, and the edges of the wounds will be irregularly jagged or have defensive cut marks.

However, the wound was extremely clean, cut straight through without any hesitation or interruption.

The blade precisely pierced the gap between the brachioradialis and flexor carpi radialis muscles, perfectly avoiding the radial artery, ulnar artery, and median nerve.

If the deviation is even half a centimeter, the arm's motor function will be completely lost, and it may even go into shock due to massive bleeding.

The angle of the blade is from top to bottom, with the outer side higher and the inner side lower; this is a typical trajectory for left-hand reverse grip force generation.

Lynn glanced at the man's undamaged left hand, his knuckles covered in calluses, and the base of his thumb showing thick calluses from holding a knife handle for a long time.

This injury...

He stabbed himself!

The Demon Worldline Convergence System has been activated.