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

The Demon Worldline Convergence System has been activated.

[Demon detected...]

[Race: Hipe Totek (Lord of Skinning)]

The Aztec gods, who took pleasure in self-mutilation and skinning, revered extreme pain and bloodshed as a means of sifting out their fanatical followers.

(Hector Tuco Reyes: "If this Chinese doctor isn't good enough, I'll immediately break his neck with my left hand... My grandmother's illness can't wait, I need a truly excellent doctor, quacks only deserve to sink into the mud of the Hudson River to feed the fish...")

[You can choose from the following world lines]

[A: Maintain absolute professionalism, complete the suturing, and assume subsequent risks. (Reward: "Deep Sleep - Beginner")]

[B: Strike first! Using the No. 11 scalpel, Sachi and his comrades completed the decapitation. (Reward: "Special CQB Indoor Close Combat - Intermediate")]

[C: Knees buckled and she knelt down, loudly praising the other man's valiant spirit in stabbing her without batting an eye, and then voluntarily sewed a pink bow into her wound to showcase her tough-guy style. (Reward: A butterfly knife)]

[D: Under the pretext of wound cleaning, mix an excessive amount of high-concentration, potent sedative into the local anesthetic to completely incapacitate him. (Reward: "RSI Intravenous Rapid Sequential Induction Anesthesia - Advanced")]

A madman who has been playing with knives for years, has an extremely good understanding of human anatomy, and is ruthless towards himself.

This was Lynn's initial assessment of the Mexican man before him.

Furthermore, judging from the options, the subsequent risks are very high...

"What's wrong? Are you badly injured, doctor?"

The man suddenly leaned closer, staring wide-eyed at Lynn.

"He won't die."

Lynn turned around and picked up the needle holder and sutures.

"It was just a muscle puncture; no blood vessels or nerves were damaged. You're lucky."

"Luck? Ha! I've always been blessed by God!"

The man suddenly burst into laughter, a sharp and piercing laugh that echoed through the carriage.

Lynn ignored his neuroticism and lowered her head to begin sewing.

The silver suture needle blurred into a blur under the operating light, precisely penetrating the subcutaneous tissue and dermis.

The knotting and thread-cutting movements were fluid and effortless.

In less than three minutes, the wound was perfectly closed with even stitches.

The man looked at the neat stitches on his arm, then moved his right hand fingers without any resistance.

"Beautiful. Absolutely fucking beautiful."

He muttered to himself.

Just as Lynn cut the last stitch.

"squeak--"

The screeching of brakes echoed repeatedly outside the RV.

Several blinding high beams instantly pierced through the car windows, illuminating the interior brightly.

At least three large, dark-colored Tahoe SUVs and two Dodge Charger muscle cars completely blocked the RV in the middle.

The sounds of car doors being pulled open and the metallic scraping of gun bolts were particularly clear in the quiet night.

Let me introduce myself.

The man stood up, casually grabbed a piece of gauze to wipe the blood off his hands, and the smile on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a suffocating brutality.

"You can call me Tuko."

"Hector Tuco Reyes".

Sachi spoke from the driver's seat:

"Lynn, he's the biggest drug lord in the South Bronx. He's the one who distributes half the drug in this neighborhood."

Tuko twisted his neck, making a cracking sound as his bones rubbed together.

He ignored Sachi and stared at Lynn with a fanatical gaze.

"My grandmother is sick, very sick! She's a devout believer, and I take her to church every Sunday! But good deeds don't always pay off."

"She has no legal status; she can't go to those damn white hospitals!"

Tuko became increasingly excited as he spoke, spitting as he spoke and waving his hands wildly in the air.

"I can't hand her over to those quack doctors at those shady clinics! I don't get along with Arjun, so I had no choice but to come to you."

"My grandmother's life is more important than mine. I have to try it myself! Let's see if you're as amazing as the rumors say!"

Footsteps approached from outside the carriage.

A dozen drug dealers armed with short-barreled AK-style Dracula pistols and Glock pistols fitted with drum magazines had surrounded the RV door, preparing to forcibly open it.

"Thank goodness, you're really great!"

"Now, take your things and come with me," Tuco issued his ultimatum.

Before he could finish speaking, something unexpected happened.

A cold, size 11 scalpel, like a viper's tongue, was instantly pressed against Tuko's neck.

The blade pressed precisely against the anterior border of the sternocleidomastoid muscle, where the common carotid artery and internal jugular vein meet.

With just a slight exertion of Lynn's finger, high-pressure arterial blood would spray onto the roof within half a second.

At the same time, Sachs jumped up from the driver's seat, pressing his M45A1 tactical pistol firmly against the back of Tuco's head.

The air inside the carriage instantly froze.

The drug dealer outside sensed something was wrong and roared as he smashed the car window with the butt of his gun.

"Tell them to get lost."

"Or I can perform a tracheotomy on you right now."

Tuko remained frozen in place.

He turned his gaze to Cassie in the corner.

The girl who hadn't spoken was now leaning against the medicine cabinet.

Her face was pale and her body was trembling slightly, but her right hand was tightly hidden in the pocket of her white coat.

The fabric of the pocket was pushed out in a clear outline.

It was a syringe filled with 10% high-concentration potassium chloride.

Simply injecting it directly into the muscle can instantly trigger a fatal arrhythmia.

This is the ruthlessness that a girl from the lower class in the South Bronx is forced to develop when she is in dire straits.

Tuco looked at the three people.

A doctor who didn't flinch even when a knife was pressed against his carotid artery.

A ruthless soldier ready to blow his head off at any moment.

There was also a girl who was trembling but dared to inject him with poison.

The silence lasted for a full five seconds.

Suddenly, a low gurgling sound came from Tuco's throat.

Then, the sound turned into unrestrained, maniacal laughter.

"Hahahaha!"

Tuco laughed so hard tears almost came out. He even deliberately brought his neck towards the scalpel, and the sharp blade instantly cut through his skin, causing a few drops of blood to seep out.

"Cojones!"

(Spanish: You've got guts!)

Tuco's eyes were filled with a morbid fanaticism and admiration.

He roared, "Get the hell back! Put your guns down! Anyone who dares to move, I'll skin them alive!"

The commotion outside the door subsided instantly.

Tuco looked at Lynn again, his eyes less tentative and more filled with a wild, approving look.

"You've passed, doctor."

Tuco licked his lips, his tone shifting to that of an ordinary family member pleading with a doctor; the speed of this emotional change was chilling.

"My grandmother has had a fever for the past two days, and her upper right abdomen is hurting badly. She even vomited after eating the meat rolls I made."

Lynn's eyes flickered slightly.

Severe pain in the upper right abdomen, fever, nausea and vomiting.

Taking into account the dietary habits of older Latinos...

Acute cholecystitis?

It may have even developed into gallbladder empyema.

If a gallbladder perforation occurs in the environment of a typical underground clinic, it would be a disaster.

"Cassie, prepare a full set of abdominal surgical instruments, as well as ceftriaxone and metronidazole."

Lynn stared at Tuco.

"Lead the way. If your men dare to interfere with my treatment..."

Lynn paused for a moment.

"You and your grandmother are going to see God."

"Cassie, get to the driver's seat."

"Sachi, don't take the gun off his head."

Tuco was being held hostage by sword and gun, but instead of being angry, he looked like he was enjoying it.

The drug dealers could only follow behind the RV in frustration, not even daring to honk their horns.

The RV sped through the run-down streets of the South Bronx, followed by several dark Tahoe and Dodge Chargers...

The convoy paraded through the streets of the Bronx in the early hours of the morning. Homeless people and drug addicts along the way would shrank back into the shadows at a glance, and even stray dogs would tuck their tails between their legs and make way.

The convoy stopped in front of a three-story brick building.

The building was old, and the fire escape was rusted red, but the windowsills on the first floor were filled with flower pots, planted with marigolds and cacti.

Warm yellow light shone through the curtains.

"Have your men carry her down, and be careful." Lynn tapped Tuco's chin with the back of his knife.

Tuko loudly gave a few instructions.

Several underlings without tattoos and dressed relatively normally carried an old woman down from upstairs.

They used a wooden chair with two broom handles tied to its four legs as a stretcher.

The old woman was wrapped in a blanket, her gray hair braided into a plait and hanging in front of her chest; she was as thin as a piece of withered wood.

When they reached the corner of the stairs, the younger brother on the left, wearing a beanie, slipped half a step, and the chair wobbled...