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

Chapter 97 Battlefield Doctor

"Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! ————"

The Glock pistol equipped with a silencer emitted a faint flash in the darkness. Two sentries were hit in the chest by several bullets and collapsed with muffled groans under the dim streetlights.

Two unlicensed heavy pickup trucks violently tore through the barbed wire fence surrounding the dock.

The front of the vehicle is welded with a rough and heavy anti-collision steel beam, and when it runs over a speed bump, the chassis scrapes out a string of dazzling sparks.

The carriage partition was kicked open roughly, and eight or nine dark figures jumped off the train like mad dogs released from their cages.

The faces were all of Latino descent, with large areas of their necks, arms, and even cheeks tattooed with totems of intertwined skulls and sickles.

"Santa Muerte!"

(Spanish: The Holy Spirit of Death)

The frenzied roar tore through the cold wind along the riverbank.

This group of people had a very clear division of labor.

The four men at the front completely abandoned tactical evasion, carrying short-barreled AKs and MAC-10 submachine guns, and charged straight ahead, stepping over the corpses of the outer guards.

They emptied the entire magazine, standing tall the whole time, fearless and undaunted.

A drug dealer in the front row was hit in the torso by a 9mm pistol bullet left in the defensive line and fell to the ground.

Immediately afterwards, the man rolled over and miraculously got up in an extremely contorted position, and continued firing.

His shoulder blade was shattered, his left arm hung limply, but his right hand was still holding a short-barreled AK and firing one-handedly, while he howled out fanatical prayers.

The pain receptors of these four people had long been completely severed by a mixture of high-concentration PCP angel powder and high-purity methamphetamine.

The drugs stripped away the fear of death, maintaining an extremely aroused and aggressive state.

They served as the perfect suicide squad.

The five accomplices following behind them remained conscious.

These five men relied on the suppressive fire of their comrades, taking turns to provide cover. Their tactical maneuvers were extremely skillful, and they used their guns to fire at blind spots in the defensive line.

The lead pickup truck accelerated and rushed into the main aisle between the containers.

The driver's attention was completely drawn to the warehouse door ahead. When the front wheels ran over a thin steel cable that was almost level with the ground, he completely ignored the strange thing under his feet.

Steel cables connect to industrial anchors embedded on both sides of the passage, instantly cutting off the truck's kinetic energy.

The front of the truck suddenly plunged down, the rear wheels went airborne, and the entire pickup truck crashed into the front container wall in an almost rollover motion.

The second car braked suddenly, its tires leaving two trails of pungent white smoke on the concrete.

A bright light suddenly appeared.

Six high-power vehicle-mounted halogen searchlights simultaneously illuminated the tops of the containers on both sides, casting beams of light directly onto the ground.

The drug dealers' retinas were instantly burned into a blank by the intense light.

Arjun's core elite forces began to take over the battlefield.

On top of the container, three gunmen, armed with AR-15 assault rifles and Remington 870 shotguns, unleashed a barrage of fire from their elevated position.

The ground defense line was activated simultaneously.

On the right flank of the main passage, two brothers from Kolkata set up an ambush point using a two-ton abandoned forklift.

The older brother held a pistol and fired precise shots, while the shorter younger brother was responsible for covering the flanks.

A burly, dark-skinned Tamil man in the same group crawled on the ground, using a submachine gun to suppress two sober drug dealers who were trying to flank him.

A crossfire network forms instantly, precise and deadly.

Arjun's elite troops, taking advantage of the terrain and working in perfect harmony, managed to pin the cartel gunmen down in the middle of the tunnel.

Two sober drug dealers attempted to climb over the abandoned oil drums on the left, but as soon as they peeked out, they were accurately shot in the head by an AR-15 on top of the container, their red and white brain matter splattered all over the rusty metal.

Although those drug-addicted assassins were fierce, they were riddled with bullets under the continuous bombardment of shotguns, and eventually collapsed to the ground like tattered sacks.

The defending side gradually gained the upper hand.

Just as the drug traffickers were about to be wiped out, the roar of engines rose again in the darkness outside the dock.

A dilapidated van and several heavy motorcycles sped forward, crashing directly through the crumbling barbed wire fence.

The enemy's reinforcements have arrived.

The composition of this newly joined group of attackers is extremely complex.

White bikers in studded leather jackets, African American street gang members in floral bandanas, and even rednecks wielding large-caliber shotguns were mixed in.

This is a completely ragtag army.

They had no tactics to speak of, but their numbers were overwhelming, and the newly formed balance was broken.

A halogen searchlight on top of the container was shattered by a large-caliber shotgun, and glass shards rained down like a storm.

A motorcyclist, carrying a shotgun with a sawed-off barrel, recklessly charged toward the abandoned forklift under the cover of his companions' fire.

To cover his younger brother, the older brother leaned out and fired three shots, killing the motorcyclist, but was exposed to fire from the African American gang members on the flank.

Two MAC-10 submachine guns were fired simultaneously.

The older brother was shot multiple times in the abdomen, and the massive cavity effect instantly tore apart his internal organs.

He fell backward, and blood gushed out from under his bulletproof vest like a burst dam.

"elder brother!"

The shorter brother, his eyes bloodshot, abandoned his cover and leaned out to try and drag his older brother back to safety.

A stray bullet cruelly shattered the bulletproof plate in the younger brother's abdomen, and his white intestines gushed out instantly along with fresh blood.

One of the brothers' brutish, bearded men roared and threw a smoke grenade, then grabbed the two brothers' tactical vests and dragged them backward.

The burly Tamil man who was covering them had just peeked out to suppress the attack when his right thigh was sliced ​​open by shrapnel, and blood gushing from his femoral artery instantly stained a large area of ​​the concrete.

With the defenses collapsing, Arjun's side found themselves on the defensive.

Arjun stood beside the refrigerated container, glancing down at her watch.

He had spent a lot of money to bribe police to manage the Hunter Point precinct, and a multi-vehicle collision involving hazardous materials trucks occurred on Bruckner Freeway, just two miles away.

This is all for the smooth establishment of this trade route today.

Unexpectedly, it became his own death warrant.

Goods can be lost, but the team you've built up must be preserved at all costs.

"Protect the doctor, get into box number three."

The instructions are concise and clear.

The white bodyguard with the buzz cut suddenly sprang to his feet.

He turned sideways and shoved Arjun behind cover.

At the same time, Sachs' tactical movements were exactly the same as those of the crew-cut white man.

The two synchronized perfectly thanks to the muscle memory honed through countless life-and-death experiences.

They exchanged a glance, clearly from the same background.

Satchel gripped Lynn's tactical vest tightly by the collar with his left hand, while his right hand drew the iconic M45A1 close-combat pistol, .45.

The muzzle of the gun was pushed out horizontally.

The short-haired white man was in charge of the ten o'clock position, and Sachi was in charge of the two o'clock position.

Cross-cover, alternating retreat.

Two pistols fired with the suppressive force of an assault rifle, and the precise Mozambique shooting technique tore a bloody path through the enemy lines.

The RV engine roared.

Cassie gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands and floored the accelerator.

The RV reversed, knocking down two ragtag soldiers who were trying to flank it, and stopped precisely beside Lynn.

The car door opened, and Lynn quickly jumped into the carriage.

Cassie jerked the steering wheel, the tires screeching against the concrete and emitting a pungent, burnt smell.

The container in front was disguised as a regular 40-foot container, and the double doors of the container automatically popped open when the RV approached.

The inner wall is reinforced with high-strength explosion-proof steel plates.

As soon as the RV drove in, the heavy, explosion-proof steel door slammed shut, leaving only a half-meter-wide gap as a firing port and a passage for personnel to enter and exit.

Lynn stood beside the operating table in the RV, her brain racing.

To truly control Arjun, this unfathomable black market tycoon, simple transactions are meaningless; he needs to establish absolute dependence.

Now is the best opportunity.

"Cassie, get all the first aid kits, tourniquets, and airway tubes out. Unfold the sterile drapes and spread them out on the open ground outside the vehicle."

Lynn quickly put on her nitrile gloves.

"Sachi, guard the box door. Anyone entering this area, except the wounded, must get my permission."

Lynn took command of this space.

The wounded began to be brought in.

The first person to be dragged in was the burly, dark-skinned Tamil man who had been hit by a stray bullet in the main passage.

The femoral artery in his right thigh was torn, and blood gushed out like a fountain.

Lynn stepped out of the RV.

Skip the unnecessary medical consultations and ignore the superfluous reassurances.

He knelt on one knee, his right hand precisely cutting into the wounded man's groin, his thumb pressing firmly on the femoral artery at the groin ligament.

The bleeding stopped instantly.

"Tourette, apply tightly to the upper part of the proximal thigh," Lynn ordered the armed personnel beside him.

The other party hurriedly did as instructed.

Lynn took a roll of yellow tape from Cassie, tore off a piece, and stuck it on the wounded man's forehead.

Yellow label.

Delaying the treatment ensures safety.

"Drag him to the corner, next."

Immediately afterwards, the grumpy, bearded man entered with the two Calcutta brothers.

The older brother on the right has three horrifying bullet holes in his abdomen.

His tactical pants were soaked with blood, and his whole body was ashen white.

"Save him! Doctor! Please save my brother!"

With a thick beard and bloodshot eyes, he gripped Lynn's clothes tightly and roared loudly.

Lynn looked down and glanced at her brother.

Skin is cold and clammy, and the head is covered in sweat. Capillary refill time exceeds five seconds.

The carotid artery pulse was faint, like a thread, and the heart rate was definitely over 140 beats per minute.

Lynn picked up the black tape and tore off a piece.

With a "smack," it was stuck to the brother's blood-stained forehead.

Black label.

It signifies death and the abandonment of treatment.

Then, he turned and walked toward his shorter brother who was clutching his intestines.

The younger brother's injuries were equally shocking.

The abdomen was pierced, the superior mesenteric artery ruptured, and a large amount of fresh blood mixed with intestinal fluid gushed out.

Even more fatally, the deformed bullet was lodged firmly at the edge of the retroperitoneal nerve plexus.

Under standard field medical conditions, this type of injury would almost certainly result in death from hemorrhagic shock.

Even if admitted to a top trauma center, the patient will suffer extensive necrosis due to prolonged intestinal ischemia, and will have to rely on intravenous nutrition for the rest of their life, becoming a complete disabled person.

Lynn took out a red sticker and stuck it on her younger brother's forehead.

"Put him on the operating table and prepare to open his abdomen to stop the bleeding," Lynn ordered Cassie.

The air froze instantly.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

The bearded man drew his pistol and pressed the muzzle directly against Lynn's forehead.

The cold, metallic feel of the gun pressed against my skin.

"My brother is still breathing! What right do you have to stand by and watch him die?!"

Sachi's M45A1 instantly locked onto the side of the bearded man's head.

Once the opponent applies pressure with their fingers, Sachi's bullet will blow his skull off first.

Lynn stared directly at the dark muzzle of the gun.

"The bullet tore his inferior vena cava. He now has at least 2,500 milliliters of free blood in his abdominal cavity."

"His blood loss exceeded 40 percent of his total blood volume, and he has entered irreversible stage four hemorrhagic shock."

"If I were to force an abdominal surgery now, it would deplete the remaining three bags of type O blood, consume all the hemostatic forceps and sutures, and take at least forty minutes."

"In the end, he was destined to die on the operating table."

Lynn's cold, hard data struck a nerve with the bearded man.

"In those forty minutes, the younger brother next to me, who could have survived, was destined to suffer extensive intestinal necrosis due to the delayed surgery."

"Shoot me to death, and those two will join me in death. All the brothers bleeding outside will also be buried with me."

"I am only responsible for reserving the limited resources for those who can survive."

"Now, put down the gun and get him out of my triage area."

The bearded man trembled all over, his fingers gripping the trigger tightly.

"Put the gun down."

A voice came from the door of the container; it was Ah-Jung.

"Boss, he—" The bearded man's voice choked with emotion.

"Listen to the doctor, he can save your lives."

The bearded man gritted his teeth, slowly lowered the muzzle of his gun, and knelt down beside his brother in despair.

Lynn turned and walked toward the operating table.

The younger brother's abdominal cavity had become a pool of blood, and the bleeding point could not be found at all.

Lynn didn't even bother using the suction device; he simply plunged his hands directly into the warm, fleshy mess.

"Fingertip Blunt Dissection Technique - Master Level"

His fingers seemed to have eyes, and in the blind spot, he precisely parted the hematoma, bypassed the fragile intestines, and reached the retroperitoneum.

found it.

A rupture of the superior mesenteric artery.

"Coolly Vascular Clamping - Master Level".

Lynn took the non-invasive hemostat from Cassie with his right hand, glanced at it, and, relying on the sensation from his fingertips, slightly flipped his wrist.

"Click".

A crisp rattling sound rang out.

The gushing blood from the arteries stopped instantly.

Immediately afterwards, Lynn switched to long-handled foreign object forceps.

"Foreign body removal without anesthesia - Advanced".

The pincers probed deep into the wound, skillfully avoiding the dense nerve plexus, firmly gripping the deformed bullet. With a flick of the wrist, they swiftly and cleanly pulled it out, tossing it into the curved plate with a crisp "ding".

A sudden change occurred.

Taking advantage of a lull in the fighting, a motorcycle gang member squeezed through the gap in the container's blast door and charged straight at the RV with a shotgun whose barrel had been sawed off.

Sachi was facing away from the car door to cover his flank when he heard footsteps. He turned around abruptly, his gun still in the process of being turned around.

Lynn stood in front of the operating table, her right hand holding a needle holder, ready to suture the blood vessel.

"Pistol Mastery - Advanced".

With his left hand, he drew the gun, cocked it, and fired—all in one fluid motion.

"Bang!"

The 9mm bullet precisely shattered the biker's right kneecap.

The motorcyclist screamed as his massive body lost its balance and crashed heavily to the ground. His shotgun went off accidentally, shattering the exhaust fan on top of the container.

Sachi reacted extremely quickly, and the M45A1 roared in response.

Two .45 caliber bullets blew the motorcycle gang members' skulls off.

After doing all this, Sachi suddenly turned to look at Lynn, his eyes, which were used to seeing life and death, filled with astonishment.

The doctor performing the vascular anastomosis surgery drew his gun and fired faster than this veteran who had fought in CQB street battles.

Lynn had already put the Glock back in its holster.

His gaze remained fixed on his brother's abdomen.

"Simple interrupted suture - Master level".

The needle holder in his hand became a blur of motion.

With perfect tension control—inserting the needle, withdrawing it, and tying the knot—the damaged mesenteric artery was repaired flawlessly.

On the electrocardiogram monitor, my brother's blood pressure, which had been plummeting, finally stabilized and began to slowly rise.

Ah-Jung stood to the side, taking in everything that had just happened.

He was shooting people while simultaneously wielding a knife to save others.

This young doctor exudes a divine quality that seems to control life and death.

Arjun withdrew her gaze and looked back towards the door.

The situation outside has reached the brink of collapse.

The ragtag troops, with their numerical advantage, suppressed Arjun's firing positions.

The other side is regrouping and preparing for a final assault on the container.

We've reached a dead end.

Arjun tucked the Glock back into her waistband, straightened the collar of her dark gray wool coat, and tightened the silk scarf again.

He pushed aside the South Asian bodyguard who was blocking his way.

Braving the hail of bullets, Arjun walked straight out of the container's explosion-proof door.

Hot shrapnel grazed his clothes and shattered a nearby concrete block.

The leather shoes calmly trod over the sticky pool of blood and bits of flesh.

Bullets kept falling at his feet, but seemed to be deliberately avoiding him.

The number of people firing is decreasing.

He stopped at the very front of the battle line.

As the first rays of dawn broke, Arjun opened her arms wide.

A vacuum zone appeared where he was standing.

The two sides have ceasefired.

"Reyes, who is your representative this time? Come out and talk."

Arjun shouted to the crowd not far away.