Conan: What alias? That's my struggle!

Lin Ye slowly raised his hand, and the scrub nurse immediately handed him a scalpel. The warmth of the scalpel handle traveled through the glove to his palm.

Yes, he gripped the knife.

"Since we're already here..."

Lin Ye seemed to have made a decision.

Under the spotlight, everyone's eyes were focused on Lin Ye's hand holding the scalpel.

The anesthesiologist stopped recording, the scrub nurse held her breath, and the two assistant doctors leaned forward slightly, waiting for his first incision.

Lin Ye didn't move. Not because he hesitated, but because he was thinking. His gaze moved from Gin's chest to the assistant doctor beside him, and then back to Gin's chest.

The person stood opposite the operating table, a mask covering most of their face, revealing only their eyes.

The assistant doctor's eyes were very focused, so focused that even in this tense atmosphere, he maintained an almost indifferent calm.

Lin Ye had seen this kind of look in the training space. Not in his own eyes, but in the eyes of the NPC opponents he had repeatedly defeated. Those true masters, before they made their move, had this look in their eyes. Not tension, not excitement, but a state of complete readiness.

Lin Ye didn't know who this person was, but he knew one thing—this person was stronger than him.

This judgment was based entirely on intuition, without any basis. The thousands of deaths he had endured in the training space had honed his intuition to a razor-sharp edge. He no longer hesitated; he acted.

The scalpel fell. Not to Gin's chest, but to a place no one expected.

First cut. Second cut. Third cut.

Lin Ye moved quickly, so quickly that the nurse next to him hadn't even seen what he was doing before he was finished. Under the operating lights, several neat incisions appeared on a certain indescribable part of Gin's body. The operating room was silent for a moment, not because of shock.

It was confusion—everyone saw what he was doing, but no one understood why he was doing it. Circumcision wasn't on the surgical plan!

How does this help in saving patients?

No one can understand it.

The anesthesiologist nearly dropped the whiteboard in his hand.

The scrub nurse stared wide-eyed, her mouth agape behind her mask, forming an "O." The two assistant doctors exchanged bewildered glances, their eyes conveying the same question—had Dr. Hashimoto gone mad?

A thoracic surgery procedure that begins with a circumcision?

Moreover, this occurred when the patient had three broken ribs, was bleeding inside the chest cavity, and was on the verge of death.

Lin Ye felt those gazes. He didn't need to look up to imagine the expressions on their faces. But he didn't panic, because his purpose had never been to get a circumcision.

He needed to confirm something, and those few stabs were the means to confirm it.

"really."

Lin Ye's gaze shifted from Gin's wound to the assistant doctor's hand. From the start of the surgery until now, that hand had remained quietly resting on the edge of the operating table, without any unnecessary movements or signs of tension. But just as Lin Ye made the final incision...

The fingers of that hand twitched slightly, not in a spasm, but in a suppressed impulse—like an instinctive urge to correct something that shouldn't have happened.

But I forced myself to hold back.

This man has the skill and the drive to be the surgeon, but he can't be the one to operate, because Dr. Hashimoto is the boss here. Lin Ye tossed aside the scalpel in his hand; the sound of the metal hitting the tray was crisp and jarring. All eyes shifted from Gin's wound to him.

"He's the one."

Lin Ye raised her chin and pointed at the assistant doctor.

"You perform this surgery."

The air in the operating room seemed to freeze for a moment. The assistant doctor's eyes widened slightly, a hint of confusion appearing in his previously calm eyes. He glanced at Lin Ye, then at Gin on the operating table, seemingly unsure of what he had heard.

"You will be the surgeon."

Lin Ye's tone left no room for argument, sounding more like an order than a suggestion. He stepped back, giving up his position as the surgeon.

"I'll just stand by and watch."

The assistant doctor looked at Lin Ye and remained silent for two seconds. Then he nodded, said nothing, stepped forward, and stood in the spot where Lin Ye had just been standing.

"I hope my understanding of the world of Detective Conan is correct." Lin Ye retreated to a corner of the operating room, stood against the wall, and put his hands in the pockets of his white coat.

From this angle, he could see the entire operating table and the expressions on everyone's faces. He saw the scrub nurse hesitating whether to hand the scalpel to the assistant doctor, the anesthesiologist waiting for instructions, and another assistant doctor secretly watching his reaction.

Everyone is still waiting for his confirmation.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Lin Ye frowned. "I'm having surgery."

His words were like a switch, instantly changing the atmosphere in the operating room. The assistant doctor picked up the scalpel handed to him by the scrub nurse, but it wasn't the one Lin Ye had just used—he had already thrown that scalpel into the waste tray because it was covered in non-sterile foreskin.

He even helped Gin clean the window where Lin Ye was operating with bacteria, little did he know that Lin Ye was doing it on purpose. His movements were so natural, as if he had done it countless times before.

Lin Ye's expression remained unchanged. He still leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets, with an expression that said, "I knew it all along."

It seems that the other party throwing away the knife was also part of his plan.

"I am a Wallfacer."

Lin Ye hypnotized herself in this way.

The assistant doctor didn't look at the knife again.

His hand was already on Gin's chest, his fingers gently pressing along the bruised area, as if sensing something. Then he reached out.

The scrub nurse handed him a new scalpel.

The incision. A straight line from the upper edge of the sternum to the xiphoid process, just the right length and depth. Without hesitation, without pause, as precise as if measured with a ruler.

Open chest.

The stretcher was inserted, and the ribs were exposed under the operating light.

Three ribs were fractured, one of which broke in two, with the broken ends piercing the pleural cavity. The bleeding point was here; it wasn't large, but its location was tricky.

It was stuck right in the gap between two ribs.

"Attractant".

The assistant doctor's hands were steady. He used a suction device to drain the accumulated blood, grasped the bleeding point with forceps, and stitched it up. One stitch, and the bleeding stopped.

Then he began to treat the fractured ribs. Reduction, alignment, fixation. Every movement was clean and efficient, without any unnecessary steps or wasted time. It was like defusing a bomb; with each wire cut and each screw loosened, he knew exactly what to do next.

Lin Ye looked at the hands moving under the operating lights and suddenly felt a little dazed.

These hands, the same hands that had just held the scalpel, seemed to belong to a completely different species. His hands were those of an intern.

The other person's hands were expert-level.

"As expected, I still know Ke Xue too well." Lin Ye breathed a sigh of relief, but also felt a little melancholy. He knew what his predecessor had done.