Arknights: Studying medicine can't save Terra

Vina hesitated for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

Without further hesitation, the three immediately climbed out of the window and jumped into the hotel, blending into the crowd and arriving at the center of the gathering.

In the center of the crowd, several Sarkaz were sweating profusely, frantically asking the people around them:

"Is there a doctor? It's an extremely urgent situation, a matter of life and death! If anyone is a doctor or knows anything about medicine, that would be great. Saving lives is like putting out a fire!"

The poet immediately squeezed through and shouted:

"I...I...I'm a professional doctor, the licensed kind!"

"Great! Come with me!"

Sarkaz was overjoyed and rushed over, hoisting the poet onto his shoulder and running outside.

The poet nearly vomited his dinner from being bumped by Sarkaz's shoulder, and exclaimed:

"Tell me what kind of injury it is first!"

"It's not an injury, it's a pregnant woman experiencing a difficult labor!"

The poet was stunned: "Wait, I'm not a gynecologist!"

(Ahem, I couldn't resist petting the cat for a while, but don't worry, I'll definitely be able to tame the temptation this time!)

(Two more chapters to go, I'll stay up all night to finish them!)

Chapter 678 The Noisy Poet

What is a gynecologist?

Sarkaz paused, then asked a question that left the poet speechless.

The two exchanged a glance, and the poet could see from Sarkaz's clear yet foolish eyes that the other was genuinely confused.

"this problem……"

"Never mind that for now, they're all doctors anyway!"

Sarkaz may lack knowledge, but he's very proactive!

He interrupted the poet and ran away.

The poet's eyes widened as he strained to look up at Vina in the crowd, his eyes filled with pleading.

Faced with the poet's pitiful gaze, Vina couldn't help but facepalm and quickly strode after him.

Her action immediately triggered a herd mentality among the crowd, who collectively surged out of the hotel.

Sarkaz carried the lifeless poet ahead as he ran wildly, with Vina leading a large crowd behind him.

After running some distance, Vina suddenly realized what was happening, slowly shifted her position away from the crowd, and contacted Kroos using her communicator:

"Please have Dr. Kal'tsit come here. There is a pregnant woman experiencing a difficult labor."

"Ah... ah?"

Kal'tsit's question came through the communicator: "Kal'tsit can deliver babies?"

Before Vina could answer, she heard a familiar riddle coming from beside Kroos:

"The knowledge a doctor should possess on this land..."

"I understand, you can do it." Kroos interrupted the riddle in time. "Then let's get moving. Saving lives is the priority; these are two lives!"

"...Everyone move out! I'll be in charge of the delivery. Everyone else, spread out and be on guard. If you spot Qi Yan, arrest him immediately!"

Hearing the voices of everyone on the communicator, Vina felt a little relieved, hung up, and continued on her way.

Soon the group arrived at another civilian camp not far from the hotel.

Sarkaz, carrying the poet, shouted:

"Make way, everyone! I've brought the doctor back! Anmon, quickly disperse the crowd!"

Anmon immediately squeezed out from the crowd. Before he could even speak to organize the action, the crowd spontaneously parted to the sides, opening up a wide passage.

Sarkaz didn't stop, rushing headlong towards a heavily pregnant woman in the center of the crowd.

At this moment, the woman was covered in sweat as if she had just been pulled out of the water, and a pool of bright red blood had already gathered beneath her.

Beside the woman, her husband held her hand tightly, equally sweating profusely with anxiety.

Sarkaz put the poet down, pressed down on his shoulder, and said urgently:

"Help! Help!"

"Ah...I...no...I don't know how!" The poet was also frightened by the scene and began to speak incoherently.

“Aren’t you a doctor?” Sarkaz roared.

"I'm not a gynecologist, I've already said that!" the poet retorted, annoyed.

"What exactly is a gynecologist?" Sarkaz was even more annoyed than him.

poet:"……"

He felt utterly exhausted.

The poet never dreamed that this group of Sarkaz, who could talk non-stop all night about how to choose and maintain weapons, would be stumped by common sense that even a young child in Victoria knew.

"Don't you Sarkaz people have children?" he couldn't help but retort.

"Us?" Sarkaz said impatiently. "For us women, giving birth is just a matter of finding a reasonably clean place and letting them push. Once the baby is born, everything is fine. If they can't give birth, we'll just bury them somewhere, depending on our mood."

The souls will come to take the mother and child back into their embrace... Oh dear, why say all this? Whether you can do it or not, just give it a try!

The poet stared blankly at Sarkaz.

Despite being an intelligence operative, this was the first time he had learned about the Sarkaz's problems.

To be honest, he was somewhat shaken.

"I... I'll give it a try."

He looked around and saw Sarkaz and Victorians gathered together regardless of race, all watching him nervously. An indescribable, clear hope weighed on his shoulders.

Strange, heavy, yet so clean.

The poet looked down and saw the pregnant woman who was already showing signs of fainting. He saw her husband looking up at him, his eyes glistening with pleading and hope.

A sigh escaped from the poet's lips.

He crouched down, trying hard to recall all the medical knowledge he had in his mind.

"First, prepare a basin of hot water. If there is no hot water after the baby is born, the baby is prone to hypothermia."

A chorus of voices rang out, and the crowd dispersed in a great din, rushing to find hot water.

The poet gently cradled the pregnant woman's head and asked:

"Can you still hear my voice? If you can, then... push harder, you really have to push harder!"

"I...um!"

The pregnant woman's lips trembled slightly.

The poet was horrified to discover that when he touched the pregnant woman's hand, it felt icy cold.

"It's excessive blood loss. This won't do. This absolutely cannot continue."

The poet didn't know why, even though the outcome of the pregnant woman's pregnancy should have nothing to do with him, he felt a sense of dread at this moment.

For the first time, he began to hate himself for not having actually studied the relevant knowledge properly when he got the doctor's certificate. If he had truly possessed professional medical knowledge, instead of just the first aid skills he had learned through the trials and tribulations of the battlefield, things wouldn't be so difficult for him now.

If only... he hadn't been faking being a doctor.

A thought suddenly flashed through the poet's mind.

But then he suddenly raised his hand and slapped himself.

The pregnant woman's husband was somewhat taken aback.

But the poet did not answer. He took a deep breath, lowered his head, and continued to encourage the pregnant woman:

"You can do it, keep going. Think about your child. He might be a boy. He cries loudly after he's born, keeping us up at night."

It might be a girl. Hey, a girl is great. If I can wait until I retire, settle down, and start a family, I'd also like a girl. She's much more well-behaved than a brat.

Think about it, try to imagine your child is waiting to come out and see you, you must hold on!

The pregnant woman struggled to raise her hand, her lips trembling as if she wanted to say something.

The poet quickly leaned closer to listen:

"Speak louder, I'm listening, I'm listening."

The pregnant woman took two deep breaths and gritted her teeth, saying:

"You are noisy."

poet:"……"

Just as he was about to reply, the pregnant woman spoke again:

"But I remembered it, I will hold on, I will... I will... Ah!"

A surge of immense power seemed to erupt from her frail body, and she threw her head back and let out a roar.

The poet's ear was right next to her mouth, and he was immediately jolted so hard his head was buzzing.

But he had no objections, and didn't even care that his own voice seemed to have become distant, constantly uttering words of encouragement.

The pregnant woman's body trembled, but her clenched teeth slowly loosened uncontrollably.

Her eyes were fixed on the poet.

The poet, who considered himself fond of showing off his writing and frequently published his works in magazines, couldn't find the words to describe the emotion in those eyes.

He could only watch helplessly as the pregnant woman's body slowly went limp, feeling in horror as the strength in front of him slowly drained away.

The pregnant woman's eyelids struggled, but eventually closed slowly and uncontrollably.

The poet felt the exclamations of the crowd around him receding into the distance. He kept shouting something, but he could hardly hear his own voice.

Until a firm female voice suddenly rang in his ears.

The poet raised his head in a daze.

But the other party was clearly getting impatient and spoke again:

"M3, throw him out."

(One more chapter, I'll stay up all night to finish it!)

(You absolutely have to keep your promise!)

Chapter 679 Pregnant Woman: I saw Satan, but suddenly Satan was robbed by a group of doctors.

The poet's vision began to spin, and when he came to his senses, he was already outside the crowd.

A ferocious and terrifying beast was biting his collar.

The poet trembled slightly, and the moment his vision returned to normal, he uncontrollably searched for the pregnant woman's location.

He saw Kal'tsit kneel down and inject some medicine into the pregnant woman.

Beside Kal'tsit, Thorn magically produced various reagents from her bosom, her hands working like the most precise instruments in the world.

Shining slowly knelt down beside the pregnant woman and gently lifted her head to rest it on her lap.

This emergency medical team, with its mixed personnel including Sarkaz, seemed strange, yet inexplicably reassuring.

"Put...put me down, big...big brother? Or big sister?"

When the poet came to his senses, he was horrified to find himself being carried by a giant, unidentified beast.

M3 let out a low growl of dissatisfaction, then turned and threw the poet to the ground.

Vina walked over and extended her hand to the poet:

"Get up, the pregnant woman is safe now."

"But she just now..."