What?


    You?


    Lung cleansing for you?


    Garrett almost thought he was hallucinating. Your Majesty, I just mentioned that Master Talbert is too old for a lung cleansing... but he’s only 350 years old! You’re already 400, aren’t you?


    400 years old!


    For a moment, Garrett seemed to hear a powerful song echoing in his ears:


    "I really want to live another five hundred years—"


    He shook his head vigorously. At the same time, Mage Simond stepped forward and pulled him back.


    Garrett: "..." That’s not necessary...


    "No, you can’t do it either," Garrett said sternly. He broke free from Mage Simond’s grasp, stepped forward, and stood right in front of the king:


    "Your age is too great. This treatment is suited for younger patients with milder symptoms."


    Specifically, it works better for patients with Stage 0 and Stage I pneumoconiosis, less so for Stage II, and even less for Stage III. Of course, there’s no need to go into details...


    "Ah, I may be old, but I’m still in good shape!" the king said with a beaming smile, refusing to step aside. He raised his palm and patted his chest, producing a "clang" sound:


    "Don’t look at me being four hundred years old, I was a level fifteen warrior in my youth! Even now, young man, you might not have more strength than me. How about we arm wrestle to see?"


    If you were really in good health, you wouldn’t need to step down!


    Garrett silently critiqued. He took a deep breath, ready to argue further, but Vigran had already stepped forward, half-turning his body to face the old king. The stocky figure stood in front of Garrett, and though it barely blocked any view due to the height difference, it didn’t stop him from speaking loudly:


    "Your Majesty, let me do it! I’m younger and in better health!"


    "I’ll do it!" Gavin jumped up: "I’m even younger! And in better health! The sick one is my grandfather, it should be me trying it!"


    "You still have to participate in the king’s selection! I’ll do it!"


    "Me!"


    The dwarves became a ruckus. Their short, stout arms waved at each other, almost starting a fight right there. Garrett stepped back once, twice, then again...


    Hey, doesn’t anyone care if I’m willing to do it or not?


    "Do you still want to do it now?" A soft chuckle sounded. Garrett suddenly turned around, meeting Mage Simond’s smiling eyes, a mix of indulgence and curiosity in his smile:


    "If something is beneficial to our people but also dangerous, I should naturally be the first to try it. Isn’t that right?"


    Garrett: "...Get lost!"


    Despite the commotion, which stirred not just a few but hundreds within the Firehammer Tribe, the operation began bright and early the next day, with a crowd standing layers deep outside. By Vigran’s bedside, apart from the elder who had overseen the signing, stood no fewer than five priests:


    "Don’t be afraid, as long as you don’t die on the spot, we can bring you back!"


    Garrett: "...It’s not that dangerous..."


    He had already become proficient with rabbits; switching to dwarves just meant injecting a bit more fluid. With local anesthesia applied, the vines, carrying the Arcane Eye silently entered, barely making half a turn before the dwarves in the room began pointing at the light screen projected by the Arcane Eye, erupting into discussion:


    "So dark!"


    "Yes, pitch black!"


    "All our lungs can’t be filled with this, can they?"


    "No wonder the more we work, the more uncomfortable our chests feel. With all this dust, how could it not?"


    Garrett smiled slightly, not at all surprised. Seeing him look so confident, the dwarf priests trusted him even more, their twelve eyes glued to his hands, waiting for him to act, their voices quieting down.


    Garrett, calm and collected, pinched a few seeds between his fingers, directing the growth of the vines. One vine grew to the left, another to the right; the one to the left swelled significantly, blocking the bronchus and infusing pure oxygen; the right one waited until the waste cannon completely deflated before injecting sterile saline...


    Inject, extract!


    "It’s coming out!" The five dwarf priests leaned over to watch. The extracted fluid collected in a vacuum drainage bottle, accumulating quickly:


    "So much dust! The water’s turned black, no wonder it’s called lung cleansing!"


    The saline was injected, then extracted; injected, then extracted again. Garrett strictly followed the operating procedures, performing three rounds of lung cleansing before supplying high-flow oxygen until the blood oxygen saturation returned to normal. Then, inject and extract again...


    Three rounds made one cycle, for a total of nine cycles, until the extracted liquid went from turbid to clear. Then, he switched to the other lung lobe and continued the cleansing.


    Once everything was finished and the anesthesia magic was lifted, Vigran sprang up.


    "I’m fine! I survived the cleaning!"


    Garrett: "...Get out! Anyone who didn’t know better would think I was giving you a bath!"


    ---------------


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