CHAPTER 621: IF YOU CAN’T BEAT THEM, LEARN FROM THEM, THEN SPREAD THE WORD

A Hospital in Another World?

Nurse Sally was promptly summoned.

She is the leader of all the female priests in the Grand Temple of Nevis City, a venerable woman in her seventies. Although she has lived long, due to her constant immersion in the grace of the goddess, she appears to be only about fifty, with strands of silver hair framing her face, not yet fully white.

Taking the documents from the head priest with her thin, gnarled fingers, she read through them at a glance. After reading once, she went through them again, her wrinkles deepening, her expression growing more solemn, even showing a hint of distress:

"Two months, two hundred people, not a single death? — Is that reliable?"

"It should be," High Priest Moriah nodded earnestly:

"Perry has been at Oak Grove Clinic for nearly a month, and as far as he knows, there indeed have been no maternal fatalities. Moreover, I have followed Mage Nordmark’s work, his published papers have never been accused of fabrication."

"The one about heart surgery?"

Nurse Sally took a deep breath.

She had not verified every case involving the previous bacterial and infectious diseases, given their large numbers; however, the heart surgery was under intense scrutiny. She went through the trouble of tracking down all ten cases, visiting each address:

Each one was real, each one truly survived a month later. Even in the White Tower’s inquiry system, one could see the imaging of each case, the heart’s pulsing and blood forcefully circulating, with a clear before and after comparison.

"Nurse Sally, in the name of the goddess, I wish to ask you a question. Over the years, what has been the maternal mortality rate in our temple’s care?"

Nurse Sally’s face immediately grew somber.

In the teachings of the goddess, protecting families and caring for women and children are crucial responsibilities, and the temple’s female priests primarily undertake these duties.

From the young girl who entered the temple to train, to the leader of the grand temple’s female priests, she had cared for and delivered countless mothers and infants. The screams, the agony, and the deaths—she didn’t need to recall them; they were vivid in her memory—

"At least one percent," she murmured. "Even with the most experienced middle-ranked goddess priests, out of a hundred mothers, at least one will die..."

Noble women, aside from a few professionals, tend to have frail health. Unlike peasant women or impoverished women, who often do physical labor up until the day before delivery, many noble ladies lack the stamina to endure the lengthy labor process.

Here, the lower-ranked divine arts provide limited physical support. And female priests of level five or above, still working in the temple, are even rarer than male priests above level ten.

The female priests of the Spring Water Temple, mostly noble women, began their education at ages seven or eight, formally studying divine arts in their teens. Often, they would reach first or second level and then return home to marry.

In fact, many female priests attained their divine arts ranks merely as an attractive addition to their dowries. Once married, having achieved their goal, the skills they diligently studied could be tucked away.

Even for those few ambitious female priests who didn’t want to give up, childbirth, nursing infants, and managing household duties would sap their last bit of energy, pulling them away from serving the goddess.

Thus, over years of negotiation with the nobility, the Spring Water Temple developed a tacit understanding:

Accept donations, recruit some noble girls, provide education and training, let them marry off glamorously as novice or low-ranked priests, while also fostering ties with the nobility;

Recruit some girls from impoverished backgrounds with exceptional talents, require them to remain unmarried, devotedly serve the goddess, while also offering them more opportunities to advance in divine arts.

However, in the early stages, noble girls, with family support and better foundational education, always learned faster.

She snapped back from her thoughts, shook her head sadly, and slowly began flipping through the records again. One, two, three... one hundred ninety-nine, two hundred.

Two hundred mothers. Prenatal check-ups, blood tests, blood transfusions prepared. About 80% had natural births under the guidance of midwives. About 20% had cesarean sections, either scheduled in advance or converted during natural birth due to complications.

Not a single death.

"If only we knew this..." she murmured, head bowed. "If we had it... it wouldn’t have come to this..."

Her mentor, Nurse Clarey, had been invited to assist in the childbirth of a duchess. The labor went poorly, resulting in a stillbirth and the death of the mother, which infuriated the duke so much that he... killed her on the spot.

That tragedy had caused a tremendous uproar. The female priests gathered in front of the goddess’s

statue, praying day and night, the flickering candlelight never extinguishing over seven days and nights.

In the end, the head priest personally intervened, summoning high-ranking priests from nearby temples to pressure the duke. The matter concluded with the duke clothed in sackcloth, walking barefoot from the entrance of the temple square into the grand hall, performing a sacred rite of repentance before the goddess.

Of course, a substantial donation was also indispensable.

However, those who were gone, were indeed gone forever. Sold to the temple by her parents, Nurse Sally, then young, became an orphan once again.

"Can we learn this technique?" Nurse Sally lifted her head from the files, looking expectantly at the head priest. He sighed deeply, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the table, round and round, again and again:

"We could learn it, indeed. Mage Nordmark has not forbidden others to learn. But Sally..."

He flipped to the last page of the record book, his eyes fixating on the line stating "Maternal Death Count: Zero," as if the huge zero could suddenly leap from the page and bite him:

"Bacteria. Plague. Purifying water sources. Now, childbirth techniques. Will our domains related to the goddess always have to be dictated by a mage?"

"But mortality rates don’t lie!" Nurse Sally spoke urgently:

"How many women our temple cared for have died, how many Oak Grove Clinic cared for have died, anyone with intent can find out. It’s undeniable!"

"Indeed..." High Priest Moriah sighed deeply. The domain of the War God’s Temple is warriors, combat, war; they have no interest in learning cesarean techniques, nor do they serve that clientele;

The Church of Nature mainly serves the impoverished, posing no direct competition;

Only the mages have always been in competition with them. Competing for resources, magical materials, connections, and recruits. Now, are they to take over the authoritative discourse within the goddess’s domains?

"We send people to learn from him... that would mean admitting that this technique is his creation, under his authority. From then on, in matters of childbirth, our temple will always be subordinate to him."

This subordination, once accepted, would be difficult to reverse.

"But if we don’t learn, no one will turn to us in the future. Cesarean births... under divine care, recovery is rapid, utterly painless..."

The nobles, the mages, would rush to secure surgical slots, no longer enduring the long and painful process of natural birth.

The head priest began massaging his temples. If this were some unknown youngster, either offer him a great reward to draw him into the temple; secretly suppress him, preventing his voice from emerging; or quietly eliminate him, disturbing no one.

History showed that the Spring Water Temple had done all these things.

But not with Mage Nordmark. In terms of faith, the man was a devout follower of the God of Nature;

In terms of backing, his mentor was a legendary mage, far stronger than oneself. A legendary’s wrath, and no one in the Great Temple of Nevis could withstand it;

In terms of channels, just this year, the man had published in "Arcane" and "Magic". As for magazines like "Common Mage Monthly", publishing articles was a trivial matter for him, not even needing to leverage his mentor’s influence...

"Perhaps we should send more people to learn from him," Nurse Sally lowered her head, thinking for a moment before decisively making up her mind. The technique must be learned, but the temple’s interests also considered; there was indeed a way to have the best of both worlds:

"If necessary, all my female priests can be sent there. Once they learn, we immediately expand on a large scale."

With ample manpower, high spell levels, and broad connections, as long as most nobles turned to them, whose creation the cesarean technique was, what did it matter?

Let the empty honor be theirs while we reap the real benefits. Even if it meant bowing our heads, female priests were already a weaker faction within the Spring Water Temple. Lowering their heads a bit more wouldn’t hurt.

Besides, if it saved even one more mother...

If it prevented even one more goddess priest from being killed by a family member, from changing careers due to being unable to bear the death of someone in their care, then it was worthwhile!

She lifted her head, her eyes blazing:

"I could even lead the team myself. Three months, six months, even a year, is not particularly long for us. For the glory of the goddess, it’s but a moment."

High Priest Moriah lowered his head in contemplation. Divine arts, magic, power, wealth, the temple, faith, they churned in his mind. Finally, he rose to his full height:

"Let me think about it. If necessary, I’ll visit Oak Grove Clinic myself, see how that youngster does it. If this technique is truly strong... if it

’s truly worth learning, and must be learned from him directly..."

Nurse Sally bowed and silently exited. She quickly called for a carriage, taking her favorite disciple, and headed straight for Oak Grove Clinic.

Seeing is believing. I want to see for myself how strong this technique really is!

The Spring Water Temple and Oak Grove Clinic were almost at opposite ends of the city: one in the heart of the noble district, the other on the edge of the slums. The carriage rattled on for a long while before glimpsing the sparse, newly planted oak trees swaying outside the walls.

From the start of the woods, a long line of carriages nearly blocked the street at the hospital’s entrance.

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