Game of Thrones: The Black Dragon King

Following the location marked by the red dot, Reed raised the Mill lens again, carefully searching for the other party's trace. Finally, in an inconspicuous corner, he found the unfamiliar enemy. At this moment, the other party had transformed into an ordinary person, coldly staring at him.

Reid laughed in anger, and then gave the order, and the entire garrison quickly surrounded them.

The Faceless One remained standing in place, expressionless, seemingly completely unconcerned about the impending attack.

Reed decided he wouldn't capture them alive, and the archers on the perimeter immediately drew their bows, ready to riddle the intruder with arrows. However, just as the arrows were about to leave the bowstring, the Faceless One's figure flickered again and vanished from everyone's sight.

Reid frowned. He knew the Faceless Ones were extremely good at stealth, but he hadn't expected them to be this troublesome.

They found the location marked by the red dot again, but it was just a forest and bushes with no sign of anyone. Reed quickly adjusted his strategy, ordering the soldiers to split into small groups and spread out in a fan shape to encircle the Faceless Ones and find their hiding place.

Time ticked by, and the soldiers' search yielded no results. Reid grew increasingly anxious; this apprehensive, uneasy feeling was agonizing. He had to deal with this Faceless One as soon as possible.

Just then, a soldier suddenly pointed to a grove of trees not far away and shouted, "There!"

Reed immediately looked and saw a blurry figure moving in the woods. Overjoyed, he immediately ordered his soldiers to surround it.

However, when the soldiers approached the grove, they found it deserted. Reed's heart sank; they had been tricked again.

Just then, a cold, emotionless voice suddenly rang in Reed's ear: "Are you looking for someone?"

Reid's hair stood on end. He turned around abruptly, only to find the Faceless One standing behind him, staring coldly at him.

Reed quickly drew his longsword from his waist, ready to fight.

However, the Faceless One did not immediately launch an attack. Instead, he said expressionlessly, "The blasphemer is indeed very capable, but the blasphemer should not refuse the blessing given by the Thousand-Faced God. All mortals must die."

“All men must be served!” Reed replied.

Before the faceless man could even react in surprise, six or seven longswords came slashing at him. The heavily armored swordsman, fueled by resentment, attacked without holding back, his movements wide and sweeping, focusing solely on offense! To allow an assassin to slip behind the lord right under his nose—a dereliction of duty! A grave dereliction of duty!

Reid gripped his longsword tightly and retreated swiftly. He had already witnessed the Faceless Ones' power; if he made a mistake, the consequences would be unimaginable.

The Faceless One moved with uncanny speed, like a ghost, easily dodging the heavy swordsmen's fatal blows. His face remained expressionless, but given the current situation, the taunt was palpable.

The heavily armored swordsmen were not discouraged. They cooperated seamlessly, constantly changing formations, trying to find a weakness in the Faceless One. However, the Faceless One was simply too agile, and he skillfully deflected every attack.

Completely disregarding the lives of his men, Reed took off running as fast as he could. The terrifying scene just now left him terrified. Taking advantage of the moment when the heavily armored swordsman was holding off the Faceless One, he ran as far away as possible.

The anticipated scene of the assassin being chopped into mincemeat by the armored soldiers did not occur. The Faceless One suddenly flashed and appeared behind one of the heavily armored swordsmen. The dagger in his hand flashed like lightning and instantly slit the swordsman's throat.

The heavily armored swordsmen did not back down; instead, they charged at the Faceless One with even greater ferocity.

But there was only the flash of sword light, no blood splattering.

Surrounded by heavily armored swordsmen, the Faceless One was agile and moved with cunning.

Reed fled with all his might. The lord's full plate armor was intricately structured and tightly wrapped, providing superior defense and agility, but it was also very heavy, so Reed could not run fast. With a cry of alarm, Reed turned back to look at the battlefield, only to see the familiar smoke again.

The smoke spread rapidly, enveloping the battlefield. Figures flickered within the smoke, as if countless people were moving simultaneously.

This was a sign that the Faceless Ones had escaped. Reid's heart sank, and he ran frantically as if being chased by a dog.

Stopping now meant death. The faceless figures in the smoke were like phantoms, impossible to guard against. The screams of the heavily armored swordsmen echoed, making Reed's heart leap into his throat.

Damn it! Other people's assassins are all high in attack and low in defense, they follow the path of stealth and fleeing far away if they miss their target, but why is it that when it comes to me, they just keep staring and relentlessly attacking, going head-to-head with armored soldiers, and even acting as a ghost in the smoke.

Reed ran and cursed, his heart filled with resentment.

Such a Faceless One completely subverts the conventional gameplay of assassins. The image of the Faceless One moving through the smoke keeps flashing in my mind. Those ghostly movements send chills down my spine.

In my extreme anxiety, I dared not hesitate for a moment, and ran forward frantically. My heart was pounding like a drum, my clothes were soaked with sweat, and my legs felt as heavy as lead, but I dared not stop.

"The blasphemous one should not flee; fear has led you into a trap, and now, the Thousand-Faced God has his sights set on your fate."

The whispered words sent chills down Reed's spine, followed by the blade protruding from his chest. A sharp pain shot through him, almost causing Reed to faint.

"All mortals must be served!" Faceless drew his sword.

Reed collapsed to his knees, powerless.

"Hiss~!" An angry dragon roar came from the sky.

"My goodness! It's finally here!" Reed murmured, gazing at the enormous figure in mid-air.

A massive pillar of fire descended from the sky, and the dragon flames of the area attack engulfed Reid and the Faceless One.

In the flames, the faceless figure twisted and dissipated, seemingly swallowed up by the dragon flames. It happened so fast that Reid didn't even have time to appreciate the expression on the damned assassin's face.

Lying on the ground, Reed felt a wave of heat wash over him. The sweat on his face evaporated instantly, his clothes burned to ashes, his hair burned away, and his armor turned red and softened, slowly flowing down as molten iron.

As the flames gradually subsided, Reed slowly opened his eyes. On the scorched earth, there was no trace of the Faceless One. Only a long, narrow rapier lay quietly among the scattered ashes.

Reed lay on the ground, enduring excruciating pain, but a sense of relief at surviving a close call rose within him. He wasn't thankful for his heart being on the right side, but rather for the system's blessing and protection—as long as his health bar wasn't depleted, even the most severe injuries could slowly heal. Looking at his dwindling, high-risk red health bar, he felt a wave of fear wash over him.

"It's good to be alive," Red murmured to himself. His heart was filled with a longing for life and a reflection on his past actions.

The Night Fury landed beside Reed, its massive, ferocious head gently nuzzling him and emitting a low, concerned growl.

"Get lost!" Reed slapped him across the face, laughing and cursing. He didn't want to worsen his injuries by moving around on his own.

"Get someone who's still breathing! Get a stretcher and carry me back!"

When the seriously injured Reid was carried back to the lord's manor, the medical talents in the territory gathered before him, introducing their unique treatments like selling products.

With current medical technology, the rehabilitation of external injuries boils down to two things: stopping bleeding and preventing infection. More complex issues, such as repairing damaged nerve tissue and organs, would leave even the top medical doctors in Old Town and University City clueless.

The medical system here is more like a combination of rudimentary herbalism, witchcraft, basic natural science, and rudimentary human anatomy. Even so, it's still slightly better than the doctors provided by the system, or perhaps more than just slightly.

The first was the barber, carrying a pole wrapped with red and white cloth strips, with a sharp knife at his waist. "This symbolizes flowing blood, sir. Place your hand on the pole, cut a specific vein in your wrist, and release the excess blood to help the wound heal..."

"Get him out! If he dares to practice medicine again, break his legs!"

The second person was a tailor, carrying his everyday tools. "Sir, I can stitch up your wound."

That sounds more plausible, Reed thought to himself.

The tailor, with his filthy hands, pulled out equally filthy bottles and jars and explained, "I also have various kinds of animal droppings here. Sew them into wounds; it will help them heal..."

"I have a question. How many people have you cured?" Reed asked, grinning.

The tailor stammered rather shyly, "Well... so far, God hasn't been on my side."

This treatment, which fears no infection, is no wonder it has a 100% mortality rate.

"Send him to the clinic to work as an assistant. And if he dares to play with shit again, throw him in the water dungeon!"

The third was the blacksmith, who brought a branding iron. "Sir, using a red-hot branding iron to iron the wound can quickly stop the bleeding. It's very effective for amputations and sword wounds. As everyone knows, this is a torture instrument I just made for the dungeon last week. I made some modifications, and it's perfect for you..."

Although he sensed this guy harbored some resentment towards his lord, the method still seemed somewhat plausible, so he kept it, but wouldn't consider using it for the time being. It wasn't that he was afraid of pain; ever since acquiring the dragon, Reed had become an Unburnt, and a rather high-level one at that. He wasn't afraid of dragonfire, and felt no pain as molten iron flowed down his body. This stuff was good for sterilization, but probably wouldn't be very effective at healing wounds.

The fourth person is a witch, or a herbalist, or a forest druid or something. "I have brought you ants, swamp leeches, toads, dried chicken feet, and mushrooms, sir. After the ants bite the wound, pinch off the affected part, then apply toad juice, use the leeches to reduce swelling, and then combine the mushrooms to enter a meditative world. With the help of the spirits, you will heal your body and be reborn. The dried chicken feet powder can be used for exorcism..."

Looking at the old woman's dry, tangled hair, sprouting mushrooms, and the pustules covering half her face, Reed found it hard to accept. However, considering her early background as a naturalist and a pioneer in the exploration of plant and animal medicine, Reed ordered, "Send her to the clinic as an assistant; she's not allowed to have direct contact with patients..."

"My lord, this is an evil witch!" The fifth healer, dressed as a clergyman, interjected excitedly, "My lord! I have a very good method to identify her. Just tie her up and throw her into the river. If she floats..."

"Shut up! No attacking your colleagues!" Reed interrupted him impatiently. "Tell me your treatment method!"

"Well, sir, rather than receiving treatment from secular doctors, I think you need divine blessings more. If you go to church and kneel in prayer, He will surely bless you..." Sneaking a glance at Reed's increasingly dark face, the clergyman quickly changed his tune: "Of course, considering your physical condition, I think indulgences are also an excellent option. The moment the coins clink, your soul responds..."

"Guards! Drag him into the church and make him kneel. He's not allowed to get up until I'm better!"

There are still reliable talents.

The sixth was a pharmacist, dressed in brightly colored clothes with pockets on both sides. He stepped forward and introduced his herbs. "Sir, I've brought you dried dandelion, cow dung stone, ostrich oil, willow bark extract, and compass grass extract, for external and internal use respectively. These medicines have good anti-inflammatory and analgesic effects. Additionally, if your pain is unbearable, I also have poppy preparations. Of course, this medicine is a powerful pain reliever but addictive, so I will be very careful to control the dosage..."

Wow, that's what you call professional. It sounds very reassuring.

The seventh person was a doctor dressed in Arabic style. "Sir, your wound is a penetrating wound. This type of wound cannot be directly sutured. We need to allow the wound to heal from the inside out, so we need to use gauze strips to drain the pus. I will insert gauze strips boiled in herbal water into your wound to draw out the pus, blood, and necrotic tissue..."

"Of course, this process is not pleasant. If you find it unbearable, I can also administer small doses of opium preparations. Additionally, the medications the pharmacist previously recommended are also effective and can be used in conjunction with these..."

"In addition, during this period, maintain a light diet, refrain from drinking alcohol, and keep your clothes and living environment clean and hygienic... Considering your special constitution, we can also use fire to remove contaminants that cause the wound to fester. Flames are powerful and can devour everything, but they can also purify everything..."

Medieval Arab civilization was relatively open and inclusive, with neighboring Europe as its benchmark. Many scholars, pharmacists, and early surgeons persecuted in Europe flocked to the Arab world. At the same time, as a crossroads of Eastern and Western civilizations, Arab doctors were not lacking in knowledge of traditional Chinese medicine, making their skill level the highest among this group.

"What's your name?" Reed asked with admiration. Elite talents are different from ordinary citizens; they have names, surnames, and personalities.

"Avicenna Tobibou, at your service, sir!"

"And you?" Reed turned to look at the pharmacist.

"Paracel Medsay, at your service, sir!"

Reid solemnly declared, "I need talent like you!"

Then, Reid turned to the other medical professionals who remained and said seriously, "Those two are among the best of you. I require you to learn from them, and I also require you to learn from each other. Don't hold back; everyone should actively discuss and brainstorm. We should take the essence of treatment methods and discard the dross, applying truly effective treatments instead of relying on absurd methods."

The medical staff present looked at each other in bewilderment.

Reid paused, then continued, "I hope you can form a medical team and develop it, researching various diseases, improving medicines, and exploring new treatments to raise the level of healthcare within the territory."

That's right, Reed plans to build a research hospital. Even though he's a tanky warrior, why not take advantage of the opportunity to add extra protection to his health? As for the guinea pigs, surely some of the hundreds of thousands, or even millions, of his subjects will get injured or sick in the future?

Good research represents medical progress, while bad research still represents the utmost effort and provides end-of-life care for patients.

"Now, Avicenna and Paracelsus stay, everyone else leave." After effective and in-depth doctor-patient communication, Reed was relieved and could proceed with treatment.