The Yunhui General Mansion was located on the west side of East Market in Xuanyang Square. The galloping carriage stopped outside the mansion’s gate, where Li Wei was the first to leap off, followed closely by Li Ang.
The two hastily greeted the General’s Wife, who was covering her face and crying, and the pale-faced Cloud Banner General, Chen Changxiao himself, before rushing into the house.
The Chen Family’s eldest son lay on the bed, his face as pale as gold leaf, breathing with difficulty. A long, narrow sword wound, thick with blood, marked the outside of his thigh. Beside the bed sat a middle-aged Telekinesis Master who had been hastily summoned. He was sweating profusely as he exerted his Telekinesis, struggling to hold the edges of the gash on Chen Dalang’s leg together.
Despite his efforts, fresh blood still seeped from the wound, pooling on the floor.
After inspecting the situation, Li Ang inhaled sharply. Luckily, the General Mansion had summoned a Telekinesis Master in time to staunch the bleeding; otherwise, this injury would have been fatal ten times over.
"Doctor, you must save the Eldest Son, he’s still young..." the General’s Wife pleaded.
The patient’s family was of no use in the room, so Li Ang sent them out. From his medical case, he took out a tourniquet to stop the injured man’s bleeding. Then, he disinfected his own hands and surgical tools.
Li Ang then widened the incision to find the severed blood vessel. He sutured it with catgut, which the body could absorb, and then stitched the skin closed with thin silver wire.
But Chen Dalang’s consciousness still inevitably began to fade.
His skin was pale and cold, his heart rate was rapid, and his carotid pulse was weakening...
Li Wei asked in shock, "Why hasn’t Chen Dalang awakened?"
Li Ang quickly explained, "Blood loss exceeds thirty percent of total volume—hypovolemic shock. There are only three options now: One, drink fluids until the pulse strengthens; two, administer a large volume of isotonic saline solution; or three, a blood transfusion."
Before Li Wei could ask what kind of Divine Medicine Li Ang was referring to, Li Ang stepped outside. He found the anxious Cloud Banner General and his wife. "General," Li Ang said, "Chen Dalang’s situation is critical. He requires a blood transfusion to save him from shock."
Chen Changxiao exclaimed, "Blood transfusion?"
Li Ang explained, "It means transferring a portion of someone else’s blood into the patient’s body. This allows the failing heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys to begin working again."
Li Ang quickly added, "It’s like pouring fresh fuel into a lamp."
"Can my blood be used?" Chen Changxiao asked, inhaling deeply. He had children late in life and doted on them. This tragedy had occurred during a martial arts demonstration he himself had requested his eldest son perform. Naturally, he would not hesitate at this moment due to any folk belief like "blood is the essence of life."
Li Ang shook his head. "Our blood types might not match. There could be agglutination if the blood types are different."
Li Wei’s eyelids twitched as he urgently asked, "Is it the A, B, and C blood types you mentioned today?"
"What blood type?" Chen Changxiao was puzzled.
Li Ang didn’t have time to explain and turned to Li Wei. "Testing for blood types takes time, and Chen Dalang can’t wait that long."
"Then use my blood for the transfusion." Li Wei looked serious and spoke quickly. "You detected it before, didn’t you? I’m C blood type. My Blood turbidity is without A or B antigens, so it won’t cause agglutination if transfused with other blood types."
Li Ang raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." Li Wei clenched his teeth. "I see Chen Dalang as a brother; even if it means death..."
"It’s just drawing a bit of blood, it won’t be that severe," Li Ang interrupted. "At most, it’s like getting bitten by leeches after stripping naked in a swamp."
Li Ang patted Li Wei on the shoulder and led him back inside. From his medicine box, he took a degreasing cotton swab to disinfect Li Wei’s wrist. Then, he used a syringe to slowly draw blood for the transfusion.
Once everything was handled, Li Ang disinfected his hands and surgical instruments again. He then walked out of the house and, seeing the anxiously waiting Cloud Banner General and his wife, shook his head.
Seeing Li Ang shake his head, the General’s Wife felt a burst of dizziness, as if the world were spinning, and she subconsciously cried out, "Eldest Son!"
Li Wei, who followed with a cotton swab pressed against his wrist, asked with a trembling voice, "Risheng, is the transfusion still not working...?"
Li Ang said, bewildered, "It’s working. I never said it wasn’t."
Li Wei was stunned. "Then why did you shake your head...?"
"My neck is just sore from crouching by the bed for too long."
With that, Li Ang ignored the stunned expressions on the faces of the General’s Wife and Li Wei. "The hypovolemic shock has improved," he said. "But whether he survives now depends on the Eldest Son’s own constitution. The real danger is wound infection."
"Yes, that means poisoned sores, pus forming."
Li Ang briefly gave further medical advice: the bandages around the wound must be kept absolutely uncontaminated, the patient should abstain from alcohol and spicy food during recovery, and he should eat more dates, oranges, milk, and lean meat.
The General’s Wife gratefully saw Li Ang and Li Wei off. She wanted to give them a monetary gift, but Li Ang refused.
For such a large wound, stopping the bleeding and suturing were merely the beginning; preventing subsequent infection was key. Without anti-inflammatory drugs or antibiotics, a suppurating wound was practically a delayed death sentence, if not an immediate one.
Sitting in the General Mansion’s carriage, Li Ang pondered the data on wound inflammation. His expression was grave as he muttered, "That Jing Monk from the Persian Hu Temple yesterday... he was half right. A ’blood calamity’ indeed."
"Risheng, you’ve already done very well," Li Wei said. His vitality was robust; despite having a tube of blood drawn, his face was only slightly pale. Seeing Li Ang frowning, Li Wei tried to comfort him. "When I was a soldier in a border town, swords on the battlefield have no eyes. Countless enemies and comrades died from blood loss after being wounded. This method of blood transfusion is unheard of. For someone in Chen Dalang’s condition to be saved, it’s as if Hua Tuo himself were resurrected! If this could be widely promoted to help injured soldiers, no reward from His Majesty would be too great for you."
"If he’s truly saved, then it is Hua Tuo resurrected," Li Ang replied. "If not, it’s just a mediocre doctor harming people."
Li Ang shook his head with a sigh.
According to his plan, the emergency blood transfusion technique should have waited until the Academic Palace Doctors had conducted sufficient experiments before being introduced. Now, the Cloud Banner General’s eldest son had become the first test subject. If he died from a subsequent infection, the transfusion technique itself might be unfairly blamed. Furthermore, eliminating the public’s prejudice against blood transfusions would take an immense amount of effort.
Do I have to drastically accelerate the creation of anti-inflammatory drugs and antibiotics? Is it even possible with current conditions...?
Li Ang fell into deep thought. Anti-inflammatory drugs were medications that inhibited the inflammatory response. Antibiotics were a specific type of anti-inflammatory drug, referring to secondary metabolites produced by microorganisms or higher plants and animals that possessed activity against pathogens or other organisms.
The synthetic processes for artificial or semi-artificial anti-inflammatory drugs—whether Paracetamol, ibuprofen, or Metronidazole-like compounds—were far too complex. They were orders of magnitude more difficult than, say, extracting Vitamin B12 from pig liver.
And then there were antibiotics—Sulfonamide, Chloramphenicol, streptomycin, and Penicillin...