Chapter 5 The Operating room king

The pneumatic doors of Operating Room 1 hissed open, releasing a wave of chilled, sterile air that instantly washed over Alex’s face. Inside, the surgical team was already waiting, their expressions a mixture of profound confusion and intense panic.

They had received the emergency executive mandate from the Director General of Health at the time, but nothing could have prepared them for the sight of a man in a bleached janitor’s uniform leading the gurney.

"wait i dont understand, What is the meaning of this?" Dr. Thomas, the chief vascular consultant, demanded, stepping forward with his hands raised in a sterile position. "We were told a Chief Proctor was taking over the case. Why is the ward janitor touching the patient?"

"Because the ward janitor is the only one keeping her from flatlining, Thomas," Alex said, his voice ringing with an absolute, chilling authority that made the senior consultant instinctively take a step back. "Marcus, get me a sterile surgical gown and prep the femoral catheter kit. Now!" 

Marcus, completely sweating through his scrubs, did not even look at Dr. Thomas for any permissionat all. He then scrambled toward the supply cabinets like a frantic servant, tearing open sterile packs with he's trembling fingers.

[Passive Skill Active: Hemodynamic Foresight (Level 1).]

[Countdown to irreversible mesenteric collapse: 01:12... 01:11... 01:10]

[System Advice: Initiate immediate percutaneous femoral access. Do not wait for standard local anesthesia; patient neurological threshold is fading.]

"Alex, you can't just bypass protocol!" Dr. Thomas yelled, his face flushing with professional outrage as he tried to block the surgical tray. "You and i know that you don't have a valid license to operate in this theater!"

"Look at the screen, Dr. Thomas," Alex barked, his high-resolution gaze locking onto the digital monitor as he expertly slid his arms into the sterile gown Marcus held out for him. "Her mean arterial pressure is dropping by four millimeters every ten seconds. If you want to argue about bylaws while the Magistrate’s daughter dies on your table, feel free to explain that to her father standing right outside those double doors."

Dr. Thomas glanced toward the reinforced observation glass. Standing directly behind it was Magistrate Harrison Cole, flanked by two armed security guards whose eyes were fixed on the surgical team like hawks. The consultant’s mouth instantly snapped shut, his outrage evaporating into a cold, paralyzing fear.

"Anesthetist, increase the oxygen flow to one hundred percent," Alex commanded, stepping up to the right side of the operating table. He finally released his manual abdominal grip, and the moment his fingers left the skin, the vitals monitor let out a sharp, erratic stutter.

"The pressure is crashing!" the nurse screamed*. "Fifty over thirty!"*

"Catheter," Alex said, extending his hand.

Marcus slapped the femoral line introducer into his palm. Alex didn't even pause to look at the external anatomical markers. To his eyes, the Vascular Blueprinting system had already projected a brilliant, glowing golden map directly over Chloe’s thigh, revealing the exact coordinates of the femoral artery beneath layers of tissue.

With a single, fluid motion, Alex drove the large-bore needle into the groin.

Flash.

A bright surge of dark arterial blood filled the hub of the needle, a perfect, flawless hit on the first attempt. The senior surgical nurses collectively gasped, their eyes widening in sheer disbelief. Achieving flash on a crashing patient with zero blood pressure usually took minutes of blind probing, even for a seasoned specialist. Alex had done it blindly in less than two seconds.

"Guide wire," Alex ordered, his fingers moving with a supernatural, steady speed that left no room for error.

He slid the flexible wire through the needle, guiding it up into the abdominal aorta. The System’s interface immediately overlaid a real-time, high-definition 3D projection of the girl's arterial tree in his peripheral vision. He could see the catheter moving through the vessels like a heat-seeking missile, tracking straight toward the leaking hepatic artery.

[Target Locked: Hepatic Micro-Tear.]

[Deploying micro-coils for targeted embolization.]

"Inject the contrast dye," Alex muttered.

Dr. Thomas, completely hypnotized by the sheer, terrifying precision of the young man he used to look down on, quickly reached for the injector pump*. "Dye... dye is in."*

The fluoroscopy screen illuminated, revealing the exact vascular landscape Alex was seeing in his mind. Right there, pulsing like a dark, weeping wound, was the hidden rupture that Julian Vance had completely missed.

"There it is," Thomas whispered, his voice cracking with a mixture of awe and professional humiliation. "Vance didn't even look at the lower hepatic branch. He completely missed it..."

"Because he’s a politician, not a surgeon," Alex said coldly.

With a definitive click of his thumb, Alex deployed the microscopic platinum coils directly into the tear. On the screen, the chaotic leakage of blood instantly vanished, the flow of contrast dye diverting smoothly into the healthy branches of the liver.

Beep... Beep... Beep...

The frantic, high-pitched alarms on the monitor suddenly died down, replaced by the deep, rhythmic cadence of a perfectly stabilizing heart rate. The arterial pressure line shot upward, anchoring itself safely at 110 over 70.

[Surgical Embolization: 100% Successful.]

[Patient Vitality: Stabilized.]

[Experience Gained: +400 XP. Current Progress: 400/2000 XP.]

Alex then slowly withdrew the catheter, throwing the bloody wire onto the instrument tray with a loud, metallic clang. He turned his head slightly, his cold, high-resolution gaze sweeping over the frozen faces of the consultants and nurses who had spent the last six months treating him like garbage.

"The leak is sealed," Alex said, stripping off his latex gloves and tossing them right into the medical waste bin. He did not utter any more word. The entire group simply stood there, staring at him in stunned silence, as though they had just witnessed something impossible, something that defied every law of nature they understood. He walked toward the exit doors, his posture radiating the absolute authority of a king reclaiming his throne. "Clean up the theater. And make sure you don't leave any trash behind."