In a crude shack in the refugee camp.0

Looking at the old man lying on the stretcher, Yin Fang took a deep breath, finally made up his mind, and slowly extended his right hand.0

After pausing for a moment, a silver scalpel slowly stretched out from his right hand until it was an inch longer than his middle finger.0

The scalpel was bent slightly, like a forelimb of a mantis. Looking closely, there were four silver threads around the scalpel, floating in the air like tentacles.0

Looking at the young man's right hand, the old man curled up on the stretcher looked terrified. He tremblingly wanted to ask what the man was, but he did not dare to make a sound.0

"Don't be afraid, I will help you deal with the wound." After comforting the old man, Yin Fang concentrated all his energy on the operation.0

An anesthetic injection was quickly followed by disinfection.0

The five fingers of his right hand moved up and down nimbly and skillfully, manipulating the scalpel and silver threads hanging under the palm of his hand.0

It was like he was manipulating a marionette!0

The scalpel accurately avoided the nerves and blood vessels in the muscle tissue, carefully cut the necrotic part, and skillfully used silver thread to stitch up the wound, leaving only the fine thread end like spider silk.0

The whole process was as smooth as running water!0

Yin Fang held his breath and remained highly focused. Fine sweat oozed out of...0