Corleone's voice, carried by the wind, clearly transmitted to the chaotic battlefield below.
Unsurprisingly, several Northern soldiers soon rode up the hill towards the sound, partially surrounding them.
Harrag Stole was still at the forefront. His gray eyes fell directly on Corleone as he asked suspiciously, "Hey! You!"
"Did you just say you are... a doctor?"
His tone was full of mistrust, the war hammer still gripped tightly in his hand.
But Hogg's injury forced Stole to come, trying to grasp the last straw for his friend.
Hearing this, Corleone straightened his not-so-sturdy back. Supported by the [Majesty Lv2] aura, he held his head high, wearing a confident expression befitting a professional.
"I said it before, I am a doctor."
His gaze met Stole's fearlessly as he repeated, "And the best doctor in the entire Riverlands!"
Stole frowned, glancing at the cloaked Jaime whom he had deemed a "plague ghost," recalling that Corleone had indeed claimed to be a doctor earlier.
With Hogg's life hanging by a thread, he couldn't care about anything else.
"Good! Come with me, Doctor!"
Stole raised his war hammer, commanding forcefully, "My man is heavily wounded and needs immediate treatment!"
Hearing him say this, Corleone's face immediately showed just the right amount of difficulty.
He looked hesitantly at the cloaked Jaime beside him and spoke indecisively, "But... Young Master Derek's illness... needs constant care. I must..."
"Forget about that damn plague ghost!"
Seeing Corleone's hesitation, Stole interrupted him rudely, showing great impatience. "Let him wait for death himself!"
"Or..."
He suddenly raised his war hammer, pointing at Jaime: "I'll kill him right now, so you can free your hands to save my man!"
"You choose!"
As his voice fell, several Northern soldiers immediately drew their longswords. The glistening blades all pointed at Jaime, murderous intent surging.
Corleone seemed frightened by this naked threat. He froze for a moment, then a look of compromise and helplessness appeared on his face. Like a deflated ball, he said dejectedly, "Since... since it's like this, then I'll go with you."
However, just as they were about to urge their horses forward simultaneously, Stole suddenly shouted, "Stop!"
Everyone froze. He stared vigilantly at Brienne and the others, saying coldly, "Only the doctor comes with us!"
"Your companions must stay here!"
"Impossible!"
As soon as these words came out, Brienne immediately objected sternly, her bear-like sturdy body blocking Corleone's side. "Corleone is our..."
"The only doctor in our team. I can't let him take the risk!"
Her voice was stiff, but the protective meaning was very clear—both for Corleone and for Arya.
Following Brienne's forceful roar, Iggo and Walton also drew their weapons simultaneously, confronting Stole and his men.
Seeing these people so nervously protecting this doctor, Stole didn't rage. Instead, he grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. "Good! It seems your medical skills must be fucking excellent for them to be so reluctant to part with you!"
He thought for a moment, still not relenting, and proposed a compromise: "You can follow, but you must keep a distance of half a league!"
"Once my man is cured, I'll naturally return your precious doctor to you!"
"Otherwise..."
Saying this, Stole shook his war hammer, the threat self-evident.
With words reaching this point, Corleone naturally knew that going too far was as bad as falling short.
Continuing to feign resistance would only provoke a more violent reaction from the other party.
"Alright, we'll do as Captain Stole says."
He took a deep breath, his face returning to composure. Turning to instruct Brienne and the others: "Stay here and don't move. I'll come back after curing the man."
Saying this, Corleone looked at the cloaked Jaime, adding with special emphasis, "Remember, give Young Master Derek his medicine on time!"
Under the cloak, Jaime's emerald eyes met Corleone's. A message only the two of them understood was conveyed in that exchange of glances.
After speaking, Corleone hesitated no more. actively squeezing the horse's belly, he rode towards Stole and his men.
Due to the severity of Hogg's injury, the group wasted no words. Riding fast, they arrived at the injured man's location in just over ten breaths.
Hogg lay on the ground, his face pale as paper from blood loss. A soldier was pressing hard on his upper thigh, but blood still gushed continuously from between his fingers.
Corleone immediately dismounted and squatted beside Hogg very professionally, quickly examining the wound.
With the dual enhancement of [Insight Lv1] and [Surgery Lv2], he quickly made a judgment.
The wound was on the inner thigh, not very long but deep. The blood was bright red and spurting out in pulses with the heartbeat, not oozing slowly.
This was a typical sign of arterial bleeding!
Very critical. If bleeding wasn't stopped effectively immediately, he would soon die of excessive blood loss.
Fortunately, the wound at the bleeding point wasn't large, and the rate of blood loss hadn't reached an irreversible stage yet.
Should still be savable.
Speaking of which, this guy's luck was truly bad. Getting cut on the inner thigh during a fight was ridiculous.
But he also had to thank this injury for giving Corleone a chance to infiltrate these Northern soldiers.
"How is it?"
Stole squatted anxiously beside him, his eyes staring dead at Hogg's pale face and the constantly gushing blood, urging, "Can he be saved!"
"Very tricky."
Corleone frowned tightly, his expression solemn, but his tone remained very calm and professional. "He injured a major artery in the thigh. The blood is flowing too fast."
Stole didn't understand arteries or veins, but the simple sentence "blood flowing too fast" made him understand immediately.
This usually tough Northern soldier actually grabbed Corleone's shoulder in anxiety, a trace of pleading in his voice: "Save him, Doctor!"
"You must save him! As long as you save Hogg, I'll return all your Gold Dragons... no, return double!"
Hearing this, Corleone looked up at Stole, the corners of his mouth slowly curving into a meaningful, confident smile.
He's anxious. He's anxious!
Corleone quickly opened his portable medical bag, glancing at the Hound not far away, who was having his hands tied by several Northern soldiers and being hoisted up a tree with tugs on the rope.
Then, he squatted down, deftly taking out hemostats and suturing needles and thread.
"Don't worry, Captain Stole."
Corleone grinned, speaking with immense confidence: "Without my permission, even the Stranger cannot take his life."
"After all, I am the best doctor in the entire Riverlands. Of all the patients I've treated, there has never been a single negative review!"