A Hospital in Another World?-Chapter 821: Temple of the War God, You’re Repaying Kindness with Enmity!!!

What does Master Nordmark need?

This question truly stumped Archbishop Nogla—and Bishop Seiren, who was assigned the task by the archbishop. When asked by the archbishop, he wore a bitter expression, his shoulders sagging.

"What kind of face is that?"

The archbishop frowned, "A mage, don't they always have various needs at any given time? Can't you even think of this? Isn't Master Nordmark conducting experiments? Doesn't he need experimental equipment and materials?"

"The large, valuable experimental equipment he needs has been acquired recently…" Bishop Seiren sighed, "Besides, we don't make experimental equipment ourselves;we buy it from the Alchemy Guild. At best, we can get a good discount by buying in bulk, but last time I inquired, Master Nordmark already received a significant discount…"

"What about experimental materials? The spoils from warrior adventures, magical beasts, magical plants, minerals, and the like?"

"I asked during the last negotiation. They said the research requiring parts of magical beasts has mostly concluded. Whether more is needed will depend on the next project…"

Archbishop Nogla restrained himself from retorting. The last reported prices were mostly resource exchanges, not requiring much money. Why is it so difficult this time?

"What about followers? As a mage, he always needs followers, right? I see only a few around him…"

"Who says there are few! Gather them, and they can capture a small town!"

Bishop Seiren blurted out. Seeing the archbishop's disbelieving look, he raised his right hand, bending one finger at a time, "Three mages, one traveling, and two apprentices. One barbarian warrior, level eight. And Miss Cirilla, at least level ten."

These are the permanent residents of the mage tower. Besides, there are several healers working at the hospital, ranging from level one to five or six;several necromancers researching at the hospital, from apprentices to level three or four;more than twenty barbarian security guards, at least level three or four…

Archbishop Nogla was silent. Such strength is insufficient to attack a county town but could easily take a small town. Moreover, they have a full range of ranks, from high to low, top combat power, and basic labor, all are complete. Sending a team of warriors as followers seems unnecessary.

"If it were another mage, we could send a priest…"

"Yes, but…"

Superior and subordinate sighed together. But Master Nordmark is a healer himself. Sending a healer would seem like sending someone to learn from him rather than following him… this turns a reward into a favor owed, too foolish.

"What does he lack? As a mage, no, as a person, he must lack something, right?"

"But he even has a mage tower!" Not just one, but two!

Generally, a mage of his level is either sent away or fighting for a good position in a grand mage's team. Their own mage tower? In Nevis, their own mage tower? Dream on, grand mages above level ten are still queuing and saving money for their own mage tower!

A person with two mage towers…what else could he desire? Bishop Seiren couldn't think of anything except for the coins, gold, and silver that Master Nordmark explicitly asked for. The more, the better, no upper limit.

…If the temple could casually bring out millions of gold coins, we would already be the national grand temple. Bishop Seiren thought bleakly. No, even the grand temple in the capital couldn't produce millions in cash…

"Don't think of solving the problem with money." As if seeing through his thoughts, Archbishop Nogla suddenly warned, "Old Morgan plans to bear most of the cost himself. I advised him for a long time;he said if the temple has to bear the large part, he would rather not be treated."

"Then…"

What does Old Morgan have that Master Nordmark might want?

Bishop Seiren swallowed the question, withdrew, and quietly went to find Old Morgan.

This powerful warrior, titled "Steel Cutter," lived not far away, just behind the temple, at the edge of the warrior’s residential area, in a two-story stone house. Beyond that was wasteland, sparsely populated, enough for any activity.

Bishop Seiren had not approached when he heard "boom," "boom," "boom," the dull sound of wind constantly. From a distance, he saw Old Morgan slightly bent, body tilted, wielding his famous heavy sword, tearing through the air one strike after another.

The coarse hemp vest was completely soaked, frayed at the edges and hem.

This aging warrior neither guarded nobles' doors nor stood as a figurehead for rich merchants. Devoted to the War God, for decades, he either fought for the temple or trained relentlessly.

Bishop Seiren took a few steps back. Looking through the stone house's window, he saw no carpets, no candlesticks, no valuable furniture. The bare stone walls held nothing but the fierce beast heads Old Morgan personally hunted.

The only seemingly valuable items were his dark, heavy, battle-scarred armor. All his savings went either into training and breakthroughs or supporting young warriors.

Bishop Seiren sighed and left quietly. Standing afar, gazing at the stone house for a long time, he finally gritted his teeth and ran to the mage tower:

There is a way!

There must be a way!

"...That's the situation." In the mage tower, he bowed deeply to Garrett, almost bending over completely, "Could you nominally ask for a lower reward? I will convince the archbishop to compensate you under another project… Otherwise, with Old Morgan's character…"

Garrett listened carefully while secretly sighing. A level fourteen warrior, you really have faith in me…

Sure I'm capable of operating on him?

Sure my scalpel won't even scratch his skin?

Despite his internal grumbling, he raised his face and smiled slightly. Fortunately, he is the doctor and dean, setting the medical fees himself without any health committee pricing issues. Garrett looked directly at Bishop Seiren and slowly said:

"The reward is negotiable. But, if possible, it would be best for Mr. Morgan to discuss it personally. If he can cover a significant portion with his savings, skills, or anything, I think he would be happier."

With this, Bishop Seiren brought Old Morgan personally to Garrett’s mage tower the next day. Upon approaching the small path to the tower, Bishop Seiren's heart skipped a beat:

A ghost horse, its four hooves smoking, descended gently from the sky. On its back sat a grand mage in a golden robe, looking down with interest—

A familiar face, Master Nordmark’s senior, Archmage Carlisle.

Trouble, with him here, negotiating a low price might be difficult…

Nervous as if drums pounded in his heart, Old Morgan felt nothing, settling in the reception room, placing his heavy sword on the table with a clang:

"Master Nordmark, the most valuable things I have are this armor and heavy sword. If you can heal me and give me hope of advancing again, these can be yours. You might not use them, but your followers could…"

In the corner of the meeting room, Bernard, who came to admire the senior warrior, quietly stepped back.

No way!

His armor, crafted by a dwarf master, could be used up to levels twelve or thirteen!

The old warrior's armor looked similar in grade but didn’t fit him!

This small step didn’t catch Garrett's attention, but Old Morgan noticed clearly. He stood up, bowed deeply:

"Including my life. Master Nordmark, wherever you need to explore or any enemies to face, I can assist."

"Hey—no need for that…"

Garrett jumped up. Beside him, Archmage Carlisle smiled slightly, summoning a force field giant hand, lifting it as a gesture:

"No need for such severity. Look at his follower—"

He pointed at Bernard in the corner:

"Could you guide him a bit, at least to level nine?"

"No problem!"

Old Morgan said heartily. He scrutinized Bernard, his gaze moving from his head, eyes to legs, nodding heavily:

"This warrior has a solid foundation, deep accumulation, only lacking opportunity. As long as the mage doesn’t mind my food intake, I’ll stay here, training him daily. Not just level nine, levels ten, eleven, twelve, I’ll do my best."

"That's enough." Garrett clapped with a smile:

"You being Bernard’s teacher, we’ll give our best in treating you. No need to mention rewards—so, it's settled?"

Bishop Seiren sighed in relief. Garrett smiled and nodded. Old Morgan straightened his back, his anxious expression gone, face glowing. Only Archmage Carlisle, looking left and right, raised his hand:

"Wait a moment. One more thing—"

He pointed at Garrett:

"Could you also train him a bit? Not too high, just enough to escape danger during adventures, dodge attacks, not stand still dumbly…"

"Hey!"

Garrett yelled. Before he could argue, a cold voice from the 【Endless Ink Pen】 in his chest pocket said:

"Train him to a knight."

Carlisle: "…"

Bernard: "…"

Old Morgan: "No problem, rest assured! He will be trained as a knight!"

Bishop Seiren: "Absolutely, guaranteed by the War God's Temple!"

Garrett: "…"

Ah, I treat your people, and this is how you repay me?

Temple of the War God, you're repaying kindness with enmity!!!