At this moment, Old Man Gong, who was lying on the operating table, could no longer be seen. Thirty to forty percent of Old Man Gong's skin had begun to rot, and pus flowed out of the wound. His skin and flesh trembled as he breathed.
What was even more gruesome was the wite maggots squirming around Old Man Gong's wound.
Big Gong unknowingly walked up to the two doctors and began to explain, "Two days ago, maggots started appearing on my father's body. I tried to clean his wound with disinfectant, but he started screaming in pain. My father immediately told me to stop."
Indeed, splashing disinfectant on such a rotten wound would hurt the patient.
Fatty Gong scratched his head and said, "I had no choice but to… Hey, if this lady doctor can't stand to look at my father, she should probably stop."
