Kai's small illegal clinic was located underground. He had no intention of openly challenging the authority of certain law enforcement agencies before he had enough power to back it up.
Even though ordinary people were extremely fragile in front of him, he still wouldn't survive an RPG. With that reality in mind, he had no confidence whatsoever in acting recklessly.
Hell's Kitchen was practically paradise for spellcasters who looked as sinister as necromancers. There were simply too many "talents" here. Kai didn't even need to kill anyone himself.
After eight in the evening, he could stroll around a couple of blocks and pick up a few corpses to use as research material.
Gaining death energy through killing was indeed the most efficient method, but Kai still had his bottom line.
Killing a pervert tonight had put him in an excellent mood. Scum like that was truly an eyesore. Frank Castle hadn't returned to the United States yet, nor had he been attacked and become the Punisher. As for Lawyer Matt, he hadn't even graduated. For now, keeping Hell's Kitchen clean could only fall to Kai.
Inside the clinic were four human skeletons, his materials for spellcasting. Summoning a Skeleton Warrior without a corpse was absolutely impossible.
Even though Kai hadn't decided to pursue the summoning path yet, that didn't stop him from mastering the most basic necromancy spells.
After returning to the clinic, still in a good mood, Kai stuffed his tattered robe into a cloth bag and sat down on a chair. It was only midnight.
Even before transmigrating, this wouldn't have been his bedtime, let alone now that he was running an underground clinic.
To be an excellent surgeon, strong physical fitness was essential. Otherwise, after performing three surgeries in a row, one would likely collapse right in the operating room.
Thump, thump, thump.
"Coming, coming."
Kai, already feeling drowsy and on the verge of nodding off, heard knocking at the door and had no choice but to push himself up from the armrest of his chair to answer it.
When he opened the door, he saw a face that wasn't very familiar, but he remembered the man. The last time, someone else had brought him here for surgery. This time, he was bringing someone else. The guy was fairly loyal.
"He's been shot."
"I can see that. Help me get him onto the operating table. You know my prices. Five gunshot wounds in total. The treatment will take about two hours. Go raise the money."
Kai hadn't heard any gunshots nearby, but he didn't care much. As long as no one was shooting inside his clinic, it was fine.
After helping Kai place the wounded man on the operating table, the gangster immediately left the clinic to gather the money. Kai's rules were annoying, but his medical skills were good enough that anyone who came here had no choice but to accept them.
Before transmigrating, Kai had never learned how to treat gunshot wounds. The likelihood of shootings in his previous Japanese neighbourhood was extremely low, and even when they did happen, they usually involved homemade firearms, which were very different from standard gunshot wounds.
After transmigrating, however, his work environment in Hell's Kitchen gave him no chance to perform minor surgeries like appendectomies. Instead, he became highly proficient at treating gunshot injuries.
Kai hadn't set his rules to appear domineering. It was because patients brought to him sometimes had grudges against one another.
To keep the clinic from turning into a firefight, he had to establish strict rules, forcing those who only knew how to solve problems with their fists to calm down.
Today's first patient had arrived. Kai didn't know whether a second one would follow later, so he quickened his pace and even summoned a Skeleton Warrior to assist him.
Kai handled the surgery itself, while the Skeleton Warrior assisted. It made him feel as though he had finally found the correct way to use necromancy.
The Skeleton Warrior under Kai's control had once been an unlicensed underground doctor. The man's hands hadn't been clean, and with Kai's clinic already operating in the area, he had been dragged out by a now-defunct gang as a warning to others.
Sticking to his principle of not wasting anything, Kai brought the corpse back and processed it with professional care, turning it into something indistinguishable from a standard human skeleton model.
Because the corpse had belonged to a medical professional, Kai didn't need to expend much effort to control the Skeleton Warrior during surgery. If it had been the corpse of that gang enforcer instead, it might have been useful in a fight, but using it to assist in surgery would have been asking for trouble.
In just an hour and a half, Kai had dealt with all of the patient's gunshot wounds, which left him quite satisfied.
Applying what one had learned was essential. Learning and practice could never be separated.
Kai's clinical experience was already outstanding, but unfortunately, as an undocumented immigrant, it was completely impossible for him to find work in a legitimate hospital, no matter how skilled he was.
"Efficiency has improved, but the energy consumption is still a bit too high. I really need to find a nurse to help out."
Kai opened a can of Red Bull, poured half of it into a cup, diluted it with water, and drank it down.
Although the combination of red wine, coffee, and ibuprofen was extremely effective, it drained one's vitality far too much. Kai didn't dare try it lightly.
After all, the negative energy a necromancer was exposed to on a daily basis already placed a burden on the body. If he further stimulated himself with drugs, he might end up killing himself.
The man who had gone to raise the money was punctual, knocking on the clinic door again exactly two hours later.
"The money."
"There's a wheelchair over there. Bring it back to me tomorrow."
"Thank you."
Once someone had joined a gang, post-operative rest was a luxury. Being able to be pushed out in a wheelchair already counted as good treatment.
The young man who had been preparing to carry his friend back froze for a moment when he heard he could borrow a wheelchair. He immediately took off his jacket and draped it over the seat, worried that his friend's wounds might split open and stain it.
"Take this and buy him something to eat."
Seeing the man's reaction, Kai pulled a bill from the stack of cash he had just received and slipped it into the young man's pocket.
Kai didn't particularly like these gangsters, but he understood that some things were beyond their control. Growing up in that kind of environment, expecting them to become elites was unrealistic.
That said, Kai wouldn't assume every gang member would be this polite just because of one example. People like this—loyal, respectful, and careful—were a minority.
After living in Hell's Kitchen for a while, Kai could naturally tell who was a loyal person and who was a troublemaker.
The young man hadn't expected to get any money back. Even though it wasn't much, for people like them, it meant they wouldn't have to worry about food for the next couple of days.
He had often heard others say that Kai Zenin was a ruthless money-grubber, but now it seemed that this Asian doctor wasn't quite as people described. Maybe they simply didn't know how to deal with him.
After thanking Kai once more, the young man left with his friend. Kai returned to his chair, pulled a notebook from a drawer, and began recording the expenses from the recent surgery.
The wear and tear on medical instruments needed to be carefully documented. Kai didn't have much money to begin with, so he had to be meticulous when restocking supplies.
Fortunately, learning and practicing necromancy didn't cost much. A trip to the graveyard was usually enough. Otherwise, he probably wouldn't have been able to support himself at all.