Zhang Yang scanned the medical records swiftly, looking up a minute or two later. "Where is the patient, and how long has the onset been?" Zhang Yang’s expression was grave, his tone carrying a distinct edge of accusation and dissatisfaction, overlaid with the unmistakable authority of someone senior.

"It's been over three hours now, and the patient is currently in the ICU!" This time, Zhu Zhixiang replied. It was his first time seeing Zhang Yang, and he had been observing him ever since the young man entered.

The more he watched, the more he confirmed what Wu Youdao had told him: this person was truly unfathomable. A normal young man in this situation would already be tense; speaking coherently, let alone focusing on medical charts, would be a feat in itself.

But Zhang Yang showed no tension whatsoever; instead, he carried a hint of deep concern. After reviewing the records, he asked two crucial questions, particularly about the exact time of onset—a factor that lacked precise numerical detail in the chart and was the very first thing doctors needed to know.

"Take me to the patient!" Zhang Yang closed the file decisively, stating softly. Zhu Zhixiang hesitated for a brief moment but immediately nodded.

"I object!" Just as Zhu Zhixiang was about to lead Zhang Yang out, Dr. Yang shouted, striding directly in front of Zhang Yang and assessing him up and down with his eyes.

"Director Zhu, who exactly is this young man? You are well aware of Elder Zhao’s condition.

Allowing such a youth to treat him—is this not incredibly irresponsible?" Dr. Yang was addressing Zhu Zhixiang, clearly showing his distrust of the incredibly young man before him.

It wasn't just him; several doctors at the Third Hospital harbored similar thoughts, though they lacked the nerve to voice them. "Dr.

Yang, Zhang Yang is an intern at our hospital, but he is a genuine master of the medical arts. Right now, Elder Zhao’s condition rests on him; he has prior experience treating acute ischemia." Zhu Zhixiang spoke quietly, glancing at Dr.

Yang. Zhang Yang merely looked up at the director briefly, saying nothing.

In truth, Zhang Yang was no intern at their hospital. Zhu Zhixiang had said that only because he was desperate; if Dr.

Yang knew Zhang Yang was merely a university student, the opposition would surely intensify. If word reached Director Zhao that Zhang Yang, a mere student, was attempting to treat his father, all hope would vanish.

Zhang Yang's composure just now, combined with Wu Youdao’s continuous endorsement and high praise, had instilled a sliver of hope in Zhu Zhixiang’s heart. "Elder Wu, because of these few sentences, we have wasted another two minutes!" Zhang Yang spoke up suddenly, his tone chillingly cold.

Everyone understood the implication of his words: he was blaming Dr. Yang for wasting precious time by questioning his age.

"You!" Dr. Yang’s eyes flared.

He was an authoritative expert from the Provincial People’s Hospital. Not only did he command respect from unknown young men like Zhang Yang, but even city and provincial leaders treated him with courtesy.

In the field of cerebrovascular medicine, his reputation was indeed considerable. "Dr.

Yang, I apologize, time is critical. Let's go see the patient first!" Zhu Zhixiang quickly pulled Dr.

Yang aside. Wu Youdao, meanwhile, led Zhang Yang out of the room without another word.

Wasting time arguing was far less productive than examining the patient. Zhang Yang was Wu Youdao’s final recourse, and Wu Youdao himself was eager to observe how Zhang Yang would handle such a critical illness.

The Intensive Care Unit, commonly known as the ICU, was common in many foreign hospitals. In China, construction only began in the 1980s, and gradually, these wards became a benchmark for a hospital’s capability.

Changjing Third Hospital was one of the most renowned medical centers in Changjing City, and currently one of only four hospitals in the city equipped with an ICU. Two of those four were provincial facilities, and another belonged to the Municipal People's Hospital.

This alone attested to the considerable standing of the Third Hospital locally. Director Zhao, along with his wife and daughter, stood outside the ward, their eyes red-rimmed.

Director Zhao was known for his filial piety, which had influenced his wife and children; the elder Mr. Zhao was deeply respected by everyone in the family.

"Elder Wu!" When Director Zhao saw Wu Youdao approach with Zhang Yang, followed by Zhu Zhixiang and the dozen or so accompanying doctors, he immediately stood up, a spark of desperate hope in his eyes. He knew these doctors had been conferring about his father’s condition and assumed the discussion had concluded, as they were all heading this way.

He didn't know the outcome of their consultation, but his deepest wish was, naturally, to hear good news. "Director Zhao, please don't worry.

We have a method we can try. Please wait just a moment!" Wu Youdao smiled slightly.

Zhu Zhixiang hurried over, while Dr. Yang looked displeased but remained silent.

Director Ma wore a look of deep concern. Although the Director had assigned the case, this was ultimately his patient; if Zhang Yang ran into trouble, he too would bear responsibility.

"There’s a way?" Director Zhao froze, then cried out in sudden joy. For him, this was already the best news imaginable, considering everyone else had been completely helpless until now.

Zhang Yang frowned again. He hadn't even seen the patient yet, and he certainly wasn't confident enough for such a bold declaration.

Was Wu Youdao placing too much faith in him? He didn't realize Wu Youdao had said that purely to soothe Director Zhao’s anxiety, ensuring Zhang Yang could examine Elder Zhao without interruption.

There was no further preamble. Zhang Yang swiftly sanitized his hands and walked directly into the room.

Only three people entered with him: Director Ma, Wu Youdao, and Dr. Yang; the others crowded at the window, watching with palpable tension.

Director Ma had to enter, as this was his admitted patient. Dr.

Yang insisted on following because he did not trust Zhang Yang's abilities. Zhang Yang looked down at the patient’s complexion, his brow twitching again.

Judging by the appearance alone, the illness was far worse than documented in the chart—the man was practically at the end. Instead of immediately checking the pulse, Zhang Yang reached out, gently opening the patient's mouth and pulling the tongue forward.

The tongue was slightly bluish, the tip dotted with numerous purple flecks, the coating thick, and the tongue itself stiff. Zhang Yang nudged it lightly, prompting the patient to close his mouth.

Zhang Yang’s frown deepened. He carefully took the patient's arm, his fingers finding the pulse points at the wrist.

His expression continued to shift rapidly as he concentrated. He maintained this pulse check for a full minute before lowering the arm, but his brow remained tightly knit.

"Zhang Yang, how is it?" Even Wu Youdao was showing some nervousness now. When Zhang Yang had saved the girl with the misdiagnosed acute illness last time, he hadn't appeared this serious or tense.

This could only mean the current patient’s condition was far more severe than that girl’s. "Not good," Zhang Yang admitted softly, shaking his head.

The hearts of Wu Youdao and Zhu Zhixiang sank. Dr.

Yang let out a cold sneer, ready to speak, but Zhang Yang continued immediately. "It’s a good thing you found me.

Another half an hour, and I guarantee not even an immortal could save him!"