"Zhang Yang, wait for me!" Su Zhantao rushed after him, while Wu Sheng followed behind, carrying the luggage, all heading towards the entrance.

At the hotel entrance, about twenty people had gathered, six or seven of them looking extremely anxious. An old man with snow-white hair lay on the ground, clutching his chest with an expression of severe pain. No one dared to move him.

This wasn't due to the modern fear of being framed for helping an elderly person; it was because a man in his thirties was shouting loudly, forbidding anyone from touching the elder.

Those looking worried were mostly holding mobile phones, dialing numbers. Some of the languages being spoken weren't Mandarin; they sounded like regional dialects from Southeast Asia.

"Let me through, can I take a look? I'm a doctor!"

The crowd of twenty formed a tight circle, making it difficult for Zhang Yang to get closer. Hearing Zhang Yang identify himself as a doctor, the people in front instinctively made way. The man who had been preventing others from touching the elder, the one still shouting for an ambulance, hesitated when he looked at Zhang Yang.

Zhang Yang first glanced intently at the ground, then looked at the man before saying, "I'm a doctor; let me check on him first!"

Zhang Yang's tone was soft. The man in front bore a slight resemblance to the old man on the ground. Moreover, although the younger man prevented contact, his own face showed great distress.

"Thank you, but no need; the ambulance will be here shortly. My grandfather has a history of heart problems; he absolutely cannot be moved right now!" The man finally shook his head. He was desperate, but Zhang Yang's youth made him untrustworthy, so he insisted on waiting.

Heart disease?

Zhang Yang’s eyebrow twitched slightly. The elder clutching his heart in pain certainly looked like a sudden cardiac event. However, such an incident was extremely dangerous if not treated immediately, potentially leading to severe consequences.

Zhang Yang glanced back; there was no sign of an ambulance anywhere nearby.

"Brother, I won't move the old man; may I just take his pulse? Just the pulse," Zhang Yang said quietly to the man. He knew he wasn't trusted, but the patient's condition was critical, and he feared the worst before help arrived, which prompted this request.

The man looked at him again, a flicker of surprise on his face, and asked directly, "You practice Traditional Chinese Medicine?"

"Yes, I’m from the TCM department at Changjing Third Hospital!"

Zhang Yang nodded. In truth, he was only an intern there, yet to be assigned, and not strictly a TCM practitioner. But to gain the man's trust, he had to say it. After all, if Zhang Yang wished, practicing in Wu Youdao’s TCM department would be no issue; no one in the hospital’s TCM section was superior to him.

"Very well, please take a look then!"

The man finally agreed, then turned his head back toward the distance, shouting something to the others in a dialect they couldn't understand. Most of them had stopped calling by then, but they all still looked very anxious.

Zhang Yang knelt down and gently placed his fingers on the elder's radial artery.

After more than ten seconds, his brow furrowed deeply. The old man’s pulse was faint, slow yet taut, thin yet irregular—this strongly suggested a sudden heart attack. Coupled with the elder clutching his chest and the man confirming a history of heart disease, any other TCM doctor would have immediately diagnosed a cardiac episode.

However, within the pulse, Zhang Yang sensed something subtly amiss. The pulse was thin, but its speed was slightly too fast, which deviated from the norm.

Back when Zhang Yang was learning pulse diagnosis as a child, his grandfather had cautioned him: if even a trace of abnormality was found in the pulse, no snap judgment should be made; absolute certainty was required. A hair's breadth difference could lead to a completely opposite conclusion, and the pulse was no different. While there were signs of heart trouble, there seemed to be more to it.

Thinking this, Zhang Yang leaned closer, intending to gently open the elder’s mouth.

"What are you doing?"

The man suddenly cried out. Zhang Yang’s movement made him intensely nervous. He was the elder's biological grandson. His grandfather had suffered similar episodes before, and doctors had strictly warned against any sudden movement during an attack, insisting they wait for a professional.

"I want to look at his tongue. Oh, and have you given him any medication?" Zhang Yang remained crouched, not moving, and looked up to ask.

"He took some medicine when Grandpa first felt unwell, but he got worse after taking it!" The man nodded, his eyes becoming slightly red as he spoke of his grandfather. He kept looking into the distance; the delayed ambulance was making him extremely agitated.

"Worse after taking medicine?"

Zhang Yang was momentarily stunned. He looked closely at the elder's eyes and forehead, correlating this with the pulse he had just felt, and then he understood something.

Zhang Yang suddenly moved with lightning speed, gently prying open the elder’s mouth to extend his tongue unnaturally far. After glancing intently for a few seconds, he nodded slightly and released his grip.

The man froze, then his expression shifted to anger. Zhang Yang’s action had been too quick; he hadn't time to intervene, and Zhang Yang was already done.

"Zhantao, hand me my bag!"

Zhang Yang called out. By now, he knew exactly what was wrong with the old man. The situation was dire; if aid wasn't rendered immediately, the elder might not survive. Even if the ambulance arrived, incorrect treatment based on a flawed diagnosis could still prove fatal. Zhang Yang was a doctor with basic medical ethics; since the patient was before him and he possessed a means to help, he would not stand by. Saving the life was paramount; he gave no thought to anything else.

"Ah, okay, let me in!"

Su Zhantao was still on the periphery. Hearing Zhang Yang’s call, he hurried to squeeze through, handing over Zhang Yang’s canvas bag. Zhang Yang had given the bag to Su Zhantao when they collected the room key and hadn't retrieved it.

Opening the bag, Zhang Yang pulled out a box. Su Zhantao recognized the box; he had seen it once before when Zhang Yang treated Su Shaohua with acupuncture. Inside was a set of silver needles. Because he frequently treated Su Shaohua and Director Zhao's father, he carried a set of hospital needles with him. Since they weren't heavy and Zhang Yang was somewhat lazy, he always kept them in his bag—unforeseen utility had arrived for them now.

"What are you trying to do?"

As Zhang Yang opened the needle case, the man shouted again, and the others also focused their attention, crowding around.

"His illness is very dangerous; I must treat him. Furthermore, the old man does not simply have heart disease; he has heart complications triggered by poisoning. If you wait for the ambulance and treat it purely as heart disease, you will not save him!" Zhang Yang spoke slowly, but his hands did not stop; he had already selected two needles.

"Poisoned?"

The man gasped in shock, and the others around him also froze, though suspicion still clouded their faces; clearly, they didn't fully believe Zhang Yang. One person, however, showed a trace of panic.

"Don't mess around! You say he’s poisoned, and we're supposed to believe you? We want to wait for the ambulance!" This person shouted, his Mandarin rough but the meaning clear. He attempted to step forward and pull Zhang Yang away.

"Stop!"

The first man roared out suddenly, grabbing the interjecting person. His own face showed hesitation, mixed with a strong resolve.

"A-Kui, listen to him, let him treat him. You stand aside first!" The man spoke coldly to the other, whose eyes flashed with alarm before he obediently stepped back.

"You can treat him. If you cure him, I will reward you handsomely. If you fail, I will not let you off lightly!" the man told Zhang Yang, his tone heavily weighted with threat.

Zhang Yang gently shook his head, unconcerned by the words. He had encountered many such family members; they often resorted to threats out of sheer worry for the patient and meant no actual harm. Zhang Yang felt no fear; if he had, he wouldn't have stepped forward to offer aid.

Zhang Yang inserted the two silver needles gently into the elder's cheeks. Neijin flowed through the needles into the man's acupoints, circulating throughout his body. The elder's condition was critical, but the most pressing issue wasn't the sudden heart issue; it was the poison he had ingested. The heart problem was merely induced by the toxin. The medicine the old man took had been quite effective, and its power was actively working, but it couldn't overcome the poison's potency. This was why the elder appeared so distressed and showed no improvement.

Treatment required addressing both the symptom and the root cause. Zhang Yang could temporarily stabilize the threatening heart condition, but if the toxin remained, the heart attack would recur quickly and become much more severe, leading to greater danger. In that scenario, the intervention would be useless; only treating both the manifestation and the source could truly cure the man and resolve the crisis.

The two needles vibrated slightly, and Zhang Yang immediately added two more, this time inserting them into the neck area. After four needles, the painful expression on the elder's face lessened considerably, and his grip on his chest loosened. The man's face showed relief, yet he remained still, watching intently.

In the distance, the sound of an ambulance siren could finally be heard—their requested vehicle was arriving.

Zhang Yang, still kneeling, took out two more sterilized needles and inserted one into each side of the elder's forehead. After this insertion, the look of agony on the elder's face virtually vanished, replaced by what seemed almost like a faint smile.

"It’s over? It's really over?"

"That's miraculous! This was a heart attack; a few needles cured it?"

"This young man isn't simple; he's a master!"

Some of the surrounding hotel guests and staff began to murmur in awe. Everyone looked at Zhang Yang with astonishment. They had clearly witnessed the elder's previous state; comparing it to his current expression, everyone understood that his condition had dramatically improved.

The younger man’s face was filled with pleasant surprise, but A-Kui, who had been chastised to the side, showed even greater panic, his gaze toward Zhang Yang tinged with resentment.