Resuscitating critically ill patients wasn't exactly a strong suit for Traditional Chinese Medicine; any unexpected complications during surgery meant the TCM doctor had limited ways to help. He was there purely to assist in other capacities.

As for calling Zhang Yang, Wu Youdao hadn't held out much hope, deep down. However, Zhang Yang was the kind of person who specialized in miracles, and Wu Youdao genuinely hoped he could pull this patient back from the brink. Setting aside the potential medical malpractice issues, saving a life was paramount—no doctor wanted to see a patient suffer an accident.

“Dr. Zhang, you’re here!”

Seeing Zhang Yang approach, Wu Youdao hurried forward, clutching a sheaf of medical records. The surrounding nurses also moved to meet him; they had been waiting specifically for Zhang Yang.

“Elder Wu, what’s the situation now?”

Zhang Yang cut straight to the chase, taking the charts and scanning them while he spoke. The patient was in critical danger; every second counted, as even a minute’s delay could lead to an irreversible tragedy.

“It’s very bad. The allergic reaction won’t subside. All vital signs are below the warning threshold. We shocked him with the defibrillator five minutes ago, and that’s only maintaining things temporarily!”

Elder Wu spoke quickly. Zhang Yang’s brow twitched. Defibrillation was only used as an absolute last resort; while it could temporarily stimulate the heart, it inflicted significant damage on the patient’s body. It was a measure taken only when all else failed.

“This chart is useless. Stop showing it to me. Get me a gown!”

After flipping a few pages, Zhang Yang immediately handed the records back to Wu Youdao. At this critical juncture, reading charts held no practical value.

Elder Wu didn't mind. A nurse rushed to hand Zhang Yang his white coat. As they spoke, they were already outside the door of the Intensive Care Unit (ICU). Mi Xue hesitated for a moment, then turned and stepped away. She knew tagging along wouldn't help; Zhang Yang hadn't eaten, and with an emergency like this, who knew when he’d be free. She decided to go buy something now, so that when he finally finished, he would have a delicious meal immediately waiting for him.

In the ICU area, Zhu Zhixiang was absent. However, Xu Wu, the Director of Internal Medicine, and Tang Xiaojuan, the Director of Respiratory Medicine, were both present. Tang Xiaojuan was the one who had presided over the surgery, meaning she would bear the primary responsibility for this outcome.

“Dr. Zhang!”

When they saw Zhang Yang approach, both Xu Wu and Tang Xiaojuan turned their heads. Hope shone in their eyes. All the hospital’s experts, even those from the Provincial Hospital, had reached an impasse; their last hope now rested on Zhang Yang.

“Why was I notified so late?” Zhang Yang asked, his tone sharp and unforgiving. The two standing before him were high-level hospital administrators—the head of Internal Medicine and the head of Respiratory Medicine. Zhang Yang was technically still an intern. Yet, he spoke to them as if he were reprimanding subordinates.

Xu Wu opened his mouth, wanting to retort by asking why they should have notified him at all, but the question died unspoken in his throat. Tang Xiaojuan was quicker-witted. She hurried to interject, “We didn’t realize it would become this severe, Dr. Zhang. Now is not the time to assign blame. Please, quickly examine the patient—is there any hope left?”

Zhang Yang glanced at them both, then pushed open the door and stepped into the ICU.

“Dr. Zhang hasn't disinfected!”

A nurse following Zhang Yang cried out hastily. Xu Wu and Tang Xiaojuan both shot her a sharp glare. Even Wu Youdao turned back to look at her. Disinfecting? At a time like this, when the patient was critically unstable, formalities like that mattered little. Everything must be secondary to saving the patient’s life.

The young nurse slowly lowered her head, looking somewhat wronged. The other doctors and nurses around them inwardly sucked in their breaths, watching Zhang Yang stride into the ICU with undisguised envy. Everyone knew Zhang Yang was highly valued and possessed miraculous medical skills, but few had seen it firsthand. Now, seeing his demeanor toward Xu Wu and Tang Xiaojuan, they realized the hospital truly valued him above average. In which hospital could an intern openly reprimand the Director of Internal Medicine? Zhang Yang was not only a first in Changjing Third Hospital, but perhaps the first in all of Changjing, possibly even the entire country. But he had the credentials to back up such behavior—his capital was his divine medical skill.

Once inside the ICU, Zhang Yang’s frown deepened. The patient was on an oxygen mask, exposed, his face severely swollen, and several small ulcerations dotted his body. If not for the slow, steady beeping of the machines nearby, anyone glancing at him would mistake him for a corpse. This allergic reaction was indeed severe; it was impressive the patient had lasted this long.

Zhang Yang approached and laid his fingers on the patient’s pulse point, his frown tightening further. The pulse was incredibly weak, barely flickering—the lamp was running on fumes. Furthermore, the patient was suffering from severe syndromes like heart failure and kidney failure. No wonder the Provincial Hospital refused the transfer; this was a man clearly on the verge of death. If they had accepted him, he would have died on their watch, which would have looked bad for them.

“Damn it!”

Zhang Yang couldn't help but curse under his breath. This man’s condition was worse than Wang Chen’s had been. At least Wang Chen had one foot already in the gates of hell. This person, to put it bluntly, had both feet inside, with only his head struggling outside, liable to collapse at any second.

After the outburst, Zhang Yang rapidly extended his fingers, tapping various points on the patient’s body. As his fingers touched the swollen skin, he felt the tautness; pressing too hard might actually puncture the skin and draw blood. Seeing this only fueled his silent anger.

They called him only when the situation was this dire. What had these people been doing earlier? Based on the patient’s current state, Zhang Yang calculated that the interval between the surgical accident and the present time was at least two hours. Had he arrived two hours sooner, the patient wouldn’t be this ravaged. With these two hours wasted, even Zhang Yang’s confidence waned significantly.

The reality was indeed harsh: the surgery began at nine in the morning. An accident occurred less than half an hour later, followed by frantic resuscitation efforts until they finally reached their breaking point and called Zhang Yang.

After the initial tapping, Zhang Yang swiftly retrieved his needle case, pulling out four needles and inserting them simultaneously into the patient’s body. All four needles pierced the scalp, targeting major pressure points. After these four, Zhang Yang produced eight more silver needles and inserted them quickly. Once all twelve were placed, he flicked each one in sequence, causing the needles to vibrate with a low, resonant hum.

Only then did Zhang Yang pause to take a breath and continue applying the remaining needles. After exhausting his entire box, he slowly looked up. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Zhang Yang, how is it?” Elder Wu asked anxiously. Wu Youdao held Zhang Yang’s acupuncture technique in the highest regard; seeing him in action offered a sliver of hope.

“I’m not sure. The danger window hasn’t passed; we have to wait and see. Next time you encounter a patient like this, you must notify me immediately. Wasting time is wasting life!”

Zhang Yang shook his head. The patient’s condition was too critical; even he couldn't offer an absolute guarantee. For Zhang Yang, this entire scenario was avoidable. He was in Changjing, and while he wasn't on duty today, they should have notified him the moment they encountered a case beyond their capability. Everyone in the hospital knew he could handle emergencies. Bypassing him to call the Provincial Hospital felt utterly backward. It explained why Zhang Yang’s tone was so harsh—it was clear they didn't consider him one of their own. In his previous life, if his hospital had acted this way, he would have directly held the responsible physicians accountable. Back then, he had the authority; his position as Vice President hadn't been symbolic.

Wu Youdao was momentarily stunned, then gently nodded. He strongly agreed with Zhang Yang’s words. He had proposed involving Zhang Yang earlier, but at the time, they hadn't taken it seriously, believing they could succeed on their own—leading directly to this current crisis. If the patient survived, fine, but if not, Zhang Yang would likely be furious again.

“Prepare a scalpel for me—small handle, size fifteen blade!”

Zhang Yang suddenly stated, without turning around. Only Wu Youdao and one nurse remained in the ICU with him. The nurse froze, unsure how to react.

“Hurry up and prepare it, exactly as Dr. Zhang requested!” Elder Wu urged. The nurse finally snapped back to attention and nodded quickly.

“Zhang Yang, should we move to the operating theater?” After the nurse left, Wu Youdao asked softly.

“No need. I’m not performing surgery, and the patient can’t be moved right now!” Zhang Yang shook his head. He needed the scalpel for another purpose. The patient’s current state made moving him to an operating table dangerous; he might not survive the transfer before any procedure even began.

Wu Youdao nodded and remained silent.

Soon, the nurse returned with the scalpel and necessary instruments. Outside, Xu Wu and Tang Xiaojuan waited anxiously. They longed to enter, but Zhang Yang had forbidden it. For Zhang Yang, the priority was saving the patient; having more people inside would only clutter the space and interfere.

Zhang Yang didn't immediately take the scalpel. Instead, he returned to the patient and flicked some of the needles again. The oscillation of those needles intensified, and Wu Youdao noticed that Zhang Yang was tapping points forming a distinct line, all major acupuncture points.

After tapping, Zhang Yang picked up the patient’s arm, placed a basin underneath it, and with a decisive motion, sliced open the man’s forearm.

The young nurse quickly covered her mouth, her eyes wide. She had witnessed many resuscitation efforts, but never had a doctor simply taken a knife and slashed a large opening in a patient’s arm. Wu Youdao’s eyes narrowed as well, but he said nothing, trusting that Zhang Yang had his reasons.

As the incision opened, a stream of dark, almost black, blood immediately flowed out, pooling into the basin below. Zhang Yang stared at the congealing fluid, his brow furrowing deeper. Wu Youdao also focused on the blood; its color was drastically different from normal, incredibly dark—nearly blackish-purple. Thinking about blood this stagnant circulating through the body suggested terrible internal conditions.

………… Second update, making up for yesterday's. There's more coming today! To be continued... Book Web