Gu Fang led Zhang Yang directly into the sickroom, and Yin Yong followed them in as well. Long Feng waited outside, while Shan Dian and Wu Ying stayed with him for the moment.

Two other people stood inside the room, both wearing white coats and masks. Beside them, a woman sat, holding the hand of the elderly patient in the bed, weeping continuously.

When Zhang Yang entered, his gaze immediately fixed on the person lying in the ward.

After just one look, his brow furrowed tightly.

Lying in the bed was an elderly man in his eighties, Elder Qiao, who was frail and covered in various tubes and machines, his eyes tightly shut.

These details were secondary. With a single glance, Zhang Yang noted that Elder Qiao’s complexion was pale, tinged with a greyish shadow, indicating he was almost at the end of his tether—a man whose one foot had practically stepped into the coffin.

“Director Wang, this is a friend I know. His medical skills are quite formidable, and I’d like to ask him to examine my maternal grandfather.”

Gu Fang spoke softly to the two doctors in white coats. The older one among them immediately displayed a hint of displeasure.

This senior doctor was Wang Bin, the Director of the Cardiology and Cerebrovascular Department at the hospital, renowned as the most skilled and authoritative physician in his field, famous nationwide.

Wang Bin glanced at Gu Fang and stated directly, “You should be well aware of Elder Qiao’s condition. No doctor can do anything at this stage!”

Gu Fang’s expression dimmed slightly, and he nodded. “I know, Director Wang, but I just want him to try. We know everyone has done their best; we are simply out of options.”

“He can look, but he is not to move anything without permission.”

Wang Bin stared at Gu Fang for a good ten seconds before nodding slightly. He understood the family's desperation, but in his view, Gu Fang was being utterly reckless, bringing in such a young man and claiming his skills were exceptional.

Zhang Yang’s youth was indeed a hurdle; no matter where he went, suspicion would arise based on his appearance.

Zhang Yang walked to the bedside, lowering his head to observe the old man intently, his brow now knitted into a deep vertical line.

Gu Fang followed, watching Zhang Yang with palpable nervousness.

The most famous specialists that could be summoned from abroad had come, as had all the domestic authorities in this field. No one had a solution; many had advised them to prepare for the end, stating Elder Qiao was beyond treatment.

Zhang Yang represented Gu Fang’s last hope, though he held little concrete expectation for it—but it was a hope nonetheless. Gu Fang reasoned that if Zhang Yang could treat a malignant brain tumor, he might be able to treat his grandfather’s ailment.

After examining Elder Qiao’s face for a while, Zhang Yang extended his hand and grasped the old man’s wrist, feeling for his pulse.

Elder Qiao’s pulse was faint, barely registering a beat every half minute. Zhang Yang held it for several minutes before releasing his grip.

“Zhang Yang, how is my grandfather?”

Seeing Zhang Yang let go, Gu Fang couldn’t help but ask. He had witnessed Zhang Yang treating others at the car accident scene and knew his specialty lay in Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM). Thus, as soon as the pulse-taking concluded, he inquired.

“His body is functioning reasonably well; it hasn’t reached the most critical stage. If it were only about treating the physical body, I have a degree of certainty.”

Zhang Yang shook his head slightly, speaking slowly, his expression unchanging throughout.

“Really?”

Gu Fang froze, looking at Zhang Yang in disbelief. The two doctors behind him were equally stunned.

Zhang Yang shook his head again and said quietly, “Don’t get agitated yet. I’m only speaking of the physical state. The most pressing issue for your grandfather right now is not the body, but the Shen (Spirit/Mind). Your grandfather’s illness is different from others; his biggest problem lies not in his physical form but in his Shen.”

As he spoke, Zhang Yang was deep in thought. A Level Five mission was clearly not easy to complete; he hadn't expected the patient to present such a condition.

“Shen? Zhang Yang, what exactly is going on? Can you explain clearly—what is Shen Ruo (Weak Spirit)?”

Gu Fang asked urgently, his eyes wide.

“This is a term used in our TCM. Shen refers to the Shen in Jing, Qi, Shen (Essence, Energy, Spirit).”

Zhang Yang explained slowly, offering Gu Fang a simplified breakdown. As the saying goes: Heaven has three treasures—the sun, the moon, and the stars; Earth has three treasures—water, fire, and wind; and man has three treasures—Jing (Essence), Qi (Energy), and Shen (Spirit).

From a TCM perspective, Jing refers to the various vital essences within the body or organism. Qi is internal energy, divided into innate and acquired forms; the internal force Zhang Yang and others cultivate can be seen as acquired Qi. Finally, there is Shen, which refers to the mind, or consciousness, encompassing the soul, willpower, and thought processes. Because Shen is an intangible existence, it is the hardest of the three to comprehend and locate.

The Hupo (Soul and Spirit) mentioned here does not refer to ghosts, but the concepts of soul and spirit recognized in medical science; TCM has long included notions of Hun and Po.

Elder Qiao’s physical body is currently suffering problems related to the Shen. A weak Shen leads to depleted Qi, which in turn causes a deficiency in Jing, resulting in significant problems across all bodily systems. In essence, the root of Elder Qiao’s illness lies in the Shen; to cure him, the condition of Shen Ruo must be rectified.

Zhang Yang tried to explain as clearly as possible, but Gu Fang remained confused. —The old man’s pale, shadowed complexion is a classic manifestation of Shen Ruo. Looking at Elder Qiao’s state, his Shen is on the verge of dissipating. When Shen scatters, life ends. If a suitable method isn't found, he has, at most, twelve hours left to live.

Zhang Yang added this, his brow still tightly locked. Elder Qiao’s ailment was perplexing him. The problems lay in Jing, Qi, Shen, unlike ordinary physical or organ malfunctions. Issues concerning these three are never minor. Jing and Qi are somewhat easier to regulate and treat; only the Shen aspect proves exceedingly troublesome, leaving even Zhang Yang feeling helpless. It was no wonder so many international and top domestic experts had failed to treat Elder Qiao.

Behind Gu Fang, Wang Bin and the other doctor stared, their eyes wide. Gu Fang didn't understand, but they did. Although they studied Western medicine, they had some understanding of TCM and knew of Jing, Qi, Shen. In Western medicine, such a condition was also considered unsolvable; thus, they could only watch Elder Qiao’s body deteriorate step by step, though they hadn't articulated it as clearly as Zhang Yang.

“Young man, what is your name?”

Wang Bin suddenly spoke. Zhang Yang’s words hadn't completely convinced him, but they had certainly moved him, and his previous condescension had vanished. At the very least, Zhang Yang had accurately described Elder Qiao’s situation.

“My name is Zhang Yang,” Zhang Yang replied quietly.

He understood the initial suspicion from these two doctors—it was inevitable given his youth. However, neither had spoken any harsh words nor prevented him from seeing the patient; their questioning had been respectful, lacking any arrogance. Zhang Yang treated others as they treated him; thus, he answered Wang Bin.

“Zhang Yang. That name sounds familiar.”

Wang Bin frowned, and the doctor beside him looked similarly puzzled. After a few seconds, Wang Bin’s eyes suddenly widened, and he blurted out, “Zhang Yang, are you that Zhang Yang from Changjing Third Hospital?”

The special project granted to Changjing Third Hospital by the Chinese Academy of Sciences had made many other hospitals envious. Coupled with an event at Tongji Medical College where Zhang Yang had presented a significant research topic, the news had already spread widely. Ordinary doctors might not know or care, but hospital executives were well aware. Wang Bin had discussed this just days ago with others at his hospital, viewing Changjing Third Hospital as a minor facility that had struck sheer luck by harboring such talent. The most crucial factor in this story was Zhang Yang’s age; they had all heard he was still a student.

“I interned at Changjing Third Hospital previously, but I’m no longer there,” Zhang Yang replied, shaking his head slightly before turning back to look at Elder Qiao, his brow still furrowed.

At this point, despair settled over Gu Fang. He hadn't understood Zhang Yang’s explanation, but the final sentence was perfectly clear: Zhang Yang also believed his grandfather couldn't last long, perhaps twelve hours at most. This concurred with the other doctors’ assessments, meaning his last hope had been extinguished.

Wang Bin and the other doctor nodded to themselves. So, this young man was Zhang Yang. No wonder he possessed such formidable skills; the rumors were apparently true, and Zhang Yang truly had exceptional medical knowledge. Based on Zhang Yang’s description, they could also deduce his specialty was TCM. A practitioner skilled in TCM who also managed to research a cure for a type of asthma was even more remarkable.

Zhang Yang turned back, sat down on a nearby chair, closed his eyes, and pondered ceaselessly. He was searching for a solution, rifling through all the family texts he had ever read, seeking a method to alter Elder Qiao’s condition and restore his Jing, Qi, and Shen.

While he was lost in thought, Yin Yong watched him, astonished. No one knew that Yin Yong also came from a distinguished lineage; his family had been doctors, specifically traditional Chinese physicians, since the Qing Dynasty. He had been exposed to and educated in TCM from childhood, but with the advancement of Western medicine and the general skepticism toward TCM, they had been compelled to adapt, leading Yin Yong to study clinical medicine. He was currently studying Western medicine, but his foundation in TCM remained solid, and he occasionally used TCM methods to treat classmates or others.

It was precisely because he understood that he was so shocked. Much of what Zhang Yang had just explained contained concepts Yin Yong had never encountered. In TCM, Jing, Qi, Shen are exceedingly difficult concepts to grasp; even many TCM practitioners who know of them cannot treat illnesses stemming from these imbalances, at best offering simple tonics for Jing or Qi. As for the Shen, they remain utterly ignorant—these are matters even seasoned veteran TCM doctors might not know, due to their extreme rarity.

First chapter guaranteed release today. I just returned home and had many things to handle, so the update is quite late!

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