Chang Feng had just opened the door when someone rushed in from outside, making him jump back a step.

Wu Zhiguo burst in, took one quick look around, then collapsed onto a nearby sofa, grabbing a water glass—he didn't know whose it was—and chugged the contents.

"Apologies, I'm late!"

Only after draining the glass did he manage to gasp out the words, sweat still beading heavily on his forehead. He had rushed over the moment he got the call, but the distance was significant, hence his late arrival.

The few people in the room watched him in silence.

Chang Feng glanced at him, then shook his head with a sigh and turned to leave. He had countless matters to attend to; this was a case the top brass were personally monitoring, and he needed to wrap it up quickly.

Chang Feng’s greatest advantage in handling this case was his position: he was the Director of the Supervisory Department.

He wasn't the only one there; most of the staff in the department were subordinates he could fully trust. Before leaving, he had already ordered his people to drop every other task and throw themselves entirely into this investigation.

The first thing Chang Feng instructed them to do was to control and isolate a segment of the precinct's personnel; only then could they slowly begin to extract information from them.

"Why are you all staring at me? Where did Chang Feng go?"

Wu Zhiguo looked around dazedly, unable to help asking again. He had thought Chang Feng knew he was arriving and had deliberately opened the door for him.

"It's nothing. Did you take the stairs up?"

Li Ya shook his head slightly, looking Wu Zhiguo up and down. He had gotten even thinner than when they met a few days ago, losing weight faster than before, yet something about him just felt odd.

"There’s an elevator, of course I took the elevator. Why would I climb the stairs?"

Wu Zhiguo looked genuinely surprised. After saying that, he shuffled over to the water dispenser, refilled his cup, and only then slowly ambled back toward them.

"You took the elevator, so why are you drenched in sweat!"

Li Ya stared at him, puzzled. It wasn't the height of summer, and even if it were, this hotel was kept quite cool. Wu Zhiguo's sweaty state was genuinely strange.

Wu Zhiguo looked up at him briefly and shook his head gently. "I don't know either. It started a few days ago. I even went to the hospital for a check-up, and the doctor said there was nothing serious—just prone to night sweats!"

As he spoke, Wu Zhiguo reached for his water again.

"Is Young Master Su alright? I rushed over as soon as I got the call, but I happened to be at the doctor’s today. His place is quite far,"

After taking a long drink, Wu Zhiguo finally raised his head and asked Su Zhantao with concern.

"I'm fine. You really didn't need to make the trip if you were far away!"

Su Zhantao felt a touch of emotion seeing him so drenched, recognizing that they had all rushed over out of concern for him.

From the moment Wu Zhiguo walked in, Zhang Yang had been watching him intently.

Wu Zhiguo looked strange, or perhaps entirely abnormal. When things deviate so far from the norm, there is usually a reason; from a medical perspective, Wu Zhiguo’s body was experiencing a problem.

It was just that Zhang Yang couldn't pinpoint exactly what the issue was.

A problem that required Zhang Yang’s focused observation to remain unclear must be far more serious than a common ailment. Zhang Yang had a distinct feeling that this was definitely not just a simple case of weakness-induced sweating.

"Zhiguo, let me take a look at you!"

Zhang Yang stood up, walked straight to Wu Zhiguo’s side, and took his wrist.

From mere surface observation, Zhang Yang could deduce nothing. The best course of action now was to take his pulse; the pulse would reveal everything.

Wu Zhiguo paused slightly, then broke into a light smile. He murmured softly, "I almost forgot Zhang Yang is a miracle doctor. With Zhang Yang here, there definitely won't be any problem with me!"

"I agree with that. Zhang Yang, what is truly wrong with Old Wu?"

Su Zhantao chuckled, adding his input. Yang Ling, having grasped the situation's gravity, bade farewell to the group and returned to the bedroom.

Knowing the brute who assaulted her sister would not end well brought her peace of mind; she needed to relay this news to her sister so she could vent some anger too.

"Zhang Yang, is something wrong?"

Seeing that Zhang Yang didn't answer, but instead kept frowning, Su Zhantao couldn't help asking again.

"Wait a moment, everyone. I need a private word with Zhiguo!"

Zhang Yang shook his head slightly. Wu Zhiguo's condition was indeed not straightforward; it was far more complicated than he had initially imagined.

Zhang Yang led Wu Zhiguo directly out onto the balcony, where a small, separate table and two chairs offered some privacy.

As they walked over, Su Zhantao, Long Cheng, and the others exchanged glances, all sensing that something was seriously amiss now.

"How many days have you been experiencing this?" Zhang Yang cut straight to the chase, asking directly.

Wu Zhiguo looked up at him, a flicker of worry crossing his face, but he nodded. "Just these last few days. It seems like it started right after I got terribly drunk last time. I’ve been breaking out in sweats, and I'm losing weight severely. It shocked me at first, but after going to the hospital, they said I was fine!"

He then briefly recounted the events of the past few days.

Initially, Wu Zhiguo had been frightened, but he wasn't overly concerned about the sweating; he assumed it was due to excessive drinking.

However, the rate of weight loss was alarming—dropping several pounds a day was utterly abnormal. He underwent thorough examinations at the hospital, only relaxing once the specialists assured him nothing was wrong.

The medical staff, however, could not identify the cause of his symptoms. Finally, an old Traditional Chinese Medicine practitioner diagnosed him with Spleen Deficiency leading to excessive sweating, advising him to take tonics and prescribing a course of restorative medicine.

After taking the tonic, the alarming rate of weight loss stabilized, easing his anxiety. Nevertheless, the issue of sweating persisted; it never resolved.

Because of the constant perspiration, he carried water everywhere for the past few days; he couldn't go anywhere without it, as excessive fluid loss without replenishment could lead to collapse. That’s why he had immediately gone for a glass upon entering the room—he had finished an entire bottle on his way in.

"Zhang Yang, am I really alright?"

Seeing Zhang Yang's brows tightly knitted, Wu Zhiguo’s heartbeat quickened again.

He knew Zhang Yang’s medical skill was formidable, but lately, he had harbored some doubts.

When these symptoms first emerged, someone in his household suggested that the formula Zhang Yang had prescribed was problematic—that this condition was a direct result of taking too much of that specific preparation.

Their reasoning was simple: weight-loss formulas usually carry some side effects.

Later, the same old TCM doctor who prescribed the tonic echoed this, telling him to stop the previous medication, claiming that the potent effects of that formula were excessive, which is why he was dropping several pounds daily.

After the old doctor’s pronouncement, some family members even threatened to cause trouble for Zhang Yang. Wu Zhiguo only managed to defuse the situation by mentioning Zhang Yang’s background. However, they vehemently insisted he stop taking that specific formula.

That was also why he hadn’t immediately questioned Zhang Yang upon arrival today. He trusted Zhang Yang wouldn't harm him, but when one’s own health is involved, doubt inevitably creeps in; he had indeed stopped taking Zhang Yang's prescription.

"There is something wrong, and it is serious!"

Zhang Yang looked up at him, speaking slowly. His expression was severe—a rare look of gravity.

Wu Zhiguo’s heart pounded faster under Zhang Yang’s gaze, and he urgently asked, "What serious matter?"

He had felt something was off these past two days, but since the old TCM doctor assured him he would recover in a few days, he hadn't dwelt on it. Zhang Yang's statement reignited his concern.

Zhang Yang’s brow remained furrowed as he spoke softly. "You have been poisoned. If the toxin is not neutralized, you will die of dehydration within seven days, at the latest. Tell me, is that not a serious matter?"

"What? Poisoned?"

Wu Zhiguo shot up from his seat with a cry.

Long Cheng, Li Ya, and Huang Hai all immediately looked toward them, and Su Zhantao walked directly over.

"Zhang Yang, explain this clearly. What is happening?"

Wu Zhiguo asked again, genuine panic setting in. Anyone would react this way upon hearing they were poisoned with a seven-day prognosis. Wu Zhiguo hadn't known Zhang Yang for long, but he knew Zhang Yang was not someone who spoke recklessly. Moreover, Zhang Yang’s medical prowess had been proven by many.

"Zhang Yang, what’s wrong with Zhiguo? Can you tell us the situation?"

Su Zhantao had reached them and joined the inquiry. Long Cheng and the others glanced over, then decided to leave the sofa entirely and gather near the balcony.

Wu Zhiguo's condition worried them, and it simultaneously piqued their curiosity.

Zhang Yang turned to look at Su Zhantao before speaking quietly, "Zhiguo has been poisoned. This toxin has likely been hidden for some time, only beginning to manifest after we got drunk the last time. As for that tonic the Old TCM doctor prescribed, it wasn't helping him; it was harming him!"

"Are you saying someone is deliberately trying to harm Old Wu?"

Li Ya asked first. Zhang Yang had made it clear: someone had given Wu Zhiguo a prescription that was harmful.

"That’s right. This poison must be artificially introduced. Coupled with someone prescribing such a powerfully fortifying medicine, I am even more certain of this,"

Zhang Yang nodded, though his expression showed no sign of easing.

Su Zhantao first calmed the somewhat agitated Wu Zhiguo, then turned back. "Zhang Yang, since you discovered Old Wu is poisoned, can you cure him?"

"No!"

Zhang Yang shook his head gently. Su Zhantao, who had been about to continue comforting Wu Zhiguo, froze abruptly, staring at Zhang Yang in astonishment.

In his experience, Zhang Yang was always capable of anything, especially regarding medicine; he had never seen Zhang Yang unable to accomplish something. Zhang Yang’s immediate and definitive 'no' was truly surprising.

"Then do you know where his poison can be cured, or perhaps which hospital can handle it?"

Su Zhantao pressed, justifying Zhang Yang’s answer after his initial shock. Perhaps Zhang Yang wasn't skilled in detoxification, which is why he demurred. If Zhang Yang couldn't do it, surely someone else could—perhaps a hospital with more advanced technology.

"No hospital in the world can cure this toxin. To neutralize it, you must find the person who administered the poison,"

Zhang Yang shook his head again. The smile on Su Zhantao’s face instantly stiffened, and Wu Zhiguo stared at him blankly.

………… One hundred chapters, seventy-four remaining! .RT