Zhu Daoqi looked at Zhang Yang, a hint of surprise in his expression. “You really don’t need to swap anyone out?” He had prepared so much, all in anticipation of having Zhang Yang approve their research group.

Now that Zhang Yang agreed so readily, it felt almost unreal. “Dean Zhu, everyone they’ve brought in is doing excellent work.

Are you suggesting I replace some of them?” Zhang Yang smiled slightly, tapping the file in his hand. The documentation was indeed thorough, clearly showing how much effort Zhu Daoqi had invested.

It contained not only individual profiles but also detailed records of each person’s contributions during this period. Every single person, while perhaps not the absolute best, had certainly been dedicated.

The data proved it. Zhang Yang himself lacked suitable replacements, so there was no reason to change the roster.

For him, as long as they were working hard, success was guaranteed; both these projects were things he had already cracked in his previous life. With their efforts, he could deliver results.

“No, no swapping. This is perfect!” Zhu Daoqi grinned, a wave of relief washing over him.

The project research had been underway for nearly two months. He was already familiar with these team members, having lived and worked alongside them for a long time.

Zhang Yang was nominally the head of both projects, but Zhu Daoqi was the one overseeing things most closely. He was responsible for monitoring the progress of both lines of research while simultaneously reporting to the university.

The entire institution, including the President, placed immense importance on these two endeavors. Changjing University had always held a notable reputation within the province, but its influence waned when reaching beyond provincial borders.

These two projects represented a chance to revitalize the medical school and an opportunity to bring renown to the university itself. The administrators naturally wouldn't let such a chance slip by, frequently inquiring about the research milestones.

“Zhang Yang, please join everyone for lunch. Also, you’ll need to give a summary afterward—let us know if there were any oversights during the research process, and outline the plan for the next phase!” After tidying the documents, Zhu Daoqi said to Zhang Yang with satisfaction.

At this point, he no longer harbored hopes that Zhang Yang would fully commit and become a hands-on supervisor. He had heard rumors about Zhang Yang’s work at the Third Institute, but he hadn't expected Zhang Yang to be even more hands-off here.

Two months had passed, and this was only his first visit. “That sounds good.

Lunch with everyone. We can discuss the research in the afternoon!” Zhang Yang nodded with a smile.

Zhu Daoqi’s request was entirely reasonable, even quite normal—perhaps even strangely so. Which other project leader would spend their days shadowing their research team?

After all, once a project is approved, the leader stands to benefit the most. If the research succeeds, the project head reaps the greatest glory.

In public discourse—on television, in newspapers, or in academic journals—success would only ever be credited to the leader’s name. It was just like how Einstein had legions of researchers, yet posterity speaks only of the great Einstein, never mentioning his assistants or research teams.

That was why Zhang Yang seemed so peculiar, baffling many who couldn't fathom how someone could be such a capable absentee manager... “Good news!

Our research group is officially established! Zhang Yang agreed and signed the papers!” In another large conference room, everyone had been waiting anxiously.

Soon, Li Yaohua’s phone rang. After answering, he immediately shouted.

“Established?” “That’s fantastic!” “Hooray!” The thirty-plus people paused for a moment, then erupted in cheers. Since Zhang Yang hadn’t shown up, the members had only been operating under temporary designations, which left them feeling uncertain.

The deeper the research progressed, the more convinced they became of the projects’ ultimate success. At this stage, none of them wanted to abandon their involvement.

Unfortunately, the decision wasn't theirs to make; it required final approval from the key figure: the project lead, Zhang Yang. Yet, nobody expected that Zhang Yang had been entirely absent since the group’s inception, only making an appearance now.

This had only fueled their curiosity about him. But now, their greatest worry was gone.

Zhang Yang had approved their roster, and the word ‘temporary’ could finally be dropped. From this moment on, they were legitimate group members.

While they wouldn't receive the widespread accolades Zhang Yang would if the project succeeded, they would gain considerable recognition within their field and professional circles. Simply put, the student researchers in the group would never have to worry about future employment.

For the faculty members, this experience would serve as invaluable capital for promotions and advancement, leading the university to regard them with greater attention. Imagine: any former assistant to Einstein would be fought over by institutions.

While Zhang Yang might not match Einstein, within their specialized domain, he was an authority. His team members would be hot commodities anywhere they went.

Lunch was held at the Triumph Tower, located just outside the campus. Zhu Daoqi was not a stingy man.

The university highly prioritized both projects and allocated substantial funding. Not much had been spent during this initial phase, so he decided to treat everyone to a fine meal.

The lunch proceeded pleasantly, though Zhang Yang found himself quite occupied. So many people vied for his attention.

Those who didn’t know Zhang Yang found ways to introduce themselves. Those who did know him sought to deepen their acquaintance.

Li Yaohua felt the most profound impact; he had always thought highly of Zhang Yang, but he never imagined he was this formidable. He felt a twinge of regret—why hadn’t he discovered Zhang Yang’s true capabilities earlier?

Had he done so sooner, the benefits he accrued might have been far greater. Immediately after lunch, everyone rushed back to the conference room to hear Zhang Yang summarize the preceding two months of work and lay out the future research plan.

This was the first time they would truly hear the project lead articulate such details. Among this large group, not everyone held Zhang Yang in reverence; some still harbored doubts.

However, these suspicions vanished quickly. Though absent physically, Zhang Yang’s comprehension of the projects far surpassed that of every person present.

He pointed out flaws in the previous research process, oversights they had missed, and even highlighted areas they considered successes but which, under his scrutiny, were revealed as errors. Every observation was incisive.

Only then did these individuals realize that the previous work had indeed contained mistakes and loopholes, though the overall direction was sound, limiting the immediate impact. Limited impact did not mean no impact.

Had they continued on that trajectory, the loopholes and errors would only multiply, eventually compromising the entire research schedule. Fortunately, Zhang Yang had identified everything, and these issues could now be corrected.

Next, Zhang Yang detailed the upcoming steps, his explanation more precise and thorough than anything they had encountered. Previously, they had been feeling their way forward, relying solely on documentation.

Zhang Yang’s plan acted like a guiding beacon, illuminating the path ahead. It was then they understood why Zhang Yang was the leader and why the university held him in such high regard.

Listening to his exposition, they almost felt that Zhang Yang could solve both projects single-handedly. Or, perhaps, that they weren't even necessary.

If the research members were replaced by anyone else—even ordinary medical students—success would still be attainable under the guidance of a mentor like Zhang Yang. This realization shattered the pride that their initial accomplishments had fostered.

Before Zhang Yang appeared, many believed they were already accomplished, with a few even thinking the research group couldn’t function without them. Now, they understood how naive that mindset had been.

In that brief half-day, Zhang Yang utterly conquered them all. All lingering doubt vanished.

Every person, including Zhu Daoqi and Li Yaohua, felt a deep, internal respect for him. Might makes right—this principle applied not only in the inner cultivation world but in the mundane realm as well.

While everyone buzzed with excitement over Zhang Yang’s presentation, someone in another part of the university was far from cheerful. Standing before the building housing the Student Union offices, Zhou Yichen wore a bitter twist on his lips.

His mood was undeniably foul; in fact, it was abysmal. A year ago, he was the center of attention here, the supreme leader, basking in praise and flattery.

One year later, returning to this place, he felt like a complete failure. With a light sigh, he entered the building—a small structure whose every corner he once knew intimately, yet now felt profoundly foreign.

He hesitated outside the President’s office door for a moment before raising his hand to knock. “Zhou, Classmate Zhou, what are you doing here?” Before his knuckles could touch the wood, a voice called out from behind him, laced with surprise.

Zhou Yichen turned to see Gao Jie from the Department of Societies. However, Gao Jie had long since left that department; Zhang Yang had maneuvered him into the Department of Arts some time ago.

That incident had pushed Gao Jie, a known moderate, toward Zhang Yang’s faction. Now, Gao Jie and Xiao Bin were aligned, and Gao Jie had risen to Vice President of the Student Union.

Looking back now, even if Gao Jie hadn't aligned with Zhang Yang, he wouldn’t have been a match for him. The Zhang family's influence dwarfed his own, and the current Zhang Yang stood on a pinnacle far beyond his reach.

“I, I came to see Xiao Bin, President Xiao!” Zhou Yichen mumbled, his former air of commanding authority entirely absent. “Looking for President Xiao?

Hold on a moment!” Gao Jie walked past him, gave the door a small rap, and then pushed it open before stepping inside. Xiao Bin was indeed in the office today; he was due to step down soon and had been busy organizing his affairs for a smooth handover.

“Gao Jie, Zhou—Zhou Yichen, what are you two doing together?” Xiao Bin, sitting at his desk, looked up. He registered Gao Jie first, but then his eyes fixed on Zhou Yichen, and he froze, blurting out the question.

“Xiao Bin, I need to speak with you alone. It’s private!” Zhou Yichen spoke slowly, his voice still low, betraying a hint of unease.

This was a stark contrast to the man he had been a year prior. Gao Jie glanced at him, surprised, then nodded and quietly exited the presidential office.

He hadn't been there to meet Xiao Bin anyway; he was just opening the door for Zhou Yichen.