"Just now, what was that technique?"
Zhang Fusheng sat down heavily in the alley, panting heavily, recalling the thunderous sound emitted by the Snake Fist Hall Master.
He saw it all clearly. That old monster formed a peculiar hand seal with his hands at his abdomen, then stomped his foot and shouted 'Strike.'
Then a violent thunder exploded forth.
No, it wasn't just the sound of thunder.
Zhang Fusheng swore that at that moment, he really saw streaks of lightning between the old monster's mouth and teeth when he shouted!
Thinking for a moment, he couldn't help but mimic the old man's actions, forming a hand seal, stamping his foot, and shouting loudly:
"Strike!"
The stray cat passing by looked at him like he was an idiot.
"Why does this stance feel somewhat familiar?" Zhang Fusheng frowned, unable to recall the specifics for the time being.
Where had he seen it before?
It was a very vague impression.
"Forget it, let's focus on the important matters first." Zhang Fusheng shook his head, putting aside thoughts of that eccentric old man for now.
This old thing was definitely more than a Second Refinement—maybe his strength was about the same as a Second Refinement, but…
He remembered what the Snake Fist Hall Master had said.
'Second Refinement? For now.'
"Was he not a Second Refinement before and fell due to some reason?"
Touching the gun at his waist, Zhang Fusheng exhaled a breath of clean air, glanced at the brick walls on both sides of the alley that had cracked from the loud sound, and left sullenly.
......
Ankang Tumor Hospital is the only hospital in the Lower Three Districts that can treat cancer.
It may not be able to cure it, but it can extend life.
The living conditions in the Lower Three Districts are relatively poor, and the residents can be considered a high-risk group for tumors, so Ankang Hospital is always crowded.
"So, what do you mean by a quasi-morgue?"
Dean Long looked at the dark gun muzzle, paused for a moment, and deliberated:
"Quasi-morgue means, as it implies… You know, our Lower Three Districts are quite poor. Many patients can't afford medical expenses in the end, and their families abandon them, so..."
He glanced at the security guard who had fainted and then cautiously looked at the surveillance that no longer blinked red dots:
"So, this portion of patients who have been abandoned and can't afford medical expenses, who are on the brink of death, we place them in a quasi-morgue to await natural death."
The masked young man widened his eyes:
"You people are beasts?"
Dean Long's lips trembled, but he remained silent.
Zhang Fusheng stared at this bald old dean for a long while, sighing:
"So if it weren't cancer, if it were another ailment and organs could still be used, would this place be called the 'Voluntary Organ Donation Surgery Room'?"
Dean Long laughed dryly:
"The trade of organs is illegal."
"Dumping people in a morgue to await death—isn't that illegal?"
"Uh, we provide basic food and water, just no treatment, which is not illegal..."
Zhang Fusheng fell silent.
With one hand, he pointed a gun at the bald dean, and with the other, he moved the mouse, checking the patient files on the computer.
There were over thirty patients in the quasi-morgue, the oldest being 98 years old, in the late stage of liver cancer.
Zhang Fusheng pulled up all the patient files from the hospital, checking each one.
"This one is 142 years old... Are you serious?"
He pointed at the computer screen.
Dean Long cautiously glanced at it, nodding like a pecking chicken:
"I remember this patient, very... tenacious!"
"Tenacious?"
Zhang Fusheng found it strange, carefully reviewing the case file.
[Huang Qiuxian, male, date of birth: January 23, 2000]
Today is June 30, 2142.
[Late-stage primary liver cancer, late-stage primary lung cancer, late-stage primary bone cancer...]
A series of densely packed primary cancers.
Primary means that this over-a-hundred-year-old man has multiple cancers simultaneously, not a single cancer spreading throughout the body...
Zhang Fusheng glanced at it, the case filled with dense information.
It was densely packed indeed. Every place on his body that could have cancer seemed to have it, and they were all 'primary' cancers.
"Is this a... cancer person?" He was confused, continuing to scroll down the file.
[Admission date: October 9, 2140]
[Treatment plan: None]
Dean Long whispered:
"When he was first admitted, he was found to have more than thirteen kinds of primary cancer, all in mid to late stages... combined with several rare diseases and some perplexing illnesses we couldn't identify."
Zhang Fusheng was greatly shocked:
"He's still alive??"
Dean Long weakly nodded:
"That's why I said he's very... tenacious."
Zhang Fusheng was dumbfounded.
Is this even human?
Is this still human?
142 years old… Either he injected a Longevity Gene Potion, or he was a cultivator, but to extend life as a cultivator, one must reach the level of a Martial Arts Master.
That is a realm beyond the Twelve Refinements, reportedly already a true 'Non-human.'
Such a person wouldn't come to Ankang Hospital.
As for the gene potion?
Tsk tsk, only the Upper Three Districts have access to such a thing.
"A... naturally long-lived person with an absurdly resilient body?" Zhang Fusheng muttered to himself.
Dean Long nodded cautiously, smiling ingratiatingly:
"We analyzed it the same way during our initial meetings."
"Is he currently in the hospital?"
"No."
The dean shook his head:
"Elder Huang found the hospital's disinfectant smell unpleasant, so he went home to await death two months ago and comes once a month for check-ups... He just came yesterday."
Zhang Fusheng, being thoughtful, continued to review Huang Qiuxian's file. Unlike others, there were no phone numbers or home addresses, and the occupation section was blank—aside from the birth date and name, nothing was left.
"Is there any way to contact him?"
The dean silently shook his head.
Zhang Fusheng frowned, puzzled, this was too strange.
He silently committed the name Huang Qiuxian to memory and somewhat regrettably continued to review the other patient files.
He couldn't possibly wait a month doing nothing.
After flipping back and forth, he finally returned to reviewing the files of patients in the 'quasi-morgue.'
As Dean Long described, the patients in the quasi-morgue have been abandoned by their families, fully resigned to a state of waiting for death,
Though it was a bit unsettling, it had to be said that these people were the easiest to deal with in transactions.
In fact, any transaction.
Because they have no hope at all, but surely still have things they long for.
"Zhou Changhong, 62 years old, retired teacher."
"Zhang Zixuan, 44 years old, sanitation worker."
"Zhong Mountain, 82 years old, martial arts instructor... martial arts instructor?"
Zhang Fusheng's eyes lit up slightly, pointing at this name and asking:
"Do you have any impression of this patient?"
Dean Long leaned forward to take a closer look and nodded affirmatively once more:
"Yes! This one I certainly do, Elder Zhong was a First-Refined Martial Artist, before falling ill he was a Martial Arts Hall Master near my home."
Zhang Fusheng was taken aback:
"A First-Refined Martial Artist ended up in your quasi-morgue?"
Dean Long lowered his voice humbly:
"That's unclear, I heard after he became gravely ill, his children were preoccupied with the inheritance, so... they left him alone."
"Is his condition very serious?"
"He doesn't have many days left."
Zhang Fusheng understood, having a clear idea.
This was a perfect trade target.
But this time, he wasn't just going to buy Zhong Mountain's various skills and cultivation 'time,'
He also wanted to buy his...
[Person].
Or rather, [Identity].
Zhang Fusheng had a faint sense of crisis, growing very quickly—within just two or three days, he had gone from being an ordinary person to becoming a First-Refined Martial Artist,
Also achieving Great Success in Contemplation Technique, pushing the Spring Thunder Technique to Minor Perfection.
Moving forward, as he grew stronger, he'd encounter trade targets of higher 'value', and his speed of growth would only accelerate,
By then, he would undoubtedly attract attention.
"I need another face, another identity."