Under the influence of true energy, the water accumulated inside the patient's body quickly drained out through the severed arm. Mixed with streaks of blood, the scene inside the ward became a vision of devastation—it no longer looked like healing the sick, but like a slaughter straight out of hell.
Several timid doctors covered their mouths, wanting to leave yet unable to tear themselves away. Even if the Eastern man before them seemed like a demon, they still wanted to know whether he could truly bring this patient back to life.
In truth, what Guan Xing had done was already a last resort. Severing an arm went far beyond a doctor's code of conduct, but within the International Medical Alliance, that code could sometimes be abandoned. As a doctor, there was only one purpose—to keep the patient alive.
Sweat poured down Guan Xing's face, but the patient had already regained consciousness. With the excess fluid dispersed and the effect of the twelve silver needles, the patient felt no pain at all. Though his face was pale and weak, he was truly awake.
"Trading one arm for your life," Guan Xing said coldly. "If you don't pull yourself together, I guarantee that even a god won't be able to save you."
After speaking, he placed his hand on the patient's body and withdrew the four hair-thin needles. He then informed those outside that the alert for the abnormal 'human bomb' condition had been lifted. Doctors immediately stepped forward to administer anesthesia, and the severed arm was frozen. Until the patient regained the will to live, it would not be reattached, so that any remaining fluid could continue to drain if necessary.
The patient's mental state remained grim. His eyes were dull and lifeless, filled with despair. He had no passion for the future at all. Guan Xing knew that this patient came from one of the poorest desert regions of Iraq, where life was worse than death. Having no desire to live was not unusual. But as a doctor, he could only treat the body—the soul was something only a savior could redeem. He was not a savior.
Guan Xing observed for another half hour. Once the anesthesia took effect, he carefully removed the twelve silver needles. Using a severed limb to treat internal fluid buildup was a technique that brought both partial benefit and severe loss. In his urgency, Guan Xing had only one thought—to prevent the patient from becoming a human experiment of the state. As for the final outcome, he had not thought it through.
The patient quieted down, sinking into an indescribable stillness. Guan Xing said nothing more. What followed was the work of psychiatrists. He packed up his tools and slowly walked out of the special ward. The people outside had been waiting. The moment he appeared in the doorway, he was surrounded.
"Xing, how is the patient now? You cut off his arm?" Borres asked, shaken. To remove a patient's arm to treat fluid buildup—he couldn't tell whether it was right or wrong. One thing was certain: he would never dare to do it himself.
"Xing, your heart is ruthless," Yibi said in awe. He knew he could never do such a thing.
Stefanti walked over and said, "Xing, come to the office and rest for a bit. Everyone else, disperse. We'll talk later." He had been entrusted by several Ministry of Defense officials to have a serious discussion with Guan Xing.
With the chairman speaking, no one dared to continue pestering Guan Xing. They slowly dispersed, though the bloody scene they had just witnessed would forever remain etched in their minds. Healing the sick could be this violent. The Eastern divine healer—half god, half demon—was now deeply engraved in their hearts.
In Stefanti's office, four Ministry of Defense officials were already seated. Guan Xing knew what they wanted to ask. But if they intended to use his medical skills to develop human bombs, he would absolutely refuse.
"Mr. Xing, we know you're exhausted," one official began, "but orders from above leave us no choice but to disturb you. Your surgery was astonishing—truly godlike. You live up to the name of Eastern Divine Doctor. Even the gods would marvel at such skill."
Their tone was polite enough. Guan Xing waved his hand and said calmly, "No need for flattery. Speak. As long as it concerns the patient, I'll tell you everything I know."
An official immediately asked, "After the patient lost his arm, could fluid buildup occur again and cause another abnormal explosion?"
"No," Guan Xing replied. "I've already opened the three major circulation systems in his body. There will be no more fluid accumulation. If he completely loses faith and suffers mental death, the worst outcome will be total paralysis—but he will not die."
The officials quickly took notes. Even Stefanti did the same. Every word was critical for future research.
Another official asked, "Since the patient can no longer become a human bomb, I'd like to ask—could a normal person possibly use the water in their body to form a bomb? Like the so-called human bombs in terrorist attacks. Of course, they strap explosives to themselves, but if someone could produce explosive power without explosives, it would cause tremendous panic for our counterterrorism efforts."
The question carried an official tone, but Guan Xing felt it was acceptable to answer. No one wanted such terrifying scenarios to become reality.
"That shouldn't happen," he said. "These cases are like winning the lottery. You can't just decide to become a human bomb. There are too many coincidences involved. A 'human bomb' is a form of pathological mutation. Some diseases can lead to such a state, but those people cannot function like normal individuals."
The officials were clearly fascinated by the concept of human bombs, far more than by the patient himself. They asked repeatedly, stopping just short of directly asking whether Guan Xing could help develop such weapons.
Naturally, they never voiced that question. Soon, the officials stood up, shook Guan Xing's hand, and took their leave. They needed to report immediately to their superiors. Only Guan Xing and Stefanti remained in the office.
The atmosphere fell silent. Stefanti studied Guan Xing for a long time before finally asking, "Xing, speaking as your closest friend—do you think developing human bombs is feasible?"
The officials hadn't dared to ask it, but Stefanti had.
Guan Xing fell silent for a moment, then smiled. "Theoretically, yes. Just like people believe the universe must have an end beyond it—who can ever be certain? Theoretical things can't always be confirmed. It's like the forbidden zone of the human brain. Many countries are researching it, but who can say it's not futile?"
"Just because something is theoretically possible doesn't mean it can become reality. And even if it could, it's not something we need to worry about. Don't you think so, Chairman?"
Stefanti finally smiled broadly, clearly relieved. "You're right, Xing. I was worrying too much. We're doctors—we heal the sick. Everything else isn't worth fretting over."
With his worries eased, Stefanti felt much better. He had always feared that the Medical Alliance might become a breeding ground for weapons research, betraying the very spirit on which it was founded. Guan Xing's words reassured him that nothing had truly changed.
For three consecutive days, Guan Xing continued to observe the patient. Psychiatric treatment had no effect, but the swelling had completely disappeared. The severed arm had to be abandoned—if it were reattached, the patient would die immediately. A week later, the previously swollen patients had all recovered and returned home. This patient, however, was sent to the Red Cross. Just as Guan Xing had anticipated, he became completely paralyzed—a living corpse.
Doctors were not gods. Preventing him from becoming a human bomb and keeping him barely alive was already a miracle. The root cause was that the patient's heart and spirit were dead. This was the furthest anyone could go.
In the blink of an eye, Guan Xing had been there for more than half a month. Doctors from various countries left one after another once the edema cases were confirmed. Only Borres and Yibi remained with him.
In truth, Guan Xing's mission in M Country was already complete. Reports on the treatment of edema cases had shaken the world, and the reputation of the Eastern Divine Hand spread far and wide. If not for Stefanti's strong insistence that he stay to receive the First-Class Merit Medal from the president, he would have returned home long ago.
During those two weeks, he had only called home twice to report his safety to Yiran. She was extremely busy, barely having time to chat, which made Guan Xing wonder whether encouraging her to start a company had been a mistake.
But once the newspapers spread his story, fame followed—and trouble came knocking.
Though Guan Xing had been very careful, rarely leaving the Alliance headquarters, information traveled too fast. Even God's influence reached here. They found Stefanti, and even the chairman couldn't refuse God's request. Thus, Old Tom arrived with his cane, striding straight into Guan Xing's residence.
For others, this place was forbidden ground. But for God, for the Tom family, there were few places in M Country they couldn't enter. Old Tom had even lived in the White House before.
Usually gentle, Old Tom's face was dark this time—clearly displeased. As the helmsman of God and the Tom family, one should never be fooled by his kindly appearance. Beneath that warm smile lay the killing intent of a true overlord.
But Guan Xing wasn't afraid. Ever since he had saved the old man's life three years ago and refused any reward, Old Tom had treated him as a true friend.