Chapter 49

Chapter 49

Wu Heng: Oh, this...

Two guys are kissing inside? How does that work? Do they stick out their tongues?

Wu Heng instinctively glanced at the person next to him, meeting Shi Xuan's gaze. He could feel Shi Xuan's faint gaze on his slightly pink, moist lips. Wu Heng immediately looked away.

Why am I looking at him?

Wu Heng looked at Han Ye and asked, "What books did you burn for Teacher Yang? What were their titles?"

Wu Heng had read about medical cases in ancient shamanic texts. They mentioned that the mixed saliva of two people could exchange bacteria, as modern medicine calls it, sometimes aiding in curing illnesses, and he thought he might study it.

Han Ye immediately protested his innocence, saying it was his godfather who strongly insisted he burn them before heading to the underworld. He even went to Jinjiang Literature City to find some because he was worried Yang Xing couldn't handle the high level of explicitness.

Though Yang Xing had the face of a young man, if he were alive today, he'd be a fifty-year-old uncle. Han Ye feared his godfather wouldn't be able to handle the stimulation.

When Yang Xing heard Wu Heng asking about the book titles, he immediately interjected, 'Doctor Wu, you don't need to know. Even if you're not in the third year of high school, you still have to take the college entrance exam. Focus on studying. Don't read novels for now; I'll read them for you since I have plenty of time.'

Yang Xing was pretty frustrated. He wasn't sure if it was because the underworld version of the Monkey Search app (a study aid app) had just been released or if ghosts just didn't like studying. Hardly any students signed up, and his only steady students were the mysterious gray and white snakes connected to the ghost network. So, he had plenty of free time.

The little white snake hid inside Wu Heng's sleeve, not daring to make a sound during this discussion about reading, afraid of being called out and scolded by Teacher Yang.

Upon hearing this, Wu Heng said, "Since you have so much free time, I'll hook you up with a money-making side gig."

Chen Zhao's ears perked up, tuning in immediately.

"There'll probably be an old man heading down to the underworld in the next couple of days. If you like, you can watch Mr. Yang climb the knife mountain and dive into the oil cauldron, right on schedule, and take a few videos of the old man being punished to send to the victims in their dreams. They'll be happy to see it and will definitely burn paper money for you."

Yang Xing thought this wouldn't be difficult; it was just a thing to do while you're there, you know?!

At first, Yang Xing thought that as long as there were books to read in the underworld, it would be spiritual nourishment. After staying there for a few days, he realized that without money, navigating the underworld was tough. It wouldn't hurt to make some extra cash on the side while studying.

Thinking about so many unrelated people burning paper money for him, Yang Xing even had the illusion of having students all over the world.

Yang Xing immediately agreed. Upon hearing that the money earned was in **冥** currency, Chen Zhao lost his soul and murmured, "When will I be able to die as well?"

He also wanted to earn big money!

Fan Xuan, who had come with Han Ye to deliver medicine, and Xu Qian, along with a few others, looked at Wu Heng chatting with the blacked-out phone screen, wondering what the conversation was about.

Wu Heng really had a ghost pulse; the netizens hadn't guessed wrong. The conversation had already started.

Han Ye could join in the chat purely because of his father-son relationship with Yang Xing.

Yang Xing shifted the topic back to the little white snake and the small gray snake's study issues. Because He Yunxiao was present, the little white snake had to answer while getting scolded.

The glass window of the balcony made a soft sound. Xu Qian, seeing everyone looking over, said awkwardly, "The wind has been strong in the capital city recently. It must be the wind."

Wu Heng and the others looked at the three gray shadows by the balcony without responding.

The leader of the male ghosts had his face pressed against the glass, looking around. A female ghost next to him pulled him back and scolded, 'Don't scare people.'

'Is this Professor Apartment 105? Are you students of our father? We've come to pick up our father. No, can you all see us?'

Behind the male and female ghosts was a yin emissary wearing a long black robe, a tall black hat, and holding a lantern that read 'No Entry for the Living.' He was clearly the yin emissary of this district in the capital city.

This equipment, although similar to Lai Yin Chai's, had a fine texture and sheen, clearly high-end goods. After all, he was a Beijing big shot, not comparable to the yin emissaries from small counties.

Chen Zhao felt an overwhelming panic. Though he hailed from the Xuanmen, this was his first time coming face-to-face with a yin emissary. He quickly bowed his head, not daring to meet their gaze, his heart pounding in astonishment.

After ghosts and demons left with the yin emissary for the underworld, they could only return during the Zhongyuan Festival or their lunar birthday, unless a powerful master performed a soul-summoning ritual. Typically, they couldn’t return otherwise.

Why were these two souls personally escorted here? It didn’t make any sense. Usually, no one gets this kind of treatment.

Wu Heng said, "This isn’t Professor Apartment 105, it’s Teacher Apartment 501. You’re probably looking for the building right across the way."

Feeling slightly embarrassed, the two souls apologized profusely, "Sorry, we've been ghosts for too long, our minds are fuzzy, we went to the wrong room."

As they spoke, they drifted down from the fifth floor and made their way toward the building across the street.

The people inside had no clue who Wu Heng was talking to. It was only Xu Qian who realized in shock, "Professor Apartment 105 is Professor Zhao Qingyun's place. He rarely stays there because of his heavy research workload."

Who had Wu Heng been talking to?

Just then, the doorbell rang. When the door opened, Wang Lang, out of breath, looked directly at Wu Heng and urgently asked, "Dr. Wu, can you treat late-stage cancer? Can you check on my teacher?"

Wang Lang was really unsure. Wu Heng's livestreams often featured patients with mysterious, metaphysics-related illnesses. Could he treat something as common yet terminal as cancer?

Xu Qian's heart sank, and she blurted out, "Is Professor Zhao about to pass?"

Wang Lang didn’t reply, but his expression said everything.

Probably in his last moments.

Seeing the sky slowly darken outside, Wu Heng said, "I'll go take a look."

Remembering the 80,000 yuan that Professor Zhao had lent her, Xu Qian felt a lump in her throat and immediately offered to go visit him, but then remembered her mother who was asleep in the bedroom.

Wu Ting, cradling her large belly, stood at the door across the hall and softly said, "Teacher Xu, go see Professor Zhao. I'll watch over your mom. I'll call you if anything comes up."

The group quickly followed Wu Heng down the stairs. Wang Lang, staying close beside them, said, "My teacher has been conducting research off-site for a long time. His eating and resting habits are all over the place, which is how this problem started."

When he was busy, he couldn’t care less about anything else. Often, he wouldn’t remember until three or four in the afternoon that he hadn’t eaten, so he’d just whip up a bowl of instant noodles to tide himself over. Years of late nights had taken their toll. He relied on cigarettes to keep his mind sharp, but his body had long since suffered the consequences.

He came back to the university apartment today because the professor insisted he had left something behind.

They could see the professor's apartment building surrounded by students holding flowers, reporters waiting, and soldiers standing guard like statues at the entrance.

Assuming Wu Heng and the others were just senior high school students, Fan Xuan took the initiative to explain, "Capital City Science and Technology University is an incredibly rigorous school in our country. Its strengths in aerospace, mechanics, materials, and other fields are unmatched. They even have self-developed missiles."

Fan Xuan then added, "But Dr. Wu is extraordinarily talented in medicine. It would be best for him to enroll in our Medical University in the future. As for He Yunxiao, you might consider applying to Capital City Science and Technology University. Its hardcore strength isn’t weaker than Tsinghua or Peking University."

Fan Xuan and Han Ye thought mischievously, wondering who would dare to teach Wu Heng medicine. He Yunxiao and Li Hao exchanged glances and remained silent. Was Capital City Science and Technology University something they could even dream of?

This wasn’t a place you could get into just because you were rich or powerful. If they got into this school, their parents would probably throw lavish banquets for days to show off.

When they arrived at the apartment entrance, they were stopped. Chen Zhao and Wu Heng handed over their Daoist Physician certification and intern Daoist Physician certification, respectively, before they were allowed to enter. Shi Xuan and the others were left outside.

"Was that Wu Heng from Chengde Medical Hall who just went in? How did he get in? Is he going to treat Professor Zhao?"

"So many famous doctors couldn’t cure him. Can he do it? He seems to treat strange diseases. Professor Zhao has late-stage lung cancer, not a strange illness, right?"

The surrounding students whispered among themselves, all feeling doubtful but also a glimmer of expectation. After all, the fame of this Daoist Physician has recently become extraordinarily prominent.

Now, if you enter any social platform, people are just discussing Wu Heng. Zhao Qingyun's charity organization has been disrupted by him, and the City God Temple is almost worn out from so many visitors.

Many patient families, even after receiving the news, couldn't afford the money that Zhao Qingyun had donated. At this time, Zhou Mingze appeared and directly offered to help pay the amount without interest.

The family members of the patients were terrified by today's news and didn't dare accept help from kind-hearted people online anymore, but Zhou Mingze was different.

He was the middle-aged man whose head had a flower condition, treated by Wu Heng. Countless patients had borrowed money from Zhou Mingze through his association with Wu Heng.

Wu Heng is now so renowned that patient families only trust him.

Wu Heng and the others entered apartment 105, where a gaunt old man leaning on a pillow was faintly visible. His eyes were half-closed, and he was panting heavily, weakened to an irretrievable extent.

At this moment, there was a computer in front of him, and since he could no longer speak, he could only convey student affairs by typing on the keyboard.

His trembling fingers could only press one key every two or three seconds, taking several minutes to input a sentence.

"Teacher, take a break?" a student sitting beside the bed gently asked, barely holding back tears.

Professor Zhao shook his head, unable to rest. He knew that once he rested, he would never be able to wake up again. There were still many things he needed to convey.

"Professor Zhao, these two are Daoist Physicians invited to take your pulse," said the principal, stepping forward.

Chen Zhao observed Professor Zhao's complexion. He was drained of vitality, now only sustained by a strong inner will.

Chen Zhao gently shook his head. There was no need to take the pulse anymore. The cancer cells had certainly spread throughout his body.

Wu Heng, however, sat down to take the pulse and, after a moment, let go.

As a Daoist Physician, by simply taking the pulse, he could see through the patient's past, present, and future. The old professor's yang energy had come to an end.

Professor Zhao was unconcerned with the doctor's presence. Ever since he fell ill and was forcibly taken to see various doctors, it had become a habit. Before leaving, the state even arranged for a Daoist Physician to take his pulse. He was grateful to the state but felt some regret that he hadn't completed the 3.0 version of the missile, letting down the country's cultivation of him.

In the next room, Wang Lang looked at Wu Heng expectantly and asked, "How is my teacher?"

Wu Heng said, "The old gentleman's lifespan, determined by heaven, has come to an end."

Although they had already been mentally prepared, hearing it from Wu Heng, who specialized in rare illnesses, left everyone feeling drained.

Indeed, just how could a person's lifespan be forcibly extended? Unlike Zhao Qingyun, who tried to buy lifespan with money.

Suddenly, from the inner room, the old professor let out a cry, "Ah—ah—ah." His cloudy, bloodshot eyes were wide open, staring at the air above. His hand, with an IV needle, struggled to raise towards the air.

The grey shadow pounced towards the old man's bed, and the male ghost said with a smile, 'Dad, we're here to take you.'

'We've already set up a new home, not a tent in the desert, but one with mom's newly pasted window flowers, and there's a chessboard you like. We've also prepared a study for you, but by then, you won't have to work so hard. You can rest and practice calligraphy. And...'

The long-deceased daughter lay beside the bed, sweetly describing the home they had prepared below.

Unable to speak, Zhao Qingyun had hot tears rolling down his cheeks, and his pale lips curved into a shallow arc, as he too was drawn into the warm home his daughter described.

No pain, no work, only the family he longed for.

Chen Zhao thought, amazed. He wondered who had such treatment. It turned out that the underworld officials had sent yin emissaries to escort relatives. Such a departure would reduce the fear of newly formed ghosts, a treatment only granted to those with great merit.

Chen Zhao listened to the female ghost talking about her future life in the underworld and said, "Actually, sometimes leaving is a form of relief."

As long as they were not evil spirits, souls who went to the underworld were treated as if they were retiring.

"What's that?"

Wu Heng turned to look in the direction, and on the dark horizon, he could vaguely see lanterns rising into the sky—seven lanterns in total.

Wu Heng said to Chen Zhao, "Keep that yin emissary waiting; don't let it take Professor Zhao away yet."

Chen Zhao watched Wu Heng's departing figure and pointed at himself, "Ah? Me again?"

He couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with the yin emissary. Was he supposed to do this job?

The problem was that Wu Heng hadn't mentioned how much money he would get for this. At least throw in a hundred or two as a token, right? How is he more stingy than his master?

Xu Qian was thrilled when she heard Wu Heng's words and reminded Chen Zhao, "Doctor Chen, you received 5,000 yuan from Doctor Wu today."

Wu Heng immediately handed the 5,000 yuan consultation fee he received from Zhao Qingyun to Chen Zhao.

Chen Zhao touched his bulging pocket, well, 5,000 bucks.

It was just keeping the yin emissary waiting; it wasn't like he was killing someone. Making money was the priority.

-

Wu Heng hurried out of Professor Zhao's apartment, with students around him wanting to ask questions but not daring to.

In the distant night sky, seven rising sky lanterns looked like small stars hanging high in the sky.

Li Hao and the others stood outside the apartment scrolling on their phones. Seeing Wu Heng come out alone, they looked behind him frequently, "Chen’s still inside. There's a chance to make money here! Quick, report someone's releasing sky lanterns! You can earn at least 1,000 yuan!"

Wang Dong said sarcastically, "Releasing sky lanterns in the capital? Bold move. Quick, report him!"

The police had warned them before when they tried to release sky lanterns. Why should they get to do it? Report anyone they see.

Wu Heng looked up at the seven sky lanterns suddenly extinguishing and slowly falling from the sky, and said, "These are the sky lanterns Zhao Qingyun set off."

Li Hao and the others were shocked, unable to believe it, "What? These crappy lanterns cost Old Man Zhao 200 million? Damn, would Chen faint when he hears about this?"

He Yunxiao checked the family group message and said, "Doctor Wu, my father said that a master from South Asia helped Zhao Qingyun release these."

Today in the conference hall, many local masters were shaken by what Wu Heng said. They were really afraid of underworld retribution. No one dared to touch this job, but the Southeast Asian masters were really tempted by the 200 million.

Money talks.

Zhao Qingyun was really panicking now. The recipients of the lifespan he had bought, influenced by Wu Heng's manipulation, had lost it, transferring all the money back and burning return cards at the City God Temple.

He suddenly felt like he was choking. Originally sitting in a wheelchair, he still appeared energetic, but now he looked like a dying man lying on the bed.

He could feel the little remaining lifespan he had bought constantly decreasing. He felt like he was about to die.

Seeing his grandson, who was just in junior high school and currently crying, Zhao Qingyun struggled to sit up. With cloudy but hopeful eyes, he looked at the seven life-extending lanterns rising above the villa.

He didn't believe it. He didn't believe what Wu Heng had said.

What underworld fugitive? What buying lifespan was against heaven's law? It was all Wu Heng's personal opinion.

He had clearly provided a way to save desperate patients. What was wrong with that? He was a great philanthropist.

He just wanted to live another five years, just long enough to see his grandson become an adult.

The Master said that those with great virtue would be specially favored by the Heavenly Way; lighting the celestial lantern to ask for mercy might offer a glimmer of hope, and borrowing life from heaven could be possible.

He had given so many families a chance at rebirth; he was a great philanthropist, a man of great virtue, and he must light this celestial lantern!

It didn't matter that the city of Jing prohibited the release of sky lanterns; at worst, he would pay the fine.

If heaven truly had compassion, it should consider his grandson's sake.

Let those who received donations burn their return cards; as long as this method worked, it wouldn't matter if they all returned their donations and got refunds.

Zhao Qingyun gently patted his trembling grandson's hand but saw the seven lanterns outside mysteriously extinguish and fall from the sky.

"How can this be?" Zhao Qingyun cried out, "Light them again, release them once more!"

"Take me outside, carry me out," Zhao Qingyun gasped, "I want to see it with my own eyes."

His family doctor hooked him up to a ventilator, and amidst the wailing of his grandson, Zhao Qingyun was wheeled out to the garden.

The Master from Nanyang, his forehead drenched in sweat, relit the celestial lanterns for the second time.

Many netizens in Jing City witnessed this scene, already speculating in their hearts, and some even started live streams to capitalize on the traffic.

"I heard these sky lanterns were lit by Zhao Qingyun. I really think this old man has read too many fantasy novels; now we have a life-extending Seven-Star Lantern, Zhuge Liang would call it an expert move."

"This old man really doesn't care about others' lives; releasing sky lanterns could cause fires, and then he'll know what harm he's done."

"Ha, everyone is paying attention to the hypocritical philanthropist Zhao Qingyun, but who knows that Professor Zhao Qingyun, the pioneer of missiles, is now on his deathbed?"

"The second attempt was extinguished too? This is the will of heaven! It would be better to follow Doctor Wu's advice and choose a coffin he likes at home."

"If Zhao Qingyun is still able to live, it would really be an injustice. Hurry up and die already, he's lived twenty extra years as it is."

"I'm a cab driver, and I'll give free rides to anyone heading to the City God Temple to burn those return cards."

"What's going on? Why?" Zhao Qingyun stared blankly at the falling sky lanterns, shouting in disbelief.

Could it be, as Wu Heng said, that he's really a fugitive from the underworld? Are there countless ghosts and demons below accusing him?

The South Seas shaman felt awkward. Maybe the wind was too strong tonight?

"You can only light the sky lantern a maximum of three times, Old Mr. Zhao. How about trying again tomorrow evening?"

Zhao Qingyun was too weak now, but if he had the strength, he would've cursed out the South Seas shaman.

He had a strong feeling he wouldn't make it through tonight, let alone tomorrow evening. The shaman just wants to pass the buck.

"I'm begging you, don't go," his young grandson wailed beside the sickbed. "Call Dr. Wu. I'll spend all my New Year's money to beg him to treat Grandpa."

Zhao Qingyun doted on his only grandson, often giving him tens of millions with each transfer. Over the years, it's probably exceeded nine figures.

Zhao Qingyun looked at his grandson painfully and affectionately. This was his only remaining bloodline in the world.

Money can buy the lifespan of many poor people and even sway a shaman.

Wealth reaches the underworld and the heavens; money really is all-powerful.

Wu Heng's number was a secret, but He Yunxiao's contact information was no secret in the capital city's elite circles. They immediately called He Yunxiao.

Wiping his tears, the grandson commanded the person on the other side, "Get Dr. Wu to come and treat my grandfather. Name any price you want for the consultation fee."

Li Hao and the others started egging him on: "Young Master Zhao is generous, five hundred million!"

The money that Zhao Qingyun had spent over the years on charity and prolonging his life was far more than five hundred million.

Zhao’s young grandson didn’t fully understand money, but he knew it was a lot—though their family could easily afford it. He agreed without hesitation.

The South Seas master nearby looked shocked. Was this about ghost money?

Li Hao and the others mockingly called out: "Young Master is generous, we servants are coming right away~"

As soon as he hung up, Li Hao blurted out, "Damn it, I swear, the Zhao family is really rich. Sigh... Dr. Wu, are you really going?"

He Yunxiao and the others saw Wu Heng getting into Shi Xuan's car and felt their hearts sink.

At this point, switching sides to help Zhao Qingyun would bring a flood of online backlash. Netizens would bury Wu Heng in criticism.

It would be such a typical fair-weather friend move.

Zhao’s young grandson, with a chubby face, looked at Wu Heng and the others with a mocking expression beyond his years.

His grandfather had taught him well: money could buy anything! Even human lives!

Even though Wu Heng had scolded his grandfather in the meeting hall, now he had to bow to the power of money.

After all, a shaman had to eat too.

When Zhao Qingyun, lying in bed, saw Wu Heng, a glimmer of light appeared in his dying eyes.

"How are you all falling behind me? Why light sky lanterns when they get blown away by the wind? Use drones! They’re safer and you won’t get reported." Wu Heng, looking at the equipment on the ground, kept shaking his head.

Even as an ancient shaman, he knew to use modern technology, while these people were stuck in the past.

Wu Heng knew about drones. The Village Chief had spent a large sum to buy one for promoting Nan Nuo Village’s scenery.

Wu Heng didn’t know how drones were made, but he knew they were useful. Developing technology was good, and professors researching it were precious assets.

Wu Heng asked the South Seas master, "Old Master Zhao is giving you two hundred million, and you're cutting corners like this? Skimping isn't acceptable."

The master, looking embarrassed, remained silent.

Save where you can; what’s saved is yours, after all.

Even with the Zhao family facing public backlash, arranging hundreds of drones was easy.

Wu Heng placed seven unlit white candles on the leading drone, their bottoms firmly stuck to the drone with wax.

Wu Heng then took out a piece of yellow paper, wrote some information on it with cinnabar, and stuck it on the front of the leading drone.

Wu Heng: "Alright, let the drone light show begin."

Wu Heng had only seen this kind of drone light show on short video platforms before. It was something only seen in big cities. The villagers from this small border village in the southwest had never seen it in person.

Shi Xuan asked beside him, "Do you like this?"

Wu Heng, watching the drones slowly rise into the night sky, said, "I’m from the countryside. I’ve never seen this before, so I’m not sure if I like it."

The drones flew in the night sky, gradually forming the pattern of the Big Dipper. The white candles suddenly lit up with a faintly flickering candle glow.

"It's bright, it's bright!" Zhao Qingyun leaned back on the hospital bed, looking up desperately at the night sky.

The master said that people with great merit might get special heavenly favor in certain situations.

He had done so much charity and saved so many people, so of course he was a person of great merit. The specific situation was that his young grandson hadn't yet grown up and still needed his protection, so this must be the special favor, right?

He knew that what Wu Heng said wasn't true. There's no way he could be a fugitive wanted by the underworld, accused by countless ghosts and demons, right? The lit sky lanterns were the best proof.

But instead of feeling his lifespan had extended, why did his body feel heavier and heavier?

A drone flew nearby to record the situation in the night sky, and the real-time footage was quickly relayed back to the ground.

Everyone gathered around the screen to check, when suddenly the master shouted, "Hold on, what did you write, Dr. Wu?!"

In the footage, a piece of yellow paper with personal birth information was stuck on the leading drone, fluttering in the wind.

The Chinese-fluent master spoke cautiously, "You made a mistake. It's supposed to be Zhao Qingyun, Old Mr. Zhao!"

Oh my, he couldn't imagine the kind of mess someone could make on the job, messing up at the critical moment.

Wu Heng looked at the footage and said, "No mistake, I wrote 'zhaoqingyun'. I may be from the south, but I think my Mandarin is good enough for a second-level certificate, right?"

He Yunxiao and the others immediately nodded. Dr. Wu's Mandarin had no heavy accent, so he should pass.

The master from Southeast Asia almost screamed, holding his head, "You wrote Zhao Qingyun! The 'Qing' with three drops of water!"

So who's really from Huaxia, you or me?