The ancient return was exposed by his sister's live stream.

[New User 013: Zhuyou technique, isn't that feudal superstition?]

[New User 525: That's brain cancer! It's incurable even in late-stage cases, let alone in the elderly.]

[New User 053: Just wait and see how this goes]

[I'm a terrible student: I believe in Master Chen]

The next morning, Yang Wanqing took Chen Hao and Chen Siyao to the hospital.

Department of Oncology, Shenzhen First People's Hospital.

The corridor reeked of disinfectant, and occasionally a nurse would hurry by pushing a trolley. A banner on the wall read, "On the road to fighting cancer, we walk with you," but it seemed somewhat powerless under the pale light.

I walked quickly toward the VIP ward. Outside Yang Weiguo's ward, several doctors and nurses were gathered, their faces grave, discussing his condition.

Yang Wanqing's grandfather, Yang Weiguo, stayed in a single VIP ward.

Pushing open the door, I saw a thin, elderly man lying on the bed. His face was sallow, his cheekbones were prominent, and his eyes were sunken. An oxygen tube was inserted into his nose, and an IV was inserted into the back of his hand. The monitor next to him was beeping regularly.

Yang Wanqing's eyes immediately reddened.

"grandfather."

Yang Weiguo opened his eyes, saw his granddaughter, and managed a strained smile.

"Qingqing is here."

His voice was very soft, like a candle flickering in the wind.

Yang Wanqing walked over and took his hand: "Grandpa, I brought someone with me. He can help you."

Yang Weiguo looked at Chen Hao, his gaze somewhat blank.

"This is……"

"Brother, this is my grandfather," Yang Wanqing introduced. "Grandpa, this is Brother Chen Hao, the one I told you about..."

She paused, unsure of what to say.

You can't exactly say, "This is Qin Shi Huang's teacher, who can cultivate immortality and cure brain cancer," can you?

Chen Hao stepped forward and looked at Yang Weiguo.

"Hello, Grandpa Yang."

Yang Weiguo nodded and said weakly, "Young man, Qingqing told me about you, saying you're very capable."

Chen Hao smiled and said, "It's so-so."

Yang Wanqing panicked: "Brother Chen Hao, please take a look at my grandfather."

At this moment, the doctor spoke up and asked.

"Who are you?"

Yang Wanqing quickly introduced, "Dr. Zhao, this is my friend. He's here to see my grandfather."

Dr. Zhao glanced at Chen Hao, his gaze scrutinizing him.

"Are you a doctor?"

Chen Hao shook his head: "No."

Dr. Zhao paused, his gaze falling on Chen Hao. Seeing his young age, simple attire, and lack of any semblance of a doctor's demeanor, his face instantly darkened. His tone was filled with obvious doubt and dissatisfaction, even tinged with a hint of mockery.

"Then what are you doing here?" Dr. Zhao's tone was somewhat displeased. "The patient's condition is very serious and requires rest. Don't bring people here to disturb him."

Yang Wanqing explained, "Dr. Zhao, Brother Chen Hao is very capable, he..."

"Even the best medicine can't surpass modern medicine," Dr. Zhao interrupted her. "Ms. Yang, I know you're anxious, but your grandfather has brain cancer, a terminal illness. No one in the world can cure him. You brought someone who isn't a doctor here; what if something goes wrong? Who will be responsible?"

Yang Wanqing panicked: "But the hospital can't cure him either! Didn't you already issue a critical condition notice?"

Dr. Zhao was speechless, his face turning somewhat unpleasant. He waved his hand impatiently, "Alright, I don't have time to waste with you. If you want him to see the patient, then let him see him, but don't disturb the patient's rest. However, I'm warning you now: you'll be responsible for any problems that arise."

Just as Yang Wanqing was about to say something, Chen Hao spoke up.

Chen Hao looked at Yang Weiguo and said softly, "Grandpa Yang, do you believe me?"

Yang Weiguo looked at the young man with a somewhat dazed expression.

He recalled the stories his granddaughter had told him—walking on water, slaying demons with a single sword, the secret realm of the Queen Mother of the West…

In the past, he definitely wouldn't have believed it.

But now, he lies in a hospital bed, where even turning over is difficult.

What is there to be afraid of?

"Young man, come on over." He closed his eyes. "Anyway, it's only a few days left."

Yang Wanqing's tears flowed again.

Dr. Zhao stepped aside, but did not leave.

He wanted to see what this young man was capable of.

Chen Hao walked to the bedside, his gaze falling on Yang Weiguo. He examined him closely and saw that the cancer cells in the old man's body were spreading rapidly, his brain nerves were severely damaged, and his life force was almost exhausted. If it had been a few days later, even he would have been unable to save him.

He stretched out his right hand, hovering it above Yang Weiguo's chest.

He began to recite.

It was the same ancient and obscure language, but it was more profound and far-reaching than when I treated Yang Wanqing's injuries yesterday.

Syllables flowed from the depths of the throat, like an ancient wind passing through a canyon, like the first drop of water from melting glaciers, like a heartbeat coming from the depths of the earth.

The air in the ward seemed to freeze.

Dr. Zhao was stunned—he felt that something had changed, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

The numbers on the monitor started to jump.

My heart rate dropped from 90 to 80, and then to 70.

My blood pressure dropped from 130 to 120.

My breathing became steady.

Dr. Zhao stared wide-eyed at the monitor.

Fine beads of sweat appeared on Chen Hao's forehead.

Brain cancer is not caused by external injury; the cancer cells have spread throughout the entire brain, and removing them requires extremely delicate procedures.

His fingers trembled slightly, but his voice remained steady as he recited.

Time passed by, second by second.

Ten minutes, twenty minutes, half an hour.

Chen Siyao and Yang Wanqing didn't dare to breathe loudly, afraid of disturbing him.

Dr. Zhao stood in the corner, his expression shifting from doubt to shock.

Because he saw that Yang Weiguo's expression was changing.

The sallow color gradually faded, replaced by a healthy flush. Although the eye sockets were still sunken, they were no longer so ashen.

The most outrageous thing was that the old man actually sat up on his own.

Yang Weiguo opened his eyes, his gaze clear and bright, no longer as murky as before.

He looked down at his hands, then touched his face, his expression full of disbelief.

"I...I feel much better."

His voice was no longer weak; although it was still somewhat soft, it was clearly stronger.

Dr. Zhao rushed to the bedside, took a flashlight and shone it on Yang Weiguo's pupils, then listened to his heartbeat. His expression changed drastically.

The doctors and nurses nearby were also stunned. They looked at each other, their faces full of shock, unable to say a word. The scene before them completely overturned their medical understanding.

Dr. Zhao muttered, "This...this is impossible...this...this is impossible..."

He turned and rushed out of the ward: "Arrange tests immediately! CT scan, MRI, do them all!"

Chen Hao withdrew his hand and let out a long breath.