The Immortal of Plague begins by establishing the root of lung fire.

Song You pressed the green answer button and held the phone close to his ear.

"Mengmeng, it's been a long time."

There was only a slight static noise on the other end of the receiver. After a few seconds, a female voice came through, with a cold tone and heavy enunciation.

"Song You, you've really messed things up this time."

"It's alright." Song You hadn't expected the other party to find out so quickly. Looking at the green belt by the roadside, which was wilting under the sun, he said, "At least no one will die."

"You reported your superiors, and I heard it's causing quite a stir in the institute. What are your plans after that?"

"I'll wait for a while," Song You replied.

The most urgent task now is to cultivate myself and preserve my life.

He and Meng Meng were classmates in college and dated for four years. Graduation season is breakup season. Meng Meng's family owned a factory, and she went back to inherit the second-tier listed pharmaceutical company.

Song You came from a modest background and chose to stay in the local area for standardized training. The two were worlds apart, living in different circles, so their contact naturally ended.

"Just say what you have to say." Song You didn't want to beat around the bush.

The breathing on the other end of the phone became heavier. Meng Meng, who was usually straightforward, seemed hesitant today.

"My brother is taking a team to India next week to expand into overseas markets and do contract manufacturing of generic drugs and active pharmaceutical ingredients. The team needs someone who is knowledgeable in clinical practice and reliable, and I'd like you to help him."

Going to India?

Meng Meng's family's company is called Ruikang Pharmaceutical. It recently released a strategic announcement about expanding into India. Capital is profit-driven, and building a factory there can significantly reduce production costs.

In the past, he would have felt he had a chance to stay in the hospital and would have refused without hesitation, but now the situation has changed.

Even if this world is fake, he knows he can't stay.

India's healthcare system is extremely lax, and the basic healthcare environment is appalling.

This means that if any pathological changes occur in his body in the future, he can easily find an excuse to cover it up in the environment of India and avoid the strict medical examinations in China.

What's even more amazing is that tropical diseases are rampant there, infectious diseases are numerous, and various generic drugs are cheap and readily available, so there's no fear of not being able to get treatment. From this perspective, India is simply a perfect place for him to cultivate himself.

"Okay, I agree." Song You readily agreed.

Meng Meng hadn't expected him to agree so readily, and all the words she had prepared got stuck in her throat.

"Actually," Meng Meng paused, softening her tone, "the company headquarters is also short-staffed. If you're willing, we can schedule a time to meet and have a good talk."

"No need, it's not convenient lately," Song You refused decisively.

"Song You, do you have to be so aloof?"

"I just filed a formal complaint against a doctor at the hospital, which offended the hospital leadership. If I stay in China now, I might face retaliation someday. If I were to join your company headquarters, it would drag Ruikang Pharmaceutical down and make it a target of the industry. Going to India is a good idea; it's far from the central government's reach."

These words sounded grand and noble, but in reality, he just wanted to get away from all his acquaintances.

A long exhale came through the receiver.

"Okay. I'll have someone book your flight for the day after tomorrow. Send me your passport information." Meng Meng's tone returned to its usual businesslike indifference.

Thank you.

After hanging up the phone, Song You opened the text message interface, typed "thank you" and sent it. The screen went dark, and there was no reply.

He put his phone back in his pocket and turned to walk towards the hospital building.

The scene in the conference room replayed in my mind. The short-haired woman named Li Man's reaction was too abnormal. There was definitely something fishy going on.

Zhang Lihong's blatant actions suggest a network of vested interests behind him. Li Man was most likely sent to probe his intentions, or even to destroy evidence.

In the past, Song You would have been anxious and tried to find ways to preserve the evidence, but now he just found it laughable.

This modern world, a fleeting resurgence, is nothing more than a world he can easily escape from. With his life hanging by a thread at the gates of the Soul Treasury Temple, he has no time to play the workplace games with these people.

Since they want to play dirty tricks, then don't give them any reason to have a second thought.

Song You walked into the outpatient hall and took the elevator to the floor where the cardiology department was located.

The nurses' station was in a flurry of activity. Song You ignored the strange looks and made his way to the doctor's office, turning a few corners as if by accident.

Zhang Lihong's office door was ajar. Song You tiptoed past and glanced at it.

Zhang Lihong sat in front of the computer, typing away. His face was a little pale, but his overall condition was normal, and he didn't look like he was about to face a major disaster.

Song You focused his attention on his chest cavity, where the inner flame was pulsating steadily.

The opening of "Lung Fire Technique" mentions that the essence of the Lung Fire Path is a lesion with extremely strong infectivity. Cultivators need to use their lung qi to lock it in their bodies and make it their own.

Once restrictions are lifted, the lesions will spread outwards along the respiratory tract.

Song You gathered his energy and removed the suppression of the inner flame.

A sudden heat surged in his chest, and a sweet, metallic taste rose up his trachea. He opened his mouth and exhaled through the half-open door.

There was no smoke or odor; it was a pathological transmission that was imperceptible to the naked eye.

He didn't know how much damage this ball of internal flame could cause, but he was happy to use Zhang Lihong as a clinical trial.

The whole process took less than half a second. After finishing, Song You locked his inner flame again, turned around, and left. He didn't go far, but went to the nurses' station, pulled up a chair, and sat down.

"Xiao Liu, give me an IV drip of glucose," Song You said to the nurse on duty. "I'm having a hypoglycemic episode and I'm dizzy."

Nurse Liu looked up at him, her expression somewhat embarrassed and timid. Song You was now the plague in the department; whoever got involved with him was doomed. But seeing that his face was indeed frighteningly pale and his forehead was covered in cold sweat, she dared not be negligent.

If this big shot were to faint in the department, no one could bear the responsibility.

"Okay, Dr. Song, please wait a moment."

Xiao Liu quickly prepared the medicine, pushed the treatment cart over, inserted the needle into the vein, and the cold liquid flowed into the blood vessel along the infusion tube.

Before Xiao Liu could adjust the drip rate, Song You reached out and pushed the regulator to its maximum.

The medicine flowed in a continuous stream through the dropper and was rapidly injected into the vein.

"Oh no! Dr. Song, the drip is too fast, my heart can't take it!" Xiao Liu was startled and reached out to turn it off.

Song You pressed down on the back of her hand, his tone calm: "It's alright, I know what I'm doing. You go ahead with your work."

Xiao Liu didn't dare to persuade him further and left, looking back every few steps.

As hypertonic glucose entered his bloodstream, it replenished the energy lost by his body. Song You leaned back in his chair, feeling his body become fuller.

The near-death experience of planting the stove in the Soul Treasury Temple had drained too much of his life force. He must seize every minute and second in this world and draw upon all available resources.

Ten minutes passed.

Fifteen minutes later, a commotion arose at the end of the corridor.

The head nurse, her face deathly pale, rushed out of Zhang Lihong's office, shouting as she ran, "Quick, get the emergency cart! Dr. Zhang has fainted and is coughing up large amounts of blood!"

Several nurses rushed into the office pushing a defibrillator and a resuscitation cart.

Song You sat in his chair watching this scene; the onset of his illness was faster and more severe than he had anticipated. The Daoist roots of the Soul Treasury Temple were as lethal as ever in this spiritless world; Zhang Lihong would be severely injured, if not killed.

Fine cracks appeared at the edge of the field of vision.

The cracks spread rapidly, cutting the scene before them into countless fragments.

Time is up.

Song You removed the needle from the back of his hand and pressed the bleeding point with a cotton swab.

The fragments collapsed, and darkness descended.

The rotten, cold air, mixed with a strong medicinal smell, was once again filled my nostrils.