What do you mean by saying that the corpses I sew are all ominous creatures?

The first to take over were two general surgeons wearing white coats.

They were clearly used to seeing patients covered in blood and bearing bizarre wounds.

After briefly inquiring about my situation, they used scissors to cut open my tattered trousers and shirt.

Then I used a lot of saline solution and hydrogen peroxide to wash away the scratches on my body and the five bloody holes on my right shoulder.

"The wound is deep, and there are obvious signs of necrosis at the edges. We need to remove some of the necrotic tissue and then suture it. Bear with it."

The attending physician glanced at me, his tone efficient.

"No need for anesthesia, let's get started," I said calmly.

The malevolent energy of the corpse-stitcher circulated within my body, and ordinary anesthetics were not very effective for me; on the contrary, they affected my control over my own qi and blood.

Without wasting any words, the doctor picked up a scalpel and tweezers and began cleaning the wound.

The sound of the scalpel cutting through flesh and severing necrotic tissue was exceptionally clear in the quiet operating room.

I gritted my teeth, a fine layer of cold sweat beading on my forehead, but I didn't utter a sound.

Having experienced the soul-tearing pain of self-sewage surgery, this kind of physical debridement is still within my tolerance range.

About half an hour later, the cleaning and suturing of the external injury were basically completed.

My body was wrapped in thick white gauze, and my right shoulder was also immobilized.

The two doctors packed up their equipment and left.

Immediately afterwards, the operating room door was pushed open again.

The man who walked in was a small old man, about sixty years old, wearing a gray overcoat.

He carried an old mahogany medicine box in his hand and smelled strongly of herbs.

I know that this is the main event of today's treatment.

"You're Consultant Chen, right? My surname is Wang, and I work in the logistics department."

Old Wang walked to the operating table and examined the five wounds on my right shoulder that, although stitched up, were still oozing black blood.

After removing the gauze and examining the area for a while, he frowned.

"You're really lucky, kid, that the corpse poison from the purple zombie didn't even affect your heart."

"Thank you for your trouble, Elder Wang." I nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

Old Wang opened the mahogany box, took out a black pottery jar, and then a bag of dark red rice.

"This is aged glutinous rice soaked in black dog blood, cinnabar, and several yang herbs for more than three years, specifically to combat this potent corpse poison."

As Old Wang explained, he grabbed a handful of glutinous rice and pressed it directly onto the wound on my right shoulder without any hesitation.

"Sizzle—"

The moment the glutinous rice came into contact with the black blood seeping from the wound, it made a sizzling sound like it was being fried.

A pungent white smoke billowed from my wound, carrying a strong stench of decay.

Then, Old Man Wang swiftly took out a tinderbox, lit a yellow talisman, and threw it into the black earthenware jar.

The talisman burned to ashes inside the jar in an instant. Old Man Wang reacted quickly and slammed the jar onto the wound on my right shoulder, which was covered with glutinous rice.

"Bang!"

The cupping jar adheres firmly to the skin and flesh.

Through the black earthenware jar, I could clearly feel a chilling aura being forcibly stripped from flesh and blood.

The originally dark red glutinous rice quickly turned pitch black under the suction of the cupping jars.

This process is extremely lengthy.

Old Wang stood to the side, his eyes fixed on the color changes of the pottery jar.

Every ten minutes, he would deftly remove the earthenware pot, scrape off the layer of glutinous rice that had turned to charcoal, replace it with a new one, and then light the talisman paper and put the pot back on.

This was repeated four times.

It wasn't until the fourth time the pottery jar was removed, and the applied glutinous rice had only turned slightly yellow and no longer emitted that pungent white smoke, that Old Man Wang finally let out a long breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

"Alright, the deep-seated corpse poison has been completely eradicated."

"With your constitution, you'll be able to resolve the remaining residue on your own."

Old Wang packed his things while giving instructions.

"Don't use your internal energy these days, and eat more foods that nourish your qi and blood."

This corpse poison is extremely potent; your meridians are somewhat damaged, you'll need to rest and recuperate.

"Thank you, Mr. Wang."

After all that commotion, I lay weakly on the operating table, barely able to lift my hand, and could only whisper my thanks.

But undeniably, with the removal of the corpse poison, the lingering chill in my heart finally dissipated.

Instead, there was extreme exhaustion.

Then the nurse came in and moved me to a private room.

The ward is well-equipped, even better than some of the VIP wards outside.

Lying on the soft hospital bed, looking at the white ceiling light, the tension in my mind finally eased completely.

Zhou Ming is still in the ICU, and his fate is unknown.

Yan Kuan's identity and purpose still need to be determined by the bureau's interrogation of the two survivors.

As for me, after activating the Demon-Slaying Technique and forcibly killing the living dragon corpse, my body was already pushed to its limit.

A wave of intense drowsiness washed over me, instantly engulfing me.

……

When I opened my eyes again, the ceiling light in the ward was already off.

A few pale rays of morning light slanted through the gaps in the blinds and fell obliquely on the snow-white sheets.

I stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before slowly coming back to my senses.

The sharp pain in my right shoulder has subsided, replaced by a long, dull ache.

I tried circulating the evil energy within my body and found that it had recovered by more than 10% overnight.

Just as I was feeling my own body, there was a gentle knock on the door of the ward.

"Enter."

I propped myself up on my left arm and slowly sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard.

The door was pushed open, and the person who walked in was Director Song, whom I had met the night before.

He wore a sharp black suit today, and the deep lines on his square face were still very pronounced.

But his gaze was much gentler than it had been the night before in the desolate wilderness.

Following behind him was Zhao Tie, who had changed into clean casual clothes.

Zhao Tie was carrying two extremely exquisite rosewood boxes, which looked quite heavy.

"Consultant Chen, how are you feeling? Is the wound still very painful?"

The acting director walked to the bedside, his tone as warm as if he were visiting his own nephew or niece.

He pulled up a chair and sat down, gesturing for Zhao Tie to put his things down.

"Director Song, you're too kind."

I smiled gently, my voice still in that unhurried tone.

"Old Wang's detoxification skills are excellent; the corpse poison has been completely cleared away."

The rest are just minor injuries; they'll be able to get back to work in a few days.

How's Zhou Ming doing?

When I asked about Zhou Ming, Director Song's smile faded slightly, and he nodded, saying, "Zhou Ming's life has been saved."

Last night, the bureau prepared the best soul-stabilizing medicine, and with his own strong constitution, his vital signs stabilized by around 4 a.m.

However, the living dragon corpse absorbed too much of his yang energy, and he will probably have to stay in bed for more than half a year to recover.

This time, it's truly all thanks to Consultant Chen for turning the tide.