Although some questions had not been answered to everyone's complete satisfaction, the doctors now more or less understood that the so-called "human bomb" was not as mysterious as it sounded. In essence, as long as water was placed in a special environment, it could indeed turn into an explosive force.
With their curiosity largely satisfied, no one hurried to leave. Everyone wanted to continue talking with Guan Xing about surgical techniques. At this moment, Boles stood up with a smile and said, "Isn't everyone hungry? Xing must be starving by now. Let's go—big dinner. From today on, we'll take turns treating Xing."
Westerners usually don't have a strong tradition of treating others to meals—even a father and son often split the bill. This time, however, they truly followed Eastern custom, using invitations as a way to show respect to Guan Xing.
Many people who couldn't find a proper excuse began edging closer to Guan Xing, hoping to establish connections under the pretext of sourcing special Western medicines. Guan Xing understood that these people were all highly influential figures in their respective countries—at least within the medical world, they were top-tier authorities. Naturally, he responded politely and warmly. One more friend meant one more open road in the world.
The meal was indeed extravagant. Boles had prepared well—two full tables were set. With more than a dozen people, they initially sat at two adjacent tables, but no one wanted to sit away from Guan Xing. In the end, the tables were pushed together into one long table, finally accommodating everyone. Conversation flowed nonstop, and every topic returned to medicine. Each person hoped to learn more about the mysterious Eastern medical arts from Guan Xing.
Guan Xing was truly hungry, and so was everyone else. They ate and talked for nearly two hours before finally being full. The bill for the two tables came to nearly one million RMB. When it came time to pay, those people didn't even blink—each of them was wealthy beyond measure.
At first, Guan Xing felt a little embarrassed, but seeing them argue over who would pay, clearly unconcerned about the cost, he relaxed. Free food was free food.
That evening, Stephenti came by to inform Guan Xing that the day's events had already been reported to the Presidential Office. The diagnostic and treatment footage had caused a huge stir there, and a special medal would soon be awarded. Guan Xing felt little about it, but the old man was visibly excited.
Another morning arrived. Guan Xing had slept well. After washing up, he was just about to head out when Yibi came rushing in, his face tense. He grabbed Guan Xing and ran, shouting breathlessly as they went, "The human—the human bomb is about to explode!"
That was strange. There had been round-the-clock monitoring and guards. If the patient's condition had changed, there should have been an immediate report. Why wait until an explosion was imminent for Yibi to come?
When they reached the treatment area, Guan Xing finally learned the truth. The patient's "heart sea" had completely collapsed into emptiness. Six hours of psychological intervention had produced no effect whatsoever. In the latter half of the night, all treatment had been halted, and the patient had been transferred to a special isolation ward for further observation.
Guan Xing and Yibi immediately rushed to the special ward. Several Department of Defense officials were already there, drenched in sweat and tense. More than a dozen fully armed Marine soldiers stood guard as if facing a major enemy, preventing anyone from approaching.
Heart-rending screams echoed from within, filled with manic agony. The patient was howling wildly. Even Boles and the other international doctors could only peek through narrow gaps. Only officials and Stephenti were allowed close. Seeing Guan Xing arrive, Stephenti gave an order, and a soldier stepped aside to let him pass.
Without bothering to ask what had happened, Guan Xing hurried forward. One official spoke up, "Dr. Xing, this patient is beyond saving. We need the most critical data—this is the Minister's order. We hope you can guide us."
Stephenti said nothing. His silent face was filled with deep helplessness.
This was a living human experiment. Even if the patient truly had no hope, allowing him to endure endless suffering in his final moments was not something a doctor should do.
Surrounded by armed soldiers, no one dared speak. Anger flared in Guan Xing's eyes. He had always viewed life and death lightly; on Paradise Island, many had turned into cold corpses under his hands. Life and death followed fate—there was no one to blame.
But the M Nation government's behavior was cruel.
"Who says the patient can't be saved?" Guan Xing shouted. "There's still one last chance."
Doctors from all countries were present. Even a powerful nation like M Nation did not dare provoke universal outrage—especially with several North American doctors already showing signs of anger. The atmosphere instantly became tense and confrontational.
The soldiers' weapons clicked as they were readied. To them, orders mattered—whether those orders meant life or death.
"Dr. Xing," an official physician said after receiving a phone call, "the Minister agrees to let you try."
The soldiers stepped back. The reinforced glass door opened silently.
Guan Xing wasted no more time. He had no confidence in saving a patient whose spirit had already died. He simply refused to let someone he had once treated become a human test subject for the state. No matter what, he had to try.
Deep down, he was also considering whether, if all else failed, he should grant the patient euthanasia—a final kindness.
The patient's edema had reached its absolute limit. Guan Xing could clearly sense the terrifying energy brewing inside the body, ready to explode at any moment, with power no less than conventional explosives. He had to act quickly.
He slowly took out his surgical tools and laid them neatly on the operating table. While his movements were unhurried, his mind raced, evaluating every possible surgical option—seventeen had already been rejected.
Anyone else entering the room would not have thought more, nor done better.
Outside, everyone waited in tense anticipation. Even Stephenti hoped Guan Xing could truly free the patient from this endless torment.
Twelve silver needles, carrying icy energy, appeared in Guan Xing's hand. Even if it meant the patient would die immediately, he refused to let him become an experiment. He believed the patient would rather that as well.
The needles flashed and vanished into the patient's body. The frantic howling and writhing stopped instantly—the patient was completely anesthetized. The human body was complex; its meridians controlled countless functions. In skilled hands, even a single burst of true qi could dominate bodily behavior.
Ancient Chinese acupoint sealing was no myth—it truly existed. Guan Xing's needles could easily accomplish this. Any ferocious strongman would collapse into a heap of soft flesh under his hand.
With no way back, Guan Xing chose to gamble everything. For the patient, death itself was no longer important—what mattered was dying without unbearable pain.
Clenching his teeth, Guan Xing raised his blade. The surgical knife flashed like cold moonlight.
There was no scream. With a sharp crack, one of the patient's arms was severed cleanly. Blood erupted violently, splashing against the wall. This time, Guan Xing did not block the blood-water bubbles. He let them explode freely against the concrete. A series of blasts rang out, and chunks of concrete began to fall.
In an instant, the severed arm deflated completely—but it wasn't over.
Four more needles appeared in Guan Xing's hand. These were smaller, hair-thin, almost impossible to see without careful attention.
Outside the reinforced glass, everyone was frozen in shock. The severed arm lay on the floor like a battlefield corpse. Guan Xing didn't even glance at it. Though surgeons were expected to be emotionally detached, this was far beyond normal comprehension. At that moment, Guan Xing looked like a demonic executioner—severing a limb without the slightest change in expression.
Such a cut would likely kill nerves and bone alike. Even if reattachment were attempted within twenty-four hours, there would be no guarantee of full recovery. Everyone could only marvel at Guan Xing's audacity.
What they didn't know was that Guan Xing had never intended to reattach the limb. This time, he was using the patient's own body to save his fading life.
With twelve needles blocking pain and four hair-thin needles driven into the body by true energy, Guan Xing began the most difficult treatment of all—forcing open the three major internal circulation systems so that the water could gather and disperse on its own.
Even Guan Xing could not control the outcome of this method.
But at this moment, there was no other choice left.