Chapter Twelve: Zhang Cuishan

"Brother Bai, wait a moment. Please inform Shaojie and the others, as well as the five experts from Yimishui, to come to the medical ward!" Tang Yi called out to Bai Dongfang, who was walking away.

"Oh, Brother Tang, does this mean you have a solution? Can you save my senior brother?" Bai Dongfang asked urgently upon hearing Tang Yi's words.

"Calm down! This is just an initial plan; the actual results will only be clear after clinical trials. Go and notify them first." Tang Yi patted Bai Dongfang's shoulder, reminding him not to celebrate too soon.

"Alright, I'll go right now!" Bai Dongfang replied, vanishing like the wind before Tang Yi, leaving him with his hair in disarray.

"Damn, messed up my hairstyle again. Haven't you heard the saying: 'You can break my head, you can spill my blood, but never mess up my hair'? Fine, I'll let it slide this time, but next time, we'll settle accounts! Hmph!" Tang Yi grumbled while combing his unruly hair with an oversized comb.

Medical Isolation Area—

Hua Shaojie and his two companions, the five from Yimishui, Bai Dongfang, Zhang Sanfeng, and yes, Hua Ruoxue had also arrived. Tang Yi paced back and forth in front of them, his hand constantly supporting his chin.

"Brother Tang, could you stop pacing? You're making me dizzy!" Hua Ruoxue suddenly protested.

"Ah, alright. I've thought it through. Let's start by selecting three patients with the lightest injuries. That way, I'll have the greatest confidence in success. As for choosing them, I'll leave that task to you," Tang Yi finally stopped and spoke decisively.

In fact, Tang Yi had prepared two treatment plans. The first involved a healing pill condensed from his super ability. This pill was essentially his healing power transformed into physical form, sparing him from needing to maintain physical contact to channel his ability. Moreover, when using his hands, the healing energy output was limited—once it reached a certain threshold, it couldn't be increased. Last time, when treating Li Zhan, the maximum output just matched the virus, so Tang Yi's plan was to use healing energy that surpassed the virus's replication speed, hoping to overwhelm and eradicate it.

The second plan was devised through Jett's calculations and simulations, resulting in a substance that opposed the virus. Tang Yi wanted to fight poison with poison, hoping for an unexpected breakthrough. However, he lacked confidence in this method, because Jett's simulation produced something extremely ordinary—useless to cultivators, who wouldn't even glance at it. That substance was pot ash, a rare sight these days, formed at the bottom of iron pots after cooking with firewood: black, sooty carbon residue.

Tang Yi was dumbfounded when Jett's generator produced this. Was he supposed to have them eat pot ash, drink it, or apply it externally? Regardless, he decided to try it anyway—anything was worth a shot when desperate.

"Brother Tang, this person has the lightest injury. Let's treat him first," Bai Dongfang found a cultivator whose wound was merely on his toe. Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate was unclear. Some might think it would be easier to just cut off the toe, but experience had proven otherwise. Long ago, a cultivator was bitten on his pinky and, being ruthless, severed the finger immediately. Yet, the wound continued to be devoured, forcing him to cut off his hand, then his forearm, then his upper arm, until he died on the spot. Since then, no one used such methods. The virus was particularly vile; once it infected a wound, it swiftly spread through the bloodstream but began consuming energy and dissolving tissue from the wound outward.

"Alright, he's the one. Luck's on his side," Tang Yi said, taking the patient out of the freezing cabinet and placing him on a white surgical table. Within a few breaths, the ice melted away and the man slowly regained consciousness, while the wound on his foot began to worsen.

"Ugh, that's disgusting!" Hua Ruoxue exclaimed, seeing the wound crawling with countless invisible bugs gnawing at the flesh.

"Heh, if it's disgusting, just don't look," Tang Yi chuckled, then addressed the patient with several pills in hand: "I'm about to treat you, but let me clarify—you're the first to undergo this treatment, essentially a test subject. Are you willing? We won't force you; it's your decision."

"Haha, what's there to fear about being a test subject? Nothing could be worse than watching myself die slowly. Go ahead, I'll take on whatever experiment you have!" Zhang Cuishan, lying on the surgical table, was full of heroic vigor. The others were inspired by his courage, but Tang Yi was a bit taken aback.

"Uh, Hero Zhang, you truly are a brave man. But don't get too excited; it will only accelerate your wound's deterioration. Now, take these three pills," Tang Yi said, placing them one after another in Zhang Cuishan's mouth.

Each pill was the size of an egg. Once swallowed, Zhang Cuishan felt them melt instantly, like spiritual energy flowing into his body, bolstering the power fighting the wound. He sensed the wound shrinking. However, the relief was short-lived. When the energy from the pills ran out, the half-inch healed area began to worsen again.

Tang Yi frowned at this, muttering, "Even three egg-sized pills aren't enough. This method isn't practical. The energy required for three pills would take an enormous amount of food to replenish, and even converting spiritual energy would cost about five top-grade spirit stones. Using this method would be a huge loss, and who knows when I'd be able to save everyone. Well, Zhang Cuishan said he'd accept any experiment, so I won't hold back. If anything happens, it's not my responsibility. Heh..."

Muttering, Tang Yi took a handful of black powder and swiftly smeared it onto Zhang Cuishan's wounded foot...