Chapter 17

Zhuochuan smiled bitterly. Indeed, that was the case, but he couldn't tell anyone about his true intentions. Besides, what did it matter if others didn't approve? It wouldn't affect him much.

He thought about the analysis from noon and asked tentatively, "It seems that the patients here don't have very high status."

"Of course. High-status patients on the brink of death are not sent here; they are in the intensive care unit. This is called a hospice ward, but it's just a nice name. It can't compare to those professional ones abroad. If it weren't the best oncology hospital in the province, I wouldn't be interning here."

Zhuochuan understood. The conditions inside were indeed poor, crowded, and not many doctors paid attention. This was evident from the fact that the on-duty doctor was an intern.

He chatted casually with the female doctor, not because he was interested in her. Although she was quite pretty, he just wanted to get a bit more familiar. After all, he might come here often over the next two months, and familiarity would make things easier.

In the afternoon, Zhuochuan went to Ward 9 again. The three empty beds from the morning were now occupied. After all, this was a top-tier hospital in the city, specializing in oncology, with many patients, and many couldn't even get a bed.

Zhuochuan just took a look and left. He changed out of his doctor's coat and sat on a chair outside the ward, waiting like a family member. The morning's events had taught him not to pretend to be a doctor anymore.

In the afternoon, he saw the on-duty female doctor rush over, calling two other doctors. He knew someone was about to pass away and followed them into the ward. The female doctor didn't stop him.

This time, it was an 82-year-old retired elementary school teacher with advanced liver cancer. Despite the emergency treatment, the teacher passed away. But before he died, he said, "I haven't died, I will come back!" His voice was strong and clear, heard even outside the ward. The three doctors confirmed that his breathing and heartbeat had stopped, but they were hesitant to declare him dead and asked the family to do another check.

The other family members in the ward were also shocked. They had seen some patients pass away during their stay, but none had such strength at the end.

Only Zhuochuan knew that the teacher had truly passed away. The mist that appeared around him represented the last of his soul's power, which Zhuochuan had absorbed completely.

This time, the soul power he absorbed was more than from the previous associate professor, even though the teacher's highest education was only high school. Zhuochuan attributed this to his longer life.

The teacher's last words, combined with the professor's last words, made Zhuochuan think. Perhaps their souls didn't disappear like others? Maybe, while absorbing their soul power, he was sending their souls to another place?

Unlike the first time, when he felt somewhat full, this time Zhuochuan felt his mind become clearer. The thoughts that came to him were instantaneous. Comparing the last words of the two elderly men, he formed this hypothesis.

This hypothesis didn't help his current situation much, but it made him feel better. He felt he wasn't depriving them of anything but rather offering them an unknown hope.

The afternoon passed without any other deaths.

During dinner, Zhuochuan bought two KFC meals and gave one to the on-duty female doctor.

The female doctor was surprised but didn't refuse. After all, Zhuochuan looked decent, and it was a free meal.

While eating, Zhuochuan asked some questions.

"How many patients does your hospice ward send off in a month?"

"Several to a dozen every day, so about two to three hundred a month," the female doctor said calmly, as if it were a common occurrence.

Zhuochuan was speechless. At first, it was shocking, but upon reflection, it was normal. The country sees many cancer deaths each year, and this hospital, being a municipal oncology specialist, receives patients from the entire province. Occasionally, it also treats emergency cases from nearby areas, like the two young men in Ward 9, one from a car accident and the other from a stabbing.

By evening, the ward was quiet, with a heavy, deathly atmosphere. Zhuochuan felt a bit uneasy but stayed, sitting in the corridor, watching the door of Ward 9, waiting for death to call again.

Night seemed to be the peak time for death. At 11 PM, the on-duty female doctor came again, this time alone. She saw Zhuochuan still there and was puzzled but didn't have time to deal with him, as she had to save a patient.

Zhuochuan followed her in. This time, the patient was saved, and the family was extremely grateful to the female doctor.

Zhuochuan couldn't quite describe his feelings. Was he disappointed that the patient didn't die? That would be inhumane. He shook his head, dispelling the thought.

The female doctor was already suspicious, so Zhuochuan didn't stay any longer. He said goodbye and left the hospice ward.

Back at his modern home, Zhuochuan ate a quick snack and sat at his computer. He connected to the hospital's internal network through a dedicated connection, accessed the server, and reviewed the patient records in the hospice ward.

"This is inconvenient," he muttered after a while. "From the examples this afternoon, it seems only those of advanced age and with rich cultural knowledge release a significant amount of soul power after death, and there's time to absorb it. But currently, there are 36 patients in nine wards, and only two meet the criteria. However, their medical records show they have three to four months left, so they're not my targets."

Moreover, each absorption required him to be close to the patient, which was troublesome. It might work once or twice, but if it happened often, both the doctors and the families would become suspicious. People usually want to stay as far away from the dead as possible, not get closer.

"How can I avoid this trouble?" Zhuochuan was troubled. "Creating a system or conducting research can only fool those who don't see my actions. Anyone who sees me will be suspicious, and if it happens too often, it could easily lead to misunderstandings from the families, and they might kick me out."

In the past, it would have taken Zhuochuan some time to find a solution, but today his mind was unusually active. He immediately thought of the emergency equipment the doctors used and the excuse he gave to a family member, saying he was an engineer checking the equipment, which silenced them.

"Right, if I can sell the hospital a new emergency device, I can approach the dying patients under the pretext of observing the device's effectiveness. Neither the doctors nor the families would object," Zhuochuan realized. But then he thought, "But where can I find such a device that meets the requirements?"