Bai Fan had never been this nervous before.
It wasn’t the same kind of tension she felt facing a Blood Slave—that life-or-death edge.
When she was actually in a fight, her mind went ice-cold, letting her pinpoint the enemy’s weakness and end it with one strike.
But now, under so many eyes, her chest felt like a heavy stone was pressing down on it, making even breathing difficult.
She used to make a living by dissecting Skeletal Beasts, selling the parts through Gray Channels into the Underground Black Market.
Federation regulations explicitly banned raising or trading anything related to Skeletal Beasts.
She had long since gotten used to walking with her head down, automatically detouring around any security officer she saw. She had never been watched by so many people at once.
And now, to force her way in here, she had just charged through several blockades in a row, and the entire hospital was staring at her with wary eyes.
But feeling the faint heartbeat in her arms—so weak it could vanish at any moment—Bai Fan didn’t have the luxury to care.
She lifted her head.
“Please help me,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “Save it.”
Silence fell around her for a moment.
Bai Fan’s gaze swept over the crowd—nurses, security guards, administrative staff…
Finally, it landed on a young man wearing a black cloak.
Their eyes met. An indescribable pressure settled over the scene.
The young man just looked at her calmly, but his gaze felt like a crescent moon hanging high in the sky—distant and inevitable.
Bai Fan’s heart tightened. Her instincts told her this was the person who could actually make the decisions here.
“Little sister,” one of the nurses spoke up first. “You’ve come to the wrong place. We’re already full—currently we’re not accepting any patients except for epidemic cases.”
Bai Fan’s heart sank bit by bit.
“Everyone says doctors have the heart of parents,” she said quietly. “More than the rules, I need your help.”
The nurse hesitated, but the administrative manager behind her had already darkened his face.
A few security guards immediately understood—they had been at the hospital too long to miss what their superior meant.
“I don’t know how you got in, but you need to leave right now. Don’t disrupt the hospital’s normal operations.”
Several guards stepped forward at once. Bai Fan instinctively took half a step back, her hand tightening slightly.
‘If it comes to a fight… even all these people combined might not stop me.’
But she had come to ask for medical treatment, not to pick a fight.
“There’s no other hospital nearby,” Bai Fan said, her voice strained. “This is the only place I can find. I know Central Hospital has a veterinary department.”
“Stop wasting time. Get out!” Two guards reached out.
What to do? Bai Fan’s mind raced.
Suddenly, she remembered the layers of blockades outside the hospital. They were so heavily guarded, clearly they didn’t want the outside world to know what was happening here.
Since that was the case…
She ducked quickly, dodging the two grasping hands, and pulled out her phone from her pocket, aiming the camera directly at the crowd.
“I’ve been livestreaming since I came in. Everything you just said is already recorded.”
She hadn’t actually started a livestream—she was just bluffing them.
She hadn’t wanted to go this far, but she had no choice now.
The scene went dead silent.
Bai Fan bit her lip. “If you still try to kick me out, then tomorrow’s headline about Lin City Central Hospital refusing to save a life should make the front page.”
The two guards froze, instinctively looking back.
The administrative manager’s face had turned ugly. “What are you waiting for? Grab her and the dog together!”
The crowd stirred, and Bai Fan’s eyes grew cold.
‘So I’ll have to fight after all?’
Just then, a hand suddenly pressed down on her wrist, smoothly pulling the phone from her grasp.
Bai Fan’s pupils contracted. She hadn’t even noticed when he had gotten close.
Turning her head, the young man in the black cloak was standing right beside her.
“Don’t move,” came the calm voice.
Bai Fan inexplicably quieted down, her unease being pressed away.
Lin Xincheng held the phone and looked up at the guards. “Stand down.”
He was talking to the guards, not to Bai Fan.
The guards exchanged glances.
“Seeing a girl covered in blood come asking for help,” Lin Xincheng said, looking up. The entire hallway had gone quiet. “Your first reaction isn’t to save her, but to follow administrative orders. Does everyone still remember the oath you recited?”
A few people lowered their heads quietly.
The administrative manager’s face turned iron-gray. He was about to say something when someone leaned in and whispered a few words in his ear.
The next second, his expression changed drastically—he had finally realized who this young man was.
Lin Xincheng looked at him calmly. “If there’s any problem, my name will be on the report as the primary responsible party.”
The administrative manager was silent for a few seconds, then gritted his teeth. “You said it yourself.”
With that, he turned and left.
Lin Xincheng then looked at Director Zhang. “Leave it to you.”
Director Zhang nodded, immediately understanding his intent. “Nurse Xiao Xu, take this young lady to the emergency department.”
“No.” Bai Fan shook her head quickly. “I can hold on. Save it first.”
She looked down at the big yellow dog in her arms. Da Gan’s breathing was getting weaker and weaker.
Lin Xincheng paused for a moment.
This girl had barged into the hospital covered in blood, even threatened the entire facility, and yet the thing she was most worried about wasn’t herself—it was a dog.
He was silent for a moment, then said, “Do as she says. Take her to the veterinary department first. If we don’t take care of her pet, she won’t be willing to accept treatment for herself later.”
Nurse Xiao Xu glanced at Director Zhang. Seeing no objection, she nodded. “Please follow me.”
Bai Fan finally breathed a sigh of relief, as if half the heavy stone on her chest had fallen away.
Her voice was a little hoarse. “Thank you.”
Lin Xincheng nodded, then shook his head. “Don’t use this method again next time.”
Bai Fan lowered her head. “I couldn’t think of a better way at the time.”
“I understand,” Lin Xincheng said. “But don’t let it happen again.”
Bai Fan didn’t reply.
If Da Gan was lying in a pool of blood again next time, she would probably do the same thing.
As she followed the nurse away, she felt her steps were a little lighter.
But before they had gone far, Nurse Xiao Xu suddenly turned back. “Oh, right—you need to pay the fee first for the pet examination.”
Bai Fan’s step froze abruptly, as if struck by lightning.
Pay? She didn’t have a single credit right now. When she had left home, she had brought nothing except herself and Da Gan.
“Can I… put it on credit?”
Nurse Xiao Lin’s expression turned subtle.
In all her years as a nurse, she had seen people registering, rushing to the ER, cutting in line, and even causing trouble—but this was the first time she had heard someone ask to run a tab at a hospital.
“I… can’t decide that. I’d have to ask the leadership.”
Bai Fan caught the evasive tone in her voice. If there was no payment, the operating room wouldn’t open.
“No,” she said quickly. “I don’t have any credits on me right now, but I have something… very valuable—”
Her hand reached into her chest, her fingertips brushing against the cold surface of a Pure Ether Crystal.
That was the last valuable thing she had, and also the one thing she least wanted to show anyone.
A hand reached from behind her and gently pressed down on her wrist.
“The credits she needs to pay,” the young man’s voice came, “charge them to my account first.”